#if i have made any mistakes please feel free to correct me

[deus-ex-mona]

just a tl of lxl's tv guide interview~

Q1: First off, please introduce yourselves!

Aizo: It’s nice to meet you guys! I’m Aizo.

Yujiro: And I’m Yujiro! The two of us make up the idol unit of LIPxLIP.

Aizo: We sing with all we’ve got to bring happiness to our listeners.

Yujiro: We’ve released many MVs as well, so please check them out as well.

Aizo: We also give it our all when we’re shooting our MVs, so you’ll be able to see us being all cool in them!

Yujiro: That sure is a lot of “all”s that we’ve given, Aizo.

Aizo: That’s cuz I really give it my all in everything we do. You do the same, right?

Yujiro: Of course I do. There isn’t a single day when I’m not giving it my all.

Aizo: See? You look calm and composed most of the time, but you’re actually a pretty passionate guy, huh?

Yujiro: It’s because you’re always giving it your all that I feel like I can’t lose either.

Aizo: There it is, your tendency of hating to lose.

Yujiro: Well, we both hate to lose, don’t we?

Aizo: But, Yujiro, you’re able to do everything so easily without seeming bothered by the thought of falling behind, which never fails to surprise me every time.

Yujiro: I guess you’re the opposite of me in that regard, Aizo. You’re a straightforward open book. I think that any onlooker will be able to tell how much you love singing and how much fun you’re having at work.

Aizo: Eh? Do I really look like I’m having that much fun?

Yujiro: You’re always excited when we’re on site. But, Aizo, you’re actually surprisingly calm and even more observant of your surroundings than I am of mine. Even when I’m distressed, you’re the one who notices it faster than anyone else, Aizo…

Aizo: I’ve told you that you should ask for help when you’re troubled, but you really can’t be honest, huh? (laughs)

Yujiro: …Right now, I’m troubled by you and the way you’re smirking at me, Aizo.

Q2: What was the response to your 2nd Album “Be Grateful You Were Born!” like?

Aizo: Since this was our first album in a long time, we have received a lot of responses from our Julieta (what they call their fans) who have been anticipating its release. We’re really happy that it brought joy to them.

Yujiro: We had performed “White Day Kiss” live, so there were many Julieta who were looking forward to its album release too.

Aizo: Also, Narumi (Sena) who starred in the MV for “Julieta”, the sequel to “Romeo” from our previous album, congratulated us too. She said that she’ll recommend the album to her friends as well, which I appreciate!

Yujiro: I will be really happy if people who don’t know of us yet can get to know and support us through this album.

Aizo: We’ll continue to work hard as LIPxLIP with all we’ve got, so please root for us!

Q3: What were the challenges that you faced with this album?

Aizo: Well, it’s more like we faced so many new challenges that I don’t know where to start. (laughs)

Yujiro: In terms of the mood of the songs, I think “Meoto” with its Japanese taste and the Arabian-esque “A.B.Secret” have a very new feel to them compared to our other songs as LIPxLIP.

Aizo: We changed the way we sang to suit each and every song too, so I think we were able to show you new sides of us. For “Meoto”, I was conscious of the way I sang to fit the role I played in the setting of the song, and for “A.B.Secret”, there was that rap-like dialogue.

Yujiro: You may be surprised by the difference in intensity if you listen to “Oshi no Mahou” and “Yurushite Santa-san” after those songs. (laughs)

Aizo: With the “LOVE chu chu”s and the “Please, Santa-san”s, right? I’ll be thrilled if you can feel not just our coolness, but also our cuteness as idols! But… even though I was the one who said all that I’m starting to feel embarrassed.

Q4: The album has songs that would be a hit at live concerts, such as “Oshi no Mahou”, with its fun call-and-response bits.

Aizo: It goes without say that I definitely want to do the call and response with our Julieta!

Yujiro: Same here. I’ll be happy if everyone memorised it and came to watch us perform when that day comes.

Aizo: It’ll be super fun, right?! I’m looking forward to hyping up the venue and making it echo with all our voices.

Yujiro: Is there anything else that you’d like to do during the performance?

Aizo: Hmm, well… Maybe we’ll make a Möbius loop together with the audience… wait, the ideas won’t stop flowing if we carry on like this. (laughs)

Yujiro: Yeah, you’re right. (laughs) Let’s leave the details of the performance as something that our audience can look forward to when the time comes.

Q5: Tell us the secret stories behind the shootings of your MVs!

Aizo: I had a feeling when I heard Yujiro sing “Anata” in his lines in “Meoto”... But I was still surprised when I found out that Yujiro was dressed up in the role of a girl during the MV shooting. But, y’know, it suited you amazingly~. The air your makeup gave off was also different from how it’s like during our usual jacket photoshoots and live concerts, so I was a little charmed by you (laughs).

Yujiro: Thanks. Although I played the role of a woman this time, the costume I wore was a fantastical gorgeous kimono, within a unique setting, so it was easy for me to get into my role without feeling uncomfortable.

Aizo: I really didn’t feel uncomfortable at all either.

Yujiro: You looked good in your bewitching horned costume yourself, Aizo. It brought out your coolness, and you looked strong too.

Aizo: Right?! I was really pumped with all of the manly accessories like the horns, the mask, and the patterns drawn on my body.

Yujiro: Your long sharp nails suited you too. And in the MV, there’s a scene where the pair, played by me and Aizo, open their hearts to each other and hold hands while standing shoulder to shoulder. Be sure to pay attention to the contrast between our hands, okay?

Aizo: Speaking of the shooting, when I was hugging Yujiro during the filming of that shoulder to shoulder scene, I could smell a wonderful fragrance coming off of him. I was really surprised at the time, y’know? (laughs) “He smells so good!” I thought.

Yujiro: The staff had prepared some perfume for me. Although the fragrance can’t be conveyed through the screen, they had hoped to enhance the vividness of the setting for the viewers by having me wear the perfume as we filmed. I thought that it was a wonderful idea, so I had the staff apply the perfume to my costume. 

Aizo: For “A.B.Secret”, we filmed a live concert called “Arabian Nights in the Dunes”, which was yet another tough day. (laughs)

Yujiro: To be honest, we got lost on the way to the venue, so we had to cross several dunes.

Aizo: We may look all nonchalant in the MV, but we’d used quite a lot of our stamina. I’m just glad that we were able to make it to the venue in one piece…

Yujiro: But we were treated to a lot of wonderful food after our performance, so I’d say that it had been a very satisfying day.

Q6: Since this is a TV guide… What TV programmes do the two of you tend to watch?

Yujiro: I watch all kinds of shows, but I tend to watch talk shows often. I think that it’s great that I’m able to learn about current events from all over the world in the form of an entertaining programme, no less.

Aizo: You don’t just check the news or something? You sure are a diligent one, Yujiro.

Yujiro: I watch talk shows just because they’re interesting. If I just want to know the news, I wouldn’t particularly watch a talk show for it.

Aizo: I watch them every so often myself, but I only watch the segments that introduce restaurants that serve good food or amusement park events.

Yujiro: I see. You watch TV too, Aizo? I had the impression that you’d be often off running outside or something instead.

Aizo: Well, I do watch TV, y’know? I like watching programmes hosted by their namesake comedians. And I check out singing programmes without fail.

Yujiro: Yeah, I watch music programmes often too.

Aizo: It goes without say that I check out my favourite bands and artistes too, but I have to know what the current trends are on the rankings! As idols, we can’t afford to lose to others and all.

Yujiro: Though, I do occasionally get hooked on particular trends just from checking them out. (laughs)

Q7: Going off the name of your album, please express your gratitude for each other and your Julieta!

Yujiro: Do you even have anything to be grateful to me for…?

Aizo: Yeah. I’m grateful to always have you as a nice wall for a rival.

Yujiro: A nice wall? Is that supposed to be a compliment?

Aizo: Yes, it’s a compliment. For example, I do pretty well in my studies and sports at school, but when I look at you, Yujiro, I find myself thinking that I can’t be satisfied with the way things are yet. I’m able to grow steadily because I have you as my literal worthy opponent.

Yujiro: You’re really grateful to me, huh?

Aizo: Well, since we have the opportunity now, why not? How about you? You’re not gonna say that you have nothing, are you?

Yujiro: Yeah. I have something too.

Aizo: Ooh, what is it, what is it? 

Yujiro: There has been a lot of pollen in the air lately. So, when I sneezed, you immediately gave me some pocket tissue, the soft kind. You really saved me back then, so I’m grateful to you.

Aizo: Is that simple thing all you’re grateful for…?

Yujiro: Sorry, I was just kidding. (laughs) As I had touched on in an earlier question, whenever I’m depressed or distressed, you’re the first one to notice, Aizo. I tend to overthink all kinds of things, but you always make my worries disappear. So I’m always grateful to you for that, Aizo.

Aizo: Huh, so you do have a proper one after all.

Yujiro: It’s embarrassing to be this honest, so let’s keep this between us, okay?

Aizo: It’d be nice if you could be honest all the time, though.

Yujiro: More importantly, we have to honestly express our gratitude for our Julieta.

Aizo: Yeah. We’re more grateful to our Julieta than anything.

Yujiro: Thank you so much for cheering us on, Julieta.

Aizo: We were only able to release our new album thanks to your support, Julieta. We are able to continue on as LIPxLIP thanks to every one of you who listens to our songs, buys our albums, and sends us your thoughts and cheers.

Yujiro: Julieta, I’m grateful to you from the bottom of my heart. Also, I’d like to express my gratitude that you were born in this era and that you and us were able to meet like this.

Aizo: We will continue to do our very best so that we can return the love that we have received from you, Julieta, many times over.

Both: Please cheer us on!

Q8: What was your first trip together like?

Aizo: There were some pranks, and there were times when I felt exasperated, but it was truly a ton of fun!

Yujiro: We haven’t had many opportunities to go on a trip till now, so it was a really great experience for us. 

Aizo: We got to see many places, plus thanks to the fact that we were in charge of the voiceover for the Izumo guided tour, we had a good knowledge about the places of interest and we were able to enjoy ourselves to the fullest.

Yujiro: I especially liked the footbaths. When I dipped my feet into the footbath after a tiring walk, I was truly impressed by how much it helped to relieve my fatigue.

Aizo: It’s amazing how it completely warmed your feet up, huh?

Yujiro: Yeah, its healing properties are amazing.

Aizo: No, y’see, your feet were flushed pink from the warmth of the water in the footbath after soaking in it for a while. When you took your feet out of the hot water, saying “It’s hot.”, it looked like you were wearing pink socks, which I found rather funny.

