#little sister big impulses

[rose-warlock]

Uran: Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you wanna go ape shit?

*Astro wipes away a tear*

Astro: Watch your language Uran...

*He grins*

Astro: But Fuck it we Ball!

Uran: Finally!!!!

[muzsmocsing]

What I love about Toph the most (besides being arguably the funniest cutest bamf on the show) is she's the best at what she does because she's blind, NOT despite it.

There's this narrative in real life of "overcoming your disability!" and "not letting it stop you!" that irks me, because people's disabilities DO stop them sometimes. Being on sand, swimming, and flying are disorienting and awful for her.

But being blind helps her be connected to the earth in ways people with average vision can't be, like the badgermoles who originated the art and taught her directly. Her blindness is part of why she's the greatest earthbender of her generation, if not the greatest ever.

And that just makes me happy.

[realitydisco]

Just watched the latest Impulse Phasmo vod and I NEED more Gem playing Phasmo with the guys! Wonderful vibes.

[hirokiyuu]

look at my alternate yuu concept boy

[theemporium]

[3k] the season is over but the marriage remains. max starts to see little leclerc in a light no one in the world has ever seen before. and daniel is stirring the pot because he is bored. but in a concerned way, obviously.

series masterlist

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“When did you say he was coming?” 

“Maman.” 

“Sorry for being excited to see my son-in-law.”

“Ugh, don’t call him that.” 

“That’s what he is, Charles. Grow up, please.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a snort as you watched the way your brother argued with your mother, both on very different sides of the spectrum as you awaited Max to show up. Despite his best attempts, whatever plans Charles made to try and ruin the dinner, Pascale would always be one step ahead of him, leaving the boy pouty by the time six o’clock was approaching.

And whilst you knew your mother would be excited to meet the man you impulsively—and drunkenly—decided to marry in Vegas, you hadn’t expected her to reach this level. You don’t think you had even ever seen her take Christmas dinners to this level.

The fancy plates and cutlery had been taken out of the kitchen cupboard you and Arthur were forbidden from opening, and you had spent all morning polishing them with Lorenzo. Pascale had been running around the house like a headless chicken, as though Max would step into the house and notice the specks of dust on the top of the bookshelves and doorways. Charles had been sent out the house on a goose chase that you indefinitely knew was your mother’s way of preventing him from poisoning any dishes. And Arthur was sent along with him for good measure. 

And when the clock hit five, she had practically ordered each and every one of you to put on something presentable and nice before the guest of the night arrived.

Truthfully, it felt like a funny fever dream until you were sitting in the living room, fingers tugging on the hem of your dress as you tried to fight the pit of anxiety in your stomach.

You hadn’t spoken to Max since earlier that morning. He had tried messaging a few more times: first asking what caused the sudden shift in tone, and then to ask for opinions on different bouquets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reply to either. 

You were angry. Not at him. Never at him, You were just angry at yourself. You were angry for letting such a small, meaningless comment get in your head. You were angry that you were taking your emotions out on Max who was clueless and didn’t deserve your sudden cold shoulder. You were angry that despite logically knowing all of this, the sight of his contact name and the mere idea that he was going to be in your house in the next few minutes didn’t help the pit in your stomach.

You tried to focus on Charles’ tantrum. You tried to focus on the jokes Arthur kept making to wind him up. You tried to focus on the way Lorenzo was calmly trying to persuade your mother to put the photo albums away before Max even arrived. 

You tried to pretend you were okay when you were far from it.

“I want all four of you on your best behaviour,” Pascale told each of you as she anxiously glanced over at the clock, practically vibrating on the spot as the big hand neared closer to twelve with each passing moment. “No nonsense.” 

“That means no sneaking away to make out with your husband,” Arthur teased, only to let out a wince when Charles slapped him across the back of his head.

“There will be nothing of the sort,” Charles grumbled, only to let out a wince when Pascale slapped him across the back of the head.

“Don’t hit your brother,” she said in a stern voice before adding. “And stop being such a buzzkill towards your sister.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

Pascale opened her mouth as though she was going to continue scolding her middle son, only to be cut off by the sound of three knocks at the door. Her face instantly lit up as she clapped her hands together, grinning widely as she rushed towards the door. 

Maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was something else, but your chest tightened when the door swung open and you saw Max on the other side of the door. 

He arrived right at six on the dot, though you guessed the punctuality didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you was the lack of Red Bull merch. It was stupid to think he would have worn it to dinner, but then again, he had worn it to plenty of other events shamelessly so you never knew what to expect. 

But no. Instead, Max stood in the doorway in black sweater with the collar of his white shirt sticking out the top. He wore dark jeans that didn’t look like they were painted on (a miracle) and he held a large bouquet of peonies that were the prettiest shade of pink you had ever seen in your life. 

“Mrs Leclerc,” he greeted her with a charming smile on his face as she opened the door. “Thank you for inviting—”

“Oh enough with the formalities!” She laughed before she brought him into a hug, the act clearly catching the boy off-guard if the wide eyes were anything to go by. “We are family now. Call me Pascale.” 

“Oh. Right,” Max murmured, expertly keeping the bouquet to one side as he wrapped his other arm around the older woman. “Uh, these are for you.”

“My favourite,” she said with a genuine smile when she pulled back to take the bouquet from his hands. “What a gentleman you are, Max.”

You could have sworn you saw a light blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Please, come in,” she ushered him in as she closed the door behind him. She turned on her heel, her smile still so wide, it was almost concerning. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner is almost ready.”

Max nodded his head in thanks and turned to look at the others in the room. But his gaze completely missed your brothers and landed on you, something in his eyes shifting as he stepped forward and opened his mouth to say something. 

But you were already up and out of your seat before he could say a single word to you. 

“I’ll help bring the food to the table, Maman,” you said suddenly as you rushed towards the kitchen.

Arthur only snorted in response. “Trouble in paradise already.”

...

...

“You’re ignoring me.”

You almost jumped out of your skin, the phone that was previously in your hands now clambering onto the counter. You pressed your hand to your chest, the feeling of your wildly beating heart thundering under your skin as you tried to clear your throat.

“No, I’m not,” you denied, though you hadn’t turned to look at him.

Max raised his brows. “So you’re just hiding out in the kitchen when the rest of your family are outside for no reason then?”

“I’m not hiding out. I was checking on the chicken,” you said aimlessly, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze. But still, you kept your eyes on the counter and the random dishes of food rather than the Dutchman who taking a few steps closer to you. “And I was texting Yuki. He was having some marriage issues so—”

“Guess you can relate then,” Max deadpanned. 

Your cheeks burned warmer. “You should head back out to the party, Max.”

“At least fucking look at me,” he whispered, something almost pleading in his voice. 

You weren’t used to it with the Dutchman. Even from a young age, Max was oddly self-assured and confident in what he said. The media said he was rude, but he was just blunt. He knew what he wanted to say. He didn’t sound apologetic when he said it. And he certainly didn’t sound so distressed when he demanded things. 

And yet here he was, the three time world champion who had never sounded so desperate and anguished before in his life, just aching for you to lift your head. 

You swallowed the ball lodged in the back of your throat before slowly turning your head to find Max a few steps away from you. He looked oddly concerned and maybe that’s what really caught you off-guard. You weren’t sure what you were expecting—maybe some annoyance or some anger—but it certainly wasn’t this. 

His brows were furrowed together, the crease between his eyebrows deeper and more prominent than you had ever seen it. He looked a little lost and bashful, like for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know what to do with that piece of information. 

Max Verstappen had never looked so hopeless.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he spoke in a soft voice, and it didn’t help the pounding in your chest. 

“Nothing is wrong, Max,” you said to him, and you tried to flash him a smile. But it was strained and wrong and he hated the look of it on your face.

“Don’t bullshit me. You said this marriage wasn’t going to work if I wasn’t enthusiastic, well it won’t work either if you lie to me,” he said in a slightly more firm voice, and this time he took another step towards you. “Tell me what I did.”

Your chest tightened again. “Max—”

“Was it the comment earlier?” He continued, that pleading note in his voice so loud and clear again. “It was a joke, I promise you. I’m not ashamed to be married to you. I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Max—”

“Yes, I know the circumstances of our marriage are a little unconventional and a little inconvenient too but,” Max’s hands rested on your upper arms, the touch warm and overwhelming but you didn’t think you wanted him to let go of you just yet. “If I had to marry someone in Vegas, I am glad it’s you.” 

And it hurt. 

It hurt so fucking bad that the boy was standing in front of you, laying himself on the line and blaming himself for something that wasn’t even his fault. It hurt because no matter what you did, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your mouth and tell him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that his agreement to your comment struck a nerve. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you were feeling stupidly self-deprecating when you made the comment in the first place and his response just felt like he kicked you when you were down.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the countless articles. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the comments made throughout your life, throughout your brothers’ careers, throughout your own career. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that he had practically chained himself to a PR manager’s worst fucking nightmare with no way out any time soon. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it. Not when you hadn’t even confessed half of your feelings to the people in the other room. Not when a part of you was scared he would agree with every single fear that laid lingering in the back of your head. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you finally managed to say, and something quite like relief washed over the boy when he realised you were actually answering him, that you weren’t going to run off and hide in another room like you had done before. “Just…it was something else that upset me. Not you. I promise. You did nothing wrong, Max.”

The concern returned. “What upset you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you said simply, and you were grateful enough that the boy dropped the topic—even if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “We have a dinner to enjoy. It’s not worth ruining when Maman has spent all day making sure Charles didn’t slip some arsenic into your soup.”

Max snorted, shaking his head. A few beats passed before he squeezed your arms slightly. “We’re good?”

You smiled. “We’re good, Max.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased with that response as he let out an exhale. “Good, because now you can come out and help me. If Arthur makes one more sex joke, I think Charles might serve my balls for dessert.”

You snorted. “Maman would have his balls on a plate first if he tried to ruin the dinner itinerary she set up.”

...

...

...

“Can we talk?”

