#hot rats sessions
Video
youtube
(via Frank Zappa - Bognor Regis (Unedited Master) [320kbps, best pressing])
had never heard this before
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classpecting the iasip gang because i have nothing better to do with my life
-dennis : prince of heart (derse)
put up a facade of a calculating mastermind but is actually the dumbest man alive who cant express affection without two hundred layers of irony and violence.
-dee : page of light (prospit)
narrative's favorite butt monkey. oftentimes deemed as irrelevant and claws her way to relevance and luck no matter what and fails very very, often. actually the most reckless member of the gang.
-charlie : bard of time (derse)
the wildcard. musical genius. intelligence level correlate to what the episode needs. neglected and abused but refuse to accept it even happens to him by escaping into substance abuse and passivity. surrounded w/ filth, death and decay.
-mac : maid of hope (derse)
his faith in religion and hope that his parents care about him in some way allows him to survive to adulthood but it also sets him back as a person because he was blinded by his own convictions and internalized homophobia. he's also gullible.
-frank : thief of space (prospit)
the sleazy businessman who fund the gang's schemes. inadvertently stuns the twins capability for personal growth and chance to have a new beginning outside of their dysfunctional upbringing by being an absent parent but coming back to them when theyre adults. struggles with feelings of stagnation and unfulfillment. egg motifs.
#homestuck#iasip#whether they win or not depends on if canon ends with them growing or stuck in the same old patterns lol#i think its one of those session that lasts for years before actually culminating in something#like the dancestors session but worse#it would be funny to see though#they will all godtier but not because of plot reasons#mac does the classic mistake of fighting the denizens when the quest wasnt even done yet#dee tried to assasinate the white queen because she wants to have a kingdom of her own#dennis sees this and decides he's going to solo the black king and rule derse. the better kingdom in his opinion#mac also wants to fight the black king. at first they team up but they end up mauling each other in the final fight#meanwhile and charlie and frank in the background is inventing sopor#they both end up as convicts in both derse and prospit and frank's quest planet because he scams and shoots everyone#the duo eventually holed up in charlie's quest planet. a decaying mess caused by charlie smashing all of his consorts#since they look like rats#there will be a subplot where dee dies but nobody wants to revive her so her corpse gets passed around like a hot potato#dennis ends up reviving her ofc. but without a lot of misunderstandings and hilarity since reviving your teammates in sburb requires kissing#he didnt kiss her ofc thats gross. they just eventually found her quest bed and puts her there. when she awakes and undergone her#awesone godtier transformation everyone had left#and before the game even begun the gang refuses to let frank in their game session and let him die in a meteor#even if frank actually knows some sburb lore since he's also counts as the trash twins guardians#ofc this ends up as a doomed timeline. so charlie had to go back and include him in#and while he's at it he prototypes himself and becomes charliesprite#charliesprite is even more incoherent than denimchickensprite#this au is driving me insane
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Play ▶ Frank Zappa
A mix of some of the tracks from The Hot Rats Sessions box set, and the more recent Funky Nothingness release.
I'm a Rollin' Stone
Willie The Pimp (Unedited Master Take)
Transylvania Boogie (Unedited Master)
Tommy/Vincent Duo II
Bognor Regis (Unedited Master)
Twinkle Tits (Take 2)
Another Waltz (Unedited Master)
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Fire. Air. Water. Earth. For nearly 50 years, Avatar Kyoshi has fought to bring peace and order to the four nations. Despite her best efforts, much of the world is still in turmoil. After the fall of Chin the Conqueror, the Earth Kingdom fell into disarray as his former generals turned on one another and skirmished for territory. Fire Lord Zoryu continues to work a quiet but persistent political maneuver to snuff out the power of the Fire Nation’s great clans and consolidate influence under his own personal banner. The seas, for a time made clearer by the destruction of the pirate fleets of the Fifth Nation, now find themselves facing an ever growing number of a new generation of marauders who see opportunity in chaos and are determined to find their fortunes amidst the confusion…
#had our first session of our avatar game today#and our gm busted out this fantastic intro to set the stage#it does not quite set the tone however#because it's only our first session but we've already committed to so much chaos#bo and li have decided to let an elephant rat loose on the ship#as retaliation for aila's harsh leadership style#aila just started a bar fight by pouring her drink . . . on the person who bought her the drink#meanwhile onartok is just chilling buying tea and stationery#our ship is called the confusion for a reason#aila ruike#avatar legends: the rpg#avatar the last airbender#atla#atla oc#ttrpg stories#hot gay pirates in your area!
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Hot Rats cover art photo sessions, 1969. Photographer: Andee Eye Cohen. Model: Christine Frka (and Frank Zappa).
#frank zappa#hot rats#the hot rats sessions#1969#2019#andee eye cohen#christine frka#miss christine#GTO's#photography#rock photography#cover art
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Hot To Go
Song inspo!! - HOTTOGO by Chappell Roan
Tags / cw: headcanons, cheerleader!reader x dropout!ellie, fluff, Highschool au, Ellie is older by 1 year, reader is in senior year, 90s era
Dropout!Ellie who always does her best to show up and be supportive of your cheerleading
She always makes sure to pick you up every Friday night after practice, long after the sun has set and dew had started to form on the cold grass field.
She makes sure to wait by her pickup truck in the parking lot, leaning against the drivers side door and listening to music on her walkman until you come over to meet her.
She always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and one of her jackets to keep you warm in your thin uniform - the smell of her wrapped around you makes you feel so cozy.
Dropout!Ellie who lets you hangout with her in the back of her truck after practice, eating the worst junk food known to man as you gossip about people from your school
You’re sitting in the back of her truck, cuddling her under a shared blanket as you share a greasy cheese pizza - your legs intertwined as you try to feed her a slice with her eyes closed, making you both giggle as she fails miserably.
While she dropped out a couple years ago, she was still in the grade above you, so you have some shared memories about school. There are certain people she knows about, but most of them that you gossip about are complete strangers.
“No fucking way, he still goes there? Dude’s like a super duper senior at this point!”
Dropout!Ellie who won’t let you go home without a proper goodbye, leading to giggly make out sessions in her truck as you both try to hide from the automatic nightlights in your driveway.
Dropout!Ellie who sneaks into your school to watch your routines during matches, and somehow never gets caught.
At this point, you’re 99% sure she’s bribing the office ladies not to rat her out because they still have a soft spot for her.
Ellie never fucking tells you when she’s gonna show up, so every single time it takes you by surprise when you see her hiding behind the bleachers and cheering you on as you balance at the top of the pyramid.
And every single time, you almost fall from how distracted you get.
Dropout!Ellie who tries to involve herself with your schoolwork and be helpful, but is the exact opposite of what she attempts to do.
You’re studying for finals at the park while Ellie swings upside down on some random tree branch, blasting rock so loud that you can hear it all the way on the bench.
All of a sudden you hear her run over to you, leaves crunching under her feet, and two heavy hands landing on your shoulders
“So whatcha doinggg??”
She immediately regrets asking, because now you’ve trapped her next to you and planted a massive textbook in front of her to help you study.
“Babe- I dropped out in grade ten there’s no way I can help with any of this shit-”
Secretly, she gets a little sad sometimes because she can’t connect with you about school or share classes with you since she dropped out.
Dropout!Ellie who tried doing your makeup once, and you never let her go near it again because of how bad it was.
“No- Ellie it’s meant to be sparkly on the inner corner-”
“Stop with the fucking medical terms and just let me-”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO-”
You were 27 minutes late to practice that day because of how much Ellie insisted she do your makeup even though it wasn’t necessary.
You spent those 27 minutes desperately trying to wipe off the bright blue glitter she’d spread all the way up to your eyebrows.
Sometimes you still find pieces of glitter in your carpet from the whole fiasco.
You help her feel better, though, by letting her pick out which bows to put in your hair and which colours you can use for eyeshadow during games.
Dropout!Ellie who makes sure she’s always there with you during games, even when she can’t make it herself.
While you were busy getting dressed into your uniform, she was fiddling around with you pom-poms, eyeing all the pretty colours and sparkles.
She wanted to stay as long as she could until you had to leave for the game, because this time she couldn’t go with you.
But a sharpie on your desk caught her eye, and she suddenly had a small idea on what she could do.
And hours later, after the game, when you went to grab your stuff to leave, you noticed a tiny little black smudge on the handle of your pom-poms. And upon taking a closer look, a small smile made its way to your face after you saw your girlfriend’s faded initials hidden behind all the ribbons and plastic.
Dropout!Ellie who cannot wait for summer, when she can finally have you all to herself without school or practice or homework getting in the way.
Half of the summer you aren’t even sleeping at home. Instead, Ellie sneaks you out of the house and drives three hours into the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.
She puts up some blankets and pillows in the back of her truck, brings out a radio softly playing nirvana, and a Tupperware box of cookies she made to share as you lay in the back of her truck to stargaze.
She points out the bigger ones, and the ones making constellations to you as you wrap your arms around her and listen to her nerdy mumbling, slowly lulling you to sleep.
“See? That one there’s called Ursa Major. I uh, read it somewhere a while back in one of those astronomy books you got me.”
“…mhm…”
She giggles at your quiet chirps to her explanations as your slowly fall asleep, before pulling a blanket over you and lets you drift off under the stars.
And when you wake up - still outside in the back of her truck - resting on her now sleeping chest, you glance at Ellie and her resting expression. You watch how it becomes blanketed by the early morning sunrise, and you listen to how the radio is playing some indie country artist you couldn’t name.
And after a while, you decide that, despite the fact she’s a dropout and your a straight A cheerleader, and despair the fact that it is the most random pairing ever, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi
#tlou2#the last of us#the last of us 2#tlou#Ellie Williams x you#Ellie Williams x reader#Ellie Williams#Ellie Williams tlou#Ellie Williams the last of us#Ellie Williams tlou2#Ellie Williams the last of us 2
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Trailer park Steve AU part 37
part 1 | part 36 | ao3
cw: depression, ptsd, references to canonical death and horror
Chapter 9
December
The smudged feeling comes back.
Which sucks, if he's being honest.
Despite the new thing with Eddie and the breathing room in his budget; despite everything going fine with Robin and work and the kids, his good moods never seem to hold. They keep getting muddied up, can't shine through the grubby handprints that threaten to blot them out.
And sure, it's not like he expected one great make out session to change his life (and it was a great one, to be clear; a great make out session and an even better handy later that night in Eddie’s van), but he just…
Shit.
He doesn’t know.
He thought it might feel easier. Life, adulthood; everything. Like the lightness and warmth he felt that night might carry over, might drift through to fill the cracks in him like a blanket of fresh snow.
But they don't, because they can't.
They can't touch the fact that he has no clue what he’s doing. That Steve Harrington's got no purpose, no direction and no point.
Most mornings he's got nothing but his creeping paranoia and a bone deep sense of dread.
The new year closes in like a wet tongue up the back of his neck; hot breath of a drooling grizzly getting ready to take a bite, and the long winter shadows around his house are growing fangs, rows upon rows of razor teeth in petal mouths.
His nightmares tastes like rot and lilac. Something heavy in the air.
And in the mornings he feels stupid when he wakes up shivering in cold sweat, foolish and young and alone. He clutches at his nail bat and peers through the cracks in the blinds, and he feels like a lunatic because there’s nothing out there. Nothing abnormal. Nothing wrong-side up. Just the shadows and the strays; the scurrying of house mice and the skitter of dead leaves.
It’s over now, they told him. It’s over, kid. We won.
They said it all three times.
—
"Uh...”
Eddie's standing in Steve's doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms loosely folded over his chest, a weird smile on his face like he's deeply fucking confused by what he's seeing but is trying so hard to be cool about it.
Which, like. Fair.