Yujiro: …If you want to bring that up, should I release that video of you scooting around on your butt to grab a towel with your legs raised up in the air because you had nowhere to put your wet feet?

Aizo: When did you even take that video…?

[teardropvampire]

To give my thoughts on the fandom discussion of the handling of DID Mikoto/John's writing after the Double mv, I think my main frustration is just the somewhat black and white attitude many people have being viewing things with. In all honesty, I think the writing is complex situation that's a lot more then just 'good rep vs bad rep'. Instead, it almost could be better viewed through what the writing choices are attempting to explore/say about the character vs what ended up coming across to viewers? Its especially hard when we're only partially through the series, meaning a lot of your current opinion has to come from how strong your faith is in the series providing satisfying narrative conclusions to all the threads we've been presented with so far. But even then, I think its both fine to be uncomfortable with his portrayal or be satisfied with it - and that mixed reaction is generally what I've seen so far, particularly from viewers who are systems themselves. Its important for us singlets that we take into account the opinions of systems who are willing to comment on the character while also using our own critical thinking. Things seem to have been a lot better so far in that regard, which is great to see.

As for me personally? I have to say that I trust in the series to deliver nuanced and respectful writing. When you take a look at the series from a wider perspective, Mikoto and John's circumstances do tie into Milgram's exploration of societal issues in a way that I'd expect to be handled with care and empathy going forward. I feel the presentation of such flawed characters and the conflicts that can arise in our voting as a result of it can be applied to not just here but all the characters in at least some way. John isn't, and was never meant to be portrayed as purely antagonistic or monotonous, and I'm glad that idea has gotten more focus in this trial. This complex presentation of the cast's actions, as confronting as it often may be, have always been to help us understand and connect with the prisoners, rather than demonize them as foreign entities. This is particularly notable in Mikoto's case because of the divisive nature of mental health as a subject matter, but is definitely not the only occurrence of it in the series. However, Mikoto's case is definitely not perfect from a writing perspective and its important to be critiqued when necessary! Regardless of good intentions, trying to write a disability as complicated as DID will inevitably contain both steps forward and backwards. Although my opinion towards the handling of Mikoto's DID in this trial lean towards positive, It's completely justified to be uncomfortable with it and we should respect those who feel that way. But yeah, it's just slightly frustrating that I've seen people acting as if you need to decide between 'this is good rep, defend the series with your life' and 'this is bad rep, drop the series entirely'. Of course, learning to observe your own bias and look beyond restrained dichotomies of judgement has always been one of the series' main intent, so it's interesting in how it's shown itself again this time around. It'll be extremely interesting to see how both Mikoto and John are going to develop as characters going forward!

[bathroomflooder]

"narc abuse" is honestly such a weird term to me, because anyone can be abusive, whether or not they have npd. sure, some pwnpd are abusive, but so are some egotypical people! (is that the correct term?) it wouldn't make any sense for me to say something like "brunette abuse", you'd all think that what I'm saying is irrational. but if everyone started to use "brunette abuse", eventually brunettes would get stereotyped as being abusive, and everyone would think that's an acceptable phrase to use. but imagine you have brown hair, and you constantly hear people talking about how people with brown hair are self centred and abusive. it's going to make you feel pretty bad about something that you can't even control. you know that your hair shouldn't determine your worth to other people, but it always makes people see the worst in you. you could constantly bleach your hair so you appear blonde, but most people that you tell see you in a completely different way when you tell them that you're actually a natural brunette. "brunette abuse is real, because my abusive ex had brown hair" is a completely nonsensical sentence, but if we 'force' the idea that this is true and therefore that all brunettes are abusers, people with brown hair are never going to be able to freely express their hair colour without being judged by everyone around them. I am in no way invalidating anyone's abuse, and I am so sorry to anyone who had to go through abuse of any kind, but please use different words to categorise your abuse

[reflectionsofthesea]

The latest studies have been about second type verbs, inessiivi and adessiivi. It feels good to learn how to say where and when/how things happen! The exercise book made me write a small paragraph about my daily routine, and so I also wrote some more simple phrases using the new things I learned. There's a lot of things to remember and I often need to check back on notes to be sure i'm not forgetting anything, but it's been so satisfying to feel my comprehension grow and put into practice :)

[5-cz]

Word of Honor (山河令) Episode 1 Vocab

this one's for you @asunas-embers since you recommended the show to me

善恶 (shàn'è) - good and evil

分别善恶 善恶不分

到头 (dàotóu) - to the end/at the end

这条街道头有一个邮局 一眼望不到头

助纣为虐 (zhùZhòuwéinüè) - aid the wicked (idiom)

lit. to help tyrant 商纣王 who was a king during the Shang Dynasty

灵 (líng) - quick/alert

耳朵不灵

涂炭 (tútàn) - mud and ashes; utter misery (literary)

生灵涂炭 (idiom - people are in a terrible situation)

惜 (xī) - to regret

为之悲惜

勾结 (gōujié) - to collude with

他们勾结了为杀我

密谋 (mìmóu) - conspiracy

密谋败露了

造反 (zàofǎn) - to rebel/revolt

人民正在造反啊

爹 (diē) - father (colloquial)

我爹现在做早饭

选择 (xuǎnzé) - choice

我都没有一个选择

余地 (yúdì) - leeway

她总是不留余地为错误

乱局 (luànjú) - chaotic situation

国家的乱局可能演变成造反

免受 (miǎnshòu) - to avoid suffering; to prevent (something bad)

她自尽为免受折辱

折辱 (zhérǔ) - to humiliate/disgrace (literary, more common is 羞辱)

她毒害自己为免受折辱

岂 (qǐ) - particle used when asking a rhetorical question (literary)

那我岂不是要多些周大人了？

怪 (guài) - to blame

我不怪你

江湖 (jiānghú) - all corners of the country/the whole world

浪迹江湖

草莽 (cǎomǎng) - uncultivated land/wilderness

周资本是江湖草莽

一把刀 (yībǎdāo) - a knife

只配做王爷的一把刀

仰仗 (yǎngzhàng) - rely on

我们仰仗你啦

晒 (shài) - dry in the sun

晒太阳

[books-are-my-life-stuff]

For French fans, the upcoming French release of Mashle Vol. 18 (last volume) will be in deluxe edition. It will come with 6 exclusive badges featuring the Adler kids, the manga, reversible jacket cover, the second light novel, and poster.

It's now already available for preorder in online bookstore sites such as Amazon, and will be released in February 21.

As an additional information, French edition of Mashle got a lot of extra treatment, for having multiple releases with special covers and special editions, while also being the first one to release Mashle light novel in other languages. I think at this pace, it will be just a matter of time until the fanbook is translated into French, and it might come with a lot of purchase benefits too...

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption.

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Part three

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time? 

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee. 

But he didn’t believe it at first.

 He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others? 

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved. 

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck. 

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me? 

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all. 

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets. 

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling.  A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles.  You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee. 

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.  

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting. 

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans. 

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth  slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening. 

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.” 

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you. 

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being.  This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all. 

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office. 

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again.  You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily. 

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning. 

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening. 

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department. 

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is. 

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person. She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?” 

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation. 

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping.  If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she  told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well.  Dinner too, perhaps? 

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.” 

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.  

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The  handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you. 

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

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Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations! 

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

Taglist: @cerisearan @julietdelamare @ghostdoodlen @mochinon-yah @queenofspades403 @alittletiredcry @burningaestheticsimp @proper-fox @neutralrobot @reallysparklychaos @tired-of-life-86 @nunezs-stuff @yandere-dark-cupid @imperfectbloodmoon @cassanderasblog @faux-ecrivain @abelheilonwife @ixchelhernandez4 @diannaflight @sweetbatherodonkey @strangepoppy @persephone-kore-law @swallowtail-lotus @tonightwrites @majestichugs @pinkynecktie

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[quiet-out-there]

Please

summary: When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slight dubious consent, fingering, lots of praise, dom!Peeta??, reader under sex pollen

Notes: This is my first attempt at a shortfic about Peeta Mellark, as I have been quite obsessed with him lately This story is a short fic with little to no plot, so, enjoy the smut ;) For any weird grammar mistake, feel free to correct me for as inglish isn't my first lenguage!

Word count: 6.6k

Giff: @xiaolanhua

Finnick cursed out loud, grabbing the attention of some of the most important and exclusive people in Panem who were nearby. They began to chuckle and whisper among themselves in return, clearly enjoying the sudden outburst of District’s four beloved victor. Peeta, on the other hand, quickly realized something was wrong, politely ending the conversation with an all too eager sponsor who was in the midst of trying to convince him to go back to her room together. She was old, caked with so much makeup her features were almost unrecognizable. Staring at her for too long made Peeta feel uneasy, as if he were in a fever dream, where everything was washed in an eerie distortion, almost normal but not quite. 

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he said once he got to Finnick’s side, standing beside one of the absurdly food collapsed tables at one of the ballrooms corners. He was holding a glass filled with sweet smelling liquor, his hand so tightly wrapped around it his knuckles were turning white. Peeta was sure it was going to burst into pieces in just a matter of seconds, so he quickly reached for Finnick’s hand, surprised to find little to no resistance as he took the glass away and set it on the table. The motion seemed to snap Finnick out of whatever trance he had been in, blinking at Peeta as if he were just now assessing his presence there.

“What?” was all he could manage to say, his eyes returning their focus to something far away, the feather of a muscle twitching as he grounded his jaw.

“What's wrong?” Peeta pushed, following the man's gaze in an attempt to understand what he was seeing that was making him so mad. Finnick had a temper, Peeta knew that, but it was always tightly concealed in that calm and easy-going facade he portrayed, his armor against everything. It took quite an effort to make him lose his composure.

“(y/n)” He answered, voice made of steel. Peeta frowned, eyes desperately trying to find what was going on, his chest tightening at the mention of your name, “They dosed her drink with an aphrodisiac powder.”

Peeta’s whole body froze, his eyes snapping back to the man beside him. 

“What do you mean aphrodisiac powder, what the hell even is that?”

But Peeta could already imagine what it meant, what they were doing it for. Anger rose in his blood like fire, pumping into his heart, beating so fast it was starting to make it hard for him to breathe -

“Finnick” He managed to get out, hand coming up to grab the man’s arm, turning him to face him.