Max paused what he was doing, the pile of dishes sitting in front of him from where he was trying to help tidy up after dinner moments ago. Despite Pascale’s insistence that he was a guest who didn’t need to assist, Max still found himself joining the oddly domestic dance of working around the Leclerc’s to clean away the table and take everything back into the kitchen. 

He could hear you and Arthur giggling in the other room, quickly followed by soft scolds from Pascale—the kind where you could still hear the smile in her voice. He could hear Lorenzo stepping outside for a phone call, his voice muffled by the balcony whilst Arthur made some joke that he was probably going to throw himself off after watching his baby sister make heart eyes at her husband all night. That was followed by another scolding from Pascale. 

There was an odd sense of contentment deep in his chest as he collected the last of the dishes on the dining table when he heard somebody step into the room, expecting it just to be Pascale or maybe even you. 

He wasn’t expecting Charles. 

“Uh, yeah,” the Dutchman muttered, shifting around so he was facing the boy instead. “What’s up?” He almost cringed at his own words the second they left his mouth.

“Tell me this isn’t a tactic.” 

Max paused, wondering for a few moments if he had heard the boy correctly. However, Charles didn’t seem to repeat himself as he stood there on the other side of the table, staring blankly at the Dutchman as he waited for his response. 

“What?” 

“Tell me that this whole thing isn’t just some ploy made up by Red Bull,” Charles said, his face remaining straight as he spoke. 

“What is a ploy? This dinner?” Max questioned, utterly baffled by the words leaving his mouth.

“I need you to tell me whether you are just messing with my sister as some weird, twisted way to get to me,” Charles said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I need you to tell me if this is some fucking game to you and your team.”

And Max’s stomach churned at the allegation. 

He thought this was all planned. He thought Red Bull had sent him out like a spy to get involved with the Leclerc family and exploit them. He thought this didn’t mean shit to Max beyond a mind game to assure him the championship next year.

And the worst part was that Max could see why he would think that. If there was anyone who risked being his biggest competitor on track—car aside—it would be Charles. Not his own teammate. Not Mercedes. Not McLaren. It would be Charles Leclerc, like it had always been when they were younger. 

It had always been Max Vertsappen versus Charles Leclerc. And it always would be until the end of their careers. 

For Charles to assume it was one thing. But for Charles to actually believe Max would go through with something like that? To agree to such a plan? 

The Dutchman couldn’t deny that it really fucking stung. It fucking stung that Charles assumed the worst of him—even if it was to protect his little sister—and it fucking stung to wonder if the other Leclerc’s assumed the same.

“Charles,” a disbelieving scoff left his lips as he shook his head. “I would never—”

“Because I don’t give two fucks about a championship if you are messing with my sister,” Charles interrupted. There was a rage in his eyes, a rage he had never witnessed in the boy before—not even during his worst races. “She cares deeply about people. She loves hard and fast. And if you become one of those people and break her heart?”

Max didn’t say anything.

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her,” he said in a softer voice, but the underlying threat was still clear. “And there is nobody I wouldn’t hurt if they hurt her.” 

“This isn’t some mind game,” Max said to the boy, because he didn’t think the boy would believe anything else he said. “Vegas was a mess, I know that. But I would never do something like this. And I would never bring your sister into our rivalry or on-track business.”

Charles’ jaw clenched a little, like he was contemplating whether he believed Max or not.

And for a few moments, Max wondered what would happen if he confessed his true feelings. He wondered what the Monagasque would say if he learnt that Max had spent the better part of their early careers either trying to beat him in a kart or ogling his sister. He wondered what Charles would think if Max told him he was almost pretty sure his little sister was his first love, even when they didn’t have a proper conversation until Charles finally joined Formula One.

Max wondered what Charles would think if he knew the truth. 

But now was not the time nor the place to tell him. To be completely honest, Max didn’t think it would ever be the time or place to tell him. He didn’t think he would ever confess that to Charles, he didn’t think there was any reason to. There was only one person in this world that deserved to hear his confession, but Max would rather throw himself in front of the RB19 before he told you how he felt.

“I swear on my life, my cats’ lives and my mother’s life,” he added after a few moments, watching as the boy’s shoulders sagged a little like he finally realised Max was telling the truth. 

“Good,” Charles nodded, pausing for a few moments. “I mean everything I said. For as long as it takes to sort out this mess, if you even upset her once, I swear to God—”

“Image loud and clear, Charles,” Max assured the boy with a single nod of his head.

“Good. Remember it, Verstappen.”

And with that, he left the room and left Max staring blankly at the pile of dishes on the table, a dull ache in his chest that he wasn’t really sure how to ease.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 372,933 others

yourusername breaking news: max verstappen does wear something other than red bull merch!!!

view all 17,932 comments

landonorris how much did you have to pay him to wear it?

danielricciardo he had a bit of a tantrum before he left the house but i promised him two bedtime stories

maxverstappen1 you both suck

user OMG THE DINNER ACTUALLY HAPPENED

user meeting the in-laws!!!

user okay but those flowers are so pretty???

pascaleleclerc it was lovely having you, max! we must make these a regular thing!

charles_leclerc MAMAN???????

user this is my roman empire fr

user i need to know how close charles was to poisoning max

arthur_leclerc so close

maxverstappen1 i do own other clothes. you've just not seen them yet

yourusername is that an invite, mr verstappen?

oscarpiastri there are children on this app. please.

yourusername what children

logansargeant ME! I AM CHILDREN! THIS IS HORRIBLE!

yourusername grow up

user this is everything i needed and more

user okay but when do we get the solo max and little leclerc dinner date?

yourusername i would like to know too. my husband is lacking

maxverstappen1 maybe i'll wear my red bull polo

yourusername i take it back, i don't want to go out to dinner with you

.

[starlit-mansion]

i hope in the next life series, impulse and grian end up interacting more, i feel like their dynamic is really underrated

[venusbyline]

Rumors ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 24, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader x Daemon Targaryen

— type: smut, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: threesome FFM

— summary: If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather.

— word count: 3.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 24th day, female!reader, Alicent Hightower's younger sister!reader, Jacaerys Velaryon's betrothedl!reader, threesome (female/female/male), throuple, Targcest (uncle/niece), Daemyra, dubcon, nipple licking, nipple play, breast worship, praise kink, fingering, breastfeeding, lactation kink, overstimulation, corruption kink, dry humping, dry orgasm, crying, dacryphilia, oral mentioned (male & female receiving), voyeurism, age gap (older man/younger women & older woman/younger man mentioned), ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, consensual infidelity, Queen!Rhaenyra, King Consort!Daemon, fluff and hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, almost everyone lives, Targaryens being a happy family (or something like that), virgin!reader, Jacaerys is a little shit, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x Baela Targaryen, referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), religious guilt, underage marriage, implied underage sex, bisexual!Rhaenyra, bisexual(?)!reader, cuckold!Daemon, book canonical ages (it's 129 AC: Reader's 22, Rhaenyra's 32, Daemon's 48, Jacaerys' 15), dom!Rhaenyra, dom!Daemon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

It took Rhaenyra weeks to convince Daemon to agree to marry his nephew-stepson to Alicent's younger sister. Daemon did not know anything about you, nor did Rhaenyra know much about you, really. All they knew was that Otto Hightower had a youngest daughter from his second and current marriage to a random Lady in King's Landing.

When Alicent suggested the betrothal, Daemon immediately became furious. He did not want the next Iron Throne's King married with a fucking Hightower again. It was enough for Alicent to be a pain in his ass all those years. He did not need another girl with red hair and big eyes filling his patience.

For Rhaenyra, her biggest concern was the age difference, even though it was not a big deal. You and her half-brother, Aegon II, were conceived at the same time, as Alicent and her stepmother became pregnant within a few weeks of each other. Aegon was born just three days before you, but even so, you always lived in the shadow of all your other family members. Otto preferred for you to be raised in Oldtown along with his new wife and his other children when he lost his position as Hand of the King. Then, since you was two years old in 109 AC, you grew up far from the Red Keep and from your half-sister Alicent new family. Rhaenyra knew nothing about you, even though Alicent had assured you that her sister was a maiden and a kind young Lady. All she remembered about you was your young baby's version, the few times she saw you on Alicent's stepmother's lap. But Rhaenyra was always worried about more important things than watching a little girl crying.

At first, Rhaenyra considered marrying her firstborn to Helaena, Alicent's only daughter, but the proposal was immediately rejected by the older woman. Rhaenyra had her suspicions about the reasons, but preferred not to bring up the subject. One of Daemon's twin daughters could even be a great choice, but Baela was too impulsive for her own good and she knew that Lucerys was already in love with Rhaena. You had been the last and easiest choice for that deal, in the end.

Convincing Daemon seemed almost impossible and required a lot of sex as a form of emotional blackmail. However, in the end, the betrothal had been finally agreed.

Your arrival at King's Landing felt like a dream. You did not remember anything there and every moment in the carriage made you smile watching the streets. Rhaenyra had been crowned the Queen just a few weeks ago and the city was divided between lively festivals and people grumbling about your nephew and Queen's half-brother, Aegon, deserve to be the true heir. Despite the criticism from the commoners, Aegon was not bothered at all, because as soon as you got off the carriage, he was the first to take your hand, surprising you by mistaking him for some kind of beggar, due to the strong smell of wine - even that he was extremely beautiful.

"My sweet aunt! It is a pleasure to see you again. Last time we saw each other, we were both just snotted and whiners little babies." His greetings were terrible and you found yourself giggling sheepishly while the rest of the family looked at the Prince with shame.

"Oh, my thanks, My Prince." You smiled lightly, your cheeks flushing when Aegon gave you a look up and down before kissing the top of your hand.

"No more formalities now, darling. Just nephew or Aegon. Do not forget that you are the next Queen Consort of Westeros..." He scoffed, before looking at his family members. "At least if Jace does not back out of the marriage or order you a tragic murder."