It's mid-morning on a Sunday and Steve is crawling on hands and knees in his gutted disaster of a living room — ripping up the edges of his terrible burnt orange carpet without even pausing to say hello — and the kids will be here any minute to help put up the Christmas tree, and he hadn't meant to do this; knows he looks completely manic, sweat dripping into his eyes, knuckles bleeding from the tack strips, but he woke up trembling from another nightmare and decided that everything had to go.
The nightmare felt too real. Long claws and sharp teeth, squelching muck and snaking vines; a flash of Chief Hopper bloody and shorn in a frozen wasteland, but the chief is dead and everyone's dead and Steve is so tired of being haunted by their ghosts, and in his shaken, post-dream haze he convinces himself that it's this place.
This place is the fucking problem.
This godforsaken tin can with spirits crawling in the walls.
They're clinging on like static just before a thunderstorm. In the floorboards, in the rug. Steve can feel them with each step. How many footprints buried themselves in these worn fibers? How many exhausted treks to the fridge and frenzied rushes to the phone; how many angry late-night pacers and visitors overstaying a welcome?
"Stevie?" Eddie clears his throat.
Steve just wants them all gone. The whole haunted circus — wants to strip it to the bones, start fresh with something new.
So far all he’s done is make the place smell like his nightmares. Like dust and death and lilac as he pulls the carpet up. There’s an oily stain on the subfloor from where he smashed his mom’s perfume, and a green-black mystery splotch by the kitchen that could be water damage, or it could be the remnants of a liquified rat. Or a person; so many people, melted meat monster smashing through the city blood and gore in a demodog's jowls the walls pulsing with membranes like some fucked up rotten womb and—
"Hey." Eddie's boots come into view. Calm commandment in his tone, stepping right into Steve's space. "Look at me," he sighs.
Steve sits back and wipes his brow. The sweat stings his cut-up hands, and he wishes he weren't so busy being a nutcase, because Eddie looks good like this. Standing over him, petting a hand through his damp hair. Making him kneel down at his feet. It’s hot. They could do something with this. Steve could—
"You want to tell me what you're doing?"
Tears prick up in Steve's dumb eyes.
What's he supposed to say? There were ghosts in the fucking carpet?
He shakes his head and sniffs, and Eddie steps in a little closer; moves his hand to cup Steve's jaw. "No?" he lifts a brow.
Outside, tires crunch over the gravel, the kids making a racket as they pour out of the Wheelers’ car. Goddammit.
Steve huffs and gets to his feet; lets Eddie steady him. They share a look. The kids are shouting on the lawn. "Can you take us to Home Depot?"
—
part 38
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
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Part 2
“You’re finally awake~”
Sidekick barely registered the voice over the pounding of their heart in their head. They stretched their neck up to try and see whomever had tied them spread eagle to a bed, but could hardly get a glance from their restrained position.
Footsteps resounded through the room until they stopped somewhere near the foot of the bed. The hero-in-training gulped, they were terrified.
“W-Who are you?”
Their capturer huffed a laugh, stepping over to the side of the bed and into the sidekick’s view. “You’ve yet to meet me, darling. I’m a friend of your friend.”
The sidekick pursed their lips in an awkward frown, masking their unease. “By friend, you mean enemy… right?”
The other, presumably Villain (the sidekick guessed), smirked. “I guess you could say that.”
Hot sweat ran down the sidekick’s back and into the soft sheets below them, for some reason their whole body felt hot. Were they drugged? Truth serum-ed? Maybe even poisoned?
“You might have a concussion, I hit you quite hard over the head.” As if on queue, the sidekick felt a sudden sharp sting at the back of their head and for a sickening moment they realized the sweat coating their hair wasn’t actually sweat at all. “I didn’t think you’d be that easy to take down, if I’m being honest.”
The villain shrugged, somewhat amused as they watched the sidekick’s pale face distort in a mix of unresolved emotions. Eyeing their prisoner up and down from their jail cell of a bed with a look Sidekick had only ever been warned about by Hero before.
Sidekick’s mouth opened and closed, searching for something to say, toying with the idea of talking their way out of a torture session. “Y-You know, Hero is still out there. If you’re looking for them, I-I mean you just missed them—”
“Do they teach you to sell out your superiors immediately in hero school? Or is that just your own last ditch attempt to get away scott-free as a coward?”
Sidekick shut up. Villain had a point, they weren’t exactly painting the best picture for their reputation.
The villain grinned, leaning over the bed and placing a hand against the sidekick’s chest. They let their fingers wander as they spoke, “I will say though, coward or not, you sure are putting this body to waste working for that rat of a hero you call your mentor.”
Their second hand crept up along the sidekick’s torso and the criminal didn’t hesitate to begin slowly unbuttoning their dress shirt. Both of their eyes focused on the bits of skin that were carefully being revealed as they worked the lower buttons apart.
Sidekick’s breath hitched, was Villain seriously hitting on them? What were they doing? What was happening? None of Hero’s master classes could’ve prepared them for this moment.
The further down the villain’s hands went the more the sidekick’s heartbeat picked up. They convinced themselves it was because of the torture that was increasingly impending and not the fact that someone as breathtaking as the villain was, was stripping them down.
They began to struggle, pulling subtly—or so they thought—against their bonds, letting the burn from the rope digging into their skin distract them from the villain’s fingers exploring their body.
Pulling back the fabric of their button-up, Villain revealed the hero-in-training to their hungry eyes. Going straight to teasingly tracing their nails into the sidekick’s skin, relishing in their goosebumps and gasps.
“Sweetheart,” Villain’s eyes flicked to Sidekick’s, digging their nails into their fleshy shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t pull on the ropes, okay? I guarantee you that my knots are more than strong enough to hold, so be a dear and don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”
For some reason, Sidekick stopped, they didn’t fight back harder like they were taught. The villain’s eyes were entrancing and their voice was soft but stern, guiding the sidekick’s actions and thoughts with every word they spoke.
Hero had warned them of that.
Villain smiled, pleased with their captive as they continued their soft tracing of skin. Leaving behind angry, red, crescents on the sidekick’s shoulder in their wake. “Hero spoke of you, but they never mentioned how good you look… What a shame.”
Sidekick’s face burned a beet coloured red. “W-What?”
“Well, I would’ve kidnapped you a lot sooner if I had known~” Villain drawled as if it were obvious and Sidekick cursed their lucky genes.
“But enough chit chat,” the criminal brought their hands back to their sides. “Let’s get back to the real reason you’re here…”
And in a second the sidekick’s heart lurched into their throat at the ‘snap’ of switchblade flipping open.
#im backkkk#or am i?#i miss cat#🥲#hero x villain#villain#villain x hero#hero#drabbles#fantasy#imagines#scenarios#hero and villain#villain and hero#heroes#villains#heroes x villains#villains x heroes#sidekick#sidekick x villain#whump#sidekick whumpee#sidekick whump#villain whumper#intimate#intimacy#intimate whumper
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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER
When you started dating Atsumu, you swore to never be the annoying gym couple, and yet here you are.
wc — 700
tags — fluff, most unserious relationship ever
The soft grunts from the other side of the gym were really getting to you. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, you repeat to yourself - until another bitten off curse draws your attention to the man determined to be the death of you.
Across the row of barbells, Miya Atsumu brings the hem of his shirt to his face to swipe off the drop of sweat clinging to his chin. In the mirror behind him, the muscles of his back ripple with each movement, causing your throat dry up.
As soon as you register what you’re doing, your brain stutters and you immediately whip around, trying to ignore the low chuckle behind you.
Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing and he was enjoying it, eating up every second of attention you were giving him.
Gritting your teeth, you focus on another set of push ups, keeping your core tight. It’s working, for a bit, your mind clearing as all your energy goes to keeping you in the proper form. All of that effort goes to shit when he walks past you.
Legs.
That’s the first, and for several minutes, only thought in your head.
Thighs.
You want him to crush you between them.
His muscles could have been sculpted by the gods, and the effect it has on you - well. You had to check if you were still breathing. He laughs again, and you try to discreetly draw the back of your hand against your face in case you were drooling.
In front of you, Atsumu, the bastard, purposefully lowers himself to the floor in an effortless split.
Oh, god.
He was flexible. You tear your eyes away from his broad chest, ignoring his Cheshire cat smirk. He got you again, but you were determined not to let it happen a third time.
This was a competition, and you were going to win. Two could play at that game.
Running sucks. It gets you sweaty and hot and tired faster than any other exercise, and you swear the treadmill has it out for you. It never works quite right when you’re on it, but damn if you don’t look good with your hair bouncing. You’re well aware of how amazing you look in the glow of runner’s high.
Someone else is, too. Behind you, Atsumu trips over his own feet and crashes into the rack of barbells, earning him the ire of multiple frat boys. Even as he’s being scolded, he looks love struck and dazed, eyes only for you.
It’s incredibly gratifying. You waste the entire session flirting with Atsumu while he continues to be horrifying, distractingly hot in your general direction.
The audacity of him.
Of course, someone has to ruin it. Atsumu isn’t the only one noticing how good you look running.
As you’re checking the miles, a hand shoots out to hit the off button. At first, you turn with a smile, expecting it to be a mistake, but it slides off your face instantly at the condescending next words. You slow to a stop with the treadmill.
“Hey, sweetheart. Need a few tips?”
“No, thank you.”
“Come on, babe-“
“Not your babe.”
“Don’t be like that. Why don’t you give me your number?”
“She said no, dude.” Atsumu comes up behind you, heat radiating off him. He’s not close enough to touch, and yet, his solid presence is more than enough to make you feel more secure.
“I didn’t ask you,” the random gym rat snaps.
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “She wouldn’t be interested in ya anyway. Word of advice, buddy? Ya should just give up now.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because-“ He yells in surprise as you, sick of this conversation, pull him down for a kiss. Initially shocked, he melts into you as he always does, bringing his hands up to your face to cradle your cheeks tenderly. For a minute after you break away, you just lean your foreheads together, staring into his eyes.
Then you wrinkle your nose. “Ugh, you’re sweaty.”
“Babe!”
You turn back to the man with a grin. “I’m not interested because he’s my boyfriend.”
Atsumu smirks behind you, arms crossed.
#sera writes#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq x reader#hq x fluff
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Thinking about force ghost Anakin playing peekaboo with Grogu
Also Din being freaked the fuck out by the idea of a force ghost. Especially bc he can’t see them. The first time things get hot and heavy between him and Luke, Luke is all distracted and glaring into nowhere, goes bright pink when Din asks why he’s glaring into the corner mouthing something - and it turns out to be Yoda lecturing Luke on attachments. It takes a while before Din stops asking if they’re alone in between make out sessions
Or Luke’s last blue milk pudding going missing, and Din blames it on Grogu (bc nobody can ever stay mad at his sweet little face.) but Anakin, who absolutely adores Grogu, and is still of the belief that nobody is good enough for Luke, pops up to tell Luke that it was Din. That he and Obi Wan saw it with their own eyes!
And Din immediately realising what happened as soon as Luke turns to him and glares, arms crossed disappointedly. 1. For eating it. 2. For blaming their sweet, innocent son. When he leaves the room, after being assured that it would be replaced, Din is glaring around the room grumbling about being ratted out
Picturing him sneakily eating it and out loud asking that they please don’t tell Luke. He’ll talk to an empty room, bc he’s mildly uncomfortable with their presence
(Much like Mike from BBC Ghosts)
But mostly, thinking about Anakin dorkily crouched down playing peekaboo. Luke finds it endearing - feels good about seeing a soft side of his father, what he might have been like/what he was like pre-dark side. And Din one day just seeing Grogu giggling and clapping at nothing and being uncomfortable/creeped out as fuck. Like when a cat meows/stares at an empty corner of a room
#this was dumb#dinluke#Luke skywalker#din djarin x luke skywalker#luke skywalker x din djarin#luke x din#din x luke
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Based off of this au, coming soon to ao3 I think!
-
Roier wakes up dead, and he's fucking starving.
"Mmph," he says, words frozen in his mouth. His throat is dry. His tongue isn't cooperating.
