#lisa drabble

[gildedwillow]

back of the fire truck - melissa schemmenti - 18+

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you’d only meant to drop off the kids at melissa’s school, a quick stop, a favour for your captain. but the second her hand slides down your turnout pants and finds just how hard you are for her, you’re being dragged behind the fire truck, shielded only by the open doors. “just a quick taste,” she murmurs, sinking to her knees as students laugh and scream not ten feet away. you know damn well this won’t be quick.

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requested - melissa schemmenti taglist - masterlist

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melissa schemmenti x g!p! firefighter fem!reader

You pull the fire truck up in front of the school like it’s just another community visit, but the second you see her waiting out front, arms crossed and eyes glinting beneath those tinted sunglasses, you know this day is about to take a turn.

Melissa Schemmenti is trouble in the sexiest goddamn package you've ever seen. Today, she's got her hair pinned up in that intentionally messy way that makes your fingers itch to pull it down, and she’s dressed like she’s daring every teacher in that building to break the dress code. A low-cut black top that dips just enough to show the swell of her tits — not enough to be scandalous, but enough to make your mouth dry. A fitted blazer hugs her waist, but it's the leather pants that do you in — hugging every inch of her hips and ass like they were poured on.

You’re half-hard the second you step out of the truck.

You try to focus on the task at hand. Kids are filing out, teachers chattering, and you’re supposed to be the professional, the firefighter giving a quick tour and safety demo. But when Melissa walks past you to gather the students, she brushes her fingers along the curve of your arm, subtle as hell, and gives you a look over her shoulder. You know that look. It says follow me, even if her lips don’t.

So, you do. You circle around to the back of the truck, supposedly to grab some handouts, but your pulse is already kicking up. The heavy turnout pants do nothing to hide the way your cock is pressing against the inside of them, already thickening at the thought of what she’s about to do.

You’ve got a nice cock — thick, veined, with a slight upward curve you’ve learned how to use to your advantage. The kind that drags along all the right places when you're buried inside her, the kind that makes her moan your name in that low, rough voice like she’s coming undone. Right now, it’s rock hard and twitching just from the sound of her heels clicking around the side of the truck.

“Couldn’t wait to see me in uniform, huh?” you murmur, the second she appears behind you. She doesn’t say anything at first — just gives you that smirk that says you have no idea and closes the distance between you.

Before you can blink, her fingers are at your belt, already working it open with practiced ease.

“I told myself I’d behave today,” she whispers, lips brushing your jaw, “but then you showed up lookin’ like a goddamn wet dream.”

You grunt, trying to keep your voice low, but the second she gets your cock out, it’s over. Her hand wraps around it, slow and greedy, and you swear your knees damn near buckle. She drags her palm up from the base to the head, her thumb smearing precum over the tip as she stares down at it.

“Still curved just right,” she murmurs, almost to herself, licking her lips. “Bet you’re aching to be inside something, huh, hero?”

You can barely breathe, nodding like an idiot as she sinks to her knees between the open back doors of the truck. You’re hidden just enough to be safe — maybe — but you can still hear the kids laughing at the front, a teacher asking someone to line up. They could come around any second.

Then Melissa’s lips wrap around your cock, and none of that matters.

She takes the head slow, tongue swirling over it before she sinks down further, stretching her mouth wide around you. Her lips glide over every ridge, every vein, and when she hits that slight upward curve, she moans. Moans. Like the shape of your cock alone is turning her on, and you feel it — the vibration of her voice shooting right through you.

“Jesus, Mel—fuck—” you breathe, gripping the edge of the truck as your hips twitch forward, just a little.

She doesn’t gag. She takes it like she’s done it a hundred times before — which she has — and her hands come up to hold your thighs as she works you deeper. Her mouth is hot, wet, sinful, and every time she pulls back, her tongue drags under the head just right, making you see stars. Then she’s sinking down again, eyes locked on yours like a challenge. Don’t you dare look away.

The kids are still there. The staff is still there. Any one of them could step out, take a peek behind the truck, and find the school’s most feared teacher on her knees with your cock stuffed down her throat. And somehow, that only makes you harder.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, guiding her rhythm now — short, sloppy strokes that pick up speed. You feel your balls tightening, that electric tension curling low in your gut, and you whisper her name like a warning.

She doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t flinch.

She just looks up at you, mouth full, and nods — like she wants it. Wants you to cum in her mouth, down her throat, right here, out in the open.

That’s all it takes.

You explode with a sharp gasp, your hips stuttering as hot ropes of cum spill onto her tongue. She swallows all of it — doesn’t even blink — just keeps sucking you through it, drawing every last drop until you’re trembling from head to toe.

When she finally pulls off, your cock slips from her lips with a wet pop, and she licks them like you’re her favorite goddamn dessert.

“You always taste like sin,” she murmurs, standing up like she didn’t just drain you behind a public service vehicle in the middle of a school field trip. She smooths her blazer, checks her lipstick in the reflection of the truck, then pats your cheek gently.

“Fix your pants, hero. You’ve got kids to impress.”

And just like that, she walks away, hips swaying, heels tapping, leaving you wrecked and still trying to remember how to breathe.

It’s been hours, but you’ve been hard since the moment her lips wrapped around your cock. And Melissa? She’s been fucking relentless.

You’d thought, maybe, you could hold it together for a school field trip. Be a professional. But the way she’s been working you all afternoon? She knew exactly what she was doing — brushing past you every time you turned around, flashing you those tits beneath that low-cut top, leaning in just close enough for her perfume to melt your brain.

She didn’t just want you distracted — she wanted you wrecked. And by the time the kids are back inside and you finally step behind the firetruck to breathe, you’re barely keeping it together.

But you don’t get a chance to cool off.

She’s already behind you.

You feel her before she speaks — her body presses up against yours from behind, and her hands? They’re already at your belt, fingers fast, impatient. She doesn’t even give you a warning this time. Just starts unbuckling you like she owns your cock.

“I’ve been dripping all fucking day,” she murmurs, mouth hot against your ear. “Thinking about how you filled my throat. I can still taste you.”

Your heart punches your chest, blood rushing south so fast it makes you dizzy. You spin around, grab her by the waist, and lift her like she weighs nothing. She lets out a startled gasp, then wraps her legs around you, grinning like she won. You don’t even care if someone’s watching — you’re too far gone.

You carry her straight into the back of the firetruck and slam the doors behind you, cutting off the outside world like it never existed.

Inside, it’s quiet. Dim. The faint smell of smoke and rubber hangs in the air, but all you can smell is her. That mix of perfume and sweat and raw, needy sex.

You press her against the inner wall, kissing her hard, teeth dragging over her lower lip as your hands fumble with her blazer. You rip it open, the buttons popping, and shove it off her shoulders like it offended you. Then that low-cut top is next, pushed up and over her tits until they bounce free — and fuck, your cock jumps at the sight of them.

Full, heavy, perfect. Her nipples already hard, begging to be sucked. You groan, honestly, helplessly — you’ve seen them a hundred times, but you swear they hit harder every time. You palm them both, squeezing greedily, brushing your thumbs over her nipples until she arches into you with a gasp.

“God, I’ll never get enough of these,” you mutter, dragging your mouth down her neck, licking and biting your way to one perfect breast. “You’ve got the best fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

Melissa moans as you take a nipple into your mouth, sucking slow and deep, your tongue flicking over it while your other hand works down to her pants — those tight leather ones you’ve been eye-fucking all damn day. You fumble with the zipper, impatient as hell, until she reaches down to help, shimmying them over her hips.

That’s when you realize — no panties. Just bare, wet skin and the musky, addictive scent of her arousal hitting you like a fucking drug.

“Jesus, Mel,” you breathe, hand sliding between her thighs. “You’re soaked.”

She’s dripping — her pussy slick and hot, lips swollen and glistening. Your fingers slide through it easy, parting her folds until you find her clit and draw a slow, dirty circle around it.

“All for you,” she pants, grinding down against your hand. “You gonna stop teasing me now? Or do I need to ride your cock myself?”

That’s it.

You yank your pants down just enough to free your cock — thick, veiny, already leaking. The head is flushed deep red, and that slight upward curve is damn near twitching at the sight of her. You run the tip through her wetness, letting her juices slick your shaft, and she whines, trying to push her hips forward to take you.

You grab her ass with both hands and lift her again, lining up that cock, and the second the head presses against her entrance — tight and needy — she digs her nails into your shoulders.

“Don’t you fucking tease,” she growls.

You don’t.

You thrust into her in one slow, brutal stroke — and fuck, the way she takes you. Her pussy clamps around you like she’s starving for it, every inch of her heat wrapping tight around your curve. You groan into her mouth, forehead pressed to hers, fighting to keep it together.

She’s soaked. Slick as hell. You’re sliding in and out of her with wet, obscene sounds, your cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust thanks to that curve. And she feels so good around you — snug and warm and pulsing, like her body was made to take your dick.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Come on, baby. You’ve been aching for this all day. Fuck me.”

You slam into her harder, faster, the whole firetruck shaking with every thrust. Her tits bounce with each movement, and you can’t help but suck one into your mouth again, moaning against her skin as she cries out, head falling back.

It’s hot. Messy. Desperate. You’re both sweating, grunting, clawing at each other like animals. Her pussy’s squeezing you tighter with every stroke, and you can feel her getting close — the way her moans get higher, how her hips start to jerk in time with your thrusts.

“Gonna cum on this cock,” she pants, fingers clutching your ass to pull you in deeper. “Gonna fucking soak you, baby—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

You feel it the second she breaks.

Her whole body locks up, and she screams your name as she cums, soaking your cock, her pussy fluttering around you like it’s trying to milk every drop.

And fuck — you can’t hold it anymore.

You slam into her once, twice more, then bury yourself deep, cock throbbing, and unload inside her with a ragged moan. Hot ropes of cum flood her pussy as you grind in, her legs locked tight around you, her teeth on your neck, your name a broken sigh in your ear.

You stay like that for a moment — shaking, panting, her slick dripping down your shaft, your cum still leaking into her — before she lets out a breathless laugh.