His sentence caught you off guard and you furrowed your eyebrows with bewilderment, but Alicent pulled her son away from you, forcing a frightening normality as she hugged you, the green velvet dress matching her dark red hair perfectly. "Oh, how beautiful you look, little sister. The years living in Oldtown have done you so much good."

You faked a smile. "It is a cool place, and Gwayne is great company too." You said without think too much and Alicent frowned. She missed her brother and still remained upset about the fact that he had not come to visit her many years ago. "However, I believe King's Landing will be so welcoming as my own home."

Your words were directed towards the Queen and King Consort, who came out of their brief trance and nodded, approaching along with Alicent. You bowed to them both, careful not to trip over your light pink velvet dress. It had been a piece chosen by your ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure if it was a good color choice, considering everyone there wore just red, black, or green clothes.

Daemon Targaryen's gaze trailed down your figure, taking in your youthful curves and the delicate neckline that hugged your breasts. His laryngeal prominence made a funny move after he looked away and Rhaenyra seemed to notice this too, because she looked at her husband with some amusement shining in her violet eyes. You observed her facial features, especially her nose, so beautiful and pointed that it left your legs shaking for a few moments, before Rhaenyra herself broke the silence.

"And it is a pleasure to have you here with us. We will host you until all the details of your wedding ceremony with my firstborn son Jacaerys are finalized in a maximum of two moons."

Daemon interrupted both of you when you were about to thank her. "That is almost sixty days. We should start preparing everything as soon as possible." The King Consort spoke to Rhaenyra, earning a stern look from his wife before she sighed, turning to the same spot Aegon had faced earlier. "Anyway, it will be amazing to have you here with us, our dear daughter-in-law."

Daemon's words did not sound innocent at all and both you and Rhaenyra noticed that, his side smile after kissing your hand brought you shivers than when it was Aegon who kissed your skin, especially when Rhaenyra returned Daemon's smirk, clearing her throat and introduce yourself to the other members.

By the end of the night, you had already met almost everyone. Lucerys, Rhaenyra's second son, was sweet and gentle, also very funny. Rhaena, one of Daemon's daughters from his second marriage, was also kind and despite being quieter, her eyes were always shining at Lucerys. Joffrey was quite messy and they had to send him to the chambers along with his younger brothers, Aegon III, Viserys II and his newborn sister Visenya and his cousins Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor.

Aemond, one of Alicent's youngest children, was too quiet and a little weird. You had already heard the rumors about Lucerys taking out one of his uncle's eyes during a violent fight when everyone was just kids, and that was why he wore an eye patch. It was scary but so fucking attractive at the same time.

Helaena, your half-sister's only daughter, was one of the cutest people you had ever met. She had given you a wooden toy as a way of welcoming you and tried to start a conversation with you, which surprised Alicent and even Rhaenyra, since the princess did not was used to interact with the family more than the necessary. Even though she does not like being touched, she did not mind about touching your hair and praising your red strands, smiling and talking about her favorite bugs and random cute things.

Daeron was a better version of Aegon. He was very handsome, daring and liked drinking wine a lot, as well as loving winking at you and the servants who passed by. But unlike Aegon, Daeron was charming without overstep anyone's boundaries, while Aegon had to be removed from the banquet early when he started mocking and insinuating rumors about Jacaerys and Baela's absence, which angered Daemon and Rhaenyra and embarrassed Alicent and your father Otto.

When the dinner was over, Jacaerys and Baela still had not appeared. Rhaenyra sighed, looking with some frustration at Daemon, who tried to explain to you that Jace and Baela were probably flying with their dragons and forgot today was your arrival day at the Red Keep. You knew your father-in-law was lying, so you just replied him with a sad smile in agreement, not wanting to cause any more drama to the already catastrophic situation.

You had pictured that Jacaerys did not want to be betrothed to you. After all, no one liked arranged marriages. However, you at least expected him to try faking sympathy, since everyone said he was a noble Prince, despite being so young.

Alicent volunteered to take you to your private chambers and you almost accepted, before you felt Rhaenyra's warm and firm hand on your shoulder, not in a painful way but almost possessive. Your sister did not question the Queen's silent interruption, just sighing and nodding, letting Rhaenyra lead you through the corridors, her right arm entwined around your left arm. You felt tiny around her, not about physical terms. It was a painful inferiority. You had not even married her son yet and you were already listening rumors about his affair with another woman. His cousin.

"You were a little bit quiet and shy during the dinner..." The Queen's murmur echoed into your chambers when both of you entered the room and she dismissed the help of the maids. "I mean... You had a lot of fun talking to my half-sister Helaena, which I personally found charming from you. Many people do not have patience to deal with her exotic personality. I am glad you noticed her pure soul."

Your only action was to silently agree, your eyes wandering around the large room that was now just for you. At least for now, until you and Jacaerys finally got married and shared your chambers. Anyway, after the whispers during dinner, you did not doubt that the heir would want also to keep the two of you private chambers. After all, he seemed much more interested by flying with Baela Targaryen. Or anything like that.

"My honest apologies for my son's absence and poor manners..." The Queen began, breaking you out of your trance when you were reflecting and observing the delicate and pink details in the room, although it also had a few green decorations, to remind you of your Hightower House, but with light tones to match the overall aesthetic. "Jace is... Having trouble accepting your union. Not that it is something against you, I assume."

"I already understand, Your Grace." You said coldly, feeling your head ache as you realized you needed to hear your own mother-in-law talk about her son's lack of interest in you.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at your slight irritation, checking to see if the door was locked before pointing to the bed at the back of the chambers. It was much bigger than the one you had in Oldtown, and the pink silk sheets were much fluffier than the white ones your family's maids always brought you. You felt Rhaenyra's gaze following you when you walked to the edge of the furniture, finally sitting down and looking at her with a look of curiosity and suspicion. After continuing to watch you for a few minutes, Rhaenyra cleared her throat and approached, the smell of wine filling your nostrils as she sat down next to you, not too close to invade your personal space, but close enough to make you rub one thigh on the other under the dress, a reaction that not even you could understand the reasons for.

Rhaenyra's long slender fingers came to your hair, pulling at the pins that held some strands together and formed some braids that was too tight for her own liking. "Your natural beauty is more beautiful. It is like the living embodiment of female innocence."

Her words surprised you, making you swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Was it a compliment? A disguised mockery? Just a drunken comment? You had no idea and Rhaenyra noticed the confusion written across your features. "Gods... If Alicent had told me that she had a half-sister so fucking beautiful like that, I would have ordered your presence to King's Landing much earlier."

You could not help but chuckle lightly at her shameless flirting. Was it absurd that you were feeling so weak for your own mother-in-law? Would the Gods punish you for this? Would you embarrass your family? Would Daemon kill you? Would Jacaerys jump at the chance to call off the betrothal?

"You do not need to worry..." The Queen purred, her fingers trailing down your dress, lowering the neckline enough to expose your breasts. They were not that big due to your young age, but Rhaenyra's lips watered and she licked both of her thumbs before starting to rub your nipples, leaving them sensitive and perky while you squirmed at the touches, whimpers escaping your pretty lips even if you tried to hold back. "As I said, Jace is not taking your betrothal very well. I will not lie to you about his sexual and romantic affair with my stepdaughter, Baela, but I want you to know that as Your Queen, I am granting you permission to seek out lovers."

Your moans stopped immediately upon hearing her sentence and you almost choked trying to understand that magnitude. Was she allowing you to cheat on her own son? This was a sin in every possible way.

Catching Rhaenyra off guard, you pulled away, getting up from the bed, your breasts still desperate for more touches. "I-I should not have other men..." You mumbled, your voice breaking. "It is normal for a husband to have many affairs. But the opposite is very-"

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "Do not act like a saint, bunny. You and all people of Westeros know very well that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were legitimized, but they are not the biological children of my first husband, Laenor."

You sighed in frustration, knowing she was right. Everyone knew about this and that was why many commoners called Rhaenyra a whore, saying Jacaerys should not be the next in line for the Iron Throne, but perhaps Aegon III, Rhaenyra's eldest son with Daemon. "But that is different, Your Grace. From the rumors I have heard, your ex-husband did not even like... Women." Your explanation made Rhaenyra chuckle, her eyes shining as you were about to pull the neckline of your dress back up.

"Do not you dare." She ordered, pulling you to sit on her lap, causing you to moan with surprise. You stare her face to face, surrendered by the violet color in her irises that seemed to burn your skin. You were so shocked by the Queen's rough action that you barely noticed that she had moved her hands up the hem of your dress, caressing your bare thighs while her index finger rubbed your swollen bud. "Your cunt is already shaved. Then, did you think my son would want to fuck you as a welcome gift?"

The fact that she noticed the wetness and your lack of pubic hair due to the thin fabric of your underwear made you tremble on her lap again, moaning and wanting to get out, however, one of her hands was firm holding your waist, keeping your hips on top of her lap. "I-It was my ladies-in-waiting's idea! I swear this to you, My Queen! They thought he might... He might want something before the consummation of our marriage." You defended yourself through your tears, resting your head on her collarbone as you moaned at her intense touches on your clit, he other hand coming up to squeeze the soft and delicate skin of your breasts.

"Shhh... It's okay, bunny. I was just curious." Her reassuring voice minimized the pain inside your chest and increased the juices that flowed from your slick cunt, making obscene noises. Rhaenyra knew you were virgin and Jacaerys would demand you stay that way until the consummation of the marriage, so she needed to restrain herself from just using your body and letting you use hers with other ways, never fingerfucking you for a while. "Take off my dress and suck my breasts, princess."

The mention of your new title sent a shiver down your spine. Ignoring the tears still wetting your cheeks, your fingers began to work to undo the knots on the Queen's red and black velvet dress, your mouth watering at the sight of those large perky breasts, wet with a few drops of milk, due to baby Visenya's breastfeeding. "T-that's very wrong..." You tried to argue, being immediately silenced by Rhaenyra's eagerness, who began to rub your clit more roughly, eliciting loud and desperate moans from you, your head immediately falling between her breasts, almost self-suffocating when you surrendered to the sins and began licking her light pinky nipples, sucking on them and listening to Rhaenyra's moans mix with your pathetic whimpers.