There are two very pointy teeth pinning his tongue to the floor of his mouth, and, really, he should've considered this before asking to get killed.
He's hungry. It's chewing at his brainstem like a rat: feed. Something so base and instinctual that it feels the same as how the color red looks, clawing at his stomach and threatening to tear it open unless it gets fed within the next five minutes.
The world is still blurry around him from the whole dying thing, so the first thing he feels after his all-consuming hunger is a heavy pressure on his chest. Third: something wet on his chest. Distantly, fourth: the sound of someone crying.
"I'm sorry," he thinks he hears, but he isn't sure; turns out dying does things to you, like making things just kind of distant.
Roier frowns. He doesn't like this.
He's on a bed, he thinks. Or, well, he should be on a bed. Their bed. He asked to be turned in it, but he also remembers a garden. Lying in his husband's lap beneath a tree holding his hand reassuringly and smiling and telling him to get it over with, Roier was tired of waiting.
But now he's on a bed, and he's hungry, and Cellbit is crying, and Roier is dead. He's dead and hungry, and his husband is crying.
Weakly, Roier tries to raise an arm from where it lays by his side to stroke Cellbit's hair (Cellbit loves when Roier pets him), but he can't get it up more than an inch before he's forced to drop it out of exhaustion.
But that half an inch is enough to get Cellbit's attention. He sits up and lunges towards Roier's face, immediately cupping it with both hands and looking down at him worriedly. The world focuses around him, and Roier falls in love all over again.
"Guapito?" Cellbit asks. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
God, he's gorgeous. He's crying, and he's gorgeous.
Roier can't help but smile. His new fangs clip his lower lip, but that's fine. Just another way to show their bond.
"Ay," he croaks, "why are you crying, pendejo? I'm fine, see?"
But, really, with his fangs, it comes out a bit fuzzier. Fuzzy enough to make Cellbit crack a grin. He wipes his eyes with the end of his sleeve and he sighs and he leans down to press his forehead to Roier's, eyes slipping shut from relief.
"You worried me, asshole," Cellbit huffs. "I didn't think you would wake up."
His hands finds Roier's, and he holds them. His ring is cold, but so is the rest of him. It's the whole being dead thing, nothing that Roier hasn't gotten used to over the years.
But...
Roier frowns again. "Of course I would wake up. What, did you think you killed me or something?"
Silence. And then Roier is forced to close his own eyes to keep Cellbit's tears from pouring into them as his adorably-stressed husband starts crying again.
God.
"I did!" Cellbit cries. "You're dead!"
"Yes, because I wanted to be dead!"
Oh, that sounds bad. It makes Cellbit's grip tighten to an almost-uncomfortable degree, and he starts crying even harder, and, honestly, this is not what Roier had wanted to deal with immediately after waking up. He wanted a hot sexy vampire makeout session, not feelings.
So he tries again with: "I mean I wanted to be like this! A vampire! Like you!"
His stomach clenches from hunger and from... guilt, probably.
"Twelve hours," Cellbit grits out, and Roier winces. Yeah, that's guilt.
Because turning a vampire is supposed to be a pretty quick-and-easy deal. It apparently took Cellbit an hour to get turned back in, like, negative one-hundred b.c., and Cellbit says that he ran on the long side.
"Okay," Roier quietly says, "but I'm fine now, right? Look at me, gatinho, do I look dead?"
His eyes open, and they meet Cellbit's.
"Yes," Cellbit flatly says. "Very."
Ouch! But. Well.
"You look deader," Roier teases. "At least I'm sexy."
"Dead and sexy."
Roier rolls his eyes. "Culero, you are dead and sexy! Now we are dead and sexy together."
Cellbit rolls his eyes, but at least he's mostly done crying. His eyes are red, and not in the vampire way, and his hair is a complete mess. He's in one of Roier's hoodies, and it looks absolutely ridiculous on him. One of his hands is bandaged from the initial feeding he had to give Roier during the turning process.
Roier lightly tugs at Cellbit's hand until it moves. He (read: Cellbit) pulls it to his lips, and he kisses its knuckles reverently.
...And then his stomach literally, actually growls, startling him into dropping Cellbit's hand. He jumps, smacking his and his husband's heads together, and he collapses back into their bed with a groan.
Cellbit laughs, a beautiful thing, and he gives Roier a feel-better kiss right smack in the middle of his forehead.
"Hold on, I'll come back with dinner," he tells him, giving him a kiss on the lips and standing.
Roier whines as he leaves, reaching a gay, pathetic hand out after him. His arm dramatically flops off the side of the bed, and he stares up at the ceiling, and he waits.
Dinner. That'd be blood. Human blood. Cellbit had said something about a fledgling vampire's first blood having to be fresh, and it sounded pretty chill at the time, but Roier still doesn't know if that means he has to, like, kill someone. He's hungry now, but he'd probably feel pretty bad about it later during one of his usual existential crisis showers.
His nose twitches as the house's basement door opens. He feels himself start to salivate, Jesus. And it's weird because blood smells like shit: like bitter, spoiled milk combined with a used car lot. But he's so hungry, and-
And the bedroom door opens, and a bloody Cellbit deposits an unconscious man at the ground by Roier's feet with a groan. He rolls his shoulder, wincing.
Roier stares at the unconscious man. He licks his lips, but he can't... he can't sit up, he's so tired. It's like every part of him but his goddamn muscles came back to life, maybe this is why he took so long to wake up, maybe his body is just a little slow. Or maybe it's because he took so long. Whatever.
"Help me up," he says, and Cellbit gladly does so. His hands linger as he helps Roier settle on the floor, fingers trailing over Roier's shoulders and through his hair and down his neck. Roier, of course, leans into the touch, drunk on it.
But, eventually, Cellbit settles on the floor next to him on his knees, and he holds Roier's hand again. His thumb rubs over Roier's knuckles comfortingly, brushes over Roier's wedding ring and lingers.
Roier looks down at the man, and he swallows a starving, animalistic lump in his throat.
"I don't know what to do," he says.
Cellbit lets out a nervous breath of his own. He's taken Roier's hoodie off, probably because he doesn't want to get blood on it. (He's always complaining about the stains, and Roier- perpetual laundry not-doer- had always laughed it off. But now?)
"Just like this," he says, and he leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Roier's throat. "But with more teeth."
Roier gasps. "What, you want me to kiss him?"
"No, pendejo!" Cellbit laughs. He lightly pushes at Roier's shoulder with his own, briefly pressing his forehead against Roier's temple before backing off slightly and looking down at the man in front of them. "But... well, you've seen me do it before, haven't you? Just do what I do."
"But with less kissing."
"Gaupito."
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"
Roier laughs, trailing off as his stomach rumbles. Right. To business.
Awkwardly, he bends over, basically flopping over the poor guy with how weak his muscles are. Cellbit thankfully catches him and helps him get positioned.
Roier looks at the man's throat. He's never seen something so appetizing in his life besides his husband's body. He's never bitten anyone- okay, so he's bitten plenty of men before, but not like this. But it can't be that hard, can it?
He tries to position his mouth the way Cellbit does, and he has to look goofy because Cellbit bites back a giggle and gives the back of Roier's neck an apologetic kiss at Roier's petulant grumble.
"Okay," Roier breathes, mostly assuring himself. He's got this.
His teeth graze the man's neck, and then something snaps within him and he bites. It's like he's running on autopilot after that; he almost seems to take back seat to his own body, watching and listening as he growls almost like an animal and as he fucking devours the guy.
He's going to be sick, but he can't stop. He's so hungry, fucking hungry, and all he can see and feel and taste is red red red red red-
The man dies. Roier sucks him dry, anyway, slurping the last of his blood up and sitting up with an unneeded gasp, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Blood drips from his mouth, and he may be dead, but he's never felt this alive in his life.
He doesn't even have time to blink before he's being pulled into a bruising kiss, hands on his cheeks and foreign fangs digging into his lip.
"I love you," Cellbit murmurs, his own mouth painted red with another man's blood.
Roier rolls his eyes and pushes Cellbit onto the floor and onto his back with newly-recovered strength, smirking at the way Cellbit's eyes widen hungrily. Blood is smeared across his face like smudged secondhand lipstick, and he's smiling.
Roier is going to kiss the shit out of him.
And the does, crashing their lips together and letting himself get carried away in the tastes of blood and Cellbit.
Day one, an eternity to go.
'Til death do us part.
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Screened Emotions
Niko Omilana x f! reader
Summary : Your prank backfires at you as Niko reveals something so shocking that it may shake the very roots of your relationship.
Warnings : Mentions of cheating, Crying and eventual fluff
"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore".
The smile on Niko's face is replaced with a frown.
"Not do what exactly?"
"This. Us. Us, Niko."
"Nothing's wrong between us, what do you mean?"
You fake sigh into your hand and look up at him with a dead stare.
"Don't you dare act dumb Omilana, you know exactly what you did."
"Y/n, baby I really don't know why you're getting mad all of a sudden".
He lifts his head from your lap and tries to hold your hands in his. You swat his hands away and sit opposite to him on the bed. Niko, confused sits up and waits for what you were about to say.
"We have very different lives Niko. I'm studying and making content. You're flying from place to place, signing deals, making content for NDL, your channel and Betasquad. Our schedules rarely line up Niko. Plus I just think we're not going to work out."
Niko looked at you, and looked down. He looked so heartbroken that you almost decided to call the prank quits. That was until he sighed deep into his hands.
"I guess you found out then."
You look at the camera for a second, puzzled. You didn't think something like this would come up.
"Found out what exactly?"
"C'mon let's stop beating around the bush. Yes I have been seeing someone for the last couple of weeks but I didn't mean to get attached to her or anything. It was only supposed to be a one night stand."
"YOU SLEPT WITH ANOTHER WOMAN?!?!?!"
You stand up abruptly knocking things over from the bedside table by accident. Niko doesn't budge and stares blankly at the wall.
"Look Y/n, I'm sorry. I just felt really lonely and you were busy so I went to her."
You felt hot tears pooling in your eyes. This wasn't Niko. He would never speak about you like this, neither would he cheat on you. But as you observed the man infront of you, somewhat unbothered by your emotions, you begin to worry if he was ever the right choice.
Your legs give up and your knees hit the floor, your body overtaken by a a turmoil of continous sobs. You cover your face with your hands and cry into them.
"God, I ratted on myself. I guess you wanted like a break kind of thingy and didn't know I cheated. Damn, I'm dumb."
His nonchalance made you cry harder. 5 years with this man and he just shoos your feelings away like that. You feel lightheaded and utterly disgusted..
He sits down on the floor with you, trying to wrap his arm around your shoulder but you push him away.
"Babe." He tucks a strand of hair from your face but you swat his hand away.
"Don't t-touch me". You sniffle and scoot back from his reach.
He sighs loudly and grabs your legs pulling you to him. He leaves small kisses on your cheek and holds you tight in his hold as you struggle to get out.
"Hide the camera properly next time, you almost had me."
You let out a sob and push at his chest.
"I k-knew you had a hunch. Y-you'd never speak to me the way you did today."
"Of course I wouldn't. Your the love of my life the woman of my dreams. I'd have to be proper mad to lose you."
He closes the gap between you two by pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your head.
You wipe your tears on your sleeves and pick up your camera.
"This lanky made me cry for no reason, I hate him so much."
Niko got into the frame and shrugged. "The amount of times I wanted to look directly into the camera and wink was insane. But I didn't want to ruin the video. I'm sorry for upsetting you babe but no one pranks the supreme leader of NDL".
You lean into his chest and sigh. "I'll get you good Omilana. I promise".
"Can't wait". He mock teases you.
You turn off your cam and jump into the sheets, Niko following suit.
"You owe me a cuddle session for making me cry".
"You say as if that's a punishment". He scoops you in his arms and snuggles with you for the entirety of the afternoon.