“We should really do more school visits.”

You groan — partly because she’s fucking impossible, and partly because… goddamn it, she’s right. You don’t even answer. You just shift your hips back and your still-hard cock slips out of her, slick and shining with your cum and hers.

And fuck, you’re already hard again.

It’s that risk, that rush — the fact that someone could knock on that door any second, or open it and find you both naked, sweating, soaked in cum. That dangerous edge has your cock twitching, already aching for more.

Melissa notices, of course.

Her eyes drop down and she bites her lip, then slides down to her knees again, like she already knows what you need.

“I knew you weren’t done,” she purrs, hands on your thighs. “That cock’s too greedy.”

You chuckle, breathless, as she leans in to kiss the head of your cock — just once, a soft little tease — before pulling back and sitting on her heels.

“Fuck my tits,” she says.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

She peels the rest of her top off, tossing it aside, then reaches up and grabs those perfect tits — full, heavy, flushed pink — and pushes them together around your cock like she was made for this. You groan as the head pops out between them, already smeared in slick, precum pooling on her skin.

“C’mon, baby,” she breathes, looking up at you through her lashes. “You love these tits so much, put that cock to work.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You grab the base of your shaft and line it up between them, then thrust forward, watching your cock disappear into that soft, warm heaven. It’s tight between her breasts, her skin slick from sweat and your cum, and the friction is unreal. You rock your hips, fucking your cock between her tits, groaning low and filthy as you watch your length glide in and out of her perfect cleavage.

She presses them tighter, spitting on the tip to make it even slicker, then sticks her tongue out and licks the head every time it slides forward. That little flick of wet heat sends a jolt through you, and you moan, hips snapping harder now, chasing that high all over again.

“Fuck, Mel—look at you,” you grunt. “Your tits feel so fucking good… you’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Do it,” she pants, licking the tip every time it peeks out. “Wanna see you cover me. Wanna feel it all over my face.”

That’s all it takes.

You feel your balls tighten again, the tension coiling low and hot as you fuck faster, rougher, the head of your cock now pulsing against her tongue. You grip the back of her neck with one hand, steadying yourself, and slam into that soft valley one last time—

Then you’re cumming.

Hard.

With a broken groan, your cock throbs between her tits and you explode — thick ropes of cum shooting up her chest, splattering across her collarbones, her chin, and then right across her cheek and tongue. She moans like it’s her reward, licking the mess off her lips, keeping her tits pressed together to catch every drop.

Your cum drips down the slope of her breasts, painting her skin in white streaks. She looks wrecked — and god, she’s never looked hotter.

She leans back on her heels again, grinning up at you, cum glistening on her chest, her cheeks flushed.

“Think you’ve got it out of your system now?” she asks, teasing, as she scoops some of your mess off her tits and sucks it off her finger.

You just stare at her, cock twitching again.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your legs are still trembling when you pull back, still dazed from the way you just emptied every drop of cum between her tits and all over her face. Melissa’s still kneeling, her chest glistening, licking one last streak of white from the corner of her mouth like she enjoys being coated in you.

And fuck, maybe she does — maybe that’s what’s got her smirking like she just won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. You’re standing there, tits rising and falling beneath your half-unzipped uniform, heart pounding, skin flushed, and your still-sensitive cock twitching in the air between you — and all you can do is stare at her. At the way she scoops another little smear of cum off her breast and pops her finger into her mouth like it’s candy.

You groan softly, then reach for a towel from the little first-aid bin at the side of the truck, swiping it across her chest, still warm from where your cock had been pressed between her tits. She shivers at your touch but doesn’t stop you, letting you clean her like you own her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be kneeling on the floor of a firetruck after getting wrecked in every way possible.

You help her back up to her feet and the two of you start scrambling — laughing under your breath, still tipsy on lust and adrenaline. You try to wipe each other down, pulling your shirt back into place, tucking your cock away as gently as possible because fuck, she’s still that kind of sore.

Melissa’s shimmying her bare, sticky thighs back into those leather pants, sucking in her breath as the fabric presses against the mess you left behind. She doesn’t say anything, but the way her eyes flick to you while she buttons them up — slow, smug, still wrecked — says enough. You know damn well she’s going to be carrying the feel of you between her legs for the rest of the day.

You’re just pulling your jacket over your still-throbbing chest when it happens.

A knock on the door.

Three short, sharp taps — too casual to be official, too perfectly timed to not send a bolt of panic right through your spine.

You both freeze.

You choke back a laugh and slap your palm over your mouth, your other hand flying out to press your finger to Melissa’s lips before she even opens them. She’s wide-eyed, lips parted, her chest still rising and falling fast, and that look in her eyes? That’s giddy. She’s turned the hell on.

You lean in, whispering so low it’s barely sound, “Shh—don’t even breathe.”

She nods, biting down on her lip hard, holding back a laugh of her own as she tugs the zipper on her pants the rest of the way up, her hips shifting slightly like she’s still trying to tuck your cum deeper inside her.

Another knock. This one a little slower.

You shoot her a look that says, be cool, then suck in a deep breath and straighten your back, stepping over to the door and praying you don’t look as freshly-fucked as you feel. You can still taste her, still smell her all over your skin, and the heat of her mouth on your cock is imprinted on you like a damn brand. Your fingers are still shaking. Your thighs are wet. You’re 100% not okay, but you force a smile anyway and reach for the handle.

[spicyschemmenti]

CROSSING THE LINE ➵ melissa schemmenti

pairing: melissa schemmenti x bimbo!teaching assistant!fem!reader

synopsis: after a day of teasing and tension, you and melissa finally give in to the undeniable pull between you. what starts as a heated, impulsive kiss quickly turns desperate, neither of you able to stop once you've started

warnings: teasing, flirting, they share a kiss

word count: 2.4k

MASTERLIST ---- JOIN A TAGLIST

Later that day, the halls of Abbott hummed with the usual end-of-day chaos; kids dragging their feet as they packed up, teachers corralling stragglers, the occasional sound of a locker slamming shut with unnecessary force. It was routine. Predictable.

Except nothing felt routine to Melissa right now.

Her mind was still caught up in the fire drill, in the way your body had molded against hers like you belonged there. In the way your voice had dripped with sugar and mischief, testing her resolve with every breathy whisper. In the way your fingers had brushed against her skin like a tease, a promise, a challenge.

And the worst part?

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Melissa prided herself on keeping things professional. On being the adult in the room. She wasn’t some starry-eyed idiot who got distracted by a pretty face—she was a grown-ass woman with years of experience dealing with people who thought they could get under her skin.

But you?

You were different.

Which is why, when the final bell rang and the last of the students filtered out, she was already on edge. And when she heard the click of your heels echoing down the hall, getting closer, she didn’t have to turn around to know it was you.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from making an entrance.

“Ms Schemmenti,” you purred, your voice just this side of playful as you leaned against her desk, tilting your head with an almost innocent expression. Almost.

Melissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before finally looking at you. Big mistake.

Your mini skirt had ridden up just enough to show off the curve of your thighs, your tank top clinging to every inch of soft skin beneath it, and that glossy smile of yours? Yeah, that was nothing short of lethal.

“Sweetheart, I swear to God…” Melissa muttered, shaking her head.

But you just giggled, nudging one of her pens with your fingertip like you had all the time in the world. “Swearing in front of the kids now?” you teased. “Tsk tsk, Ms Schemmenti. What would Barbara say?”

Melissa rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened when you said her name like that—low, teasing, like a secret you were sharing just between the two of you.

“The kids are gone,” she said, crossing her arms. “And so are you. It’s quittin’ time, sweetheart. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

You pouted. “Aww, what, you tryna get rid of me already?”

Yes.

No.

Hell.

Melissa exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through her hair before leveling you with a look. “Listen, I don’t know what kinda game you think you’re playin’, but—”

“Oh, I think you do,” you interrupted, smiling sweetly as you leaned in just enough that she could smell that damn perfume of yours again.

Melissa clenched her jaw. You were relentless.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice gruff.

You tilted your head, considering. “Hmm. I dunno. Maybe just… a little of your time?”

Melissa arched an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, do you need my time for?”

Your smile widened.

“Oh, I think we both know the answer to that.”

Jesus Christ.

Melissa swallowed hard, trying—failing—to keep her cool as you reached out, your fingers grazing the sleeve of her blouse, just barely there, like you were testing how much she’d let you get away with.

Spoiler alert: Too damn much.

“Y’know,” you murmured, your voice all honey and heat, “you never answered my question from earlier.”

Melissa blinked. “What question?”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “Is it working?”

Oh, you little—

Melissa exhaled sharply, stepping back, putting space between you before she did something she’d regret.

“I think you should go home,” she said, her voice rougher than she meant it to be.

Your smirk didn’t falter. In fact, if anything, you looked more amused. “Aww, did I fluster you, Ms Schemmenti?”

Melissa’s eye twitched. “I’m about five seconds away from sendin’ you home with a damn referral, sweetheart.”

You giggled, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Mmm. Kinda hot when you get all authoritative, y’know that?”

Melissa turned, gripping the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles went white.

Lord give me strength.

The silence stretched, heavy and charged, until finally, finally, Melissa heard you sigh dramatically behind her.

“Fine, fine,” you relented, pushing off the desk. “I’ll stop messing with you. For now.”

Melissa didn’t turn around, but she could hear the grin in your voice. Could feel the heat of your presence as you moved closer, just for a second, just long enough for your fingers to graze the small of her back.

“But I meant what I said,” you murmured, voice softer this time, almost sweet. “I like being close to you.”

And then, just like that, you were gone.

Melissa waited until the sound of your heels had completely faded before she let out a breath, her grip on the desk finally loosening.

She was so, so fucked.

Melissa sat at her desk long after you left, fingers still gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The room was quiet now, just the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of a few lingering teachers finishing up their work for the day. But in her head? It was chaos.

Because she could still feel you.