“I recognized this man talking to Snow earlier” Finnick began, his eyes closing as one of his hands came to massage his temple, as if a piercing headache was making it hard for him to think “He is the one who arranges the customers for-,” he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Peeta's wide ones “ the special services from the victors the capitol sometimes provides”

His stomach churned in a way that threatened to make Peeta vomit every expensive item of food he had ingested tonight, right on the pristine marble floor. He knew exactly what Finnick was talking about. Haymitch had told him about this business Snow ran, a way for him to further control the victors, make them pay for whatever rule breaking he deemed was done on their game, threatening their family’s life as a cost of it. But (y/n) had won fair, she had outsmarted the players, not the capitol, she didn't deserve this, she-

“I have been watching this man all evening, analyzing his moves, trying to figure out who Snow had sold to him,” Finnick continued, interrupting Peeta’s running thoughts. “It was easy enough to discover, with the way he has been practically stalking (y/n) all night.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips “But something is different this time. He hasn't come up to talk to her and she is completely oblivious to him, as if she doesn't know what Snow has done, as if she hasn't been warned what would happen if she denies”

Her family, massacred. Peeta swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden. 

“That’s when I noticed what he was doing” Finnick’s hands bawled into fists by his sides, his eyes returning to scan the room before returning to Peeta’s, “They are drugging her, filling her with aphrodisiac poison that will make her unable to think of anything more than sex. They are making her into a puppet so they can take advantage of her, avoiding the resistance, the threats, the compromise on her part.”

“That is sick” Peeta breathed out, feeling lightheaded and utterly disgusted.

“People here in the capitol are absolutely rotten” Finnick spat, “I have been a victim of that drug before. It is so potent, it makes it physically painful to deny sex, it forces the body to need it on a primal level, triggering an almost survival instinct.” 

Peeta cringed at the thought of Finnick, barely a teen, being a subject to all this.

“We have to do something, we have to save her” Peeta rushed through whispered words, his eyes looking around them in search of anyone who could be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes” Finnick agreed, “But we must do it inconspicuously, or they could end up hurting her even more.” 

“What is your plan?” Peeta’s breathing eased a little, his chest loosening at the reminder of Finnick’s clever mind. 

“Once the effects of the drugs kick in, she will quickly excuse herself to the bathroom. There, I will intercept the man, distract him. Make a big scene if I must.” The ghost of a smirk pulled at Finnick’s lips at the thought, before it was quickly wiped away as he continued “You will find (y/n) and get her the hell out of here, but not to her room. They will be probably expecting her there” Peeta shuddered at the thought, nodding at Finnick.

“Where is she now?” Peeta inquired, his eyes returning to the crowd, unable to find the girl in question.

“Near Snow’s fountain, to the left side of the room. She is talking to a man with a neon green top hat.”

Peeta found you instantly then, the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowning any other sound. You looked so beautiful, he couldn't help to notice, with your hair pulled away from your face in an elegant updo, filled with colored jewels that caught and reflected every light on the ball room, like a beacon. Your dress was made of black jewels as well, hugging every hill and dip of your body in an exquisite way, a slit on the side of your hip revealing the tan skin of your right leg. And your smile, so bright as you laughed at some joke the man before you had uttered, it took his breath away- until he realized how your chest was moving rapidly, as if the air entering your lungs wasn't enough, at how your skin was covered in a sheen of sweet, some stray away hairs curling around the nape of your neck and around your face, and at the way your hands had begun to tremble, hiding the away by clasping them tightly behind your back.

“It is starting,” Finnick commented, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself to move. Peeta did the same, struggling to calm his fast beating heart.

You offered the man another smile, this one polite, apologetic. The man dipped his head and moved out of your way, allowing you to begin moving into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, towards the other side of the room, where the bathrooms were located. Finnick nodded at Peeta, signaling to start moving the same way as you. They got to there first, and Finnick leaned forward to whisper right on Peeta’s ear, in a gesture that seemed like a warm goodbye from a friend to the ignorant eye. 

“I will go for the man, you grab (y/n) and leave right away, don't waste time on explanations until you are both alone and safe.” 

Peeta nodded, clasping his back as reassurance. He could do this, he told himself, willing his body to calm down, to gather his anxious thoughts. 

Before Finnick finally pulled away, he added in a tense, almost somber tone, so lowly his words almost got forgotten among the chattering crowd.

“Do what you must to help her, she’ll be glad it was you and not someone else.”  

Peeta’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask what Finnick meant by that, he was already being swallowed by the crowd, disappearing among the vibrant colors, the moving bodies, the discordant music that made Peeta’s teeth greet in discomfort. 

Peeta moved onto the side of the bathroom door, acting as if his shoelace had been untied and crouching down to fix it, avoiding anyone starting a conversation with him that could complicate his inconspicuous escape. 

It only took a couple of minutes before he heard your voice,

“S-Sorry, excuse me please” You sounded breathless, words tight in your throat, as if the mere effort to get them out was painful. 

Peeta got up then, instantly identifying you making your way out of the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom. He walked up to you just as you took the door handle in your shaky hand, grabbing your wrist in a secure grip before pulling you along with him, without stopping to say anything. You gasped in shock, stumbling slightly over your feet before you could manage to keep up with his fast pace. You pulled at his hand in an attempt to be let go, but he ignored you, mind only focused on one thing-

The exit door, only a couple of steps away

 “Peeta!” you exclaimed as you finally recognized him, struggling to maintain a composure, smile wavering between a frown and a grimace of pain “What the fuck are you doing?” you whispered, feeling as though your vision was shaking, not being able to see people anymore, just shapes and colors merging together in a sickening spin-

You were going to throw up.

“I’m going to be sick” you pleaded, arm now falling limp on his firm grip, deciding to leave fate in his hands- unable to do anything to resist, and knowing deep down Peeta would never hurt you.

Peeta’s heart squeezed on his chest as he heard you, and he opened his mouth to explain -what? he did not know- anything to make you feel better, to help you understand what was going on,

But then a crushing sound vibrated across the room, making people gasp and scream in shock, their attention now focused on the other side of the room. 

Finnick

Peeta let out a sigh of relief as he got to the entrance door, which was luckily open, not a peacekeeper in sight.  He didn't waste a second to pull you out towards the main hall, where the elevator to the victor's rooms was.

“It will be alright (y/n), I promise” Peeta finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, as he continued his way with unbreakable determination, both of your steps resonating against the glass floor the only sound in the spacious room “just trust me, okay?”

You felt as if Peeta’s voice was coming from underwater, muffled and far away- But still managed to understand.

“Okay” You replied, unable to voice any other word running through your dizzy brain - Your heart, you realized, it was beating so fast you couldn't catch a breath, and your skin, it felt so uncomfortable, so tight against your body- you wanted to rip it out. And the heat, the fucking heat

Peeta’s hand freed your wrist as he pressed the elevator’s button in a frantic pace, his other coming up to grip your hip, pushing so you stood in front of him, blocking the view of your body with his. 

You were so close now, bodies almost pressed together. His smell invaded you like the most intoxicating, addictive perfume you had ever sensed, tightening your chest in a silent hitch of breath - And his touch- so firm and strong, fingers pressing down on the overly sensitive flesh on your hip witch was barely covered in the thin material of your jeweled gown- it set flames through your veins

Peeta heard the rush of voices coming down the hall, right from where you had come, before he felt their quick heels clad steps coming closer. Whatever Finnick had done, it had set a commotion enough to make people begin to retreat to their chambers in a hurry. 

His eyes snapped to the elevator, the bright gold number still stuck on the 7th floor, and he realized it wasn't going to come by quick enough - They were already nearing the corner, they were going to catch the both of you, they were going to take you away and hurt you-

He secured your hand in his before he began to pull you further down the hall, your feet struggling to find their footing but managing not to stumble over them as you followed him. There was only one door in the hall, right on the end of it, a black metal block painted in bright gold. Peeta didn't bother to knock on it as he grabbed the handle, twisting it at the same time he pushed the side of his body on it to open it- and to his surprise and utter relief- it did. He didn't waste a second to push you inside, head twisting back one last time to see down the hall, where he noticed a couple of people beginning to appear, their vibrant colors striking against the pristine white walls and gold floor details. 

He closed the door behind him, leaving out the light from the hall, engulfing you both in complete darkness. He let out a long breath, his head dropping back against the door frame, a chuckle leaving his chest before he could stop it.

You tried to blink back the darkness, but your eyes were still struggling to adjust. Something was very wrong, you realized, as you couldn't seem to make the air from the space enter your lungs. You stepped back from the man in front of you in an attempt to gain some distance and ground yourself, but you felt the cool jab of metal meet your back- you twisted on the spot, freeing your hand from Peeta’s as you extended your arms in front of you. And you felt, to your utter horror, how on every side you were met with metal railings or the cool feeling of painted concrete walls. 

The space was tiny. A closet, of some sorts, you figured with a leap of your heart.

 “I can't” you gasped aloud, one hand coming up to clutch your chest, pulling at the absurd number of necklaces that had been wrapped around your neck- it felt as if you were choking “I can't breathe.” 

Peeta’s hands were instantly extended in search of you, his eyes wide in an attempt to see something, but only being met with darkness. 

“It is okay, hey, I’m here” He whispered, one of his hands brushing your shoulder. The contact made electricity run down your body, and you twisted in an attempt to get away from his touch, managing only to bump into the railing so hard, their contents began to fall onto the floor-

Peta cursed under his breath at the loud sound of stuff crashing against the glass floor, his heart drumming onto his chest as he felt the footsteps from outside alarmingly close. 

“Hey, hey calm down” He tried again, his hand grabbing your shoulder this time. And you tried to twist away again, desperate to get away from the warmth, the heat of his body, his burning touch-

it was too much, too much 

You pushed into the railing again making it crash against the wall in a loud bang. 

“(y/n)” Peeta rushed, his voice tight on his chest in anxiousness. But you didn't hear him, wouldn't hear him, needing to get away, desperately trying to do so-

Peeta felt the voices outside begin to wonder what those noises down the hall were, their loud cackling dimming down as if to hear better. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before somebody came up to investigate,

“Calm down” He ordered, voice low, almost a murmur. You could feel it vibrating on your chest, “We have to stay quiet, or they will find us.”

You tried to reason with his words, to obey, to understand what the fuck was going on - but then a pang of pain shot down your belly, taking the air from your lungs in a rush of a breath, before settling in a tight coil of aching between your legs. It made a whine fall from your lips before you could stop it, eyes closing as you hugged your body tightly.

Peeta’s heart stopped when he felt nearing footsteps, arms shooting forward when he heard your loud whine of pain at the same time, determined now to make you quiet. One hand found your hip as the other your arm, and he didn't waste a second to twist your bodies, so you stood with your back pressed to his chest. One of his strong arms circled your waist, locking you into him in a grip so tight you couldn't move an inch, as his other hand came to your face, palm pressing onto your mouth to silence any noise. 