It did not take long for you to cum on her fingers, your release running down her hand and dripping onto both of your dresses, your lips still closed around her breast, being breastfed like a baby while she laughed. Rhaenyra smiled, caressing your red hair and kissing your flushed tear-filled cheeks.

"What a beautiful sight..." Daemon teased, entering your chambers, being graced by the sight of his daughter-in-law licking his wife's large breasts, heavy and full of milk, your own neckline exposed a lot and sweaty. Your legs shaking due your recent orgasm.

"Dear Husband..." Rhaenyra smirked, removing her fingers from your clit and showing them to Daemon. "Try a little." You did not move when Daemon approached even more, you just opened your eyes and saw that his knuckles were a little bruised, and you wondered if he had punched Jacaerys for his disrespect towards you.

Daemon licked your wet release from Rhaenyra's hand, a wicked smile as he looked at his wife's horny look and then shifted his attention to you, still weak and confused with your swollen lips busy on the Queen's nipple, eyes wide and teary watching the couple exchange glances. You knew that at first they were both completely against your marriage of convenience to Jacaerys, but something seemed to have changed drastically in the minds of the Queen and King. "Do not worry, bunny. Perhaps Jace is not as loyal and honorable partner as we pictured him before. We cannot promise that his affair with Baela will end, because it probably will not." Daemon's harsh words made you let go of Rhaenyra's chest with a sad pout, leaving the couple's hearts aching.

"Hey, little girl. It does not mean anything. If Jacaerys is going to be a terrible husband to you, remember that I already gave you permission to seek emotional and sexual comfort from other people." Rhaenyra repeated what she had said before and you swallowed hard. It was a crazy and dangerous proposition. And yet you found yourself nodding weakly after Daemon pulled Rhaenyra's neck for an intense kiss and then did the same act to you afterwards. When Daemon's lips released yours, Rhaenyra took his place, the hand of each of them going to one of your soft breasts and playing with them. “This is going to be our little secret, alright, bunny?” The older woman hissed and you moaned with agreement, arching your head back when she started licking your collarbone and Daemon took the opportunity to start ripping off his pants and starting to rip off the underwear he was wearing, freeing his big thick cock for both of you.

If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather. You would not have a bad conscience. Nothing else would matter. You did not need his false excitement at meeting you or observing his lack of admiration for you. Everything you wanted and needed was right there: your mother-in-law Rhaenyra Targaryen about to get down between your legs to eat you out while your father-in-law Daemon Targaryen put his cock between your lips until it reached the roof of your mouth.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterkist

[januaryembrs]

impulsive!hotchner!reader (i’m thinking hotchs sister) x spencer reid

as in reader completely ignores the dangers of the job but somehow it always ends up going how she planned for it to go and then there’s hotch and reid completely pissed at her im talking spencer red faced and spewing facts and statistics on what could’ve gone wrong and hotch just backing him up with a frown and crossed arms

THREE'S A CROWD | Spencer Reid x Hotchner!Reader

description: it's hard enough getting your job done when you work with your boyfriend, even harder when your overbearing boss happens to be your brother.

length: 500wds

warnings: mention of house fire + medical side affects of inhaling smoke

“You’re grounded,” 

You baulked, eyes narrowing at your eldest brother where he’d forced you to sit in the back of the ambulance, the medic draping a shock blanket over your shoulders.

“Grounded? Are you kidding me?” You seethed, and your lips pulled into a snarl when he crossed his arms over his chest, his face tipping on furious, “Aaron, I’m not-”

“Don’t Aaron me, you could have died. Do you not realise how irresponsible you were being?” You huffed, rolling your eyes and sitting back with your own arms lacing over your chest, feeling like a fifteen year old all over again being lectured on why you shouldn’t sneak out to parties or roll weed. 

“Thank you, agent, for saving five citizens from a house fire, that was incredibly brave of you. Oh sure, no problem big brother, anything for the job-” You mimicked childishly, your teeth clenching roughly as you felt their stares burning into the side of your head, pun intended. 

“The biggest killer in fires isn’t the flame itself but the smoke inhalation,” Spencer snapped, his lips pursed together just as annoyed as your brother, and your whirled around to match his glare, “Black smoke not only is the cause of thirty thousand people a year alone, but also supercharges existing health problems and can cause life long-chronic inflammation of the lungs. So yes, you were being irresponsible,” 

You gawped at your boyfriend, the two men staring down at you with irritation, and you had to admit your lungs were feeling a little tender from where you’d ran back in the house to help the father drag his wife and children out of the burning building. But you wouldn’t admit that to them, you couldn’t. Because if they were this worried and vexed at you being asymptomatic, you shuddered to think how overbearing they would be if you so much as coughed. 

“Seriously, Spence, you want in my bad books too?” You snipped, but he doubled down, shaking his head and scoffing in a way you’d never heard from him before. Sometimes you wondered if they took tips from one another on how to be the world’s most affectionate pains in your ass. 

“I am serious, just as serious as heart disease, COPD, cardiovascular issues, emphysema, all of which are common long term side effects of black smoke inhalation-” Spencer continued, and you threw your head back with an eye roll and a groan, feeling your chest aching already with where you struggled to keep your breathing even, already knowing you were going to kick yourself when the two of them hit you with the ‘I told you so’. 

“Man, I would hate to be that girl right about now,” Morgan said to Emily, stuffing his hands in his pockets where he watched you get chewed out by Hotch and Reid. 

“Are you kidding me, being yelled at by those two, I’d take facing a house fire all over again,” She murmured, shaking her head as you shoved past the two of them, the three of you squabbling over the fact they insisted you stayed to be checked over by the EMTs, “Kid’s got balls on her, I’ll give her that,” 

[littlefluu]

WELCOME TO SECTION I 𓍯𓂃𓏧 E N H Y P E N F I C R E C S ⤷GO BACK TO THE MAIN HALLᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

WELCOME TO A SMALL LITTLE COLLECTIONS OF WORKS I ENJOYED

𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓: 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝔂𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏��

LEE HEESEUNG

you % heeseung by @postalenha f. heeseung’s new gaming console has been a hinder to your relationship. but you know better, and tries to understand that he’s just enjoying the new equipment he worked so hard to have. ᝰ a very healthy relationship, gamerbf!heeseung x female reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

by my side by @enharcv f. Y/N moves in with Heeseung and his roommates after she gets kicked out of her apartment and experiences a life like the two of them were newlyweds... but they both lived with three other men (who were almost like y/n´s and heeseung’s kids).  ᝰ friends to lovers, roommate!fem reader x richboy!roommate heeseung .ᐟ₊ ⊹

tides of regret by @pprodsuga a, f, s. ★ In the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong. ᝰ friends to lovers, heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

the brothers best friend pt. 2 by @taeghi a, f, s. ★ keeping your crush on heeseung a secret from heeseung was hard, but keeping it a secret from sunghoon was even harder. what do you do when you accidentally fall in love with your older brothers best friend? ᝰ brothers best friend heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

not for sale  by @timextoxhajima a, f, c. SMAU In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you ᝰ Fic x Social Media AU hybrid - 15 Chapters, uni exchange student! reader x uni student! Heeseung x uni student! Jay .ᐟ₊ ⊹

win one win me by @jaylver who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his. ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, ice hockey player!heeseung x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

teeth by @gyuuberryy f, sug. you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy. ᝰ enemies to lovers, vampire!heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

talk tomorrow by @soobnny f. drunken confessions ᝰ best friends to lovers, heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

predictable predicament by @timextoxhajima f, s. so you're best friends with the campus hottie who happens to be the quietest one in his group of friends. he's different with you though. ᝰ best friend! heeseung, fluff, smut in the least explicit way .ᐟ₊ ⊹

prince charming's mismatch by @gyuuberryy a, f, sug. you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband. now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful? ᝰ prince!heeseung x princess!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au , highly suggestive content, kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee .ᐟ₊ ⊹

prada shoes and I love yous by @elix8r a, f, s. Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him.  ᝰ smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK JONGSEONG

notoriously yours by @jakesimfromstatefarm f, a, c. jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally. so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)? and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore? ᝰ fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhood bestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

while you were sleeping by @pprodsuga f. jay thinks he loves you best when the two of you are back together in the early hours of the morning. ᝰ short lil slice of life au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

break your heart right back by @jaeminvore f. That's it, you were done crying over your good for nothing ex! You were done wallowing in self-pity for the embarrassment your ex put your through. Now you want revenge, and what’s more perfect than aiming at his pride and shattering it once and for all? Enter your best friend Park Jongseong (affectionately dubbed as Jay) who was the perfect candidate for carrying out your revenge plan. After all, it's one way to piss off your ex with the guy he absolutely loathed. ᝰ college au, friends to lovers, fake dating and ungodly amounts of fluff, bestfriend!Jay x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