Still feel the ghost of your fingertips brushing against her sleeve, still feel the warmth of your body from earlier when you had pressed up against her like you belonged there, still feel the breathy lilt of your voice curling around her name like a slow drag of whiskey—hot, smooth, and a little bit dangerous. And the worst part? She wanted more.

Melissa was used to keeping a tight grip on her self-control. She had to—she was a professional, for Christ’s sake. She had been teaching for years, had dealt with her fair share of flirty coworkers, pushy parents, and God knows how many situations that could’ve ended badly if she didn’t know how to shut things down.

But you?

You weren’t like the others.

It wasn’t just the way you looked—though, Jesus, that didn’t help. That damn mini skirt hugging every curve, the way your tank top dipped low enough to make her swallow hard, the way your lips always seemed to be glossy and parted like you were just waiting for her to do something about it. No, it wasn’t just that. It was the way you moved. The way you spoke to her, always toeing the line between playful and something else. Something that made her pulse spike and her mouth go dry.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew flirting when she saw it. And she sure as hell knew when someone was doing it on purpose.

And you? You were laying it on thick.

Melissa ran a hand down her face, exhaling slowly through her nose, trying to shake the heat that had been simmering low in her belly since this morning. But it was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw you—wide-eyed and teasing, pressing just close enough to make her wonder if you were going to push further.

And God help her, she wanted you to.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, sharp and undeniable.

She wanted you.

Not just in passing, not just in the way someone might admire a pretty thing and move on. No, it was worse than that. She wanted to know what you’d do if she stopped holding back, if she gave in, if she let that tension between you snap like a live wire.

Would you giggle, all breathy and mischievous, just to make her crazy? Would you play innocent, bat those big eyes up at her and act like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing? Or would you push her even further, press yourself against her like you had during the fire drill and murmur something soft and devastating against her ear, just to see her break?

Fuck.

Melissa squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe, forcing herself to think rationally. Because this? This was a problem.

A big fucking problem.

And she had no clue what to do about it.

The sun had dipped lower by the time she finally left her classroom, the hallways mostly empty now except for a few teachers lingering by their doors. She nodded at Barbara, who gave her one of those knowing looks that made her stomach twist. Melissa didn’t need to ask—she knew damn well that Barbara had caught onto something. The woman had a sixth sense for drama, and Melissa was not in the mood to be dissected right now.

“Long day?” Barbara asked, voice laced with something that was too close to amusement for Melissa’s comfort.

Melissa just grunted, shouldering her bag as she made her way toward the exit. “Somethin’ like that.”

Barbara hummed, but thankfully, she didn’t push. She just gave Melissa one last look before turning back to her own classroom, leaving Melissa to make her escape.

The air outside was crisp, a welcome contrast to the heat still simmering under her skin. She needed to cool off. She needed a drink. She needed a distraction—

And then she saw you.

Leaning against your car like you had all the time in the world, phone in hand, one leg crossed over the other, looking so goddamn effortless it was infuriating. The last of the day’s sunlight caught on the shine of your lip gloss, highlighting the curve of your mouth as you scrolled lazily through whatever was on your screen.

Melissa should’ve kept walking. She should’ve gotten in her car, gone home, poured herself a drink, and convinced herself that this was nothing.

But then, like you had some kind of radar for her, you glanced up—and the second your eyes met hers, that slow, lazy smile spread across your lips, and Melissa’s feet stopped moving.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Ms. Schemmenti,” you teased, slipping your phone into your bag as you pushed off your car.

Melissa’s pulse jumped.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay level. “You waitin’ for someone?”

You shrugged, all casual and innocent, even though she could see the mischief dancing in your eyes. “Not really. Just… takin’ my time.”

Melissa exhaled slowly, tilting her head. “And why’s that?”

You took a step closer, heels clicking softly against the pavement, your smile turning just a little smug—like you knew exactly why she was still standing there. Like you knew exactly how much of a mess she was trying to hide.

“I dunno,” you murmured, reaching up to toy with the strap of your bag, your nails lightly skimming over the fabric of your top. “Maybe I was hoping you’d come out here… and we could finish that conversation from earlier.”

Melissa swallowed.

It would’ve been so easy to walk away. To shut this down like she knew she should.

But when you took another step closer, looking up at her with those wide, knowing eyes, voice soft and full of something that made her stomach flip?

She wasn’t sure she could.

Melissa didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was you, stepping into her space like you belonged there. Maybe it was her, finally giving in to that pull that had been tugging at her all damn day. But suddenly, you were close.

So close that she could feel the heat radiating off you, could smell that sweet perfume that had been driving her crazy, could see the way your pupils had blown wide with something that made her head spin.

Her breath caught in her throat as your fingers brushed against the sleeve of her blouse, slow and deliberate. Just like earlier, just like before, like you were testing her, like you were waiting for her to break.

And fuck, she was so close to breaking.

“Melissa,” you murmured, her name soft and syrupy on your lips, like honey dripping slow from a spoon.

That was it. That was all it took.

A low curse tumbled from her lips as she grabbed your waist, fingers curling tight around the fabric of your tiny little skirt as she pulled you flush against her. Your breath hitched—just for a second, just enough for her to know that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as unaffected as you pretended to be.

And then her mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry, desperate, like something that had been caged for too long and was finally, finally set free.

Your lips parted beneath hers instantly, a little whimper slipping from your throat as you melted against her, your fingers sliding into her hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, had her grip tightening on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You tasted like mint and something sugary, something that made her dizzy, something that made her want more.

Melissa kissed you like she was starving, like she had spent the whole day trying to deny this and now that she had you, she was going to take her time. Her hands roamed, fingertips pressing into the soft curve of your hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin just beneath the hem of your top.

And you?

You were just as desperate.

You kissed her back like you had been waiting for this, like teasing her had been fun, but this? this was what you had wanted all along. Your body molded against hers, hips pressing into hers just enough to make her head spin, just enough to make her groan against your lips.

Fuck.

This was bad.

This was so bad.

But God, it felt so good.

Melissa barely had the mind to remember where you were, barely had the restraint to slow down. Because the way you were kissing her, the way your fingers were tangled in her hair, the way your body was pressed so perfectly against hers—it was wrecking her.

She broke away just long enough to breathe, just long enough to rest her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, her voice rough, uneven.

You giggled, breathless, your fingers still toying with the short strands of hair at the nape of her neck. “Took you long enough.”

Melissa groaned, eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled sharply. “You’re trouble, y’know that?”

You smirked, leaning in, brushing your lips against hers—just barely, just enough to make her chase after you. “Mm. But you like it.”

Melissa let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking her head even as her grip on your hips tightened.

Yeah.

Yeah, she really fucking did.

tags:

@undercoverprentiss

@caseycabotsvu

@schemmentisimpasours

@colourfulbisexualities

@babyboyhotchner

@sapphicandgraphic

@divorcedcigarettes

@glorifiedagents

@bellatrixnnarcissa

[nicotinebliss]

ᯓ★ BAD INFLUENECE ★ᯓ

you’re a problem. melissa’s favourite kind.

mom's best friend melissa schemmenti

slightly unhinged bimbo female reader

headcanons

NAVIGATION

How You Met:

You’d been a notorious little firecracker in the neighborhood since you were a teenager — makeup too heavy, skirts too short, mouthing off to anyone who told you how to act. Melissa had known of you through your mom, always hearing the “can you believe what she’s done now?” stories at brunch.

First proper meeting was at your mom’s summer BBQ when you were 23, freshly single, drunk off pink wine coolers and practically grinding on the patio furniture while ‘80s power ballads played. Melissa had lit a cigarette and watched you with thinly veiled amusement, thinking Jesus Christ, this one’s a menace.

You clocked her the second you arrived — something about that raspy voice, sharp suits, chain smoking habit, and those dangerous, bedroom eyes had you immediately plotting how to make her look at you the way you wanted.

Dynamic:

Melissa’s a gruff, no-bullshit, old-school Italian woman who tells it like it is and thinks you’re an absolute disaster… but she cannot stop craving you.

You’re a loud, chaotic, over-the-top bimbo with a hyperfeminine aesthetic, a penchant for starting shit you can’t finish, and a dangerously sharp streak under all the gloss and giggles.

Melissa pretends she’s annoyed by your constant selfies, shrill laughter, and obsession with pink — but the possessiveness she feels when other people look at you says otherwise.

You absolutely weaponize your sexuality around her. Bending over just a little too far when you know she’s behind you, sucking on lollipops in front of her, showing up at your mom’s house in dresses that should honestly be illegal.

Tension & Sex:

The first time it happened was a fight. You called her a washed up old bitch, she called you a spoiled little whore, and then you were pinned against the wall, dress bunched up around your waist, Melissa’s nicotine-stained breath hot in your ear.

Melissa likes it rough. Hair pulling, face grabbing, calling you every filthy name in the book. “You like being a little dumb fucktoy for your mom’s best friend, huh? Goddamn mess you are.”

You love baiting her until she snaps — there’s something about pushing a woman like that to her breaking point that makes your thighs ache.

She smokes after sex. Laying there like it’s no big deal while you’re half-naked, covered in bruises and lipstick smudges, draped over her chest and still whining for more.

Public / Family Events:

You two have a disgusting amount of sexual tension in public, especially around your mom and the other neighbourhood ladies.

You’ll lean against her in the kitchen while she’s chopping peppers, whisper something filthy about what you want her to do to you later, and she’ll just chuckle, “You’re outta your fuckin’ mind.”

Melissa gets wildly jealous when you flirt with random guys at parties. One time you giggled your way onto some twenty-something’s lap at your cousin’s wedding and Melissa dragged you into the coatroom by your wrist, fucked you up against the wall, and made you come around her fingers before you could even get a protest out.

Soft Moments (Because There’s Always a Few):

Melissa pretends like she doesn’t give a shit about you — until you get too drunk and start crying about feeling stupid, or like nobody takes you seriously. Then she’s there with a rough hand on your thigh, calling you her gorgeous, fuckin’ perfect girl, promising she’ll take care of you.