#betasquad#niko omilana#sharky#king kenny#chunkz#ajshabeel#betasquad x reader#uk youtubers#niko omilana x reader#niko omilana smut#mcyt#aj shabeel
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The Massage (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: Despite the ache in his thigh, Bucky has been avoiding the new massage therapist for quite some time now.
Note: Okay, so due to an unnecessarily hot gif (and I mean unnecessarily hot), the original post with this story was unfortunately put in tumblr jail last night. This is a repost of that story. Please help me by spreading this fic even if you've already reblogged the original. I'd appreciate it immensely ❤️
Warnings: Smut, smut, and purely smut - with a plot! Pining, teasing, edging, Bucky is highly stimulated from his massage. Slight age kink and with a fluffy ending.
Words: 6.1K
For five months, Bucky has avoided coming here like the plague. He has made up excuses, hid in his bedroom, tried ordering all sorts of remedies online, and has even resorted to massaging the aching thigh himself, but of course Sam - the rat - had eventually had enough of his moaning and complaining, and had told on Bucky first chance he got.
Bucky knows that his annoyance towards Sam is uncalled for - that his thigh has become a nuisance, a reliability that is keeping him from performing as well in the field as he used to, but even though he has long since realised that the strain in the muscle will feel a lot better after just a few rounds of professional massage, he's still been praying every night for it to go away on its own just to avoid finding himself in exactly the situation he's in now: visiting the in-house massage therapist who also happens to have his heart beating a little faster every time she smiles at him. You.
He knows there's no way out, that he eventually has to knock on the door in front of him and step inside your office, but his heart is racing like crazy in his chest and the jump from the window right next to him might not result in a particularly comfortable landing but it will definitely be more comfortable than the hell he surely will release upon himself when he feels your touch. It's a professional setting and the things he wants to do to you are fucking far from professional! He shouldn't even be having these thoughts; you're friends - colleagues even - and he's so much older than you. It's... creepy.
"It's just an hour, it's just an hour," he closes his eyes and breathes hard, hopes it's enough to calm himself down and forget about all the wonderful self-relief sessions he's had with you painted on the back of his eyelids. "- you can behave yourself for one hour..." he sighs and reluctantly releases the tense muscles of his right arm so the closed fist falls forwards and hits the door in front of him with a bang much louder than intended.
For a second, everything goes quiet.
He hopes it's because you have forgotten all about the appointment Sam fixed between you a few days prior, but then he hears shuffling on the other side of the wall, and it doesn't take long before the door with your name written on it swings open and reveals your bright smile that immediately warms up his abdomen.
"Bucky!" you exclaim happily and make room for him in the doorway, "come on in!"
"Thanks..." he mumbles more grumpily than intended and steps inside the dimly lit room that smells like flowers, warm citrus and that massage oil that has made your fingers more softer-looking than anything he's ever set his eyes on before. It's a setup for failure.
"I'm so happy you're here! I was wondering when you'd finally stop by," you chirp happily from behind him and even though he can hear the question in your voice, he's not about to answer why he hasn't sought your help sooner. "Sam tells me you pulled a muscle in your groin a couple of months back."
"Yeah," he clears his throat and avoids looking you directly in the eye, "it's no big deal, it'll heal..."
"I kinda figured you'd say something like that," you happily tilt your head to the side and search his face, "why don't you strip down to your underwear and I'll take a look at what I can do to help you."
Oh doll, you can do so much to help me! He clears his throat and bites back the unwelcome thought as he quickly pulls off his shirt and jeans.
"Okay, so tell me," you smile at him when he sits down on the massage bed and spreads his legs out to the sides so you have easier access to the affected area. "- exactly where is the pain located?"
Ready to get this whole ordeal done and over with, he quickly points to the area on his inner thigh that feels as if someone's plunging a knife deep into the tissue every time he takes a step forwards. "Right here - but it's really not a big deal. You don't have to do this."
"It's my job," you chuckle sweetly before you direct your gaze down to the area surrounding his groin.
Immediately, Bucky can feel his face grow hot as your beautiful eyes visually inspect the skin right below the hem of his boxer shorts, and he has to keep himself from instinctively closing his legs shut in silent embarrassment.
"Hmm, you do look a bit tense..." you scrunch up your nose in concentration and the warmth in his stomach deepens. You're way too cute for your own good. " - I think I'd like to start off by loosing up the muscles around your hipbone. Could you turn around and lie down on your stomach please?" you ask and look up into his eyes with a cute little gaze. He's never had you this up close before and it's definitely doing something bad to him.
"Yep," he croaks and immediately turns around so his burning face meets the hole in the mattress below him.
He can hear you squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil from a tube next to the bed and you heat it up by rubbing it between your hands while he with closed fists and hypervigilant senses braces himself for the inevitable touch.
"Alright, Barnes. I'm gonna start touching you gently now," you say in a soft, professional tone and he cannot help but squeeze his eyes shut. "- don't worry, it'll feel good."
"Yeah," he clears his throat and desperately focuses on his jumping nerves to try and get them under control. Your words of comfort are not exactly reassuring when 'feeling good' is exactly what he's worried about...
"Here we go," you conclude in a quiet sing-song voice right before you gently put your hands on his upper thigh and start running your fingers over the tight bundle of painful muscles. It hurts at first but after just a few seconds of your fingers on his skin, he can feel the tightness slowly disappearing.
Professionally, you massage the aching tissue deeper and deeper, and Bucky feels how his jaw slowly eases up in time with the tension of his thigh. Your fingers are dancing over his lower half, squeezing the tight muscles and caressing his skin, and it doesn't take long before your warm fingers and the citrus in the air send his protective parades crumbling. Suddenly, his thigh doesn't really hurt anymore and he's so relaxed that he let's go of the tension in his shoulders too and his eyes automatically close shut without warning. A slow song is playing soothingly from somewhere in the room and while your fingers are working magic on his tissue, he feels himself disappear into it.
Your hands are slowly moving from the middle of his leg to the area right underneath the hem of his boxers, and your oily fingers suddenly slip down to his inner thigh where they warmly start kneading the skin.
You move his leg a little out to the side and briefly press in on a point near his crotch that has him soaring! Sweetheart, it feels so good, he almost groans and melts into the mattress when he suddenly feels a stray finger touch an even more sensitive area on his already burning skin. Ah fuck! He has to stop himself from whimpering as your warm palms soothe his sore muscles while the soft pad from your stray finger gently rubs and touches the sensitive spot on his gracilis muscle right where it attaches to the back of his pelvis. Shit, he feels amazing! He just wants your soft, oily hands to stay on him forever! Just wants them to rub and tug and slip further and further down between his thighs until they eventually slip inside his boxers and feel the warm, pulsing area where he really wants your touch! And if he's lucky, you might just ask him to flip around onto his back so you can climb on top of him in your cute little uniform and pull back the skin at the tip of his cock with your hands. Or your mouth. Or your glistening, tight, wet pussy. Fuck!
He hisses.
Involuntarily, and because he's so relaxed, he's accidentally managed to excite himself a little too much and now there's nothing he can do to stop it! He wants to - but oh God he can't! So when he feels the blood rush from his stomach and down to the only region he does not want it right now, he can only lie there and panic in silence.
He feels himself grow hard in time with his blurring vision and he wants to tell you to stop your motions, to let go of him and leave the room pronto, but how the hell is he supposed to do that without giving himself and his treacherous dick away? You can never know the effect you have on him! You're so sweet, and so young and innocent, and he's almost fucking forty! Fuck, he's sweating like crazy!
Blissfully unaware of the inner battle going on inside Bucky's head, you keep massaging his thigh heavenly, and even though he tries so hard to think of something else - anything else! - he can only think of the soft touch you're providing... Your hands are so warm and so oily and he's growing harder and harder by the second while your innocent fingers dance only mere inches away from his not so innocent erection.
Fuck, fuck, fuck what the fuck is he supposed to do now?
"Barnes, are you okay?" You ask him gently and slow down your movements so your hands almost come to a halt when you feel him tensing up, "- do you want me to ease up a little?"
"No, no, it's fine," he breathes and feels a fresh surge of blood streaming down to his crotch when your fingers stroke his thigh affectionately to get him to relax. As long as he stays on his front, it shouldn't be an issue. He has time to make the raging boner go away before you ask him to turn around.
"Okay, good. Let me know if you need a break," you hum and touch him gently while he thinks of baseball, of cold cups of coffee and stale crackers, of Sam's oldie slippers and the stain on the floor below him - anything to try and control the relentless erection that is pulsing and screaming and begging to be touched!
But no matter how hard he tries, his erection won't calm down. Not when you're touching him so sweetly.
"Alright Barnes," you say after a few of his panicked minutes and slowly take a step backwards. "Could you turn around for me please?"
Fuck...
He opens his eyes and fixates his gaze on the stain below him as his face heats up. "T-turn around?" he gulps and feels how his entire body suddenly seems to be impatiently pulsing along with the prominent erection.
"Yeah, I'd like to take a look at your groin now that we've loosened your muscles up a bit."
Jesus fucking Christ, he's sweating balls! How's he ever going to recover from this?
"You know what? It already feels better thanks!" he tries and hopes he sounds convincing and not too panicked.
"Yes, well you've been lying down for twenty minutes," you chuckle, "- it'll come back as soon as you start moving, trust me."
"I can always come back tomorrow if it acts up again."
"We both know you won't..."
"No, I promise. It already feels so much better!"
"Barnes, what's wrong?"
Fuck, there's truly no way out...
"Sweetheart," he clenches his eyes shut and prepares himself for your terrible reaction to what he's about to confess, "I have a bit of a - uh - a... problem..."
"A problem? What kind of problem?" you sound concerned, and if it hadn't been for the horrible situation he's in, his chest would've probably swelled with pride that you care for him.
"It's a - uhm, shit - it's a... guy's problem."
"Oh?" You become quiet for half a second and he can practically hear how the gears in your head turn until the penny suddenly drops. "Oh!" you let go of him as if you've been scorched by fire and he suddenly feels so much worse. Poor woman.
"Yep," his voice is thick and awkward, and he wishes he had jumped out the window when he still had the chance. Now he's gonna scare you away for good and it's all Sam's fault!
"Hey - hey, it's okay," you reassure him softly and put a hand down between his shoulder blades when his entire body goes rigid with shame. "Barnes, it's a perfectly normal reaction to a massage in that area! Please don't feel embarrassed about it - you're not the first client in here who's been experiencing a problem. Sometimes it just happens."
He feels a weird pang of jealousy when he thinks about how your sweet, innocent hands have made some of his male friends at the compound as raging horny as he is right now. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that it doesn't have anything to do with the massage itself and everything to do with the person who's giving it.
"Come on, just turn around for me, okay? I won't hold it against you. I know it's nothing personal."
But it is, he thinks to himself before he with a tight-lipped smile and clenched jaw turns around on the massage table. He knows you well enough to know that you won't let him go before you've looked at his thigh.
He gulps when he sees how tightly his boxers are draped over his hips and the massive erection is standing like a fucking pole vaulter in the air between you. "Jesus fuck, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," you smile professionally while looking anywhere than directly at his embarrassing vulnerability. "Maybe it's better if you sit?"
"Yeah, yeah maybe," he sighs in defeat and swings his legs over the side of the mattress as he pathetically tries to readjust himself so the erection tucked inside his grey boxers does not look as prominent as it did while lying down.
"You good?" you ask when he stops shuffling and he quickly nods in return. "Good - you wanna continue?"
Not really. "Yeah, whatever."
"Alright," you step over to him and professionally fix your gaze on his thigh, "could you spread your legs apart a little?"
"Sure," he does as he's told while clearing his throat, pretty sure that his entire face is currently a mixture between plum- and beet-coloured.
"Let me know if it's too much, okay?" you smile reassuringly and slowly reach your hands forwards.
"Mm-hmm," he clenches his jaw shut to avoid involuntary sounds when your small fingers finally touch his thigh again and you quickly resume your massage with a professional expression slapped across your face.