7:18 AM by @ashtxrie f. jay surprises a very sleepy y/n with breakfast. ᝰ established relationship, pure fluff, heavy domestic content timestamp, jay x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

naturally by @ikeuverse f,s. ★ jay has always been very private about his love life and physical contact in front of his friends, but a comment from his work colleagues made him rethink some things. ᝰ established relationship, fluff, smut, domestic , chef!jay x fem!reader  .ᐟ₊ ⊹

how you get the girl by @jaylver f, a. ★ Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl. ᝰ strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining, ice hockey player!jay x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

the battle of hogwarts a. ᝰ hogwarts!au, angsty angst, friend!jake, brother!sunghoon, chosen one!heeseung, jay x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

 falling for you, I can't keep away by @jaeminvore a,f. Ah yes, the ever so infamous Amortentia, world's most powerful, yet dangerous love potion. You could only hope the Potions professor won't have to call you to ask what it smelt like or it would be so fucking embarrassing having to list every scent that reminded you of Jay, one of your close friends, in front of the whole class and Jay himself. ᝰ Hogwarts AU, friends to lovers, light angst, fluff , Slytherin!Jay x Ravenclawl!gn!reader.ᐟ₊ ⊹

stuck with me by @yeonzzzn a,f,s. ★ in the middle of the apocalypse, you and jay find each other in a situation of life and death, using the protection of each other to get to the next safe zone. unfortunately for the both of you, things take a turn once secrets get revealed and the fight for survival becomes greater. ᝰ enemies to lovers, zombie apocalypse!au, blonde jay, smuggler hyung line + smuggler txt, riize members + jungkook and namjoon make appearances, smut. .ᐟ₊ ⊹

still into you by @i2sunric f, a, sug. ★ you’ve always thought dating a doctor was hot until you started realising his job was taking your place— but don’t worry, being a doctor meant jay could always stitch your broken heart up! ᝰ doctor!jay x reader fluff, early 2000s au, childhood friends to lovers but they’re already lovers, angst (with comfort) cuddling and kissing, a little suggestive (no smut), they grow up together, mentions of stress and fainting, mentions of pregnancy, fighting .ᐟ₊ ⊹

book lovers by @yeonzzzn s. when your book loving boyfriend has you read a specific part of the current book you’re reading out loud to him. ᝰ booknerd/bf!jay x booknerd!afab!reader, book reading shenanigans, swearing, SMUT .ᐟ₊ ⊹

half return by @heesdreameryour a, f. ★ small towns yearly fall festival was your biggest pride and joy but getting your friends to help volunteer was nearly impossible. luckily one of them was stupid enough and too secretly in love with you to help himself from offering. ᝰ akward!jay x golden retriever!y/n, small town romance, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

confessing to his mute crush by @jaysng f. jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising ᝰ jay x deaf!reader, pure fluff, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

opposites by @ikeuverse f, s. jay was the most serious ceo anyone could meet and remember, but not when you were around. while he had a difficult smile, you captivated anyone with your cheerful and relaxed manner. one night, he decided to take you into his world, the business dinner, but you didn't know if it was a good idea. ᝰ ceo!jay x fem!reader, fluff, smut, a little angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

birthday surprise by @ikeuverse f. jay didn't think he'd make it home in time for his birthday, so he didn't bother celebrating at all. but he didn't expect his best friends and you, his girlfriend, to prepare a lovely surprise. ᝰ jay x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SIM JAEHYUN

first kisses by @mayjunewritings f. Just a drabble about Jake’s first kiss ᝰ Best Friends to Lovers, bestfriend!Jake x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

statics screens a. he didn’t know that in order to chase his dreams, he’d have to lose his everything. she didn’t know that to give him the world, she’d have to say goodbye. ᝰ angst, Jake x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

yours truly by @simjyun a,f. SMAU you had a somewhat interesting life. for one, you were attached to the hip to jake sim, your best friend as well as a known heartthrob at your uni. though notorious for his player reputation, he was the sweetest to you and treated you like no other— but he was also the root of many of your problems. ᝰ Social Media AU - 19 Chapters / discontinued, ake dating, smau, humor at points, fboy! jake x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

maybe we could be together by @jaeminvore f. SMAU. in which Y/N has already accepted the fact that she will never be anything more than a best friend to Jake. She’s fine. She’s kept it all together for so long. However, Sunoo is a force to reckon with and he will do anything in his power to get Jake and Y/N together—Oh, and not to mention Sunoo really hates Jake’s current girlfriend, much to the annoyance of Y/N. ᝰ Social Media AU - 42 Chapters / fluff, light angst, crack (as it should!), fake dating and Sunoo being the bestest friend you could ever ask for… in his own strange ways, childhoodbff!Jake x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

how to fake date your best friend by @jakesimfromstatefarm f. the rules were simple -pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. simple, right? well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. And to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2. ᝰ fluff, comedy, fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers, Jake x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

late nights story by @nightdiary a,f,s. ★ lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim. ᝰ surfer!jake, childhood friends to exes to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, attempt at humor, Jake x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹  

you're my baby too by @squoxle f. your husband loves teasing you about not giving away all of his kisses ᝰ husband!dad!jake x wife!mom!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

atlantean by @timextoxhajima  a,f. ★ an atlantean is the first and last thing you’d want your best friend to be. ᝰ fantasy, angst, fluff, swimmer! Jake x swimmer!fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

behind closed doors by @ikigaitsuki ★ Finding an unlocked door in one of your friends’ usual parties provides an opportunity to escape the crowd. But with the closing of some doors, comes the figurative opening of others. ᝰ smut, Jake x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

car rides by @jlheon f. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ neighbors to lovers, fluff, highschool au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

soul sisters f. where layla shows how much she cares about the growing life inside you. ᝰ fluff, heavy domestic content, husband!jaeyun x pregnant!reader, .ᐟ₊ ⊹

break the ice by @jaylver f, a. ★ Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, angst, ice hockey player!jake x afab!reader.ᐟ₊ ⊹

midnight train (back to you) by @jaylver f, a. ★ You declared to the world that this summer will be yours. Ever since you’ve left home to chase your dream further in Europe, you never dared to look back, leaving your friends and family along with the precious memories there, including your silent love for your closest friend. Years passed, you were making a name for yourself and chasing that fame, settling in perfectly fine and eventually moved on with life. All was well until the transfer window came, announcing a new addition to the men’s first team, who also happened to be your childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Summer in Spain wouldn’t be what it is without experiencing lots of rekindling, heartbreaks, fallout but also a shot at love. ᝰ childhood friends to lovers, college/professional sports au, romance, angst, pining, (slight) slow burn, pro-footballer!jake x pro-footballer afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

hybe boy by @onlyjaeyun a, f, s. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ Social Media Hybrid AU - 50 Chapters , single parent!au (Jake is raising his brother), neighbors/strangers to lovers, college!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

sims anatomy by @021894s f, a, s. you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior. ᝰ neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader, workplace romance, situationship .ᐟ₊ ⊹

melodies of heart by @yyawnjun drunkenly making out with Jake after him just being a good listener! ᝰ jake x fem!reader, friends to lovers, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK SUNGHOON

beyond 7 minutes in heaven by @interlunium-opus a,f. 7 minutes in heaven with Sunghoon except within the 7 minutes nothing happened. Then when it was time to go out, you two found yourselves locked and things started to go awry. ᝰ angst, fluff, friends to lover, sunghoon x freader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

my accidental demon roommate by @jaeminvore f. SMAU Sunghoon wasn’t expecting to be sent to the mortal world by his “father”, much less being forced into attending college (he’s a demon! why would he need to?!) and being accidentally summoned by a clueless human almost had him marching straight into Hell to have a word with its ruler. Only he couldn’t, because he was already bound to you by a fucking paper-cut sealing your contract which means he can’t just leave the mortal world without taking something of yours in return. ᝰ Social Media Hybrid AU - 61 Chapters / fake dating, college au, social media au with occasional written parts, modern supernatural (?) au, super fun, demon!sunghoon x human!fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

behind the scenes by @liliansun a,f. SMAU Sunghoon was at the top of his game, staring in every major romance drama to hit the big screen. When he met you, he expected to watch you swoon over him like his previous co-stars, but you’re not so impressed when meeting in person. Modeling is looking at lot better than acting right about..now. ACTION! ᝰ Social Media AU - 23 Chapters / strangers 2 enemies, enemies 2 friends, fluff, angst, crack/humor, one sided pinning, love triangle?? some established relationships, sunghoon x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

love me not by @jyunwrld a,f. SMAU throughout life, there will always be times where you’re faced with unexpected circumstances, whether good or bad, and it just so happened to be y/n who had to deal with it. y/n and sunghoon have dated for years before mutually breaking up, deciding to remain friends for the better—but what would prevail after finding out that sunghoon still has lingering feelings for her? ᝰ Social Media AU - 26 Chapters / angst, fluff, fake dating smau  sunghoon x fem!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

give up heaven  by @yeonzzzn a,f,s. ★ when you run into your best friend's ex-boyfriend at your favorite coffee shop thinking it was just a coincidence until seeing him became a daily thing. You can't get him out of your head and start to feel guilty at the very thought of him and things take a turn when he starts making advances towards you. ᝰ hockey player!hoon with small mentions of figure skater!hoon, ex-bestfriend bf!hoon, hoon's ex-girlfriend best friend, friends to lovers, slight smut, hockeyplayer!hoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

insatiable by @moonhoures s. your vampire bf suddenly becomes clingy which can only mean he’s hungry or horny . . . or both ᝰ non-idol!au, vampire!au, smut, sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

fatal trouble by @gyuuberryy f. your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go. ᝰ roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au, vampire!sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MS. & MR. President by @jlheon f. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon ᝰ non-idol!au, frenemies to lovers, sunghoon x freader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

crazy, stupid, love by @jaylver f, a. ★ Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that.  ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst, (attempted) he fell first but she fell harder, slowburn-ish, ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹ fixed comfort by @paarksunghoon f. typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you. or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much. ᝰ sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

KIM SUNOO

blanket forts by @jaysbestie f. it’s your 5 month anniversary with your boyfriend sunoo but instead of going out in the summer heat, you stayed inside and made sure your day was great ᝰ  fluff, bf! sunoo x gn! reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

RIKI NISHIMURA

supernova by @star-sim. f,a. riki was the city's top hero, you were the top villain. when your archnemisis pulls up to your apartment late at night, all battered and bruised, you just sighed and took him in. you were a villain, not a monster! ᝰ hero! riki x femvillain! reader, superhero! au, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, a lil bit of angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

duck by @jlheon f. you want a sonny angel hipper ᝰ Idol bf! nishimura riki x fem! reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