She buys you dumb little gifts — gas station sunglasses, cherry lip balm, cheap hoop earrings. But then randomly surprises you with designer heels you’d been drooling over, swearing she got them on sale even though you both know she didn’t.

She won’t say I love you. But when she thinks you’re asleep, she brushes your hair off your face and mutters Jesus Christ, you’ll be the death of me.

Texts Between You Two:

You: send nudes

Melissa: You’re outta control. And you better delete that shit before your ma sees it, you little dumbass.

You: Make me 😈

Melissa: Wait til I get my hands on you, you fuckin’ menace.

[godjustkys]

male reader x lisa cuddy drabble . . .

you weren’t supposed to be doing this. not with your boss. ex- boss. you quit your job at the princeton hospital a couple years back. not it mattered much, you didn’t fit in anyway. but now? lisa cuddy, the dean of medicine, on your bed, in her pretty silk panties.. fuck.

she kept letting out soft breathless sounds every time you slid your cock against her folds. you.. promised yourself you wouldn’t fuck her. so here you were, your length between her legs, under her panties. the head of your cock straining against the soft, silk fabric every time you pushed your hips forward. it was such a hot sight, you felt your control slipping. you rutted against her slick folds faster, as if desperate. lisa’s hands were gripping the sheets, her eyes closed in bliss due to your actions. she sounded so pretty it made you physically ill.

you had a hand wrapped around your cock, just fucking into it. you picked up the pace of your shameless rutting, soft groans spilling from your mouth. the rhythm got erratic, your posture shifting. as it did, your tip accidentally, and just barely, slid into her cunt. you pulled out immediately, going back to what you were doing. but then it happened again. and again. and you just couldn’t resist it anymore. you lined your slick cock up and slid in, lisa moaning out and arching her back. “oh.. oh fuck..” you breathed out, pushing her panties aside more, to give you a better view. you leisurely pulled your cock out until the tip and slammed all the way back in to the hilt. she whimpered softly, her lips parted as noises left her throat. “yea, yea you’re so perfect..” you muttered mindlessly, picking up the pace; just savoring how tight she was around your cock. you moved your hand, thumb rubbing her clit in circles. “should’ve done this long ago. should’ve bent you over when i had the damn chance.” you spoke roughly, leaning down to kiss her lips. she reciprocated, her sounds swallowed by your mouth.

[365emotionlessfaces]

Idek what this is. My first posted fic. I’m on a no-sleep, Melissa Schemmenti-fueled gay agenda. I didn’t edit this or anything. Just let the gay brain do what the gay brain gonna do 🤷‍♀️

Better Than Mine?

WC: ~1k

Two veteran teachers walked down the halls of Abbott Elementary, headed for their respective cars to take them to their respective homes. The redhead looks at her work wife incredulously.

“You do not know the owner of Caruso’s!” Barbara Howard only nodded in response. “I’ve been dying to get in there! Kristen Marie says their manicotti’s better ‘an mine! Ain’t no way!”

As they exited the building, they made official plans for lunch the next day. Barb would be taking Melissa to the restaurant that she enjoyed often with her husband, and Melissa would be on a rumor breaking mission.

The day started like any other day for you. Your alarm went off at 7 o’clock, and your cat was on your chest by 7:01. You took a moment to snuggle with him before you hoisted yourself out of bed and into the shower. Remembering that most of your to-do list was comprised of inventory and other various paperwork, you opted for a casual look with a pair of slightly tattered jeans, a red tank top covered by a black flannel, and a pair of sneakers. At 7:43, you were in your car headed to open your restaurant.

The day went by without any major issues. Paperwork was surprisingly easy, and inventory came back almost perfect. You were doing a walkthrough when you received a text from an old teacher asking if there would be a table around lunchtime and if she could bring a friend. You immediately responded in the positive. Ms. Howard had been one of those above and beyond teachers who had helped you realize your passion for cooking, and never let you forget it.

You would do anything for that woman.

When she arrived later that day, the two ladies were sat in a booth almost immediately, much to the surprise of the Italian woman. “You must be somethin’ special ‘round here.” You heard Ms. Howard’s friend say as you approached the table.

“She is,” you said, and the redhead turned to lock eyes with you. It was like staring into pools of emeralds. Her eyes shined back at you and you thought you were going to melt. Regaining your composure, you finished your sentence “-as is anyone who accompanies her.” You very obviously look the woman up and down, your eyes locking into hers once again. She smirked, but before she could say anything, Barbara Howard spoke up.

“Melissa, this is y/n. She was one from my first year teaching. Y/n, this is Miss Melissa Schemmenti. She teaches with me at Abbott.” You never took your eyes off of the enchanting woman in front of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Schemmenti.”

“Call me Melissa. You’re not one of my students.” Melissa chuckled.

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t make it five minutes in a class without having a big ol’ crush on ya!” You laughed when the woman blushed at your comment. You took the orders of Barbara’s usual, and Melissa’s manicotti, and headed back to the kitchen to prepare their food. When it came to Ms. Howard, you always took pride in being the one to make her food. She was a huge reason you were here, after all.

When you returned with the food, Barbara had a mischievous gleam in her eye that went unnoticed by you and her companion. As you set the food in front of the ladies, she pipes up.

“Melissa was just telling me that her sister comes here now and then, and that your manicotti outshines anything she’s ever tasted, including Melissa’s,” the smirk she wore told Melissa everything she needed to know.

You felt your neck grow warm, and you were sure your face was starting to flush. Flirting with a woman who looked like she could be a goddess hiding amongst us mere mortals? No biggie. Accepting compliments about your cooking? You literally malfunction.

“My sister wouldn’t know good manicotti if it hit ‘er in the face. Maybe I’ll just have to invite you over and teach you how to cook. You’ll have people making reservations for years in advance,” Melissa chuckles as she goes to try the pasta. Had you not been now caught up in your head at the thought of Melissa teaching you how to cook one of her own recipes, your mind imagining her intoxicatingly close, you would have heard the guttural moan escape the redhead’s lips, surprising both her and her coworker.

“Or maybe you can teach me how to cook! Jesus Christ-“ she took another bite, and you snapped back into the reality around you. You watched as the woman closed her eyes to really enjoy the food, and you thought about what you would have to do to see that face all the time. “-this is actually might be better than mine.” She suddenly looked at Ms. Howard with a hard stare. “You tell Kristen Marie, and you’re dead to me.” Barbara raised her hands in innocence, indicating silence on her part.

“Well, I’m glad you like it!” You say, feeling the heat rising up your neck once more. As to try and not say anything embarrassing in front of the most beautiful woman to probably ever exist, you excused yourself and allowed the ladies to finish their lunch together. You sat in your office wondering how this day started so normal, and now you’re imagining a practical stranger’s lips all over you.

A half hour later, when you see that the ladies were finishing up, you brought out their bills-on the house, of course- and invited the ladies back any time they wished. As Melissa was about to protest the free meal, you winked and cut her off by saying, “Guess you’ll have to pay me back somehow.”

Neither of the ladies noticed the note left at the bottom of Melissa’s receipt, and Melissa herself didn’t notice it until she had pulled back into the school parking lot. She smiled and sent out a text before walking back into the halls of Abbott.

You were back in your office, filing the paperwork from earlier when your phone buzzed on the desk. Picking it up, you grinned seeing an address followed by:

Friday. 7:30. I’ll have the stuff to make manicotti. -Melissa

[novakology]

rosé-coloured love - melissa schemmenti + the different ways she says i love you

melissa doesn’t always say it out loud. she has her own way of letting you know — and you’ve learned to listen.

cotton candy chronicles - your navigation

“You eat yet?”

🌸She doesn’t say “I love you” first thing in the morning — she says, “You eat yet?” as she slides over a tinfoil-wrapped breakfast sandwich she picked up from “the good place, not that tourist crap.” 🌸You open it and find your favourite. No onions. Extra cheese. 🌸You smile. She shrugs. “I know what my girl likes.”

“Stay behind me.”

🌸You’re walking through a sketchy part of town after a late school event. A group of loud teenagers starts acting up, and Melissa subtly shifts to stand in front of you. 🌸“You stay behind me,” she mutters, eyes scanning the sidewalk like a hawk. 🌸You reach for her hand. She lets you hold it, even as her other one’s curled into a fist. 🌸Protectiveness is her love language.

“I told my sisters about you.”

🌸Melissa doesn’t bring just anyone around her family — blood or otherwise. So when she casually drops, “Yeah, I told my sisters about you,” while grading papers, your head snaps up. 🌸“You did?” 🌸“Course I did,” she says like it’s nothing, even though it very much isn’t. “They’ll love you. Or else.” 🌸That’s the closest thing to a marriage proposal coming from a Schemmenti.

“You’re not wearing that out, are you?”

🌸Sometimes she’s blunt — okay, always. But when she frowns at your outfit, it’s not judgment. It’s possessive affection. 🌸“I am wearing this.” 🌸“Not when you’re with me, you’re not,” she grumbles, but pulls you into a kiss anyway. “You’re gonna start a riot in South Philly lookin’ that good.”

“I made extra.”

🌸Melissa doesn’t “meal prep,” she cooks like she’s feeding the neighbourhood. But there’s always a specific Tupperware with your name on it in her fridge. 🌸Sometimes it’s baked ziti. Sometimes it’s meatballs. Sometimes it’s a sandwich from a deli where she knows the owner’s mom. 🌸Either way, she’ll hand it to you with a “Don’t you dare skip lunch, got it?”

“You make me soft, ya know that?”

🌸It comes out one night when you’re curled up together on her couch, half-watching a crime drama. 🌸She’s sipping wine, you’re tracing her hand. 🌸“You make me soft, ya know that?” she says, almost annoyed, like it’s your fault she feels this much. 🌸You just kiss her shoulder and say, “Good. Someone’s gotta.”

“Marone, I love you.”

🌸She does say it sometimes — but it usually slips out when you’ve made her laugh so hard she snorts, or when you’ve stood up to someone for her. 🌸“Marone,” she mutters, hand on her heart like you’ve physically knocked the wind out of her. “I love you, you pain in my ass.” 🌸She acts like she didn’t mean to say it, but she doesn’t take it back.