And just like that, your senses cleared, they sharpened, they focused and circled on only one thing-

Him.

The way his warm body was pressed to yours, the feeling of his strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist, the way his chest pushed against you in every intake of breath, the feeling of his heart pounding so loud and fast against your back- and his god damn smell, so sweet and dark and intoxicating- it made the coil deep within your core tighten painfully, breath hitching on your throat.   

Peeta strained his ear to hear whatever was going on outside, the footsteps stopping just inches away, its shadow casting beneath the door frame. But it was so hard to concentrate on anything else that the way for body felt pressed to his - so warm he thought you might be having a fever-  and the way you were breathing so hard and fast, you were panting against his hand- but he could notice, he could see how much you were trying to do as he said, to stay still and be quiet, even if you were in so much discomfort 

“That’s it, calm down” He whispered, lowering his head so his lips were pressed to your ear, making sure only you could hear him. “You are doing so good” he praised, the words warm against your skin. 

The way he phrased those words was enough to make a shiver run through your spine and make your head spin with desire. You hadn't noticed the way you had begun to press further onto him, almost as if desperate to be closer, to feel him even further. And his hand, his fucking hand had begun to rub the side of your waist in a comforting way,

You were melting. But you wanted more, you needed more-

Peeta tried to ignore the way you had begun to move against him, how your breathing had changed to something deeper, how your mouth let slip little whines and moans against his hand. He knew it was the drug's effect, he knew you couldn't help it, he knew he had to maintain a clear head, to take care of you and make sure you stayed safe.

And then you felt it, as you ground your body against his, you felt something hard begin to press against your ass. It made something in you snap, a need so desperate and maddening, it made fire rush through your veins as if boiling from the inside out- it made your brain drunk and fuzzy with desire- and the pain, the excruciating coil tightening between your legs, it was too much, too much.    

Peeta felt your hand suddenly grip his, moving his arm away from your hip. He felt almost in a daze, as if unable to stop you as you moved it down your body. His breath hitched in your ear as you pressed his hand right between your legs, where you needed him the most. The thin material of your jeweled gown was the only thing standing between his fingers and your pussy- he could feel how warm you were, and cursed aloud when he noticed also how wet. 

“We can't” He whispered; voice slightly breaking as he felt you increase the pressure of his fingers “They have drugged you with an aphrodisiac. You are not thinking straight-”  

A moan slipped through your lips, muffled by his hand still pressed against your mouth. Peeta's eyes strained on the doorframe, noticing the shadow gone. He almost sighed in relief, until he felt the loud chuckles coming from outside-

they were still there.

Your brain couldn't comprehend anything else but the need for him. A need that was becoming so strong, the pain was unbearable. You could feel tears swell in your eyes as you gasped, your other hand coming up to push away his own from your mouth. 

“Please, Peeta, I can't take this anymore- I” you choked on a whine when you felt his other hand slip from away from your body “-I need you, please, just help me.”

You pleaded, head dropping back against his shoulder in utter defeat. 

Peeta cursed again, eyes tightening shut as he searched for the will to contain himself, to find a way to reason with you, to make you understand how this was so wrong-

But then he remembered Finnick's words. ‘Do what you must to help her,’ what did he even mean? Was this the only way you could go through this? You would hate him for it, Peeta thought, taking advantage of you like this- but you were in pain, you were literally crying and shaking in his arms, he couldn't stand seeing you like this, it was breaking him-

“Please” you whined, your own hand coming between your legs to relieve some of the pressure there in a futile attempt- you felt absolutely nothing.

“Okay” he murmured against your ear, telling it more to himself than to you, making up his mind. “How can I help you, (y/n), just tell me how.” 

You sigh in relief at his words, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Touch me” you whispered, breathless “Please.”

Peeta felt lightheaded with the way you were so desperate, so needy for him. In any other circumstance, he would have given away with the first please ever uttered from your beautiful lips- because you were always so composed, so strong, so unwavering- hearing you like this was making him almost as desperate for you as you were for him.

“Please what?” Peeta couldn't help to reply, his voice just as breathless as yours, beginning to move his arms, tentatively resting his hands on your hips.

You groaned in frustration, beginning to push yourself away from him so you could turn around to face him when you felt one of his strong hands spread across your abdomen, pushing you right back against him. He was so strong, you couldn't help but think, imagining his hands pushing and pulling other parts, handling you as if it were nothing-

“Please, Peeta” you begged.

Peeta melted at the sound of those tight words in your throat.

“So polite” he praised, finally moving one hand to the side of your hip where the slit of your gown began. His callous warm fingers met your bare skin there and you sighed in content “Such a good girl” he whispered, mouth pressing down just below your right earlobe, in that sensitive spot that felt to good it sent tingles down your body and made you moan out loud before you could stop it-

Peeta’s other hand instantly moved to cover your mouth once again, roughly pushing your head back against his shoulder. 

“What was that?” A woman’s voice exclaimed from the hall outside, filled with delight “Sounds like someone’s having a good time!”

Peeta cursed on your ear, the words sounding even more coarse coming out of his mouth. 

You whimpered, unable to take the pain between your legs any longer- your heart was beating so fast, it seemed as if you couldn't catch your breath, your skin so taut you thought it might snap over your bones, and the heat- you thought you might pass out 

“Shh it’s okay” Peeta tried to calm you, his eyes glued to the shadows now outside of your door. Had they figured someone was inside here? “Be quiet doll, you can do it.”

You nodded your head in a haze, desperate to show him you would do anything he said. 

Peeta knew you couldn't take it any longer, practically limp in his arms, trembling in his grip. He took in a shaky deep breath before he began to move the hand on your hip underneath the surprisingly thin material of your gown. Your skin was so smooth and soft, and so, so warm- Peeta had to take a minute to just caress between your hip and upper thigh, savoring the feeling of your tender flesh beneath his rough fingers - before he heard your impatient cry from within his hand covering your mouth. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the shadows beneath the door begin to move away, using the courage to finally dip his fingers between your thighs. His breath hitched when he noticed you didn't have anything under your gown, being met with your bare pussy right beneath his finger, hand freezing in place as the realization of what he was doing, and to whom, dawned on him.

He was about to fuck (y/n), districts four beloved 73rd hunger games victor.

“You are killing me” you mumbled against his palm, desperately pushing your hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure of his fingers where you needed him most. So, he dipped his hand further, his muscled arm tensing over your belly as he did, bringing you flushed against him. And his fingers, ever so slowly, began to part your folds, his eyes closing as his head dropped down to lean on your shoulders at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers, smoothing his entrance. You bit his hand in an attempt to quiet the moan bubbling on your chest, head pushing back against his shoulder in an attempt to get a grip on yourself.

“So good” he murmured, lips tightly pressed to your ear “So good, so quiet.” 

You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to rub your wetness up and down, right over the bundle of nerves that send electric waves of pleasure down your body. One of your hands came down to grip his arm, pushing it down with further force- Peeta instantly knew what you wanted, what it meant- and he obliged, increasing the pressure and pace of his fingers. 

The people outside began to cheer for something, the noise followed by clapping. Peeta didn't waste a second to remove his hand against your mouth, moving it down to your chin as he pushed your head further back, adjusting so his ear was right over your mouth-

“Let me hear you doll” He breathed, his fingers quickening their pace almost desperately so- feeling so good it made your toes curl and your thighs squeeze around his hand. And you moaned, so desperate and needy it would have embarrassed you if it weren't for the fact that that was exactly how you felt for him. 

“Peeta” you choked out in a gasp right on his ear, and that was enough to make Peeta lose his mind, a low groan escaping from his own lips, the sound so deep and hoarse it vibrated on his chest.

You could feel his erection pressed on your backside, so hard you knew we wanted you just as much at the moment. And you wanted to feel him, God, it was all you could have ever wanted, so you started to move your hand to your back- until you felt his hand suddenly stop, making you freeze in place. You could hear his ragged breathing, feel his heart pounding against your back-

“Look at me,” He whispered, interrupting the sudden silence. You opened your eyes, surprised to notice how they had adjusted to the darkness, able to see the outlines of the door, the metal railing filled with cleaning supplies- you were in fact, in a closet. And then you looked up, finding his beautiful face before you. 

He was so handsome; you had noticed that the first time you saw him. With his big, deep brown eyes and breathtaking smile. And now, with his messy blonde hair, his parted soft lips, his completely darkened eyes-

He looked delicious.

“You are absolutely beautiful” he murmured, the hand on your chin moving up to cup the side of your face. “(y/n)” he continued, a deep breath leaving his lips, fanning your own. You wanted to taste him so badly “You are not on your right mind, this is not what you want.”

You shook your head, exasperated.

“I want you so badly” you voiced in a shuddering breath “If you don't touch me right now, I think I might die.”

You used his stun position to free from his grasp, finally turning so you were face to face. He looked completely disheveled, his white tux discarded on the floor, and his matching shirt completely wrinkled, the first buttons torn and revealing a slit of tanned skin. 

“I-” He began but you couldn't resist any longer, shutting him up with a kiss. 

His hands were on you instantly, pulling at your hips to position you flush against him, to then wrap his arms around your waist to lock you in place. Your hand snaked to the back of his head, where you tangled them on his hair, slightly pulling it just to hear him groan again- it felt like fuel to the fire inside you. You used the moment to deepen the kiss, meeting his warm tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was desperate, hungry, lips moving feverishly against each other.

Peeta forgot about everything else, about the people on the other side of the door, about getting caught- he could only think about you, about feeling you against him, your lips on his, your tongue on his mouth- he wanted more. His hands began to roam your body, testing, feeling, kneading your soft flesh in a grip so strong you knew would certainly leave bruises. And then they were on your ass, squeezing so tight you moaned against his mouth- and he was lifting you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist-

“I need you” You panted against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. The coil in your lower stomach feeling even more unbearable, the pain was making you see white dots in the corner of your vision “I need you inside me.”

Peeta leaned his forehead to yours, attempting to regain control of himself, to think straight. He sat your body against the railing, separating enough so he could see your face, meet your eyes.

And he stared at you, almost in awe before he spoke again, dropping his head back as if to force himself to stop doing it any longer.

“Your eyes” he breathed out, “they shine so black when you are hot for me.” 

You cupped his face between your warm hands, forcing him to face you as you once again begged-

“please”

Peeta wanted nothing more than to oblige - he would have lifted your gown and fucked you right there against the railings- but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't, not when you were under the effects of a drug that altered your senses, your reasoning.   