ALL OF THE MEMBERS

love. f. moments where they realize they are in love or when they fall harder than they did before ᝰ fluff, short scenarios, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

maybe in another universe !? by @leaderwon a. enhypen members texts after you pass away ᝰ sad, angsty SMAU, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

i am bored we should kiss by @sunkittie f, sug. making out with Heeseung, Jay and Jake as their best friend! ᝰ making out , kissing , suggestive, best friends to lovers/??? .ᐟ₊ ⊹

just a bet & not a bet by @all4yoi a, f. after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet & upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship. ᝰ angst, fluff, reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, hyung line .ᐟ₊ ⊹

love paradise by @enhasparadise f. in which you suddenly ask your boyfriend if he loves you to see his reaction ᝰ enhypen member being a simp for their girl, really cute reaction from the member .ᐟ₊ ⊹

REACTIONS

ENHA REACTING TO YOU SUDDENLY STUFFING YOUR FACE IN THEIR NECK by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, fluff, established relationship, skinship, kissing, pet names .ᐟ₊ ⊹

HYUNG LINE REACTING TO YOU SINGING ALONG TO JUNO by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, slightly suggestive, fluff, humor, skinship, kissing .ᐟ₊ ⊹

hyung line reaction to their s/o being a single mom

Vampire enhypen! - Reaction to listening to their S/O’s heart beating faster because of them 

enhypen as your boyfriend ~ hyung line

hyung line when you sit on their lap while they’re on the computer 

SERIES I LOVED

★ no competition series by @jaylver a series of 3 hockey boys and an aussie footballer trying to win over the love of their lives ᝰ college sports au, romance, angst, humour, enhypen!hyung line x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

AUTHORS I LOVE @jlheon ★ @jaylver ★ @gyuuberryy ★ @pprodsuga ★ @jaeminvore ★ @tsukiflwr ★ @ikeuverse ★ @gyuuberryy ★ @sunkittie

[flamingpudding]

All right you got my creative juices running with part five of Klarion is Dan yes the first series I ever came to you with

To find him Klarion isn't the only one living in the DC dimension in like the word of protective mother Danny is he sent one of clarion's older siblings to go with him Larsal/Lassie

She was one of the clone children that was created long before Danny knew that was trying to clone him she was one of the first failures

She doesn't really have a physical form as much she is more of like a big pit of water that has like a spiritual like form like Dr Fate

She hates Vlad so much that the entire League of assassins who's also hit him even though they don't know who he is but know that Danny got from Clockwork was about her and visiting

Klarion knows about the quote as the same thing last knows about him being a villain they keep each other secrets cuz they know they make Mom disappointed

When they do have somewhat of a physical form it's a cowgirl with a horse made entirely of Lazarus Pits

Along with that Vlad making surprise visit after feeling someone's littering his name more than usual it's like a call about anytime he knows his children or Daniel is talking about him

Also Batman's freaking out after I think that one of Danny's kids is such a little hater that they made a cult just despite their father which makes the Justice League think Vlad really that bad

This is just the funny idea and I know it's not a good prompt I'm still trying to think of more sorry

Oh I love this! Thanks you!

This is going to be fun in a way I hope! Enjoy~

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

Danny barely avoided getting questioned further about his relation to Vlad when he noticed the green post-it note and made a grab for it. "Oh would you look at that! Pop is sending us a message!"

Okay maybe he said that louder than necessary but he needed to change the topic. He didn't need more people on to torment the fruitloop. His own kids were already giving the man enough grief as it was. He didn't need distant cousins or an entire hero society of another dimension coming after the fruitloop too. Not that he would mind that much but some mercy towards the redeemed man would probably be appropriated.

Either way Danny focused his attention on the note only half heartedly listening as Klarion continued his family tree explanation to his little hero friends. He blinked at the note several times before laughing happily. "Would you look at that! Lassie is going to come by! Your Granpa Clock is giving us a heads up, so I can prepare a fresh batch of ectoplasm for her to stay healthy!"

Whatever Klarion was explaining right now was abandoned as he sat up straight. "Lassie is coming too?"

"Well of course she is." Danny hummed happily, thankful for the chance of seeing both his kids that liked to life in the same dimension.

"Lassie?" Red Robin piped up questioning. Oh looks like this is one of Klarions siblings they hadn't gotten to yet regarding explanations.

"Yes my fourth oldest but unofficial second oldest." Danny nodded with a proud mother smile on his face. "She lives in this dimension too to keep an eye on Klarion so he would stay safe and dosen't over do it."

Klarion on the other hand groaned. "I don't need Lassie to baby sit me!"

"Klarion, sweety you were new to the whole living alone in another dimension thing. You spent the longest in FarFrozen and the Ghost Zone with me because of your destabilisation." Danny reprimanded him softly and the teen heroes snickered behind Klarions back to which the witch boy turned to glare at them with a greenish blush across his cheeks.

"So what does that sister of yours look like?" Impulse asked to change the topic and because he took a bit of pity on Klarion for the way his Mom was apparently embarrassing the witch boy. His question resulted in Klarion flipping though the photo album before stopping at an image of Klarion next to a pit of green something. Impulse arched an eyebrow and was about to comment when he got pushed roughly to the side by Red Robin.

"THAT'S A LAZARUS PIT!"

The way Batman's chair clattered to the ground as the man stood up looked every bit like he was going to rush over to the teens spoke for the shock that Red Robin shout had caused. The Ghost King and Klarion on the other hand looked rather calm as they barely reacted to the shout and Danny even motioned to Batman to sit back down again, as the chair that fell rightened itself again.

"Calm down. Lassie is a good child. She wouldn't hurt a fly." Danny told them smiling, not realising that both Batman and Red Robin were giving him increadulous looks behind their mask.

"A.... good child?" Batman repeated his slowly his voice even more tinged with his usual gruff gravel in a way that both Superman and Wonder Woman side eyed him worried while Flash snacked on a pack of melon flavoured ships he snacked from a table.

"She doesn't have a physical body, that is why she is relying on the pits of natural ectoplasm your dimension has. There was a little problem with her physical form and we just couldn't restore it and she refuses to get a unoccupied clone body like Klarion has." Danny explained further not minding the stares he or Klarion were getting.

"Pits of natural ectoplasm?" Batman reiterated, his tone clearly questioning, to which Danny only blinked a couple of times surprised. "I thought your dimension knew what they were? Sure the way you guys use them is strange and Lassie did sound a bit concerned when she told me about it but I didn't think you guys weren't aware what they were."

"No that is not...." Red Robin started but then but himself of as he turned around hurriedly in a defensive position as he noticed someone coming in through the window. He wasn't the only one. All the heroes reacted as one at the new presence, however what they didn't expect was a member of the League of Assassins blinking up at them stunned after climbing in through the window lifting their hands palm up in a gesture of peace.

"Woah hey there calm down! Klarion what the fuck? Why are there so many heroes in your Apartment?" The LoA member spoke up and all eyes turned to Klarion who instead only deadpanned. "I told you Mom was visiting to meet my 'friends'"

"Lassie, what did I tell you about possessing bodies?" The Ghost King piped up in a disapproving tone and they heard the distinctive tone of someone knocking their head against the table, probably Constantine.

"Sorry Mom but there are not Pits of ectoplasm near baby brother I could use to form a body." The LoA member, apparently possessed by Klarion's elder sister replied sheepishly. To say Red Robin was weirded out was an understatement. Usually if he encountered LoA members they were aggressive and most likely there to take him or one of his siblings out.

"That's an League of Assasin member...." He muttered under his breath to which said member laughed. "This guy was the closest to me to use for the moment. Don't worry I will release him later and he won't even remember a thing. I got my little sheep's well trained."

"Little sheep's?" Wonder Girl repeated a hand on her hip as she stared sceptically, to which Klarion face palmed and muttered a low "Sis shut up...."

"No Lassie, don't shut up." Danny intone from the kitchen table he was still sitting at with the other adults, his head was now resting on his hand as he stared at his two kids who visibly flinched.

The LoA member, possessed by Klarions sister, scratched the back of is head nervously as they faced the Ghost King. "Ah Mom, uhm hehe you know funny story..."

The heroes were pretty sure that the room had gotten several degrees colder and they weren't sure if that was because of the mood of a parent about to interrogate their child or because of the Ghost Kings power. (At a later time Constantine swore it were the Ghost Kings powers.) There was a awkward moment of silence the heroes weren't sure if they should be present for that or not especially when Danny stood up and walked over to the teens.

On reflex Wonder Girl, Superboy, Impulse and Red Robin made room for Danny to walk past them as they watched on torn between curiosity and pity, because clearly Klarion and his sister Lassie must have done something they weren't supposed to do. And honestly they were more curious what they did, after all the Ghost King hadn't been that faced when it got revealed that Klarion was more of a Villain than a Hero to them.

"Lassie, what did you do?" The teen heroes couldn't see Danny's face but from the tone they had a feeling that Danny was arching an eyebrow at his children.

Lassie laughed awkwardly once more. "So... you know how grandma Pandora kind of thought us about how our own emotion can influence those around us exposed to our ectoplasm over a long period of time?"

"Lassie..."

"I might have raised something akin to a cult on accident and passed on my personal grudge and hate towards the fruitloop along to them and they might now have the subconscious drill of attack on sight if Vlad ever makes an appearance in this dimension...." The LoA member slowly spoke up which had several of the adult heroes blinking in disbelief.

Batman especially was in shock of hearing about this since had the most interaction with this 'cult' as apparently one of the Ghost Kings children liked to call the League of Assassins. The bat suit wearing hero was about to interject and ask more but stopped when the Ghost King let out a suffering sigh like the most tired parent in existence. "And you didn't think about telling me this sooner because?"

"We don't like to disappoint you Mom." The two children of the Ghost King replied simultaneously like one united front. Danny in response gave his kids a light chuckle. But before Danny could go on any further Red Robin decided it was probably a good time to interject and remind the Ghost King of their presence.

"I got a question if you don't mind..." He lifted his hand like he was in school as he pulled the attention towards him. His curiosity won over his caution of the situation. "Klarion if the Lazarus Pits are actually 'ectoplasm' as you mentioned before, and are largely influenced by your sisters emotion. What happens to guy that bath regularly in them or someone that got thrown in there and game back out rage filled?"