“If anyone hurts you…”

🌸Once, someone made a comment that crossed a line. You brushed it off. Melissa did not. 🌸She cornered them after school, voice low and terrifying. 🌸You found out when Ava told you: “Yo, your girl went full mafia on that guy. It was hot.” 🌸When you confronted Melissa, she just said, “Nobody talks to you like that. Ever.”

“You’re mine, capisce?”

🌸It’s not a question. It never is with her. 🌸And when she says it, you feel safe. Wanted. Claimed in the best, most protective way. 🌸You grin. “I capisce.” 🌸“Good,” she murmurs, pulling you in, “Now come here and let me show you how much.”

and this is how she loves you: through warm food and sharper words. through guarded glances and fierce loyalty. through the rare softness she only ever lets you see. she may not always say it out loud — but you’ll never go a day without knowing.

[oneofthetorturedpoets]

One and Only

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Slight angst to fluff

based on the song One and Only by Adele

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

You're laughing with Barbara, your head thrown back, your hand on her arm. Barbara has a smile on her face, proud of what she just said to make you laugh.

Melissa is staring at you from across the room, her eyes peering over her wine glass. She looks you up and down, observing your every move. You're amazing with her friends, you laugh with Barb, you debate with Jacob, you worry with Janine, you garden with Gregory, you party with Ava. You're perfect with Melissa, treating her like she carries the world on her back. You look at her like she just gave you air to breathe. You have never betrayed her, never done wrong by her. Melissa knows how you feel about her. She knows if she were to run up and kiss you in the way she dreams about, you would pull her closer. She knows you would treat her the way her Nonna wanted so bad for her. You would give her the security for her to completely open up and never make her feel judged. The stars have aligned and given Melissa her dream girl. The person she has been searching for, since she was a little girl. The one thing out of place is Melissa. Her mind holds her back from the one thing she craves. Every time she goes to lean in to finally capture your lips with hers, her mind races and her insecurities win. She can't do it. The what if's cloud her thinking and they terrify her. Why is something so promising, so simple, this hard?

"Melissa?" you tap her out of her thoughts, she looks up at you from her seat.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" you laugh.

"I was about to ask you that, you've been in the corner this whole night. Are you okay? Do you want to ditch? I'll distract Ava?" She shakes her head.

"No, just thinking too much." You grab her hand, pulling her up as she sets down her glass. She adjusts her red dress, shuffling it down slightly.

"Dance with me? We can clear your thoughts on the dance floor, mi amor." The pet name causing her cheeks to turn bright red, luckily her makeup covers most of her blush. You lead the way, as a slow song comes on. You set your hands on her waist as hers wrap loosely around your neck. "What on your mind, Mel?" She sighs deeply, laying her forehead on your collarbone.

"Complicated things, Hon."

"Maybe it's not as complicated as you're making it to be." you reply, making her feel as if you've read her mind.

"It's really not, I'm just having a mental battle with myself. Been havin' the same one for years now." you rock her slowly back and forth.

"I'm sure there's a solution to it."

"There is, I'm just not sure if I should solve this one."

"If it will add to your happiness, you should always take that chance."

She pulls away from your chest, looking up at you with unsureness and worry. "I just- I can't." Melissa runs out, her dress flowing behind her. You chase her outside, the wind blowing your hair in your face.

"Melissa!" You call out, only to fall on deaf ears. She bolts to her car, quickly opening the door. You gently grab her arm before she can get in her car. "Melissa if I upset you-"

She shakes her head "It's not you, Y/n... I just can't lose you"

Your brows tie together in confusion "You'll never lose me, Mel. I don't know why you would think that."

Tears form in her eyes "Y/n..." She whispers as you bring your thumb up to catch one of her tears, wiping her cheek. "Why does this have to be so hard?"

You keep your hand on her cheek "Why does what have to be so hard, my love?"

More tears fall from her eyes. "I'm in love with you. I always have been. God, please don't hate me, Y/n"

You smile softly at her, cupping her face. "Love doesn't always have to be hard, Melissa. You know I fell for you years ago." You lean in, brushing your lips against hers before she presses into you, passionately kissing you with everything she can. Trying to convey her feelings into one kiss. A tear rolls down your cheek as you shut your eyes, taking in the moment. The love you have for the woman, filling your heart, making your body warm.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to let my doubts go, you're the only one that I want" You shake your head.

"Don't be sorry, Mel." She pulls you in for another short-lived kiss.

She takes a deep breath of relief, letting the weight fall off her shoulders "I don't know why I was scared, I've been here before, I've imagined it all."

Finally, your souls unite, solidifying a love that not even the strongest of force could break, Melissa will make sure of that.

[itzyjinnie]

💖Hi Welcome to my account 💖

Hi I'm JJ

I'm 26, Genderfluid and VERY Gay

I will write for :

Itzy

Blackpink

Ateez

BTS

Any Girl Group as long as it also contains a member of itzy

(mostly smut&fluff) and will take requests, The only things I won't write are Incest (stepcest is fine unless it's male reader), anything too violent and obviously nothing involving minors but pretty much everything else is okay to send

please clarify in your requests if you want it to be Female, Male or Gender Neutral reader, member × member or itzy member × Different group member

I will always take requests but it may take me a little while to get to them so if you have any requests feel free send them in

Thank you for reading

Hope you have an amazing day, love ya💖

🔥=Smut

💖=Fluff

🍆= G!P

🥰=Poly

👨=Male Reader

Ryujin

Yeji

Chaeryeong

Yuna

Lia

Bias Polls

[v-thinks-on]

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” Utena said again.

And again, Anthy just smiled beatifically back at her and followed Utena down the now dark paths, back to their dorm.

“I hoped you would win,” Anthy said.

Utena stopped and turned to face Anthy in the orange glow of a streetlight. “How do I know you’re not just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?”

“You don’t.” Anthy lowered her gaze so the light was no longer reflected off her glasses. “But there’s no one else I would rather have as my champion.”

[gildedwillow]

you don’t get to come ‘til you fuck yourself dumb on it - melissa schemmenti - 18+

.

she makes you ride her hands-free—just your hips working to take all of her, over and over again. every bounce makes the water splash, your tits bobbing in her face while she licks and sucks your nipples raw. “look at you,” she growls, grip bruising on your thighs. “stuffed full and desperate. Is that all you’re good for, huh? taking cock like a dumb little slut?”

.

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

You’re already soaking by the time you straddle her lap, hot tub water sloshing around your waist, and Melissa’s just sitting there like she owns the place—hell, owns you. That smug fucking smirk on her lips, red hair pulled up, tanned skin glistening, tits practically spilling out of a tiny black bikini top. Her eyes are locked between your legs, hungry.

And underneath the surface, you feel it—her strap, thick and hard, bumping up against your pussy, just waiting for you to sink down on it.

She raises a brow. “You gonna sit on it, or you need help like the needy little bitch I know you are?”

Your pussy clenches, already slick and aching. You reach down under the water, guiding the thick silicone head between your folds, and the second it nudges your entrance, you whimper. You're already so wet it slides in almost too easy—stretching you, thick and deep, dragging against every nerve-ending inside you until you bottom out with a desperate moan.

“Fuck,” you breathe, hands on her shoulders.

But Melissa slaps them off. “Nah. No hands. You ride it all by yourself. Show me how bad you need it.”

You bite your lip, already shaking. That strap is big—long and girthy, curved just right to hit that spot over and over—but it’s the base of it grinding against your clit while you ride that sends you reeling. You start moving, slow at first, hips circling, grinding down on her. Your pussy’s gripping it tight, walls fluttering, so full you can barely think.

“Look at that tight fuckin’ cunt,” Melissa growls, watching your tits bounce as you ride her. “So greedy for cock. You hear that?”

Slap, slap, slap—your soaked pussy smacking against her hips, water sloshing hard with every bounce, spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ hear it. That wet little pussy loves me.”

You nod, jaw slack, riding faster now, ass bouncing on her lap as you fuck yourself dumb. She’s not even helping—just letting you take all of it on your own, hands behind her head like she’s enjoying the fuckin’ show. And she is.

And then she moans. Deep, low, throatier than you expected.

You blink, panting. “Are—are you…”

She bites her lip. “Yeah, baby. That harness is rubbin’ my clit just right. Keep bouncin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ come with you.”

That snaps something in you. You fuck her harder, harder, like you need to make her come now, not just for you but for her—need to see her fall apart while you’re split open on her strap.

“Shit, just like that—ride it, baby. Fuck—grind that sloppy cunt on me, I wanna feel you squeeze.”

You're both a mess. Your pussy’s soaked, stretched around the strap, dripping down to the base and mixing with the hot tub water. Her hips start thrusting up to meet yours, chasing that pressure as the harness grinds her clit raw. Water’s crashing over the edge with every move now, the sound of your pussy squelching around the strap obscene, wet and filthy.

You grab the edge of the tub just to keep from collapsing.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Mel—”

“Yeah, come on, baby—come on that cock, show me how good this fuckin’ strap ruins you—”

You scream when it hits. Whole body going stiff, legs locking, pussy pulsing so hard around the strap it almost knocks the air outta you. Melissa’s hands slam down on your hips, dragging you down hard onto her cock just as she gasps and shudders, her thighs clenching.

“Fuuuck—yeah, yeah—fuckin’ comin’ too, baby, fuck—”

You grind through it together, gasping, whimpering, cumming so hard the water damn near boils. She holds you tight, her strap still buried deep inside your wrecked pussy while your cunt spasms around it, milking it like it’s real.

Eventually, you slump forward, forehead on her shoulder, water rippling around you both.

Melissa lets out a breathless laugh. “Hot tub’s the best fuckin’ investment I ever made.”

You can’t even speak. All you can do is whimper as the strap stays stuffed inside you, and her fingers start slowly trailing down to your clit again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

You're still catching your breath when Melissa grips your hips under the water and growls, “Get the fuck up. Face-down. On the deck. Now.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. Your body’s buzzing, pussy still soaked and twitching around nothing now that she’s pulled the strap out. You scramble up the steps, dripping wet, legs shaking like a baby deer, and flop onto the wooden deck—cheeks flushed, hair a mess, still aching for her.