Carefully, you move the hem of his boxers a little upwards and squeeze out a gentle amount of massage oil into the palm of your hand before you make the mistake of looking him deep in the eye as your fingers find his skin again. The look you're sending him is giving him goosebumps and you gulp and briefly look away when he involuntarily hisses at the touch.
"Barnes, you - uh - you want a towel or something?" You ask and he can practically hear the discomfort in your voice.
More embarrassed than he's ever been, he looks down at himself and notices how the entire front of his boxers is now soaked in pre-cum. "Oh god!" He instinctively pulls his hand over to cover up the huge wet stain and feels how his ears grow impossibly warm. "Fuck, I am so, so sorry."
"It's okay," you hand him a small white towel to cover himself with.
"God, I'm so fucking embarrassed," he drops the cloth down into his groin and wishes he could disappear down into the mattress instead of facing this absolute hellish nightmare! "You must think I'm such a creep..."
"No it's alright," you smile sheepishly and start working on his thigh again, clearly feigning a professional attitude.
He sighs. He cannot believe he's doing this to you.
"Barnes don't worry, okay? I know you're a nice guy."
"Still..." he clenches his eyes shut as your small fingers find one of the sensitive spots on his inner thigh underneath the hem of his boxers and has to lock his jaw to avoid giving out a groan.
He can hear how you chuckle lightly from behind the stars that are blinking on the back of his eyelids.
"I'm glad you're amused."
"Sorry, sorry," you snigger softly, "I've just never seen you this discomposed before. I'll be quick so we can get you back to your room to take care of it," you joke to diffuse the tension.
"Yeah, thanks," he gulps and feels how yet another drop of precum leaves his leaking head when you press in on the spot again. He's so turned on he can feel his nostrils dilating, his thighs shaking, and he just wants to fucking reach inside his underwear and fuck his fist until he comes! God, this is so much worse than anything he could've ever imagined! He's going to kill Sam for this!
"Wow, you're really having a hard time," you smile a little to yourself as you steal a glance up at his pained expression.
"Give me a break, sweetheart," he groans with eyes snapped shut in embarrassment, "Your lubed-up hands are basically on my crotch and let's be honest," he gulps and slowly opens his eyes again, "- you're not exactly displeasing to look at."
Your eyes widen slightly at his confession before a proud smile tugs the corners of your mouth upwards. "What Barnes?" you chuckle proudly to yourself, "- you like the way I look?"
"Come on, don't pretend you don't notice half the guys here staring at you."
"Okay you got me there," you laugh sweetly and direct your attention back to your steady working hands, "I have noticed a few stray glances here and there - I just haven't noticed any from you, so yeah, I'm a bit surprised."
"Well, you can take this as confirmation that I like looking at you too," he awkwardly points to the throbbing erection between you. He figures it's better to discuss the elephant in the room instead of ignoring it. Maybe you can have a laugh about it later...
God, he hopes so.
"Hey, come on," you tilt your head to the side when you see his pained expression, "stop beating yourself up. It's a relaxed atmosphere in here and with the aromas and the music, I understand that some guys let go. It's completely normal."
"No, sweetheart, it's not," he sighs. "I don't know. At least not for me."
"It's not?" You chuckle while still working on his thigh.
"This has never happened before, I swear."
"So the fear of getting an accidental erection isn't the reason why you've avoided coming here?"
"No, sweetheart," he sighs and adjusts himself on the mattress, "it's not."
"So -" you bite your lower lip and fix your gaze on an undefined spot on his thigh to avoid his eye. "- if I understand you correctly; what you're basically saying is that you're hard because of, well, me?"
"Yep," he sucks in a breath of air when he feels your movements still and he braces himself for the angry rejection before he looks over at you. You're staring at him wide-eyed and doe-like with your mouth hanging a little open, not sure how to respond to his confession.
"I'm sorry," he croaks, "you must think I'm a total asshole..."
"No, no, no, not at all..." you shake your head and clear your throat while sending him a nervous glance. "I think you're quite cute, actually..."
His mind goes completely blank. He's been called many things in his life, but never that.
"...cute?"
"Yeah," you nod quietly. "I - uhm - I guess I've been having this teensy tiny crush on you so - uhm - yeah," you smile, all flustered, "- you know."
"You have a crush on me?"
"Yeah," you scrunch up your nose and lick your lips. "I mean... look at you," you gesture to nothing in particular, and he can feel his chest go all warm with pride as you look him over.
"So you're not freaked out?"
"No, no not at all," you admit with a shake of your head. "You've been driving me up the wall for ages, you know."
"I - I have?"
"Yeah..." you nod, "I've actually been hoping you'd stop by here so I'd have an excuse to, you know, touch you," you admit and now it's your turn to look embarrassed. "It's wildly unprofessional, I know."
"No, no you're good. You're being very professional about... this," he nods while pointing to his crotch. "I swear, if I wasn't so insanely attracted to you, I wouldn't be so... bothered."
"Yeah, you do look a bit flushed," you give him a crooked smile.
"I know..."
"So..." you bite your lower lip again and move in close enough for him to hear your heartbeat, to suddenly smell that you're aroused too and it's driving him absolutely insane! "...I have a crush on you," you stroke his thigh affectionately, "- and you have a crush on me."
He nods and scoots a little closer to you, careful not to scare your hand away from its close proximity to his crotch. "What are we gonna do about that?" he pants and puts a hand to your face, stroking your cheek and hoping to dear God that you'll let him kiss you.
"I don't know," you whisper and lean in close, stopping with your lips mere inches from his and with huge doe eyes staring straight at him.
"My god," he groans and runs his thumb over your cheek again, "you are beautiful," he whispers and slowly moves his face until his lips finally come into contact with yours.
The kiss starts off slowly. Bucky is careful not to pressure you into anything and simply just concentrates on the feeling of your impossibly soft lips on top of his. It's pillowy and wet, sensual and sexy and he's strung along, never wanting to let go of you.
"Peach," he whispers when your mouth strays away from his and starts moving down his jaw and throat. "Peach, you don't have to do this. Please don't feel pressured into anything just because I'm excited okay?"
"I'm excited too," you whisper and carefully place your hand on the tight bulge at the apex of his thighs so a bolt of lightening shocks through him. "- my excitement is just not as visible as yours," you place a wet kiss on top of his jugular. "You don't have to go back to your room to take care of this, you know," you bite back a smile as you stroke over his tight balls so his Adam's apple bounces uncomfortably in his throat.
"Sweetheart," he pants, not sure if this is really happening or if the sudden rush of blood to his crotch has him imagining things.
"I can help you..." you say quietly and move your palm over him so he gives out an involuntary groan.
"Doll," he sucks in some air and stutters his hips upwards, silently begging for more.
You understand his cue, and you lean in close so you can lick the shell of his ear as your fingers find their way underneath his waistband. As soon as your oily fingers come into contact with his burning skin, he can no longer hold back the moan that's been sitting on the edge of his throat for a good half hour now and he once again stutters his hips upwards when you close your fist around him and start stroking him slowly.
"Sweetheart," he groans against your skin and you give out a noticeable shudder when his hands snake under your shirt so he can caress the soft skin of your stomach. "Oh my God!" he whines and runs his nails over your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"You like this?" you whisper and tug his earlobe between your teeth.
"Fuck yes! I've been thinking about touching you since the first time I saw you."
"Yeah?" You pant against him and reach down to cup his balls with one hand while the other continuously strokes up and down his veiny shaft. "Been thinking of me all wet and naked for you?"
"Fuck," he whimpers and finds your pebbled nipples underneath your shirt and roll them between his fingers. "Yes."
"What have you been thinking about?"
"Your mouth," he breathes and pinches your nipples between his fingertips, "your slutty little mouth. All wet and tight for me."
"My mouth?" you giggle against him and gently bite down on his earlobe so he gasps loudly, "want me to make your little fantasy come true?"
"Oh god, yes doll! Please," he whimpers and you immediately drop to the floor between his open thighs, sitting on your knees and strutting your ass as you grab him by the root, rubbing his cock over your cheek and lips as he whines above you.
"Is this what you wanted?" you send him a wide-eyed look while your pink tongue finally pushes past your plump lips and lick the underside of his almost purple head.
"Fuck! Yes, yes doll! Please suck me" He hisses and feels his toes buzz when your tongue slowly runs over the slit at the tip, "ah baby!" he groans and watches how you flatten your tongue and wetly licks him all over his leaking head. "Please put me in your mouth, please!"
"I like you begging," you pant and lick him from root to tip, ending the long lap by closing your lips fully around him.
"Oh god, oh fuck," he shoots his head backwards, never looking away from the angel between his legs. Spit and precum is running down the side of his shaft and he swears, he's never felt this amazing before. He's about to explode just looking at you!
"Mmh," you hum around him, sending beautiful vibrations through his cock and all the way down to his balls.
"Look at you," he groans sinfully and notices how you clench your thighs together when he reaches forwards and strokes your cheek, "such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Are you getting all wet as you suck my cock?"
"Mmh," you nod with a muffled confirmation as your plump lips slide from base to tip and back down again.
"Ah - shit doll," he hisses while completely giving himself into you as he grabs your chin and strokes you affectionately.
"Mmh, Bucky," you whisper his name so sweetly and move your face so you can lap at his balls.
He throws his head backwards as your tongue stroke over the tight skin while your hand pumps him slowly. "Jesus fuck sweetheart," he moans and puts a finger under your chin forcing you to look back up at him. "Get up here. Now!"
Excitedly, you give him a hard suck before your let go of him with a soft pop and obediently oblige his command by climbing up on the mattress next to him.
"Mmh, look at what you're doing to me," he chuckles and leans in close so he can finally taste your lips again. Immediately, your tongue is inside his mouth and it's so wet and so warm that he grows even harder even though he didn't think it possible.
His hand snakes under your shirt again and you give out a small whine when he pulls it over your head.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he pushes your breasts out of your bra and starts toying with your nipples. "It's crazy," he mumbles as he lies you down on the mattress and sucks your perky nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around the bud.
Immediately, you arch your back and give out a sinful moan that reverberates through the dimly lit room and vibrates around his tighter than ever balls.
"Tell me what you want," he whispers against your skin and moves to the other nipple while his hand finds your panties underneath your white skirt. "God, you're already so wet for me," he whimpers and pushes his fingers underneath the hem of the soaked fabric so he can touch your warm skin.
"All for you," you arch your back and moan when he pushes two fingers inside of you, moving them rhythmically so they squelch and squeeze around your g-spot. You whimper and close your eyes, enjoying the sensations he's sending through your body, the tingle of warm flames that lick at the bottom of your spine.
"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he repeats and licks your neck, "You deserve it."
"I want you inside of me," you moan and tug at his hair, the sensation deliciously toeing the line between pleasure and pain.
"You want me to fuck you?" He whispers and drags his teeth over your collarbone while his fingers pulsate inside of you.
"Yes!" You whine and pull at his hair again as a particularly loud moan escapes you.
"Oh sweetheart," he groans when his fingers slide out of you to the tune of a disappointed little whimper falling from your open mouth. "Don't worry, I'll fill you up," he kisses your collarbone and looks down between your sweating bodies as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself half inside, giving himself a second to get used to the tightness that you provide. "Oh god," he whispers and pushes himself a little further inside, "fuck you're so sexy!"
"Fuck me, Bucky," you reach up and caress his chin as you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his ass and pushing him closer to you.
Suddenly, he's buried to the hilt. "Fuck me," he whispers and starts moving rhythmically to the sound of you squelching around him. "You are so fucking sexy!" He bites your nipples again, moving his hips slowly, sensually. "It's been so goddamn frustrating pretending that I'm not attracted to you when all I've been wanting to do is fuck you in every possible position around the compound."
"Yeah, think of what the others would say if they knew about this."
He gives out a whimper and can feel himself twitching inside of you at the thought before he starts rutting his hips faster, his hips snapping relentlessly into yours.