"Red Robin!" Batman call out reprimanding instantly knowing where Red Robins line of question was going.

The possessed LoA member on the other hand blinked at them before scratching their head sheepishly. "I think I know who your talking about. I am still sorry about that second guy. When he got dunked into my ectoplasm, I kinda just came back from a visit home and had a bad fight with Vlad and was especially rage filled towards him."

"So does that mean...?" Red Robin inquired further ignoring Batman's silent glare towards him for even bringing these questions up and just as Lassie was about to answer Danny interjected.

"Lassie, go fix your cult." Another green note at materialised out of nowhere and had fluttered in the air before him and caused the Ghost King to face palm the moment he read it's context.

"Mom?" Both Klarion and Lassie asked with a shared worried glance.

"Vlad has come into the dimension for some reasons and is currently getting chased down by your cult."

There was a stunned silence after which Klarion and Lassie, in the body of the LoA member, broke out laughing hysterically which only caused Danny to lightly glare at his children. Meanwhile the teen heroes weren't sure if they should feel sorry for the old man called Vlad but considering all the red flags they had picked up from what Klarion told them, they felt a little like the man deserved that.

The adults on the other hand felt slightly torn, well mostly Batman. It was clear that this Vlad was a bigger threat than both Klarion and the Ghost King were making him out to be, considering the entire existence of the Lazarus Pits hated that man. But on the other hand as heroes they probably should feel obligated to help the man especially if, according to the Ghost Kings words, he was currently gotten chased in their dimension by the League of Assassins.

Danny on the other hand never felt more like a tired mother than he did right now. Sure he knew about his unofficial second oldest hatred towards Vlad but this certainly was a new level of hate. Especially since she apparently 'accidentally' (he doesn't by that at all) raised an entire cult that subconsciously hated him too.

[only-luce-the-goose]

Busted

A/N: it’s a little short, I’m sorry. My requests are open, I’m going to start writing for all Formula (Prema too).

Arthur Leclerc x Norris!reader

Warnings: upset Lando, making out, little swearing, indicated to smut (none tho)

Based off this comment ⬇️

@barcelonaloverf1life thank you!! 🫶🏻

You had followed Lando around your whole life, he was your big brother. You love him to pieces. Some might say you were more excited that him when he was announced as an official Formula 1 driver. You came with him to every race, getting to know a lot of the drivers very well. Becoming close friends with a Spaniard, which led to a Monegasque, which led to a certain younger brother.

That was three years ago. Now, you and Arthur had been secretly dating for over a year. You expertly hid your relationship from your brothers, especially Lando. You know Charles wouldn’t have too much of a problem with his brother dating you. You also know that Lando was explode if he knew you were dating the impulsive idiot from Oscar’s Prema days.

It was time, once again, for the Monaco gp. One of the very few times a year you could publicly be seen with your boyfriend for a good reason. After making sure Lando was busy getting ready for the race, you slipped over to the Ferrari garage. Arthur was leaning against a wall, talking to his brother and an engineer when he spotted you. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and took off towards you.

It had been way too long (a couple days) since you had last seen each other and all you wanted to do was kiss him. Which you couldn’t, because you were in public. “I have an idea” you said as you turned to him. You snuck him through the McLaren garage and into your brothers driver room. You knew he wouldn’t be coming back until much later so you knew you had time.

You closed the door and pushed Arthur into it. You gripped his broad shoulder with one hand and tangled the other in his hair, bringing him down to your lips. You both began feverishly making out, tongues fighting. When Arthur won, he pushed you into the wall next to the door. His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your tits through your bra, his knee moved in between your legs and applied pressure to your clit. You started grinding on the knee, letting out little whimpers until the door to the drivers room opened. “WHAT THE FUCK”

Lando grabbed Arthur’s shirt and yanked him backwards as Oscar rushed in “what happened?” “Your prema mate was eating my sisters face off” Lando said as he kept prattling on “this is ridiculous. And in my room for fucks sake! Why now y/n? Why the sudden interest?” Lando asked. Arthur moved to answer, immediately being glared at my Lando. If looks could kill, Arthur would already be six feet under.

Lando looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Actually, Lando, Arthur and I have been dating for over a year. We didn’t want to tell you because we knew how you would react” Lando’s jaw hit the floor. “I’m getting Charles” he grumbled. Charles walked in five minutes later, we were both sitting together on the floor. “Finally got busted?” He laughed.

Lando looked at him, dumbfounded. “You knew?!!” He screeched. “I had my suspicions, until I walked in on them making it. They didn’t even know I was there” Charles admitted “come with me” he said afterwards. Charles took Lando outside and had a long talk with him. When they came back, Lando announced “I have a deal to make little Leclerc. Make my sister happy and I won’t murder you. Break or hurt her in anyway and you will never think about racing again”

Arthur nodded, agreeing with Lando. After everyone left the room, you turned to Arthur and said “I can’t believe we finally got busted. I thought it would have happened way sooner!” That made Arthur laugh.

[aspirationalpeony]

Dark Horse

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

It all starts with a late shoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

He gives you a look over his glasses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

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

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

"Tricks?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

"No camera?"

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

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

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

"That ain't obvious?"

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

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

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

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

"Just a little bit," you say.

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

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

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

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

"Okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Friday?" she echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Italian Mama iMessage

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

Italian Mama You made me real happy

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

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

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

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

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

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

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

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

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

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

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

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

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

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

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

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

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

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

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

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

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

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

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

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

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

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

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

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

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

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Soul food," she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And you know what I want."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author's Note:

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

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

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

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

[teddypines]

Fleep

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sumary: Y/N wanted something, she didn't have enough money, Jason being a sweetheart and buying it for Y/N.

Note: I really wanted this fleep, i don't have the money for a fleep, so we write about Y/N getting a fleep.

All credits for the fleep and bumble corn plushies go to Meg's Mashables. The picture above is their's too.

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A little while back Y/N saw a tiktok of a fleep plushie, a sheep flamingo hybrid. Damian let her his phone to entertain her a bit. And the moment she saw it, she wanted it. She didn't know it was expensive. She thought she could use her pocket money from her piggy bank.

So finally after begging everyone for weeks to look up the fleep plushie. Jason finally helped her look it up, also because Damian was complaining about the constant fleep videos on his fyp. They looked and Y/N saw the price, looked at her money and cried. She couldn't get the fleep plushie.

Jason didn't think the plush would be this expensive. He hated seeing Y/N’s so upset. The 35 dollars plus shipping didn't seem like a lot to Jason, but to Y/N with a mere 13 dollars and 75 cents to her name, it was a lot. She understood she couldn't get it and just put her money away and sadly left Jason and his room. 

On impulse Jason bought the fleep plushie the moment Y/N left his room. He even bought the double pack with a bumble corn in it and stickers. He just couldn't see his baby sister so sad.

During dinner everyone knew and saw how upset Y/N over not being able to get the plushie she wanted. She did cry about it a bit more before bed, Bruce needing to hold her a bit longer then normal to calm her down. She did fell asleep after a while and lots of crying. Bruce hated this and quickly, but quietly left her room.

“We really need to do something about this, I hate seeing my princess like this” Bruce said as he made his Way to the living room. “No need, I already bought the plushie, and extra's” Jason said as he pulled up the order conversation. 

“When did you do that?” Tim asked as he looked at the bright pink plushie and the other blueish one. “Right after she left my room. I couldn't deal with those sad eyes. I need to see her happy again and if that means spending almost a 100 dollars and so be it.” Jason explained.

Dick rolled his eyes, but he knew he would have done the same for Y/N. Bruce sighed and sat on the couch with his boy's. “That is very sweet of you Jason, I was going to say we could let her do some chores, give her some extra money so she could buy it herself.” 

“That would have been the reasonable option, yes. But this is better” Jason answered, he was rather proud of his actions.

“We could also just have bought it and saved it until her birthday” Damian said out of nowhere. He looked up from his phone. “There were a lot of options, demon spawn, but I chose this option!” Jason hissed at his younger brother. He would have done the same for Damian if it ever were to happen, but he didn’t need to know that.

<---------------------------------------------------------------->

A few days went by with Y/N being sad, but it got better with time. Jason's order was still on the way and would probably still take a while. Steph saw the order Jason placed when Dick was explaining the story to Duke and the girls. Steph was the most proud of Jason, and thought Jason said he disliked the praise he secretly liked the praise. 

Damian on the other hand was still getting fleep tiktok videos on his fyp. It's been more than a month and they still showed up. They were hunting him and he hated it.

<-------------------------------------------------------->

Finally the day arrived that Alfred carried a big package into the living room. “For the young misses” Alfred said, already knowing what would be in the packages. Y/N was surprised as she looked at the big box. Both Dick and Duke were smiling as Y/N tried to open the package on her own.

“Why is it so big and hard to open!!” Y/N yelled out of frustration. She ripped some of the tape and the box was now open. “Ow… that was easy…” 

Y/N looked inside and froze before giggling in excitement. She grabbed the fleep first and then the bumble corn. Holding both plushies up to Dick and Duke while jumping in the air. “It's fleepy!! And the unibee!!”

“DADDY!!” Y/N yelled as she ran up the stairs towards Bruce's study. “Daddy! Look!” Y/N yelled as she bursted through the door. Scaring both Bruce and Tim as they were discussing bat business. “I fleep make with the Alfred mail!!” Y/N yelled as she waddled up to Bruce and Tim. She quickly settled onto Bruce's lap with the plushies In her arms. 

“Wow Princess, that is amazing. Did you order those yourself?” Bruce asked Y/N as Tim tried to hold back his laughter. Y/N froze for a moment and then got off Bruce's lap and ran towards Jason's room.