The air hits your skin like ice, goosebumps racing down your spine, but it doesn’t matter. You're on your hands and knees, thighs spread, ass high, and your pussy’s dripping—glossy and flushed, swollen from the way she fucked you in the tub. You can feel your slick mixing with the water sliding down your thighs, wetting the wood under your knees.

And then you hear it. Her footsteps behind you. Her breathing.

Click. The sound of the harness straps being tightened. Adjusted. Ready.

“Look at this pussy,” she mutters behind you, running her hand between your legs. Her fingers slide through your folds, slow and filthy. “So fuckin’ wet still. All sloppy for me.”

You arch for her, needy and whimpering.

Melissa doesn’t wait.

She slams back inside you in one deep thrust, burying the strap to the hilt, and you scream. Your hands shoot forward, bracing on the slick wood as her cock stretches you open again, filling you like she owns you.

“Fuck—fuck, Mel—”

“Shut up and take it.” Her voice is rough, low, right at your ear as she bends over you, chest to your back, one hand sliding up your throat to hold you still while she fucks you.

Her hips slap into your ass, again and again, water flying off both of you with every brutal thrust. Her strap hits deep, hard, angled just right to smash into your g-spot every time she pounds into you. The sound is obscene—wet, squelching, the smack of skin-on-skin echoing in the night.

Your pussy’s stretched wide, sucking the strap in over and over like you need it, like your body’s begging to be used. Your thighs are shaking, face shoved into the deck, drooling, moaning uncontrollably as she ruts into you like a fucking animal.

Melissa grips your hips tighter. “This what you wanted, huh? To get fucked face-down like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

You nod, but it’s pathetic—your face is mashed against the deck, lips parted, eyes rolling.

She spits on your back. Lets it run down your spine. Her hand slips between your legs, finding your clit, soaked and throbbing.

“Oh, you’re gonna come again, baby. I feel this pussy squeezing—she’s fuckin’ choking my cock.”

You sob. Your body jerks with every thrust. Her cock’s slamming into you with no rhythm now—just raw power, her own hips stuttering as the base of the strap grinds into her clit harder, rougher, soaked with your slick from earlier.

She’s panting, fucking into you like she’s chasing her own orgasm. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—oh my god, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You feel her shake. Her hips grind deep, and you hear her moan, real and broken, her orgasm ripping through her as the harness rubs her clit raw, her thighs clenching around you.

And that’s it—you fall over the edge with her.

Your body explodes, pussy clamping down so hard on the strap you see stars. Your vision goes white, whole body tensing, jerking, moaning into the deck like an animal as she fucks you through it.

You’re both a mess. Her cock still buried deep in your spasming pussy, your juices dripping down your thighs onto the deck. Her hand still holding your throat, possessive and gentle all at once.

You whimper, trying to breathe.

Melissa leans down, presses a kiss to your spine. “That’s my good girl.”

You can’t even answer.

You’re drooling on the wood.

And she’s still inside you.

You’re still face-down on the deck, leaking and wrecked, when Melissa finally pulls out with a slow, wet sound that makes your cunt flutter again. The thick strap is coated—your slick clings to the silicone in thick, shiny strands, still warm from your pussy.

She grabs your hair and yanks you up to your knees. “Clean it,” she growls. “Mouth open. Now.”

Your tongue’s out before she finishes the sentence.

She brings the strap to your face, tilting your chin up, and presses the tip against your lips—shiny and messy with your own cum. The taste hits instantly: salty, sweet, yourself—still warm, still soaked. You lick it clean, moaning as your tongue drags over the curve of it, mouth wrapping around the head while she watches.

“Filthy little slut,” Melissa mutters, hand still tangled in your hair. “Look at you. So hungry for your own pussy, you’ll suck it off my cock.”

You choke a little when she pushes it deeper, and she laughs. A warm, rough sound.

When the whole thing’s clean—glistening from your spit—she finally undoes the harness, lets it drop to the deck, and leans back on the edge of the hot tub with a smirk. She spreads her legs wide, her bikini bottoms already pushed aside, her cunt on full display.

And fuck, she’s gorgeous.

Her pussy’s flushed and wet, glistening with her own slick, lips full and puffy from how hard she came earlier—like her clit’s still throbbing, begging for more. She smells so good—that raw, musky sweetness that hits you right in the brain.

“Get in,” she says, nodding to the water.

You slide in, the heat swallowing your body as you move toward her. She’s perched on the edge now, legs open, and you settle between them, hands on her thighs, breath already shaky.

“Taste me,” Melissa says, voice low, almost a threat. “Don’t stop ‘til I’m fuckin’ shaking.”

You don’t waste a second.

Your tongue slides between her folds, licking a fat stripe up her slit, and she moans. Her taste floods your mouth—salty, earthy, hot, with that rich tang of her cum still fresh from earlier. You go slow at first, savoring it, sucking her clit into your mouth and flicking your tongue over it until she’s gasping.

“Fuck—yeah, baby, right there—”

You grip her thighs tighter, then move your hands up to her tits. You tug the bikini top down and start playing with her nipples—pinching and rolling them between your fingers while your mouth works her cunt like it’s your last meal.

She’s dripping down your chin, thighs twitching under your grip. You drag your tongue down to her entrance, fuck her with it, deep and filthy, then suck her clit back into your mouth while your fingers pinch both her nipples at once.

Her whole body jerks.

“Oh fuck—fuck—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

You moan into her, sucking harder, faster, her clit swollen and twitching against your tongue, and that’s when it hits her.

She screams your name—hips snapping forward, cunt grinding against your face as she cums. Hard. Wet. Messy.

Her thighs clamp around your head, and you stay there, licking and sucking through it, her juices flooding your mouth—hot, slippery, and just a little sweet. You swallow every drop, tongue lapping up everything that spills out while your fingers keep tugging on her nipples.

She’s gasping, legs shaking, hand in your hair, holding you there while she rides it out.

When she finally loosens her grip, you pull back, panting, lips and chin soaked in her cum. Her chest is rising and falling, tits heaving, her pussy still glistening and twitching.

She looks down at you with that crooked grin.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d be good at that,” she murmurs. “Get back up here, sweetheart. I ain’t done with you yet.”

[spicyschemmenti]

FIRE DRILL FLIRTATION ➫ melissa schemmenti

pairing: melissa schemmenti x bimbo!teaching assistant!fem!reader

synopsis: during a routine fire drill, you stick a little too close to melissa, pressing against her and whispering sweet nothings that make her dangerously close to losing control

warnings: implied age gap, sexual tension, swearing, power dynamics?? work place setting, teasing, inappropriate behaviour

word count: 1.9k

author's note: omg, thanks for this request?? i loved writing it sm

based on this request: Melissa Schemmenti x Sassy Bimbo!Teaching Assistant!Fem reader mini series would be amazing! Kind of like your Alex Cabot ones but reader is more ditzy?

MASTERLIST ----- JOIN A TAGLIST

The blaring fire alarm echoed through the halls of Abbott, sending kids and teachers pouring out of classrooms like a chaotic wave. You were supposed to be helping herd the kids toward the exit, but honestly? You were a little too distracted making sure your skirt didn’t ride up as you walked.

It wasn’t your fault that the outfit was maybe a little inappropriate for school. A tight, bubblegum-pink mini skirt that hugged your curves and showed off just enough leg to be dangerous, paired with a lacy, low-cut white tank top that was definitely pushing the limits of dress code. The little cropped cardigan you threw over it was more for show than anything else, and your glossy lips and perfectly winged eyeliner? Total bimbo perfection.

You knew the moment you caught Melissa’s eye this morning that she’d noticed. Her lips had pursed, her gaze lingering on your chest for a split second longer than necessary before she’d muttered something under her breath about “these damn kids” and stalked off.

Now, in the middle of a crowded hallway during a fire drill, you saw your chance.

“Ms Schemmenti!” you called out, your voice just a little too sweet as you teetered on your heels, pretending to look helpless as the crowd jostled you.

Melissa was a few steps ahead, guiding her class toward the doors with that no-nonsense attitude that made your knees weak. Her maroon blouse hugged her curves in all the right places, and those tight black slacks? Yeah, they weren’t doing you any favors either. She looked good. And the way she commanded the room, her voice calm but firm as she directed everyone toward safety? Ugh.

You bit your lip, feeling that familiar heat swirl low in your belly.

Melissa’s head snapped around at the sound of your voice, her eyes narrowing as she spotted you lagging behind. “Oh, for…” She muttered something under her breath, probably a prayer, and marched toward you with purpose.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she said, her tone clipped but not unkind as she grabbed your wrist and pulled you close. “Stick with me. I don’t need you gettin’ lost in this mess.”

Ohhh, she had no idea what she’d just done.

You let out a little breathy sigh, pressing yourself against her side like you needed her to keep you safe. Your arm looped through hers, your body molding to her, and you didn’t miss the way her muscles tensed at the sudden contact.

“Thanks, Ms Schemmenti,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “It’s just… so crowded. And, like… I don’t wanna get trampled.”

Melissa’s jaw clenched. Jesus Christ, this girl’s gonna kill me.

She was trying—really trying—to focus on the kids and getting everyone outside safely, but it was damn near impossible when you were practically purring in her ear like that. And the way your body was pressed against her? Soft, warm, and so close. She could feel every curve, every subtle shift of your hips as you moved beside her.

Focus, Melissa. You’re at work. Surrounded by kids. This is not the time to be thinking about how good she smells.

But God help her, that sweet, floral perfume you wore was making her head swim.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low and gruff as she tried to maintain her composure, “you’re supposed to be helpin’ me keep the kids calm, not clingin’ to me like a lost puppy.”

But instead of letting go, you just… giggled. A soft, airy sound that went straight to her core.

“But Ms Schemmenti,” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear as the crowd pressed in closer, “you’re just… so strong.”