"You like that?" You smile naughtily and grab his ass, "you like that you're not supposed to fuck me?"
"Yes," he admits with a grunt and rolls his hips sensually, desperate for more friction.
"You like that I'm so young?" You clench tightly around him. "Wow, imagine what Sam would say! He would be so angry, you know that!"
"Fuck!" He gasps and falls forwards so his metal hand lands beside your head. He's close now, he can feel how every muscle of his body tenses up and he knows he just needs a few more snaps of his hips and he's coming - so he pulls out.
Panting relentlessly, he looks down at his throbbing dick, concentrating hard on not cumming all over the beautiful woman in front of him who's still whining and begging for his touch. "Not yet, not yet, not yet," he pants to himself and takes a deep breath before looking back at you. "Shit, you are so beautiful," he licks his lips and fixates his glance on your tiny fingers disappearing inside yourself.
Without thinking, he immediately falls to his knees on the floor beside the mattress and starts planting small, peppery kisses to the insides of your legs. You're soaking wet, moist all the way down your thighs, and he scratches his beard along the soft skin as he pushes your small fingers away, instead introducing his own digits and tongue to your swollen clit. "Mmh, baby," he mumbles against your wet skin and licks you all the way from hole to clit, giving the latter a hard suck that have you trembling above him.
You're tugging at his hair with one hand, pinching your nipples with the other as you arch your back and moan his name in time with the fingers he's thrusting in and out of you while lapping at your sex.
"Bucky, I'm so close," you whimper with eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in steady beats underneath your soaked nipples.
"Come for me," he whispers against your skin and ruts his hips into nothing while his fingers and tongue are working you expertly.
Your moans are rising in pitch and he can feel how you clench more and more around his fingers until it's so tight he's almost pushed out of you. "Bucky!" You half-moan, half-scream as you fall over the edge burying your fingers in his hair and - oh God, he's cumming too!
Without even being touched, cum is shooting out of him and pattering all over the linoleum flooring below his knees while his fingers and tongue are buried inside of you, and you pull so sweetly at his hair in desperation.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He grunts and ruts his hips into thin air as he keeps cumming even after you've released your hard grip around his hair. "Oh my god," he shoots back his head and can feel a drop of sweat trickling down his temple when he finally comes down from his high again. "Oh shit, oh fuck! Sweetheart, I - I just came all over your floor."
"It's okay," you smile blissfully and remove your fingers from his scalp, "I'll clean it up before... shit, SAM!" your sit up straight, eyes wide with horror. "Shit!" you hiss again and immediately scramble to the floor, looking at your watch and collecting your clothes from all over the room. "I have Sam coming for a massage in three minutes!"
"Not the kind of massage I just had, I hope" Bucky sniggers and quickly wipes up his cum with the towel he'd used to cover his erection.
"Don't worry, those are reserved just for you," you chuckle and pull your shirt over your head.
"I sure hope so," Bucky smiles boyishly and dresses quickly, stealing several glances over at you as you fix your makeup in the mirror in the corner. "Does - does Sam get erections when he's here?" he asks. He cannot help himself, he has to know. The thought alone has his guts squeeze uncomfortably at his insides.
"Are you kidding me? Sam sees me as a little sister, he would never!"
"Yeah, true," Bucky chuckles in relief and pulls on his shoes, "...Hey, uh, I don't know about you, but I really enjoyed this."
"Me too," you turn around and smile blissfully at him, "very much."
"You wanna - you wanna do it again?"
"Yeah," you snigger and lean your hip against the table he had you naked upon no more than a couple of minutes ago, "yeah, I wanna do this again! I think maybe fixing your thigh is gonna be a long process!"
"Yeah?" He smiles broadly at the joking expression you're wearing, "Same time tomorrow then?"
"God, yes! Can't wait," you laugh and give out a happy sigh as you cutely bite your lower lip. "Now run along before Sam comes barging in!" you chuckle, "I thought you wanted to keep this secret."
"Yeah... at least for a little while," he shrugs and feels his head go dizzy when you smile broadly at him.
"See you later, Barnes."
"See you sweetheart," he chuckles and winks at you before he's out the door.
As soon as he steps into the cold hallway, he's met by a sour looking Sam who's occupying one of the chairs outside your office, his arms crossed firmly around his chest as he angrily stares at Bucky. "How long have you been here?"
"I came ten minutes early," Sam hisses through gritted teeth and Bucky can almost see the angry fumes radiating from his friend's scalp. "- what the hell was that?"
"What?"
"Bucky, you better not be doing what I think you just did in there!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Man, what the hell is the matter with you?" Sam stands up, his angry vein already popping threateningly above his temple.
"What? You're the one who said I should go see her!"
"Yeah! For a massage!"
"I did get a massage!"
"Jesus Christ, Bucky! You're old enough to be her granddad!"
Weirdly enough, it just turns him on even more.
Tagging: @natbarnes1917 @summerofsnowflakes @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @anxietyandtacos @maggiebuchanan @justsebstan @eddiestrash @crushedbyhyperbole @buckysdollforlife @getofffmydick @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @wermoewe
#bucky barnes kinktober#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky kinktober#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#needy bucky#tfatws#sebastian stan#bucky imagine#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky x reader#winter soldier#kinktober 2022
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Fyodor NSFW Headcanons
AN: Why is his accent so hot and why isn't he real?
Warnings: NSFW TOPICS INVOLVED
^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•
• Fyodor is a dirty man with a dirty mouth he loves teasing you. On the topics of mouths when during sex expect rough kisses
° Since he is anemic almost all your sex positions involve you riding him or at least on top so he does exhaust himself too much. But even though Fydor is at the bottom he's still in power he loves the look of your face when he starts thrusting into you and starts rubbing your clit with one of your boobs in his mouth
• Oh but when he has enough energy to actually be on top your in for a ride. Fyodor actually doesn't have a favorite position he likes them all.
° He loves missionary cause he can see your fucked out face, doggy cause of the nice view of your ass, and swing flig is always perfect when hes fucking you on his desk
• Fyodor actually has a low sex drive you both only do it like 2 times a month but if you're in the mood he'd deliver.
° Fyodor never shares you but he still likes the thrill of being caught balls-deep in you. But don't worry about it he'd kill anyone that actually catches you both. Nikolai caught you both once but Fyodor didn't stop he had a full conversation with Nikolai while he trusted into you
• He loves lingerie on you especially white he thinks you look beautiful in white which also explains why he likes seeing your face covered with his cum after you give him a blowjob
° Is it just me or does he give big dick energy like imagine him giving you a sinister smirk while you complain about him being to big
• SpEaKiNg of being sinister this rat loves to see you begging for him to let you cum with tears on your face after hours of edging or when you begging for him to finally be inside you
° Fyodor definitely makes you ride his thigh with you fully naked and him still in his clothes
• He is mean when you come to him in his office begging for him he'd sit you on his desk and eat you out then makes you cockwarm him for what seems like forever. Or when you at a meeting and he slips his hand inside your panties and he loves watching you try to keep your composure
° There's always a break in between rounds for him to catch his breath but they always end up being make-out sessions with the breaks I'd say he'd last anywhere between 3-5 rounds he has surprisingly high stamina for someone with anemia
^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•^°•
Reblogs likes and ask are appreciated!
Thank you!!
#anime x reader#anime x y/n#anime x you#anime#headcanons#y/n#x reader#anime x reader smut#anime smut#fyodor smut#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#fyodor x reader#fyodor x y/n#fyodor x you#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs fyodor#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs smut#fyodor mihayloviç dostoyevski#fyodor bsd#bsd#bsd smut#bsd x reader smut#smut smut smut#smut stories
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do you think the nxx ever cries or just… don’t deal with their emotions in a healthy way? they must be so emotionally repressed!
im so sorry but this is worded in a way i find absolutely hilarious omfg. do they cry or do they suck it up til the end of time? KJAHVSJFHAVSLFSFKJA
i like to think they Do cry, but my god it takes a Lot. this goes for All of them. like, we've seen in canon when the nxx boys and rosa cries, and it's usually during/after very high stakes or very emotional situations. some examples off the top of my head are
marius cries in SSR Unconcealable, the card where mc gets KIDNAPPED and then both of them get TRAPPED IN A FREEZER FOR A HOT SEC
mc cries in SSR Peaceful Place because she thought luke got shot and DIED,
luke cries in his Blossom Chapter Personal Story 4 because he thought mc DROWNED AND DIED
artem cries in SSR Two Hearts as one because he got so emotional acting like he was choking mc
vyn cries in...well, several cards like SR False Tears and SSR Neon Melody but those were 1) not exactly a "healthy" way of dealing with emotions or 2) caused by pepper spray KJHVSKJDF. im behind on vyn's cards, idk in which ones he cries honestly due to genuine in distress
so like, they DO cry. but it seems to take rather a lot to get them there. the flipside is that they also cry when overcome with immensely positive emotion (like, mc was on the verge of tears when luke finally proposed in SSR Orange Scent) so at least theres that!!!! but it's not much, chief....
all members of the nxx team all are IMMENSELY repressed. i think the most emotionally healthy of the team is DAVIS, which isnt a good sign, given that hes not even human
anyhoo this ask inspired me so
here are some misc headcanons on the nxx team and crying
i hc that luke as a kid was Such a crybaby. he'd cry over everything: when he saw a sad movie, when he saw a happy movie, when he saw a dog being walked but the dog was so dang small, when mc cries and his high empathy kicks in to make it Our Cry Session, just...he cried over IT ALL. he was just a very emotionally sensitive child, even to emotions from others. he eventually got emotionally steadier as he grew up but i think there are innocuous movies that, due to him crying over them as a kid, still make luke cry as an adult
[nxx movie night]
marius: man i love this movie, absolute classi---WHY ARE YOU CRYING??
luke: because ANYBODY can COOK!! EVEN A RAT!!!!!
mc, silently glaring at marius over luke's shoulder as if to say "Don't You Say A Mean Word To Him Right Now": O_O
(yes, they were watching ratatouille)
-
vyn has mastered crying on cue and can do it at the drop of a hat, but when he REALLY TRULY ACTUALLY is hit by the genuine need to cry for any reason, be it positive or negative, he cannot stop it at all until its run its natural course.
which is just AGONIZING for him, surely, but this is the price he has to pay for the power of being able to cry on command: not be able to stop when it's for realsies
marius: HAHA, CRYBABY
vyn: //throws a book at him because just cuz he cant stop crying, doesnt mean he cant attack
-
it slightly pisses everyone off a teensy bit that artem can cry artfully.
like, the single tear. the lines of silent tears streaming down his face. even the more desperate sobs. doesnt matter whether theyre stage tears for another play or if theyre during high stakes situations, artem seems to naturally cry in a cinematic manner
artem: //shedding a few tears because of the stress of an nxx operation or something
luke: hey it's okay, everyone's alright
luke internal thoughts: why is he so pretty while crying?????? .....wait what
-
and lastly, marius can hold back tears like nobodys business. like luke, he was a huge crybaby as a kid. but unlike luke, he held it back so much that when he DID cry as a child, it was REALLY CRYING. like wailing, like sobbing. it's heartbreaking to watch
so via his Entire Life Of Repressing Weakness And Related Emotions, he became rlly powerful at holding back the need to cry. it only happens during VERY EMOTIONALLY INTENSE scenarios ORRRR
during horror movies
because hes such a horror weakling and he gets so spooked that tears literally come out
mc: how did that jumpscare make you tear up but not the intro scene to Up
marius, hiding behind a pillow to avoid any more jumpscares: im a man of endless mystery, miss
thank you for the ask :D
#asks#anon#tears of themis#tears of themis headcanon#luke pearce#vyn richter#artem wing#marius von hagen
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Wings (Part 2)
Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.
Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU .You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.
Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)
Word Count: 5k+
Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]
Your mother's habit of playing cards at Mrs. Patty's home multiple afternoons per week provided a convenient opportunity for Mr. Kim to call on you and impart his wisdom.