“JAY!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs. Jason quickly opened his door as Y/N crashed into his legs. Hugging him with both the plushies. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!” she kept saying over and over again. Jason smiled down at his baby sister and picked her up. “Anything for you Princess. Did you see the stickers and coloring books that came with it?” Y/N gasped and shook her head. “Well, let's go check those out.” Jason said as he carried a very happy Y/N down the stairs.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 8 part 2 of 3

masterpost

“I will work with Black Bat?” Robin paused, looking between her and their Batdad. Batdad was still in his slippers and sweatpants.

He nodded at Robin. “That’s correct.”

“Finally,” Robin said. “A professional.” He turned on his heel to dismiss their Batdad from the conversation. “I will go suit up.” He waited a moment for her acknowledgement, not approval.

Cass gave him a double thumbs up. When he was out of sight she made eye contact with her Batdad and waggled her eyebrows at him. He did a big sigh. “Thank you for taking care of your little brother,” he said, because he meant well but he was really very silly about things. Robin did not need taking care of. Robin needed a place to jump and scream and bite.

She just nodded. No point in explaining.

Black Bat took the wait time to read through the most basic details of the ongoing case. The takeaway was: boring mission. Look at mechanic with her eyes. Take footage of his face. Find his name or other biographical information. Look at any ongoing projects to determine if anything required immediate action. Do not engage. Do not reveal self. Do not fight mechanic.

Boring!!!

It took very little time for Robin to ready himself. Damibat was a true professional, despite the sentimental wishes of the old people.

He spoke to her in sotto voce when they had gathered. “I admit relief.” Robin flicked his mask into place. “I am weary of being quashed by the authoritarian impulses of my…betters.” His disgust was clear. His tone and shoulders said: 

I miss Richard. My Father is a fool and Alfred is constraining my artistic soul. The regulations are unending. I do not feel confident of my survival in these conditions. I was forbidden to take home the tiger even though I saw it first. I may wilt.

Poor baby. Her face twisted with empathy. He did deserve the tiger. He would love it very well.

“Wanna drive the Batmobile?” Cass asked.

His sorrow lightened infinitesimally. “I cannot reach the pedals in order to operate it correctly. However, we could take the new cycles.” Robin scrolled to the right inventory item. “I took the liberty of customizing the paint jobs.”

Cass peered over his shoulder. “Ooh,” she said. Shiny. Spiky. “Looks fast. Let’s go.”

“No,” said Brucedad, from a distance. “Take a two person motorcycle and have your sister drive it. You do not have a license, Robin, you are 13.”

Robin made a sound of disgust, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I am beset by enemies,” he muttered. He stomped away towards their limited options.

Black Bat aimed a disapproving look at her Batdad. “You are crushing his artistic soul,” she informed him. 

“That’s a burden I will have to bear,” Batdad said gravely, and put on his reading glasses.

She hissed at him but they took one of the approved models out. 

Robin further debriefed her on a private channel on their ride into town, voices muffled to the outside world by their protective helmets.

“One of the previously uninfluential local gangs has been gaining territory and members in recent months. We have attributed this to an influx of unique tools they have access to, which have so far been unconventional tools.”

“Tools for what?” Cass took a hard left turn at a lean and let her fingertips trail just barely over the pavement.

“Excellent,” Robin said about the turn, and then, “they have been used to commit robberies. However, the designs are concerningly martial.”

He did not sound remotely concerned. He sounded approving. Cass asked for clarification with an upwards lilting “Mmm?”

“There was a bazooka that shot temporary voids,” Robin said, sounding young and excited. “They were used to bypass a bank vault and to intimidate a teller.”

Cass lifted her eyebrows and nodded. She could see why Brucedad would be antsy about bazookas, even if they didn’t hurt people. 

“There was also a device that created a foam which immobilized those it was deployed against by creating a sort of calcification effect. It ended naturally after a period of hours, but no technique we employed before that seemed to have a weakening effect on the substance. We were unable to attain samples.”

Cass hummed, feeling a little depressed about tonight’s mission after all. Science. Evil science. She was a little burnt out on evil science. She felt tired at the thought. This wasn’t fun.

Damibat noticed. He was silent for a few seconds. “After we confirm the location of the workstation, we could go to the docks,” Robin suggested.

She perked up a little bit. 

There was always someone to fight at the docks. Always a drug deal, smuggling big bad things, always something.

“Good plan.” 

“We will inform Batman afterward.”

Black Bat nodded her agreement. He didn’t need all the details of their schedule in live time. 

She felt a lot better driving out into the night with something to look forward to.

[rosyhoneydew]

Against his better judgment, Tommy had actually been excited for the visit.

It had been over a year since he last saw Ron, longer since he'd seen his nieces and sister-in-law. They got along fine and all, they just got older and busier and life gets in the way, doesn't it? So when his big brother floated the idea of a stopover in LA on his way back from a business trip overseas, Tommy had looked forward to it.

Two full days to take him around, show him his city, let him see a little bit of what his life looked like these days. He'd definitely gotten overeager. He'd packed their weekend with stops in Hollywood, a proper tour of the city from the bird, and a few drinks with their friends, and Evan, of course. It'd been a while since anybody came to visit, in his defense.

They're at one of Evan's favorite breakfast spots when he starts to pick up on it.

Ron knows he's gay, Tommy had come out to his whole family a few years back, not really expecting much. A cursory this is who I am, take it or leave it was all that really needed to be said. He had been pleasantly surprised when his brother didn't so much as bat an eye. Sure, they didn't talk about it, but they never really talked about anything in his family. Par for the course on that one.

So it twisted in his gut when he noticed.

Tommy and I actually thought about taking a trip to Yosemite this fall. Maybe make a vacation out of our anniversary, Evan said. Ron had just grunted.

You should see Evan's place, Tommy had rolled his eyes, not without affection, I swear I should just move in there. Ron had cleared his throat and asked 'where the hell a guy could take a leak in this place.'

It's not a big deal, but Tommy feels his face growing hot. He feels stupid. Evan rests a hand on his back while Ron's away, but Tommy can't tamp down the impulse to shake him off when his brother makes his way back to the table.

The ride home is quiet, each of them unsure of what to say. Tommy invites Ron inside for a last coffee before his flight, but he declines. Gotta see what that LA traffic is about, don't I? Tommy nods, claps a hand on his brother's shoulder. See ya later, man. Ron's mouth tightens into something like a smile, nods once at Evan, and drives off.

He's quiet when they enter the kitchen, hands resting on the cool countertop. He feels Evan come up behind him, rest his forehead on Tommy's shoulder, wrap his arms tight around Tommy's chest.

I'm sorry.

Tommy sighs and fits his hand over Evan's. He lets himself wallow, just for a little while in his partner's arms. He's not okay today, but tomorrow he'll wake up in those same arms, he'll tell his friends at work about the docuseries Evan's been loving lately, he'll spend guy's night at Eddie's with his partner like they do every other week now. And he'll be okay.

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: "Pebbsie Privilege"

Here’s a headcanon I’ve had in the works for a while, and now I finally want to share it! It's shorter than some of my others, but I hope you'll still find it amusing!

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So firstly (and I plan to expand on this more later) I headcanon Five Pebbles is someone who cares a lot about his appearance, though not in a prissy or snooty sense and more in a “likes being the smartest and most sophisticated one in the room” sense. That means, more so than the average person, he generally doesn’t like being teased, ignored, belittled, condescended to, or otherwise disrespected, and very understandably so if you ask me! But it also means there exists a very special ability when it comes to interacting with Five Pebbles that almost no characters have. 

It’s no more than the ability of someone to refer to Five Pebbles as “Pebbsie” while he’s in earshot without getting death-glares from him. Looks to the Moon, who first started using it, affectionately calls this ability “Pebbsie privilege”, and she ends up being one of the only characters who has it (besides Innocence, who in my portrayals eventually gets it too). Though even so, Pebbles originally got rather flustered when she called him that alone, much less in front of others, considering it's definitely a very cutesy nickname. In fact, poor Pebbles really didn’t like being called “Pebbsie” because one of his least favorite ways of being treated is like a child (which includes being thought of as "cute" in any way). This unfortunately happens to him a lot though since he’s part of the newest iterator generation and tends to have lots of uncommon ideas rarely taken seriously by the older models, and this treatment only amplified as he grew more stubborn and arrogant. 

To elaborate on the origin, Moon developed the nickname pretty much on an impulse — quite a rare thing for her to act on actually — of wanting to hearken more to her role as “Big Sis Moon” and show love to her little brother. Soon after she started using it though Pebbles would pull her into private chats and urge her to drop it to save his dignity. Not wanting to hurt her brother in any way, it didn’t take long before she apologized and stopped using it, and basically got her "Pebbsie privilege" revoked. In the current time she secretly still likes calling him that in her mind, but knowing how much he dislikes it she always feels pretty guilty afterwards, despite them being no more than thoughts at that point. While not a major issue in-and-of itself, this situation was actually a small step in worsening a long-time fear Moon has, though that’s a headcanon for another day…

On a (marginally) more positive note however, after Moon’s collapse and the worsening of Five Pebbles’s rot, along with him generally reminiscing about the things he used to have (as part of yet more character headcanons I’ll elaborate on some other time), he actually began to grow fond of the nickname more and more. Yet he also couldn’t also shake the growing heartache the memories brang, as he came to see it as a reminder of his sister’s never-ending love for him and the better times he now regretted taking for granted and trying so hard to escape. While I headcanon he handles it differently in Downpour’s canon, in the worm-off-the-string AU story I’ve got so far, Moon slowly regaining her “Pebbsie privilege” and Pebbles appreciating it and no longer taking it so seriously (though he still forbids its usage in public) could serve as a small, yet sweet indicator of character growth for both of them.

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Aaaand another RW headcanon done! I wanna mention, though, now that I’ve got more of an idea for the aforementioned AU I really want to start posting more of my headcanons for the Local Group, since the character interactions, histories, and ultimate character growth is perhaps one of the most important elements of that story so far. I’ve spent at least a couple weeks creating almost 40 pages worth of character notes, and while this particular one started out as just a little side-headcanon, I ended up tying it into all of that. Hopefully I can start sharing the main parts of these headcanons soon!