Melissa’s breath caught. Fuck.

Her grip on your waist tightened instinctively, her hand resting just a little lower than it probably should have been. You felt it immediately, of course. And instead of pulling away, you leaned into it, your body practically melting against her side.

“Oops,” you murmured, a mischievous sparkle dancing in your eyes as you looked up at her through your lashes. “Sorry. It’s just… kinda tight in here.”

Yeah, that’s not the only thing that’s tight right now, Melissa thought, her jaw tightening as she dragged her eyes away from the way your lips were so close to hers.

Her mind was racing. She was supposed to be focused. But all she could think about was how soft your skin felt against her, how your perfume was making her dizzy, and how your damn giggles were making her heart beat way too fast.

Meanwhile, you were having the time of your life.

You could feel the tension rolling off of her, the way her body was practically vibrating with restraint. And it was so much fun to push her buttons. Melissa Schemmenti was always so cool, so in control but right now? You had her completely flustered, and it was delicious.

“I like when you take charge,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the noise, but you knew she heard it.

Melissa’s eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous, her jaw clenched so tight you thought she might crack a tooth.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low enough that it sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

Your lips curled into a sly smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Me? I’m just followin’ directions…”

But you both knew that was a lie. And from the way her fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you just a little closer as the crowd started to thin

You weren’t the only one feeling the heat.

The cool air hit you like a wave as the crowd of kids and teachers spilled out into the parking lot. But even with the breeze brushing against your bare legs, the heat simmering between you and Melissa didn’t let up.

“Alright, everybody stay in your lines,” Melissa barked, her voice sharp as ever, but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. Like she was barely holding it together.

You could see it—the way her jaw clenched, the furrow in her brow, the slight flush creeping up her neck. She was frazzled. And it wasn’t from the fire drill.

It’s from you.

“Ms Schemmenti,” you purred, sidling up to her again even though there was zero reason for you to be that close. The kids were fine, standing in neat little lines with the other teachers. But here you were, all wide-eyed and innocent, pressing your body against her arm like you needed her to keep you safe.

Melissa didn’t move away. But she also didn’t look at you.

“Why’re you still glued to my side, sweetheart?” she muttered, her voice a little too gruff.

You tilted your head, blinking up at her with that sweet, ditzy expression that always made her weak in the knees. “I dunno… I just feel safer when I’m with you,” you murmured, leaning in just enough that your lips brushed the shell of her ear.

Safe? Oh, honey. If only you knew.

Melissa’s entire body went rigid, her jaw so tight you thought she might actually break something. Her mind was a mess. On one hand, she was supposed to be keeping things professional. You were her coworker, for God’s sake. A sweet, bubbly, barely qualified teaching assistant who had no idea what she was doing half the time.

But on the other hand?

You were driving her insane.

Melissa wasn’t blind. She’d noticed the way you looked at her—how your eyes lingered just a little too long when she bent over to pick something up, how your smile got a little brighter when she was around, how you always found a reason to touch her, even if it was just a light brush of your hand against hers.

And now? Pressed up against her like this, your body warm and soft and way too close?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… I’m gonna lose my damn mind.

“Sweetheart,” Melissa growled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You need to—”

“Relax,” you interrupted, your voice dripping with sugar as you tilted your head and looked up at her with that innocent, wide-eyed gaze that had gotten you out of trouble more times than you could count.

“But I like being close to you,” you murmured, your glossy lips curling into a playful pout. Your fingers brushed against her arm, trailing down her forearm so lightly it was almost innocent. Almost.

Melissa snapped.

“Jesus,” she muttered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd so fast you barely had time to process what was happening.

“Whoa!” you giggled, stumbling a little in your heels as she guided you toward the side of the building where the crowd couldn’t see. “Ms Schemmenti, what’s the rush?”

Her grip on your wrist loosened, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she turned to face you, her body just a little too close, her eyes dark and filled with something you hadn’t seen before.

“Do you enjoy testin’ my patience?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous, making your breath catch in your throat.

You blinked up at her, all wide-eyed innocence, but the smirk tugging at the corners of your lips gave you away. “I dunno what you’re talking about, Miss Schemmenti…”

Melissa’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing as she scanned your face. God, you were trouble.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she muttered, her hand still holding your wrist, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You know exactly what you’re doin’.”

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your chest. She was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire.

“Maybe,” you murmured softly, your eyes flickering to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “But… is it working?”

Oh, you little—

Melissa’s resolve was hanging by a thread.

Her body was practically vibrating with tension, her mind screaming at her to step back, to walk away, to be professional. But the way you were looking at her? The way your lips were just close enough to kiss?

She was this close to giving in.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice husky and low as her hand finally dropped from your wrist. But instead of stepping back, her fingers brushed against your waist, her touch light but burning through the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Yeah, Ms Schemmenti?” you whispered, your voice dripping with sugar, but your eyes? Oh, your eyes were full of heat.

Melissa’s gaze flickered to your lips, her resolve cracking, her breath hitching...

“Melissa!”

The voice snapped through the tension like a bucket of cold water.

Melissa jerked back, her hand dropping away from you so fast it was like she’d been burned.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, her face flushing as she turned to see Barbara waving her over.

“Looks like the drill’s over,” Barbara called, giving Melissa a look that was way too knowing. “We’re headin’ back inside.”

Melissa nodded stiffly, her jaw clenched as she tried to regain her composure.

But you?

Oh, you were smirking.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later, huh?” you murmured softly, your voice dripping with mischief as you brushed past her, your body just grazing against hers as you sauntered back toward the building.

Melissa didn’t move.

She just stood there, her jaw clenched, her body still on fire, and her mind screaming one thing over and over again:

I am so fucked.

[nicotinebliss]

ᯓ★ HORROR MOVIE NIGHTS ★ᯓ

she doesn’t scare easy, but she loves when you do.

melissa schemmenti

girlfriend reader

headcanons

NAVIGATION

Setting the Scene:

Melissa’s living room is your horror HQ. She's got a plush sectional with a throw blanket in that deep-school-red shade, wine on the coffee table, and candles flickering with an amber glow. It’s romantic, sure, but that’s not why you’re here—you’re here to be terrified together.

She insists on physical DVDs: no streaming. “It’s the principle,” she tells you, thumbing through her alphabetized collection of actual scary movies, not the fake jump scare shit. You're impressed by the depth of her collection: vintage Italian giallo films, ‘70s slashers, obscure psychological horror you’ve never heard of.

Movie Taste + Watching Habits:

She has zero patience for bad pacing. If the movie takes too long to get going, she’ll roll her eyes and talk loudly over it. “We get it. Your wife’s dead. Move it along.”

She LOVES practical effects. Think The Thing, Hellraiser, and Suspiria (the original). “See that blood? That’s real corn syrup and food dye. None of that CGI bullshit.”

You’re a little more squeamish, so she likes picking movies she knows you’ll squirm at—just so you’ll hide your face in her chest and clutch her arm. She lives for it. “Aw, baby, is it too much? Wanna watch ‘Hocus Pocus’ instead?” (Teasing you with a grin).

During the Movie:

She doesn’t jump at scares. Ever. But when you scream, she laughs, wraps an arm around your shoulder, and presses a kiss to your temple. “Jesus, babe. You’re cute when you’re scared.”

Melissa talks to the screen. Constant commentary. “Why would you go in the basement? Stupid.” You used to get annoyed, but now it just feels like part of the experience — and her commentary is funny.

If it’s a movie she’s seen before, she’ll purposely turn to you during key moments, watching your face instead of the screen. “Wait for it… Aaaand—yep. You jumped. Classic.”

Post-Movie Vibes:

She always asks if you want to sleep with the lights on—even though she knows you’re going to say yes. She never teases you for it, though. In fact, she leaves the bathroom light on “just in case.”

The best part for her is the aftercare. You’re jittery and clinging to her like a scared little kitten, and Melissa? She’s smug but sweet. Pulls you onto her lap, lets you bury your face in her neck, strokes your hair, murmurs, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, honey. I’m right here.”

If you're really spooked, she'll suggest a "palette cleanser" .. usually something comforting, like old Golden Girls reruns or an episode of Frasier, playing while she spoons you under the blankets.

Smutty Bonus Headcanons:

You being scared turns her on just a little bit. There’s something about you clinging to her, half-hiding behind her arm, asking her if she can stay close—that lights a fire in her stomach. "You scared, baby? Lemme make you forget about that monster under the bed."

If you jump during a particularly tense scene, she’ll tug you into her lap and whisper, "I gotcha. You’re safe with me, sweetheart." But her hands might wander, stroking your thighs while you’re still shaking just a little.

Sometimes she’ll turn horror night into foreplay on purpose. Picks the movie with the creepiest music just to get you curling into her chest, and then afterwards? She’s got you under her, saying, “Think you’ll be able to sleep now, or do I gotta wear you out first?”

Little Things She’d Say:

“What, that scared you? That was nothing, baby. Wait ‘til you see the next scene.”

“You’re lucky I’m here, y’know. You wouldn’t last five minutes in a haunted house without me.”

“Ohhh no, you’re not sleepin’ in your own bed after that. Get your ass in mine.”

[novakology]

pretty in pink, loud in green - melissa schemmenti + game day headcanons

from the moment you started dating melissa, you knew the eagles weren’t just a football team—they were family. watching a game with her isn’t a casual sunday activity. it’s a full-blown ritual, complete with loud opinions, superstitions, and surprisingly tender moments between the chaos.

cotton candy chronicles - your navigation

Pregame Rituals:

🌸You’re not allowed to sit on the left side of the couch. That’s her lucky spot. You learned that the hard way during your first Eagles game together, when you got a death glare so potent it made your blood run cold. Now, it’s a running joke—she’ll pat the cushion, smirk, and go, “Unless you want ‘em to lose, babe, I suggest you scoot.”

🌸There’s beer. Not fancy craft stuff. Melissa’s got a case of Yuengling ready to go in the fridge, and she’ll crack open the first one with you while still in her Eagles jersey—#62, Jason Kelce, obviously. She likes her game-day fit just shy of comfortable: jersey, black leggings, hair tied up in a messy ponytail, and eyeliner sharp enough to kill.