So, he compromised. Not doing anything was torture to you, or so he told himself, moving so one of his arms could fit between both of your bodies while the other began to lift your gown and gather it just over your hips. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He panted, his ears once again registering the commotion outside. Seemed like they moved the party to the hall, he realized, glad that the noise had gone louder, hiding what was going on in the little storage closet down the corridor.

“Yes” you whimpered, unable to contain the tears swelling in your eyes due to the pain, and the excitement- 

Such a wreck for him, Peeta thought, brain drunk in desire.

“You are the one killing me, (y/n)” he murmured, holding your gaze with eyes so intense you thought he might be looking through you. 

And then his hand was between your legs again, slowly rubbing your wet folds, surprised at how they were more so than before. He quicken up the pace faster this time, taking his time in enjoying every sinful sound falling from your lips, your head falling back to lean against the railing- you gasped when you felt his other hand grip your chin, thumb and index finger pressing against your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes

“Look at me” he panted, and you thought you might cum just by the way he was looking at you with so much hunger-

And then you gasped in shock as without a warning two of his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb continuing to rub on your sensitive clit. Pleasure shocked through your body making you involuntary shake against the rails, the pressure on your lower abdomen coiling impossibly tighter-

“I'm gonna-” you whined, head leaning forward to try and find somewhere to lean on, but Peeta’s grip held you there on place, forcing you to face him. 

“Say please” He breathed, lips hovering over yours, his fingers moving in and out of you with the perfect pressure, the perfect pace, and his thumb-

“Peeta” you whimpered.

He could feel how close you were, how your walls clenched around his fingers in the most delicious way- he thought he was close himself to climax, just by the way your face scrunched with pleasure, how your body became undone under his touch-

“Come on doll, ask nicely” He encouraged, needing to hear you beg, just one more time.

 “Please” you managed moan.

And he was merciless about it, plunging his fingers into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit feverishly, curling his fingers and hitting just the perfect spot-

You become undone with his name on your lips, waves of pleasure erupting from deep within your tummy as the tight coil finally released, toes curling and body jerking. He slowed the pace of his fingers as he continued to ride you out of your orgasm, your shaking body finally collapsing into his, blind with gratification and exhaustion.

Peeta panted against your ear as he finally removed his fingers from inside you, proceeding to hold you tight against him before he lowered you from the railing back onto your feet- until he quickly realized you couldn't stand on your own, arms wrapping securely around your waist and across your back to hold you in place, your own coming up to snake around his neck in a solid embrace.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding loudly against your chest pressed to his- you on the other hand, were completely crashing, blood pressure dropping, white stars dancing in the back of your close eyelids. 

“hmm” you hummed, struggling to remain conscious.

“I think they left” Peeta voiced his thoughts, frowning in concentration as he listened for any noise outside- but it was completely quiet, he soon realized. 

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, brain completely fogged with satisfaction, body finally out of pain and completely relaxed on his arms, as if meant to be there all along.

“(y/n)” Peeta shook you, his tone finally above a whisper “Hey, I need you to stay here yeah? stay with me.”

You tried to nod but your head just fell limp against his shoulder-

He smelled so fucking good.

“Thank you?” He replied, amusement clear on his breathless words.

You hadn't realized you had voiced your thoughts out loud, a soft chuckle scaping your lips.

“You are completely out of it, aren't you” He sighed, leaning over you so he rested his chin on top of your head, attempting to calm himself down.

You frowned at the height difference, moving your feet, and realizing you were barefoot, heels completely lost somewhere in the tiny closet.

Once Peeta finally could catch his breath, heart in a slightly normal pace, he stepped closer to the door, your almost limp body secure in his strong arms. He pushed the side of his face flat against the cool metal, concentrating on identifying any sound that could indicate someone on the other side but-

Nothing. Silence.

“Okay” He murmured, nodding “Okay, we are going to come out, yes?”

You mumbled a reply, what? you didn't know, but it was enough to make Peeta nod again. You felt him loosen his grip on you making you react on clinging to him with all your strength, desperate to avoid the loss of contact.

“Hey, I’m here, I won't leave you” He assured you, hands pushing you by the hips to create some space between the two- and you were so completely weak, barely registering your body at all, that you couldn't avoid the separation. 

You frowned, opening your mouth to try and object, when you were suddenly being lifted from the ground and up on his arms again, this time in bridal style, with one of his arms holding under your knees as the other secured around your back. 

“Romantic” you gushed, chuckling again.

Peeta rolled his eyes, sheepish smile tugging at his lips, as he adjusted his body so his hand could twist the handle and open the door. He loosens a breath he didn't know had been holding as he registered the hall with quick assessing eyes, noticing it completely deserted.

You tried to blink at the sudden light, but it took just a couple of blinks before your eyes dropped closed again, as if the weight of them was impossible to overcome. 

“Your room is not safe” He murmured, beginning to make his way to the elevator with you tightly held on to his arms “We will go to mine.”

You nodded, the pull of unconsciousness so strong you were sure it was only a matter of seconds before you were out- so you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms across his neck and positioning your face right at the nape of his neck, where his smell washed over you and his warmth seeped to your skin.

And just like that, you were out with a content smile plastered on your face.

[catcze]

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

[hazbinwhoree]

May I request a scenario where Adam and reader are in a marriage and domestic life, like how he is with reader being pregnant, gave birth, and what he is like as a parent?

Is the request OK? This the first time I make a request so please correct me if I made a mistake here.

Domestic Life

A/N: It was easiest to do this in headcanon format.

Adam is far from the perfect husband

But he’s trying, he really is

He has a breeding kink, so it’s not long into your marriage before you got pregnant

When you tell him, he thinks you’re joking

“HAH! Good one, babe.”

You literally have to convince him

Once he believes you, he’s incredibly nervous

Yeah he had a breeding kink but he never really planned on kids

Eventually he comes around

Is actually really doting during your pregnancy

The way he looks at it, you’re sacrificing your body for nine months to bring his spawn into the world so of course he was going to dote on you

You’re incredibly nervous about your due date, knowing child birth was the worst pain a woman could naturally experience, but Adam didn’t really understand your fear

“Think of it like you’re taking a shit but it’s from your vagina.”

Thanks Adam, very helpful

Always comes up behind you later in the pregnancy and locks his hands under your stomach, lifting slightly, taking the weight off your back

The first time he did it you teared up in relief

Adam made a point to do it a lot more after that

When it comes time to deliver the baby, Adam is shocked at the process

There’s so much blood and screaming and Adam is almost one of those dads who pass out

Feels like a dick for not taking your fear seriously

Holds your hand the whole time and stays up near your head

He gets sick if he looks at what’s going on between your legs

Tries to be comforting and encouraging but he’s so bad at it

Eventually shuts up and just lets you squeeze the life out of his hand

He brushed your hair back and off of your sweaty forehead with his free hand

There are complications with your delivery, you lost a lot of blood

You start losing color and becoming sluggish and Adam yells at the doctors

They try to escort him out but he straight up refuses

Adam is terrified not only of losing you, but of being a single parent

He knew without you he would fuck your child up

Luckily for everyone, you pulled through

Adam is more concerned about you than he is his child

Doesn’t leave your side even to cut the umbilical cord

Leaves that to the doctors

But once you’re lucid again you’re asking about your baby and Adam doesn’t have any answers because he was too concerned with you

He doesn’t even know the gender

The doctors bring you your baby and when Adam sees him, your son, in your arms, he falls in love with him too

That doesn’t help the looming thought that he’d be a terrible father though

As soon as he finds out it’s a son, he wants to name him Adam

You allow it

Adam wants to be an active father, he does, but he really is bad at it

If you want him to take any night shifts, you have to wake him up because the baby’s crying won’t

He makes pervy comments when you breastfeed

“Me next?”

Adam is very happy and proud that he has a son

You catch him baby talking sometimes but he’ll always deny it

He doesn’t have too much trouble bonding with your son

He learns to love him as much as he loves you

Almost cries at your son’s first steps

Also denies this

Your son’s first word is “fuck”

You really try to get Adam to clean up his language after that but Adam thinks it’s hilarious

Your baby’s second word is “bitch”

He may not be the best father but he is a loving one

[loves0phelia]

Please write about Rafe who believes in love and a reader who doesn't! I love your first fic btw

Love

Summery: the request

Words: 1k

Warnings: small injury, grammar mistakes (feel free to correct me)

A/N: thank you so much for this request! xxx

Ever since you and Rafe met, he has been head over heels for you. He would follow you around like a lost puppy, he would get you anything you could possibly want, and always make sure you were okay.

In a way you loved how much he cared, but sometimes the feelings he left you with, made you confused.

In your head love was nothing but a useless feeling. The lovey dovey movies were fake and unrealistic, the people holding hands or kissing in the streets were disgusting and anyone who tried to prove you wrong was definitely not sane.

So why was Rafe Cameron making you feel this way? 

“Good morning pretty, got you your favorite like always” He says the second you open the door to his black pick up truck, and hand you the chocolate chips cookie from that bakery you adore.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to get me something every time?” Even though you wish you kept your lips in a straight line, a small smile took place on your lips.

“But if i stop bringing you snacks how else will i see this pretty smile of yours?” immediately your cheeks became red, so you turned your head to look out the passenger window as he finally started driving away.

After what felt like hours, you got the courage to speak up and asked him where he was taking you.

“Well I figured you wouldn't like the movies because you claim its “too romantic” so I decided on going up to the hill with some food and a book, we could spend the afternoon together until sunset. Also I brought my laptop in case you changed your mind about rom coms…” he uttered the last words anticipating your reaction to them.

“Are you serious? that's like the most rom com thing ever!” you threw your hands above your head and looked at him in disbelief.

“Come on Y/n just give it a shot please” you looked at him with a glare not breaking against his attempt at begging.

“for me?” your fake anger vanished the second the words left his mouth. His soft blue eyes and pouty lips had you in a choke hold. You could never refuse him even if you tried.

“fine” Rafe shouts in victory before grabbing your hand and shaking it while still holding the steering wheel.

“You're not going to regret it baby, i swear” his happiness calmed and now you could only hear the soft music playing on the radio and the harsh sound of his engine. 

What you hadn't noticed though was how his hand was still holding yours on top of your thigh for the rest of the ride. 

When the car finally came to a stop, Rafe jumped out and rushed to your side to open your door. While holding the small bag with the cookie you haven't eaten yet in your left hand your right one grabbed his so he could help you climb out. This gesture was almost too familiar now.