Despite your ankle not being fully recovered, you were in dire need of some fresh air. Mr. Kim was kind enough to lend you an arm so that you could hobble down into the garden and sit down at a bench for your first mentoring session.
Your sister-in-law the watchful chaperone, sat underneath an oak tree not far away, just out of earshot and with a book in her hands.
"Well, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim began. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a single rose attached to a long stem. "In celebration of our new courtship, I thought perhaps you might like one of these."
Your eyes widened as he handed you the flower.
"O-oh," you said shyly, taking it from him. "Thank you."
"Of course, a mere rose is nothing compared to your famed beauty, but I suppose we must give the rose some credit for trying," he continued smoothly.
Your cheeks turned hot at his bold words. Mr. Kim had a playful smile on his face but you turned your gaze away from him, unable to meet his twinkling eyes.
He chuckled and leaned back on the bench.
"I see we have a long way to go," Mr. Kim noted. He spread his arm out on the benchrest behind you. "Allow me to begin today's first lesson. Flirtation is nothing but a game, Miss Yoon, and the sooner you see it that way, the sooner you will be able to master the game and not allow it to overwhelm you."
You swallowed and nodded. "I see."
"This game,” he continued, "is lost the moment you allow your opponent to render you genuinely flustered- as you are now. Do you consider yourself to be more beautiful than a rose?"
You blinked in surprise at the sudden question. "No, no, of course not-"
"Well, you should. Before entering into a conversation with a gentleman, you must first consider yourself to be the most beautiful, precious, magnificent creature that walks this earth. Your vanity must be so enormous that nothing the gentleman says can truly flatter or embarrass you."
You stared at him in disbelief. "Mr. Kim, that sounds very strange and rude. Young ladies are supposed to be humble."
Mingyu tsk-ed. "And how has humility helped you thus far?"
"Not well," you admitted quietly. "But vanity does not seem a much better option."
"Doesn't it?" he challenged you. "I want you to say out loud I am more beautiful than a rose."
"I cannot possibly-"
"Humour me, Miss Yoon. I am more beautiful than a rose," he repeated. "Say it."
You took a deep breath. This felt rather nonsensical, and you were beginning to doubt whether Mr. Kim Mingyu was entirely right in the head. But your sister-in-law was sitting not far away and if she trusted him, then you would try to do what he asked.
"I am more beautiful than a rose," you mumbled.
"Louder."
"I am more beautiful than a rose," you repeated, with a little more volume. Your hands were fidgeting in your lap and you were avoiding Mr. Kim's gaze.
"Once more."
"I am more beautiful than a rose."
"Look at me when you say it."
You forced yourself to look into Mr. Kim's dark, twinkling eyes. He seemed to be delighting in your discomfort. There was a hint of annoyance in your tone when you repeated the phrase again- it was empty words coming out of your mouth now, and seemed to be losing its meaning.
"I am more beautiful than a rose!" you said firmly.
Mr. Kim nodded. He leaned a little closer to you, his dark eyes never wavering from yours.
"Miss Yoon," he said softly. "You are more beautiful than a rose."
You did not even blink.
He leaned back and grinned triumphantly. "See! You were not flustered or shy when I said it this time! You could perhaps have looked a little less irritated, but we will address that problem separately. The point remains- I paid you a flirtatious compliment and you were not embarrassed.”
"That is not because I believed it to be true!" you protested hotly. "It is only because you made me say it so many times that it was less surprising!"
"Repetition breeds familiarity," Mingyu explained to you simply, "and with time, familiarity can blend in with the hard truth."
You blinked at him. "By which you mean to tell me that I should repeat this strange compliment to myself until I grow confused enough to believe it."
"Precisely."
You sighed and looked up at the handsome gentleman sitting beside you. He was onto something, certainly, but you were still not convinced that this would solve your problem.
"Your methods are rather strange, Mr. Kim," you mumbled.
Mr. Kim did not seem offended. He merely smiled and flashed his perfect teeth at you once more. His easy-going and playful nature made it much easier for you to be more open in the way you spoke to him.
"You will understand in time, Miss Yoon. You only need to trust me. Allow me to give you another example. Your dress is blue."
You raised an eyebrow at Mr. Kim and looked down at your gown- indeed, you were wearing a pastel blue summer gown. You looked back up at him and nodded.
"Yes," you said warily. "I suppose it is."
"The blue in your dress makes you shine brighter than the sun," he continued with a teasing smile. You were well aware that Mr. Kim was trying to elicit a reaction from you this time- but you could not help it. The flirtatious words said in his deep voice caused you to break eye contact with him and avert your eyes shyly.
"I-thank you," you said quickly, but you knew it was too late. You had lost.
Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "It is your turn to tell me why one of those statements elicited a different response from you than the other."
You sighed.
"Because the first one was something I already knew to be true, and the second was something that I didn't really believe," you admitted.
Mr. Kim beamed. "Excellent!"
"I think I understand the point you are trying to make," you told him patiently. "In order to not be flustered or caught off guard by compliments I must indulge my vanity and consider them to be true. Then I will be able to receive the compliment more calmly."
"Correct. In short, I want you to be more confident," Mr. Kim affirmed. He stretched his arms out in front of him lazily and leaned further back in his seat. "Enough of that. Now- tell me what went wrong on the night of the Duchess of Graham's ball."
You bit your lip. "I would rather not relive that nightmare."
"You must if we are to assess how to prevent it from happening again," he pressed gently. "Perhaps you should take some time to think about what triggered your anxiety that evening. But I will not overwhelm you with too many lessons in a single sitting. Once your ankle is healed, will you join me for afternoon tea at the teahouse near the assembly rooms?"
You nodded, relieved that he was not pushing you further. "Yes- I should be glad to."
"Then I shall leave you with an assignment to complete in the meantime," Mr. Kim said with a smile. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper. "Stand in front of the mirror and read each of these out ten times before you go to bed."
You took the paper and unfolded it. It contained a list of flirtatious sentences- ranging from simple, realistic ones such as You are the most beautiful woman in the room this evening to more bold and outrageous ones such as The light in your eyes is brighter than the twinkling of all the stars in the night sky.
You stared at him in disbelief. "Mr. Kim! You cannot be serious!'
"Repetition breeds familiarity," he reminded you. "What you hold there is my most precious collection. I do not give it to you lightly- many bachelors of the ton would kill for a glimpse at that sheet. I hope you will keep it safe."
You frowned and tucked the paper away. "I assure you; your collection of rehearsed compliments is quite safe with me."
"Then we shall meet soon. At the teahouse."
Mr. Kim bid his goodbyes and left before your sister-in-law approached you. Her book was abandoned on the grass and her eyes looked a little drowsy; you had a sudden feeling that perhaps she had been napping under the tree instead of reading.
"Well?" she asked. "How was your first lesson with Mr. Kim?"
"I cannot tell if he is brilliant or mad."
She laughed.
"A common problem with men," she said as she took your arm to help you back indoors. "But I am sure everything will reveal itself in time."
—------------------------------------------------------------
You dutifully completed the assignment Mr. Kim had given you. You stood in front of your mirror once the rest of the household had gone to bed, and recited the compliments on his list. It felt silly at first, but you were surprised by how quickly you grew used to them.
Mr. Kim Mingyu was a strange man indeed, but he was right about one thing- repetition caused familiarity which made you more comfortable, and less nervous, with the idea of a gentleman saying these words to you. You began to daydream of a handsome, faceless gentleman whispering these sweet compliments in your ear….
But of course.
There were other problems to surmount.
"Mr. Kim Mingyu?" your mother demanded with a displeased frown. "He has asked you to have tea with him at the teahouse, you say? What do we know about this young man?"
"I have heard he is an only son," you said anxiously. "And that he has a very large estate near where the Chois live."
Your mother huffed. She turned to your sister-in-law, who was sitting at a table nearby and silently writing a letter. "And you?" your mother asked her accusingly. "What do you think of him?"
Your sister-in-law looked up and blinked. "I have heard that Mr. Kim is a rake and has a bit of a gambling problem."
Your eyes widened. Her plan had been to encourage this fake courtship with Mr. Kim, not give your mother a reason to oppose it! But you discovered moments later that your sister-in-law was far cleverer than you.
"Nonsense," your mother said. Her pride would not allow her to agree with your sister-in-law on any matter. "Perhaps he has simply not found a woman captivating enough to retain his attention- and what young man does not play a little cards for entertainment? I think it is perfectly acceptable for you to meet him at the teahouse this afternoon."
"Thank you, mother-"
"But I will chaperone," your mother said firmly. "You may sit at a different table but I will be keeping my eyes on this Mr. Kim."
You sighed. "Yes, mother."
Your ankle was fully healed but still a little stiff when you finally made your way down to the teahouse with your mother. Mr. Kim was waiting by the entrance and he made a grand gesture of kissing your gloved hand.
"You look quite radiant this afternoon, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim greeted you with a handsome smile. The phrase was one of the lines from his sheet, and you were more amused than embarrassed at the sound of the familiar words.
"Thank you, Mr. Kim," you replied politely.
"And Mrs. Yoon- of course, madam, you must permit me to say that it is very evident where your daughter gets her unrivalled beauty," Mr. Kim flattered her. Your mother was highly susceptible to flattery of this nature. She giggled.
"How very kind, Mr. Kim. I see you are quite the polite young gentleman!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Yoon. May I seek your permission to have a cup of tea with your daughter?" Mr. Kim asked.
"Of course- you may both find a table for yourselves. I shall be nearby, I see Mrs. Grisham and Mrs. Hessington over there…"
Your mother left to join some older women at their table and Mr. Kim led you to another table near the wall; it was still within sight of your mother, but well out of earshot. He gracefully pulled out your chair for you.
"You received my compliment well," he noted with a grin.
You raised an eyebrow at him. "I had heard it so many times before. It was on your sheet. I am sure you knew perfectly well that it would not affect me."
"I was merely testing to see if you completed my assignment," he replied lightly. He sat down across from you- Mr. Kim was almost too tall to fit in the dainty little chairs and miniature tea tables at the teahouse. His long legs were forced to stretch out awkwardly to the side. You held back a giggle as he poured you a cup of tea.
"Something amusing?" he asked.
"Not at all."
He opened his mouth to question you further, but he was interrupted by a sudden commotion from the nearby table of older woman. There was a loud exclamation from your mother and the women seemed to be discussing something with great excitement.
"I wonder what that is about…" you mumbled.
Mr. Kim placed your teacup in front of you calmly. "I would not be too concerned. I imagine they have just discovered the news of the Duchess of Graham's engagement to Mr. Kwon Soonyoung."
You blinked. "Mr. Kwon Soonyoung? I have never heard of him."
"Neither have they. That is what makes it so shocking," Mr. Kim told you with a chuckle. "But we have more important things to discuss. Have you thought more about what went wrong at the Duchess' ball? I heard that you were dancing with Mr. Lee Seokmin when you stumbled and injured yourself."
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "It was not Mr. Lee's fault."
"Then tell me what happened. Let us try to understand it together."
You took a deep breath. You had been thinking about it for the past few days, as unpleasant as the memory was to you, and had come up with a few conclusions.
"I think I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all," you admitted shyly. "It was so magnificent and the other young ladies all looked so beautiful. I began to worry that I should make a mistake, or make a fool of myself, and then what should happen to my sister-"
Mr. Kim interrupted you. "Your sister?" he asked in surprise. "I should have imagined you would fear your mother far more."
"I do fear my mother," you whispered. "But with my sister, it is…"
Mr. Kim waited silently for your response.
You took a deep breath and sighed. "My sister has put her marriage with Mr. Choi on hold for my benefit. Everything she has ever done has been to ensure my happiness, and it distressed me to think that she should have to suffer any longer than necessary. If I do not find a husband this season, then my sister will not be able to marry Mr. Choi."
Mr. Kim took a sip of his tea and nodded for you to continue.