🌸She insists on putting out snacks, even if she claims she "don’t got time for hosting." Wings, soft pretzels, and something spicy—jalapeño poppers or buffalo dip. And you help her prep, mostly so she doesn’t burn down the kitchen while ranting about the NFC East.

During the Game:

🌸Melissa is loud. She’s the kind of fan who yells like the team can actually hear her through the TV. She’s up and pacing half the time, gripping a throw pillow like it personally insulted her. She throws her hands up when there’s a bad call and mutters “zebras need glasses” like it's a prayer.

🌸You get pulled into it—whether you care about football or not—because she’s magnetic like that. You find yourself shouting alongside her, repeating phrases she says like “run the damn ball!” or “hold the line, for crying out loud!”

🌸She’s also surprisingly affectionate during the game. She’ll yell at the screen one second, then lean over and kiss your cheek the next like it’s a victory blessing. If the Eagles get a touchdown, she high-fives you and then cups your face dramatically like you were somehow responsible.

🌸If they’re losing? She gets grumpy. The kind of grumpy where she folds her arms, mutters curses under her breath in that South Philly accent, and refuses to talk until they score again. But you always break the silence—usually with a dumb joke or her favourite snack, and her scowl fades into a smirk.

Postgame Vibes:

🌸If they win? She’s practically glowing. She’ll pull you in for a long kiss, spin you around the living room like it’s the Super Bowl parade, and make plans to rewatch the highlights three times. You indulge her, happy to see her so proud of her team— and so smug about it.

🌸If they lose? She sulks for about 15 minutes, then grabs another beer and slumps next to you with a resigned sigh. “Next week. We’ll get ‘em next week.” You let her rest her head on your shoulder, and she softens up—quiet and tired and warm in a way that makes your heart swell.

Little Things:

🌸She taught you the “Fly Eagles Fly” song, and now it’s your shared battle cry. You once sang it drunkenly on Broad Street after a win, arm-in-arm with her and two strangers in green wigs. She still brings it up with a proud grin.

🌸You surprised her with a vintage Eagles snapback once. She wore it for every game that season, claiming it brought luck. It’s still hanging by the front door, her go-to every Sunday.

🌸Every now and then, she’ll look over mid-game, eyes bright, and say, “I love that you do this with me, y’know?” like she doesn’t expect it. You just smile and kiss her, because of course you do.

loving melissa means loving the eagles—because to her, loyalty runs deep. sundays are sacred. and whether they win or lose, watching the game with her is always electric, passionate, and just a little bit chaotic. kinda like loving her.

[r0-boat]

Aphrodisiac potion drabble

Potion event got me thinking

Lisa x amab!reader

Cw: mommydom, dubcon, drugging(aphrodisiac), handjob milking.

You buck your hips into her hand. Her thumb grazing over the head of your cock, as it drools with endless pre-cum. You're so hard, so hard it's difficult to think.

The person who did this to you smiling lovingly cooing at your heavy breathing her thumb wiping the drool mixed with the concoction she gave you off your pretty bottom lip. She brings her thumb up to hers darting her tongue out to taste the The mixture.

"mh, too sweet, not as strong as it would be. Oh well now that I know thank you for being such a wonderful taste tester cutie,"

Lisa purrs booping your nose before leaning down to kiss your lips squeezing your cock with her hand, making you cum onto her palm.

Your body's still hot with the aphrodisiac, Your balls still feel so full.

"goodness gracious, That's a lot~and you're still so achy. Don't worry dear Mommy will help you, I'll drain your poor balls dry."with her gentle yet firm hand she squeezes your sack never so gently fondling. Playing with your body as if it was some play toy. And you're too out of it to stop it.

All you could do is lay there in her lap and fuck yourself into her hand.

[leifyposting]

“Will you be back?” Jean asks. 

She’s sitting straight-backed on Lisa’s bed with her hands folded in her lap, her hair plaited tightly along her skull in preparation for training. She looks ill at ease, as she does often these days — the inescapable consequence of clawing her way out from under her mother’s shadow, trying to refit her skin to the role of an infantry captain, navigating the unwanted attention that comes from being 16 but looking older. 

“Oh, probably,” Lisa says, and watches Jean’s face go blank like it does when she’s trying not to show that she’s upset. 

It’s a little cruel, her flippant answer. She should feel guiltier about it, maybe reassure her best friend that she’ll be back as soon as she’s able. 

But Lisa has ambitions, gods forgive her: dreams bigger than sleepy Mondstadt and its placid people. If Jean loves her — which she does, Lisa knows this without asking — then she’ll have to let her go. 

“But you’ll write,” Jean says, sounding uncertain. 

“I’ll do my best,” Lisa says. She does feel guilty, this time — Jean’s stoic silence does nothing to hide her disappointment. “I hear the Akademiya’s workload is intense. But I’ll try.”

“You can handle it,” Jean says, with a faith that borders on fealty. “You’re brilliant, Lisa.”

Lisa grins. She is brilliant — she knows this well. It is the one thing she has going for her: she is not charming like Diluc, funny like Kaeya, or diligent, courageous, and radiant like Jean. But the Akademiya had sought her out for her mind, even though, at 18, she is much older than the vast majority of novices scouted from outside Sumeru. 

Lisa is smart. She doesn’t intend to squander that. 

“You’re too kind,” she says, throwing one last cardigan into her suitcase and then kneeling on it to zip it up. In a flash, Jean is on the floor in front of her, long swordsman’s fingers pressed to the top of the suitcase as she reaches for the zipper on the other end. Together, they wrangle the suitcase shut. 

Lisa looks down to grin triumphantly towards where Jean is kneeling before her. They are very close, like this, Jean’s face tilted up towards her own. If Lisa were to lean forward just a little, she could—

Jean stands abruptly. She extends a hand to pull Lisa up, her grip betraying the strength concealed in her wiry frame. 

When they both have their feet firmly planted on the floor — and Jean has genteelly let go of Lisa’s hand within an appropriate time frame rather than holding on to it a moment too long like Lisa almost wishes she would — Lisa looks up and finds herself surprised, as she always is, at how tall Jean has gotten. 

Despite being two years her junior, Jean is already half a handbreadth taller than Lisa, and fixing to grow taller still. Lean and broad-shouldered, she carries herself with a poise devoid of pretense or affectation; she hasn’t quite mastered the Gunnhildr presence that Frederica wears so well, but Lisa can already tell that it won’t be long until Jean too wears it like a second skin. 

Lisa wonders, not for the first time, what happened to the quiet, wide-eyed child who’d looked to her for comfort during storms as if the lightning itself heeded her words. And then she puts those thoughts to one side, because she is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, and she cannot afford to second-guess.

Lisa has never known her father, you see, and her mother passed away a year ago. There is nothing more keeping her in Mondstadt.

Well. Nothing except Jean.

“I can’t come to bid you goodbye tomorrow,” Jean says suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“Oh?”

“I’m taking my Company on a training exercise in the field. I won’t be in town when you leave.”

Reschedule your training, Lisa doesn’t say. Aren’t I more important than your Company? 

She bites her tongue and holds back the mean-spirited question, because she is a good friend. (And because she is afraid she already knows what the answer is.)

“That’s okay,” she says instead. 

“I am sorry,” Jean says. 

She looks penitent enough that Lisa abandons her resentment and reaches up to tweak her nose. “Oh, don’t look so sad, darling. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I’m not sad,” Jean protests, going a little pink in the cheeks. 

Lisa feigns offense. “You’re not sad that your best friend is leaving?”

“I-I—” Jean stammers. “That’s not—” She catches the mischief behind Lisa’s eyes and glowers at her. “Stop teasing.”

Lisa pouts and throws her arms around Jean’s neck, dragging her down into a hug. “Oh, but you make it so easy!”

Jean snakes her arms around Lisa’s waist and leans only a little awkwardly into the hug. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Emotion, strange and cloying, chokes off Lisa’s windpipe. She squeezes Jean a little tighter. “I will miss teasing you,” she says, in lieu of the myriad other confessions that linger at the tip of her tongue. 

Jean doesn’t respond — only sighs, and presses her cheek wordlessly into Lisa’s curls. They stand there for a long moment. 

Eventually Jean shifts, glancing at the clock on Lisa’s wall. “I should go,” she says regretfully. “I have preparations to make before my field excursion tomorrow.”

Selfishly, Lisa holds on for a fraction of a second more. Then she disentangles herself from Jean and offers her a brilliant smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep the Lionfang Knight from her duties.”

Jean’s answering smile is a small, wistful thing. “Have a safe trip, Lisa. Write me when you get there?”

“I will,” Lisa promises: her one concession to sentiment. 

“I would wish you luck,” Jean says, “but I know you won’t need it.”

Lisa smiles. “Same to you.”

Jean stares at her a moment, as if committing the lines of her face to memory. Then she nods. “Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye, Jean,” Lisa says. 

Jean turns and lets herself out of the room, the doorknob as accustomed to her hand as to Lisa’s. The door shuts noiselessly behind her. 

Lisa allows herself 10 ridiculous seconds of staring at the door, hoping against all her better sense that it will open again and reveal Jean in the doorway. 

When it does not, as Lisa had known it wouldn’t, she throws herself back into putting her room to rights, packing everything that will fit into her suitcases and leaving the nonessentials in boxes. 

She has no time for frivolous, unscientific sentiment. She has so much to do. She is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, she reminds herself. 

And she tries not to think too hard about why it feels like she is the one being left behind, instead. 

[demigoddessqueens]

Just spitballin here about themes…

Thinking of Dracula being alone all that time and then he met Lisa, who encouraged him to travel and see the best of people, the same Dracula who tore down the Church for her, and Alucard being a manifestation of the love they had for each other

Meanwhile, Tera lost all who she knew and probably saw the lowest of low for humanity, met Emmanuel who was part of the Church who believed his own hypocrisy, and kept his love for Tera and Maria secret