You stood a few feet away as he grabbed the cooler filled to the brim with various beverages and snacks. Your breath hitch when you noticed his arms flex beneath his gray shirt. 

“You ready?” you snapped your eyes away from his muscles as fast as light and quickly nodded, unable to speak any word.

In silence you both climbed the small trail up to the hill. While you could've been watching the blooming flowers, your mind was on rafe, you were daydreaming not paying attention to anything.

“shit” were your last words before tripping over a small branch on your path. your exclamation immediately made Rafe turn on his heels, he dropped the cooler to the ground and ran to you, examining the damage.

“im fine Rafe i just wasn't paying attention” you tried to comfort him but his gaze was fixated on the small cuts over one of your knees.

“Do you want to go back? we can do this another day” he asked concerned and almost already getting ready to turn back the way you came from.

“No rafe. Really I'm ok it's just a small scrap and I don't want our day to be ruined because of me” you almost pleaded.

“Are you sure you can walk? cause i can carry you” he suggested.

“don't be ridiculous, you're already carrying all that” you laughed and optimistically went back on the way.

the entire pathRafe and a small furrow in his brown and he stayed close to you in case of another accident, he was ready to catch you,

When you two were finally settled on a blanket led on top of the grass he began unpacking.

“So a movie or a book? also I'm warning you, if you choose a book you need to read to me.” he smiled innocently.

“book please” you answered shyly before taking the book from his hand. instantly rafe led his head on top of your lap and snuggled while grinning, knowing what he was doing,

but surprisingly you did not comment, nor move away, you stayed like that even when you began to read the words out loud.

he was so peaceful he almost looked asleep but the soft and smooth movement of his thumb over your small injury proved you he was definitely awake.

“Whats up” your brows furrowed wondering why he was asking. 

“you stopped reading.” You hadn't even realized you had stopped and you definitely didn't realize he was looking up at you, admiring you for almost 2 minutes before saying something.

“i was just thinking how much i appreciate this,i never realized before now how much i enjoyed it” 

“yea?” He sat up with the brightest smile.

“mhm” you hummed and you felt like a magnet was pulling you to him so without a thought you crashed your lips on his.

he made a noise of surprise before rapidly returning the gesture while sliding his fingers in your hair and holding you to him.

passionately you and Rafe kissed until you couldn't breath and that's how you realized love was actually the best thing to ever feel.

[emeraldkniight]

Could you do an enemies to lovers NSFW with Damian?

p.s. I’d just like to say your writing is SO good for someone whose first language isn’t English! I would not have known

ANIMALS !

older!damian x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . drabble. smut. porn without plot. Dirty talk, degradation. Dacryphilia, humiliation kink, praise kink, Damian is mean. Some bdsm. Aggressive sex, bondage. Oral sex and fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Okay, I get it. Damian is your favorite character on my account, I get requests for him all the time and I love that because who doesn't love Damian? So here we go again. By the way, I'm glad you liked my writing! It is almost impossible for me to write without any grammar or vocabulary mistakes, but I keep trying! Thanks🌷 (Pd: if you reblog this post it would help me a lot) <3

— Do you want to stop?

From the vulnerability of your bed, shackled hand and foot, you thought it was a bad decision to bother Damian for so long. You thought you were just being funny, that no one would care that you were harassing Bruce Wayne's son. You had no idea what he was capable of doing to you.

— No.

A mischievous smile played on his lips as he stood over you; you could feel his weight on your body. In an instant, however, you felt yourself fall hard against the mat in the room.

— What do you have to say now? — He admired you from on high. — Aren't you the same funny girl you always were?

The sole of his shoe brushed your cheek. You felt incredibly humiliated, as if you were an inferior being in his presence. He looked at your body as if it were worthless.

— This would be amazing for anyone to see you: tied up, naked, on my bedroom floor. I can see your dripping pussy from up here. Who knew the amazingly cool girl would like this? — His shoe began to press harder against the flesh of your face. — You like it rough, guess what, I'm the best at it when I put my mind to it.

The wetness from your pussy dripped down your legs, leaving gray stains on the carpet. Damian, aware of this, walked around to stand behind you to get a close-up view of your ass. He easily slid a finger through your swollen folds and instantly it was stained with so much accumulated moisture.

— Damian, what are you going to do? — you asked, somewhat anxiously, but received no answer.

He bent his face down until his breath was in contact with your pussy; you quickly felt a mere shiver from your nervousness. Soon you felt his lips, and not long after, his whole hand making an obscene sound inside you; sliding up and down your wet folds, not yet reaching the pleasurable point that made you go wild.

— Damian... — You moaned softly as you buried your face in the carpet.

He didn't stop moving, he just kept playing with every part of her crotch, making you wish he'd concentrate on the throbbing clit that needed attention.

One of his fingers hovered around your clitoris and began to caress it gently. Just as you thought you were about to come, he pulled away.

— Didn't I tell you, y/n? Bad girls don't have orgasms.

You quickly began to cry. You knew that if he didn't give it to you, it would be incredibly impossible for you to get that orgasm on your own. So from your position, you just moved closer and started begging.

Kneeling down, you approached him and looked at him with your tearful eyes. Lamenting, with your face at the level of his knees, you still looked at him from the ground.

— Damian, please... — You sobbed. — I'm sorry for all the things I've done to you, but I really need you. I want you to fuck me. I'll do anything you want.

The young man simply smiled as he watched his enemy from his clearly superior position.

— Lool at this, the famous y/n now begging losers for some attention? I feel sorry for you. — He said in reference to how you used to tell him he was a loser.

He cut your bonds with a knife. You felt relief as the blood began to flow again.

You didn't notice as he grabbed your neck, almost choking you. He pulled you roughly close to his face until his lips collided with yours in a dirty, loveless kiss.

Finally, he pushed your face to the floor and lifted your ass until it was in the ideal position to fuck you. Without further ado, he rammed you hard and began to move hard inside you. As hard and precise as if he were an animal.

— What's the matter? Is it incredibly hard to believe that only I can fuck you like this?

[schemmentigfs]

Future Milf, part two.

part one!

paring: melissa schemmenti x reader.

summary: after the incident in the teacher's lounge, you start to avoid melissa who is willing to know what happened and trying to get things back to normal.

warnings: just a little angst but trust me, we have a happy ending!

author notes: This is a little rushed, but I hope you all enjoy this second part 🤍 I also wanted to thank the beautiful people who are sending requests for Mel, they are amazing and i'm already working on them! And don't worry, feel free to send any idea that comes to mind. It will be an honor for me to turn them into reality.

tags: @esposadejoyhuerta @gweninred @moistblobfish

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!

The truth was that Melissa was completely disoriented, her brain trying to process what had happened in the last seven minutes. You acting like that and apologizing, leaving the room as quickly as possible made her worried as hell.

All she wanted was to comfort you and know what was really happening. There were a lot of doubts in her mind, to be honest. Had she done something? Or said something? The way you couldn't look into her green eyes was so strange..

Everything between you two was great until today, and then it all suddenly fell apart at lunchtime? That made her feel a little paranoid.

“Melissa, are you well? Are you hurt?” Barb asks.

“I don't know,” she said, staring into nothing, worrying her friends, “I just need to check on her.” The redhead gets up and runs to start looking for you.

“MELISSA! WAIT!” the entire Abbott crew screams, but she completely ignores it.

She stops in front of your classroom and notices that the door is locked. The lights are off, but Melissa knows you're in there.

“Sweetheart, please let me in,” she knocks gently, “I am not mad with ya. Don't worry about it, I just want to know how you are.” The older woman adds, almost begging for you to open the door.

Locked inside your classroom, you were sitting on the floor. Curled up hugging your knees, trying to find some comfort while crying. The whole situation was so fucking stupid, of course. But it still left you overwhelmed and on the verge of an anxiety attack.

So lending Melissa the future milf t-shirt made you completely lose your mind? Wow, you really were a stupid person. Stupid. That word stuck in your brain and made you cry even more.

Hearing your quiet sobs made the redhead's heart break into pieces. The thought of her doing something that made you hurt was utterly painful. The truth was that Melissa would blame herself for the rest of her life if she had made you feel bad in any way.

“Hon, c'mon. Let me—” she started.

“Don't. Melissa, please. Just go away, I need to be alone,” you interrupt her, hoping she would understand that you didn't have the strength to say anything else.

Before walking away, she whispers loud enough for you to hear. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. But please, promise me you'll be okay.” The redhead said trying to wipe away the small tears that threatened to fall from her face.

“I'll be fine. Now go.” You growl, unaware that your words have fully gotten to her.

—

It had been a while since Melissa changed her mood so quickly. She had learned to control her emotions, thanks to you, who helped her notice that it was okay to show them from time to time and it wasn't shameful at all. But at that moment everything seemed useless.

Her legs were shaking slightly and she kept tapping her fingers on the desk, while trying to focus on correcting some of the children's homeworks. It was clear that Melissa was almost having a huge panic attack.

Ashely, who was now scrolling through her cell phone boredly after making sure the students were doing their activities calmly and in silence, noticed the sudden change in the redhead and her eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What’s the matter, boss? You seem a little quiet since lunch time. Which is strange ‘cause earlier you were all excited and—”

The older woman rolls her eyes. “Nothing happened. I'm fine,” she responds, clenching her teeth, “everything is ok, kid.”

“Are you sure? I know we’re not that close, but if you need to vent, I’m all ears.” The girl shrugs.

Melissa's eyes widen, her aide was really willing to give her some advice? Normally, Ashley didn't tend to be very serious. When she tried to help, the girl always ended up saying things that were a bit nonsense. But this time, she was here ready to be a shoulder to lean on.

“Y/n..” she started but quickly corrected herself, not quite ready to confide the crush she had on you to anyone else than Barbara. “Today, a strange thing happened between me and a friend that honestly left me completely confused.”

“Oh. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

Melissa stops for a moment, trying to get her head to work and think of a reason that could explain what had happened between the two of you.

“I-I can't explain it properly...everything was normal between us and when lunch time came...” the teacher stuttered, “she could barely look at me and when I told her to act like a real adult and tell me what was happening, she panicked and ran away.”

“After that you were able to talk to her?”

“Kinda, but she told me to leave her alone.”

Ashley gives her a pitying look, she knew who Melissa was referring to. Anyone who works at Abbott would know. “I'm sorry this happened boss, but I'm sure things will get better between you and her. Just give her a little time.”

Melissa nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the advice, hon.”

“Anytime boss, anytime.”

—

Changing my life with the wave of her hand.

Nobody can deny that there's something there.

There.