"And… and I had always thought it was simply a matter of having a successful debut and choosing the most eligible man that would have me. But when it came to actually standing in the room, surrounded by so many fashionable people and all the grandeur and all the eyes watching me I began to realise it was not going to be as easy as I had thought. And that led to the worry that perhaps I would embarrass myself and be unable to make a match, and what that would mean for my poor sister…”
Mr. Kim cut you off. “It seems to me that all your spiralling anxious thoughts escalate with the fear of disappointing your sister.”
You nodded reluctantly. “That may be true.”
“Then the solution before us is simple,” he replied. “Or, at least, as simple as a solution can be without considering the complexities of executing it. We must prevent you from thinking of your sister while in public.”
You stared at Mr. Kim as he picked up a large slice of lemon cake and took a generous bite from it. He silently offered to put another slice on your plate but you shook your head.
“How can I not think of my sister?” you demanded. “She is the entire reason I am here!”
“That manner of thinking is what is causing your anxiety to spiral out of control," Mr. Kim told you matter-of-factly. "You need to live in the moment. Stop tracing every small action back to your sister and your fear of disappointing her."
"How do I do that?'
"Think smaller," he replied. "For example- why am I here?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Here… in this teahouse?"
"Yes."
"To help me practise interacting with gentlemen so that I can find a husband by the end of the season?" you guessed.
Mr. Kim sighed. "Correct, but no. The purpose is to think smaller. I am here because I like the lemon cakes they serve here," he informed you simply before taking another bite. "Delicious."
"That is…"
"Think small."
"But I cannot always control my thoughts!" you protested. "They often go off on a tangent of their own. How long can thoughts of things I do not care about like lemon cakes ward off the looming dread that comes from thinking about failing my sister?"
Mr. Kim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He leaned back in his seat and you watched him for a long moment, having nothing to do except sip your tea and admire his handsome form while he contemplated a solution to your problem.
"What if…" Mr. Kim began slowly. "We found a backup thought- a safety net of sorts? Something pleasant that you could force yourself to think of whenever you find yourself spiralling into anxiety-inducing thoughts of your sister?"
You bit your lip. "Such as?"
"You have to find that for yourself. Look for a memory; something that makes you happy. Preferably one that does not involve your sister," Mr. Kim added.
You took a deep breath and thought hard. You'd had a sheltered childhood and spent most of your time at the Yoons' countryside estate with your parents and siblings. It had been a quiet upbringing and you could not think of a single moment that brought any immense happiness.
"When I was nine," you said finally after much thought. "My Father bought me my first pony. I named her Chocolate."
Mr. Kim burst into laughter.
"Chocolate the pony is what you came up with after so much thought?" he demanded with another loud laugh. Your cheeks suddenly felt hot and you stiffened from embarrassment.
"I-I could only-"
"I presume Chocolate was a brown pony?" he continued to chuckle.
The embarrassment was too much to take. Your entire face had now turned hot and your lower lip trembled as you stood up from your seat with a frown. "If you are going to laugh at my expense, Mr. Kim, then I will not sit here."
His smile fell. Mr. Kim hurried to jump to his own feet- it took him a moment since his long limbs were tangled under the tiny tea table. He took your hand and gently guided you back to your seat.
"No- of course not. I am extremely sorry, Miss Yoon. I did not mean to laugh at you."
You stiffened. "But you did laugh."
"I am extremely sorry."
His expression was genuine. You cleared your throat and sat down again, as Mr. Kim hurried to refill your teacup from the pot and handed you a plate with a slice of lemon cake. You accepted it silently and he gave you a small smile.
"I see you do have a sense of pride," he commented lightly.
"I will not be ridiculed."
"I am glad to hear it," he promised solemnly. "Let us come back to the topic at hand. If Chocolate the pony is a thought that makes you happy, then so be it. Whenever you are in danger of feeling overwhelmed, I want you to close your eyes and picture the moment your father presented you with this pony. The pony will be your happy thought."
You nodded. "I… can do that."
"We will test this the next time you are stressed," Mr. Kim suggested. He leaned back and sipped his tea, noticing that you were not eating. "Do you dislike lemon cakes?"
You looked down at them disinterestedly. "Not particularly," you said. "I am not hungry at all. My ankle feels rather stiff in this position. I wish it was possible to walk around instead of sitting still."
Mr. Kim nodded. "We could walk up the street- the weather is pleasant today. But your mother would have to permit you."
"I will ask her."
You went up to your mother's table- the older women were still deeply engaged in gossip about the Duchess of Graham and you had to tap your mother's arm a few times before she would even notice you.
"What?" she demanded irritably. "Can you not see that I am in the middle of a conversation?"
"I was only wondering if I might go for a stroll outside with Mr. Kim-"
"Yes, yes, don't go too far," she said dismissively before turning back to the conversation. Mrs. Patty was loudly making an emphatic point about how it was a terrible mistake to grant daughters their own titles. You turned to Mr. Kim and waved at him to signal that you had obtained her consent.
Mr. Kim opened the door to the teahouse and offered his arm to you. You both began to stroll slowly down the busy London street.
"So," Mr. Kim continued. "Is there anything else that went wrong at the Duchess of Graham's ball?"
You nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. While I was dancing with Mr. Lee, there was a lull in the conversation. I could not think of anything to say to him so I made a foolish faux pas- I asked him if he had any siblings although I already knew he was the Viscountess' brother."
Mr. Kim smiled. "Ah- yes. The art of polite conversation. How to speak constantly and yet say nothing valuable. That is an entire lesson of its own and I am afraid even I cannot impart that skill to you in a single day."
You pouted at him. "Then you condemn me to pass my dances at every social event in silence."
"Conversation is an art, Miss Yoon. But you are fortunate that it is not always necessary to converse in order to communicate. Humans were communicating long before the invention of spoken language."
You frowned up at him. "What does that mean? Must I gesture at my dance partners as though I am speaking to an animal?"
Mr. Kim laughed. "No. Instead of the art of conversation, you will have a much easier time if you learn the art of silence."
"Silence?"
"As long as you do not look anxious or panicked," Mr. Kim explained patiently. "Silence can be a very useful tool. Most gentlemen love to speak. You simply need to prompt them to lead the conversation. A few one-liners such as That was terribly interesting, do tell me more! or I am very interested to learn more about you and the average gentlemen will be happy to take the burden of speaking off your hands."
You nodded thoughtfully. "You must write down some of these one-liners for me."
Mr. Kim chuckled. "All right, I shall prepare a list for you to study. And, if all else fails, you may resort to the golden three."
"The golden three?"
He lifted three fingers. "Hunting, horse-riding and croquet. I have never met a gentleman who did not enjoy conversing extensively on at least one of these subjects."
You nodded. "That is helpful."
"My purpose is to serve," Mr. Kim replied playfully. You had both reached the end of the street. Mr. Kim reached into his coat pocket to extract a small notepad and make a note of your discussion- when you saw something peeking out of his coat.
"Are those cigars?" you asked.
He looked down at his pocket and nodded. "Oh-yes. I was going to go down to the gentlemen's club for a smoke later."
You looked up at him with a curious glance; could you count on Mr. Kim's discretion? After all, he was in a fake courtship with you and clearly your sister-in-law trusted him enough to keep that secret. He had made you comfortable enough to open up to him about your deepest thoughts.
Surely one more secret couldn't hurt?
"Can I have one?" you asked hesitantly.
Mr. Kim looked down at you in confusion. "A cigar?"
You nodded.
"Whatever for?"
"To smoke, naturally."
Mr. Kim glanced furtively around the street and then lowered his voice. He seemed mildly concerned, but also amused. "Miss Yoon, I am sure you do not require me to inform you that young ladies do not smoke in public- and they certainly do not smoke cigars."
You turned away from him with a sigh. "If you do not want to give it to me-"
Mr. Kim looked torn. He glanced up and down the street once more to make sure nobody was looking at you both before taking your arm and steering you towards a narrow, deserted alleyway. Your eyes widened.
"Mr. Kim!" you hissed. "We shall be caught if we leave the main street. Or do you wish to end up in a scandal like Mr. Jeon and Miss Hong-"
He brushed your concerns away lightly. "Mr. Jeon is a good friend of mine but his inexperience was his downfall. I am not quite so careless- you are safe with me," he promised. Once you were both alone in the deserted alleyway, out of the view of the main street, he took the cigar out of his pocket.
"Are you sure?" Mr. Kim asked you.
You nodded.
He carefully lit the cigar and held it up. "It is not at easy as it looks," he told you firmly. "Place it to your lips like so and take a deep breath through your teeth. You will almost certainly cough the first time-"
You snatched the cigar from him and placed it expertly between your lips. You took a long, satisfying drag and held the smoke in your lungs for a moment before smoothly exhaling.
Mr. Kim stared at you for a long moment before the corner of his lips turned up and he let out a small, disbelieving chuckle.
"That," he said with a grin, "was not your first cigar."
"I never said it was."
"You must forgive me if I am surprised, Miss Yoon, that a young lady who claims her happiest memory is Chocolate the pony knows how to smoke a cigar designed for gentlemen," he said, sounding almost impressed. Mr. Kim folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall of the alleyway as he watched you take another drag.
You exhaled before frowning up at him. "You will not laugh at Chocolate."
"I am not laughing at all."
The tobacco relaxed your nerves and you quickly stepped away from the smoke before putting out the cigar. Mr. Kim was watching you curiously and you felt self-conscious under his gaze. You could almost read the questions in his dark eyes.
"My father used to leave his cigars lying around," you explained, your cheeks warm. "One of the stable boys taught me how to smoke them."
Mr. Kim's eyes widened in absolute delight. "A stableboy?" he gasped, pretending to look absolutely scandalised. "Miss Yoon!"
You flushed deeply. "That is not-"
"Is that why Chocolate the pony is such a pleasant memory for you? Because of the stableboy?" he laughed. His eyes sparkled playfully as he watched you compose yourself.
You frowned. "You will tell no-one. Once we step back onto the main street you will never mention Chocolate, cigars or a stableboy ever again," you ordered. "Especially not to my brother or sister-in-law."
Mr. Kim beamed. "I am sworn to secrecy, my lady."
"Good."
You both slipped back onto the main street and turned back towards the teahouse. Mr. Kim kept glancing at you out of the corners of his eyes- he seemed to be unable to take his gaze off you, and you suddenly began to feel rather flustered from the attention.
You noticed a large, modern building coming up on the opposite side of the street that had large sheets covering the entrance.
"Whatever is that?" you wondered.
Mr. Kim tore his eyes away from you and turned to look at the building. The corner of his lips curved up in a smile.
"Interesting that you should notice that," he said lightly. "That building belongs to me."
"Does it really?"
He nodded. "Indeed. It is an art gallery that I decided to fund not long ago. It should be open to the public in a few weeks' time."
You looked at him in interest. "An art gallery? I did not know you had artistic inclinations, Mr. Kim."
"I consider myself a… patron of the arts, so to speak. I would be delighted to invite you to the grand opening of the gallery once we have announced it."
"I would be delighted to attend," you replied. Then you paused. "Provided, of course, we are able to resolve my crippling anxiety and fear of social events in the meantime."
Mr. Kim grinned as you both arrived back at the teahouse. Your mother was waiting for you inside.
"I think it is time we put some of your lessons into action," he said. "The Hessingtons' ball is on Saturday; I intend to see you there. You may reserve the first dance for me."
You nodded. "I should be glad to."
Mr. Kim reached for your gloved hand and lifted it slowly to his lips as his dark eyes rose to meet yours. You saw his usual playfulness and a hint of something far darker behind those eyes. He kissed your hand and his lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary before allowing it to fall.
Your breath hitched in your throat.
No wonder they called this man a rake.
"Goodbye for now, Miss Yoon," he said quietly before turning away down the street and leaving you in a foggy, confused and flustered state.
—--------------------------------------------------
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