Running my hands through her hair.

Both of us thinking how good it can be.

Someone is speaking, but she doesn't know he's there.

The melody of Here, There And Everywhere by The Beatles echoed throughout the kitchen directly from the small radio on the balcony, while Melissa prepared dinner.

This was one of the many songs she always wanted to dedicate to you, the redhead dreamed of dancing with her arms around you, after a busy day at school while this song played. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company.

Was it quite cliché? Of course it was, even for the one and only Melissa Schemmenti. But to be honest, she didn't care how it sounded.

The older woman was so in love with you that she thought of endless romantic scenarios every day. After what happened today, every one of them seemed distant. But she still had a simple hope within her.

“Watching her eyes, and hoping I'm always there,” she sings passionately, while cutting the tomatoes perfectly, “I want her everywhere, and if she is beside me. I know I need never care, but to love her is to need her everywhere.” Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, thinking about you.

On the way out, she looked for you in the Abbott parking lot but was unsuccessful, she was waiting for a message from you, saying that you had arrived home safely like you always did.

But you didn't send her anything.

A feeling ran through her body. It was as if the redhead was losing the most precious thing in her life. Desperate, Melissa picked up her cellphone that was leaning on the living room table and went to check on you. Screw the advice Ashely gave earlier, she couldn't wait anymore.

Hon, are you feeling better? I hope so. By the way, did you manage to get home safely?

Sorry if I sound desperate, but I need to know if things are ok.

Y/n? Please answer me.

Her heart breaks into pieces when she sees that you just viewed the message and didn't even make the effort to reply back. For fuck’s sake, what had she done that was so serious? Nothing made sense anymore.

Just a few blocks away, you were lying on the couch and drinking an entire bottle of vodka, pretending like you didn't care about not responding to Melissa's messages. It was immature, but it seemed to make sense to you. Since this whole milf situation was a complete disaster, ignoring her seemed right.

Of course, inside you felt like a monster, knowing that the redhead didn't deserve this. But what you could do?

“I’m ready to open another bottle and listen to a two-hour-plus loop of Chamber of Reflection,” you say, making Ava sigh.

The principal had stopped by your house hours ago to check on you and when she saw the miserable state you were in, she decided to stay there for a while. And tried to comfort you (in the most Ava Coleman way possible.)

“Y/N. Come on, you can't act like Schemmenti doesn't exist. If you keep doing that, she'll soon break into your place to find out what's going on,” she comments, “just like an episode of a soap opera where the greatest absurdities happen in an exactly dramatic way.” Ava finished her sentence while painting her nails a shade of red. The act catching your attention.

Red. It reminded you of Melissa.

Yeah, this was being harder than it seemed.

“Shut up, she won't come after me,” you said it like it was just another one of the stupid things Ava used to say.

“Yes, she will. And y’know that very well.”

—

The next day, Melissa sat with her arms crossed at the table she shared with Barb and you. The redhead stared at the small tupperware in front of her, last night she made what she knew was your favorite dish: pancakes. She was anxiously waiting for you to show up in the break room, but that didn't happen.

Keep calm, Schemmenti. She will appear soon. She won't ignore you.

“Dear..” the kindergarten teacher whispers and she snorts, trying to change the subject, disguising how tense she was.

“What’s so interesting out there?” Melissa asks as she notices Janine, Gregory and Jacob looking at each other with strange expressions after spying in the window.

“Nothing.” Jacob is the first to respond and the couple agrees with him, swearing that there was nothing interesting outside.

She laughs humorlessly, the history teacher simply didn't know how to lie.

“C'mon, kiddo. You guys look like you've seen a ghost.” The redhead gets up from the table and approaches the three, squinting to see anything out of the ordinary and when she does. Her breathing hitches.

On the sidewalk, there were you and another teacher, who she recognized as the art teacher. The woman was happily chatting with you and leaning too close to Melissa's chagrin.

Ms. Evans was know for her big crush on you, she was always fighting with the redhead to have your attention. And now that Melissa was being ignored by you, this bitch thought she could have you all to herself? No way.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” she yelled coming down to get some satisfaction from you.

The sound of angry footsteps caught your attention, it was clearly that they belong to who you had been avoiding since yesterday, Melissa.

The wish was for the redhead to pass straight by without noticing your presence there. But instead, she approached and with a certain force grabbed you by the arm, taking you to one of the far corners of the building.

“Melissa! What the fuck?” you said.

“So while I was worried to death there in the staff room because you didn't talked to me since yesterday, you were here talking normally to that idiot!” the older woman's tone was altered, you could clearly hear the jealousy in her voice, “Had fun with your new best friend?”

“She’s not my best friend. We were just talking,” the nonsensical accusation makes you roll your eyes, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Melissa, stop acting like that!” you shout and she loses her temper even more.

“You suddenly act like a bitch and I’m the one to blame? What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/n?” she growls, fire in her green eyes.

“I dunno, a lot of things I suppose,” you retort coldly.

Melissa sighs when she realizes how tough she was. “Look, I don’t want to be an idiot. But please tell me what I did, so I can fix it.”

“We have nothing to fix between us, Schemmenti.”

“What? Are you really going to ignore it and pretend like none of this is happening?” The redhead asked in disbelief.

“Trust me. It’s better this way, for both of us,” you mumble, walking away from her, leaving an upset Melissa behind.

—

After the ‘argument’ on Tuesday, Melissa and you barely crossed paths at Abbott. And when you bumped into each other in the hallway, both grumbled and went back to your own ways.

The redhead and you were fighting the need to put the damned pride aside and throw yourselfs into each other's arms, and finally apologizing. But you were too stubborn for that and it was fucking complicated.

“This is stupid! Can you believe that Y/n started going to that coffee shop that's just a few blocks away from here just so she wouldn't have to face me at lunch? This whole thing is starting to irritate me.” Melissa tells to her best friend one morning.

“I understand that this situation is complicated, but don’t you think that both of you are exaggerating?” Barb asked carefully. Even she couldn't handle this situation anymore, it was disappointing to have to see you and Melissa acting like two children.

Ava who was listening to the conversation cautiously, decided to interrupt. “Schemmenti, haven’t you put the pieces together yet? Unbelievable.” She said as if it was something of small importance, making the redhead's eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Huh?”

“It’s so simple, I thought you already figured it all out,” the principal continues in a mysterious tone, making Melissa's head spin, “If it weren’t for this bullshit, you and Y/n would already be like two rabbits jumping on top of each other, if you know what I mean.”

The last comment makes Barb choke on her tea. “Ava, could you not be so specific about this? We’re in a school!” she scolds her.

“Whatever! It’s past time for her to know that Y/n likes her too. Even Janine and Gregory acted better than that!”

Everything around Melissa seemed to have gone silent. So was it true, the feelings were also reciprocal. A lot of questions surrounded her mind, why didn't you say anything? Why did you decide to pretend you weren't in love with her? Were you afraid of not being reciprocated?

“Why is she avoiding me then?” the redhead asks out loud, “that’s making me lose my mind. I just miss her.”

“Because of the t-shirt she lend ya. Mainly ‘cause of the last word printed on it.” That's all Ava says at that moment.

“A milf?” Melissa questions, still confused trying to think of putting the pieces together. “What does that mean? Is it something bad?”

“I was going to suggest you to google the meaning, but since you look like you're about to have a heart attack, I will tell ya,” she laughs and the redhead rolls her eyes, showing Ava her middle finger, “but don't be scared, it's a good thing, actually.”

“Alright..” the green-eyed woman whispers, still afraid of the answer, “so what does this whole milf thing means?”

“Mother I'd Like To Fuck. It also means that an older woman is super attractive.”

Melissa was left open-mouthed, her eyes blinking trying to process the explanation. So that was the damn meaning, well, she had to admit that was hot. “Wait... so Y/n..” she starts but there is a pause.

“Is in love with you and was scared when she saw ya wearing that t-shirt looking extremely hot, and preferred to stay away in case you found out what she felt.” Ava reveals it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “What are you waiting for? Go find your girl, Schemmenti.”

—

Time passed slowly to Melissa's disgust and despair, making the poor woman sigh feeling defeated. As each second passed, she glanced quickly at the clock on her classroom wall, waiting for the afternoon to end.

After her students left, and the school day was finally over. She drove to your house — without caring about traffic regulations and rules — nothing else really mattered, she just needed to see you.

Sitting on the floor, while assembling a Lego set that simulated a beautiful bouquet of flowers — a gift you received from Janine and Gregory days ago, a lovely attempt by the couple to cheer you up — the sound of the doorbell ringing caught your attention. Making you stop your movements.

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion, who could it be? Most of your friends were at different appointments at that time. So it certainly wasn't one of them.

“I'm almost coming! I just hope you’re not a stupid lunatic or some other ,” you grumbled, standing up as the sounds of the doorbell seemed more desperate with each passing second.

You opened the door and found Melissa standing there with her arms crossed, shivering slightly from the storm. “Hon, it’s so good to see you again.” She murmurs with a weak smile. Without caring if her voice sounds too desperate.

“Mel, what are you doing here? You might catch a damn cold like that.” You scolded her, pulling her into the house and locking the door again.

“I don’t care about that, I needed to see you. Actually we have to talk.” She responds taking off the black leather jacket that covered her body and hanging it where you kept your coats.

“We have to?” There is a little hesitation in the tone of your voice, all that courage and confidence have disappeared from your body. Insecurity taking over.

“Yeah, hon. We do.” She replied, noticing your nervousness, Melissa tries to comfort you, placing her hand on your shoulder and stroking it lovingly, showing that everything was fine. You smile for the first time in days in the presence of your beloved redhead.

She takes you to the small white sofa that was in the middle of the living room. “I know you were avoiding me because of that shirt. And I know you're in love with me.”

“What? Fuck, how did you figure all this out?” you whisper in panic, covering your face with your hands. Feeling vulnerable at the mercy of the red-haired figure sitting next to you.

A silence fell in the room, making you feel even more embarrassed.

“Ava told me those things earlier today. Hon, why didn't you tell me anything? That would have made everything so much easier.”

“What do you mean by making things easier? I don't understand.”

“I'm love with you too, idiot. I just didn't say before ‘cause I was insecure as fuck. But now, I know exactly what I want: you. No one else, just you.” She confessed with a smile on her face.

Automatically your body falls even more on the couch and you feel slightly dizzy. Closing your eyes slowly, trying to regain consciousness. “Sorry, I'm a bit nervous,” you respond. “It's too much to process. Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t be nervous, it’s me. Just me,” Melissa pulls you into her lap sighing as she smells your lavender scent again. “I'm sorry if I acted like a bitch the last few days. It was not necessary.”

“It was never your fault, I was the real bitch. You didn’t deserve to go through this just because of an irresponsible attitude of mine,” you say, resting your foreheads together.

“I think it's fair to say that we overreacted a bit,” the older woman smiles with her eyes closed. Feeling a slight courage run through her body, she asks you something. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” Melissa asks biting her lip and slowly approaching, “I wanna do this since New Year's Eve.”

“Yes, please, Mel.” You beg wrapping your arms around her neck.

The moment her lips touched yours, it felt like you were in heaven. Melissa's lips were soft against yours. The kiss was calm and peaceful, both wanting to show all the love you felt for each other.

“You know, being considered a milf is an honor for me.” Melissa scoffs with a mischievous smile as you pull away from the kiss.

“Shut up.” You chuckle, cupping her cheeks.

“Make me,” the redhead teases, “please.”

[xeeroo08]

Astr observations 《4》

Disclaimer: I am not an astrologer. This post is only for entertainment purposes, so whatever I have mentioned, if it is reasonates, well and good, and if it doesn't, then please take it with a grain of salt. Thankyou.

🛖 Aries in 3rd house may have a very reckless yet mature behind the scenes relationship with their siblings. They also fight a lot with their siblings for no reason. Surprisingly, this usually goes physical more than verbal. Very playful relationship. There is always a strong urge to hit the other person and irritate them to death. It gives them pleasure. When injured, you might immediately stop the fight no matter how serious it is and take care of each other. Oh, and if someone else dares to trouble any of you, hell would break loose. They can't hear anything bad about each other. In certain cases, this could also apply to mars in 3rd house.

🪵 Dirty mind, Dirty mind, Dirty, Dirty, Dirty mind~ Heard the song? Yeah it's made for those who have their personal planets or ascendant conjuct asteroid Prevert. Trust me, the dumb way to die is by sneaking a glance in their minds. You will be traumatized for the rest of your life and will never look at them the same way again. At any given moment their thoughts are always in gutter. Yeah I am calling myself out at this one. Do I care? No.

🛖 Mars in 10th house folks are really good at dancing. They dance so well.... like you can see the passion in their steps. Dancing can be one of the hobbies in their lives. These people can also be known for dancing professionally and being captivating as hell on social media.

🪵 Lilith in 7th house could indiacte having seen a lot of failed marriages in their life. This could be in their immediate family or even include their own parents. Hence these people have a really different mindset when it comes to marriages. They might even resent the idea of getting married and often question, what's the point?

🛖 Moon in 1st house are babies. Literally babies. Like they look so damn cute and adorable that I just can't help myself but give them a huge hug. They are the most genuine type of people I think because its rarely when what's on their mind is not on their faces. They look so innocent and naive (even if they are legit not.) People just wanna protect them at all costs. They bring out the maternal instinct for them from the other person naturally. But no matter what their warmth is the best comfort zone and their arms are home <3

🪵 Mars in 5th house would definitely be that uncle/aunt/cousin/sibling who spoiled small kids to death and taught them to do weird stunts and create a headache for other family members.

🛖 Transit Saturn in 1st house is really frustrating. It feels like you are doing nothing progressive for yourself and just wasting time. Your efforts go in vain and its really hard to maintain consistency. Sometimes you also realize what mistakes you are making but you find it difficult to correct them. Mental state is always fluctuating and self-confidence is very down. This mainly goes on until the very end when you realize that now you gotta be serious. But when you really do hardwork and break the cycle of laziness, it pays off. Its like an immature, careless kid suddenly becoming a responsible and serious person. Remember, our beloved saturn plays mind games with you. Its either you break free from this if you want the prize or pay the price.

🪵 The people that I have seen to be most likely get cornered, misunderstood and targeted are people having chiron in their 1st house. Its really concerning and hurtful. Because of other idiots these babies get hurt on a very deep and subconscious level. They occasionally have identity crisis and depression is their bestfriend. They try to be happy but life always seems to push something in their way.

For example, I have this relative of mine and she lost her brother a year before she got married. She thought if she starts fresh, it would help. But unfortunately turned out her in-laws were not good people. She was gravely misunderstood by everyone. Even if people knew that it was not her fault, they took great pleasure in gossiping about her, blaming her and literally named her a psycho. Which she is not ofcourse. She was just mentally fragile and instead of understanding her, supporting her, they made her more unstable for no reason.

🛖 Leo venus folks love Cats. They are an animal lover by heart and soul. They are someone who might stop their car in the middle of the road because they saw a really cute cat walking on the sidewalk. Just to go their and mingle with it while thinking, If only I could take it home....

🪵 Cancer moons in 3rd house, please, please stop imitating that baby voice just to butter me up and get your work done. You might think its cute but no, I can see through everything and its so annoying plus immature. Ofc now it doesn't apply to everyone out there but those who do, please take my advice and stop it. Usually I have noticed only underdeveloped people do this but until they realize, its too late and others already find them so annoying. Honestly Cancer moons are so smart yet sometimes they.....*sighs*

🛖 Nessus aspecting Mercury could mean that you often end up hurting people through your words or the way you communicate even when you genuinely don't mean it. These people are really misunderstood a lot of times. Also this works the other way too. For example, you get easily hurt or offended when people speak ill about you. They might just share their opinion on your new home decor but instead you would feel insulted when in reality that's not the case. Not that you would hold a grudge, it depends person to person but you will definitely not overlook that. It would just sting a lot for no reason. You will always wonder, why did she say that?

For positive aspects, this could work out well too, for instance they know exactly what to say and what not to. They can be great negotiators, entrepreneurs and social influencers. They also know how to handle people embodying nessus qualities like a troll or opposition hell bent on creating trouble. Hard aspect people will slowly learn to overcome their problems in communication with time and experience.

🪵 Mars opposite MC screams suppressed anger. The thick tension between their anger and self-image is unbelievable. They don't like to get angry in public. They often gulp down their anger to the last extent because they don't want their reputation to get spoiled because of it. Sometimes its automatic they wanna get angry at someone but end up swallowing it anyway. But please don't test their patience. They might just explode unexpected at any time like a nuclear bomb and destroy everything within their range, not caring about their public image whatsoever.

🛖 Lilith in first house/Conjuct Ascendant are the infamous bad examples of the family while Lilith opposite Ascendant are the good examples with secrets darker than nightsky- always holding their sanity with a single string. Ironically, both are siblings, two sides of the same coin.

🪵 Remember, in one of my posts, I said that I don't relate with Aquarius rising and their unique fashion sense? Well, guys, I finally cracked the mystery! It's not our fashion sense that's unique. It's us. We are the aliens. Ok, that was a bad joke. But really, for example, a few months back, I wore a very pretty dress at my cousin's wedding. And istg people were looking at me like I was an alien, like I wore something totally out of the blue. As if It was not something improper or overdressed but very different than what everyone was wearing, which, of course, was not the case.

Now the funny thing is, if it was someone else wearing the same dress, I don't think anyone would've said anything about it. And voila! It happened. A few days back, I attended a family function, and I saw a girl wearing the same dress in different color and design. And fr nobody uttered a word. Those same people overlooked her as if it was totally normal. As if they didn't just make me talk of the town for a whole week because of that dress. So yeah, finally figured out, it's me, I am the problem.

🛖 Its not always true when they say Earth Mars people are calm and collected. I mean they are but suppose you have a virgo mars but you also have a Leo or Aries or Sagittarius stelium, your Virgo mars will be crying in the corner while that fire stellium will create a havoc and burn down the whole world in matter of some seconds.

🪵 North node in 11th house people are so likable. They are that one friend who knows the entire school and vice versa. So many connections and so many new friends. They just keep making connections left and right no matter where they go. People like to be in their contact. This gives me 'popular girl' vibe.

🛖 You sneaky little thing, you think no one knows how much you love reading smut? Yeah you, I am talking to you, Scorpio Jupiter/3rd house. Look me in the eye, I dare you to deny this.

🪵 Mercury conjuct Mars.... man, they literally spit fire when they talk. Can't win any argument against them. Ngl, I told my friend that I would leave her if she doesn't keep her hands off me special mention to her love language that is playfully hitting me at any possible situation. She just laughed and said, "Go, nobody would take you." Me: Cries silently. Her: I know baby truth hurts. Lemme give you a hug.

🛖 If you have no positive aspect to sun in your natal chart, it might be possible that people don't like your personality much. They think you are too egoistical or full of yourself. They might also backbitch about you a lot. Now this is just what I have observed so far. So it may not reasonate with everyone.

🪵 People with Sun conjuct Ascendant make very great leaders. They have a king/queen Aura surrounding them. And when they speak or share their opinion, people actually listen and take them seriously. When they walk in a room, they make sure everyone knows who has the authority.

[headphones-lifeform]

Tumblr in the Star Trek universe part 2 [part 1 here]

🥂storiesfromtenforward Follow

There's a certain godlike being who's fond of visiting and irritating the captain. He's scared of our bartender.

🌀qcontinuum Follow

You are not entitled to share this. Go fuck yourself.

🥂storiesfromtenforward

You sound like a twitter user

#reblog meta

51 notes

🎧headphones-lifeform Follow

Trying to learn the classic Uralaya-Var T'Solkar, Guv-Tvi-Rivak Torsu. [I do not have a lyre yet, so I used a ukulele instead. Apologies for all the fabric ruffling noises.]

#please correct me if I made any mistakes! #uralaya-var t'solkar guv-tvi-rivak torsu #music #is this alright @marlinspirkhall?

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🐋gayspacewhales Follow

i know real-person-fanfic is kinda problematic, but if you don't ship kirk and spock, have you even listened to the ncc-1701 shiplogs? especially during the second five year mission. married behviour fr.

📚history-fact-checks Follow

OP has a point. You should definitely listen to the second five-year-mission logs in your free time :) (BTW- I am an actual historian! this is my fact-checking-your-history-takes sideblog, so if you have any questions feel free to send me an ask)

⚔️lesbian-kahless Follow

OP WHERE DO YOU GET THE SHIP LOGS

#if you send that fucking 300 year old meme i am going to murder you/hj #do you listen to the ncc-1701 logs(queer history tag) #rpf posting on main

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📃weirdpollposting Follow

#trillblr #trill #polls #my polls #tumblr polls #trill worm poll

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🛰️daily-starship-photos Follow

Hallways of the USS Enterprise-D (NCC-1701-D)

#not sure if you guys like the interior pics as much? #oh well #daily-starship-photos #the enterprise #the flagship

508 notes