lupinqs · 20 hours ago
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GHOSTFACE ━━ paige bueckers x reader
☆ ━ summary: after a kill, paige decides she needs to fuck you senseless.
☆ ━ word count: 8.3K
☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (absolute pure filth, dom!paige, kinda bratty!reader, choking, blood kink, knifeplay, oral, fingering), oh yeah also murder
☆ ━ links: my masterlist
☆ ━ author’s note: my halloween treat for you 🍬😜 on a serious note tho this is actually the freakiest nastiest shit i’ve ever written idk wtf i was on
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THE CAR idles in the dark, the soft hum of the engine barely cutting through the late-night quiet of Storrs. You sit in the driver’s seat, the burner phone in your lap, your fingers drumming against the wheel as you steal a glance at the clock. It’s past midnight, the world outside wrapped in a blanket of stillness, but your heart is anything but calm. The recent killings on campus have the entire student body on edge, but no one would ever guess that the two of you—the school’s sweetheart basketball star and her quiet, unsuspecting girlfriend—are the ones behind it all.
Tonight, though, has a different kind of energy. It’s not just about the kill. It’s about what came before. Paige is sitting next to you in the passenger seat, her Ghostface costume on, the long black cloak pooling around her legs. Her game-day braids are still tied back into a ponytail, her skin still glowing with the leftover adrenaline from the UConn game earlier tonight. She’d killed it on the court—led the team to another win, the crowd chanting her name as she drained shot after shot.
Now, she’s about to kill in a very different way.
You feel a surge of excitement just thinking about it—about how she can seamlessly transition from the basketball star everyone worships to this… to your partner in something darker, something the two of you have created and mastered together. You’ve always been the one with the words, the voice on the phone that lures them in, taunting them, teasing them, until Paige steps in and finishes the job. She’s the executioner, but you set the stage.
“Still riding that high, huh?” you tease, your voice soft but playful as you glance over at her. You can see it in the way her leg bounces slightly, the leftover buzz of the game still coursing through her.
Paige turns to you, a smirk playing on her lips. “Can’t help it. We crushed ‘em tonight.” She adjusts the mask in her lap, her eyes flickering with excitement that’s just as much about what’s to come as it is about the win she’s still basking in. “You saw that last block, right? Perfect.”
You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, it was good.”
She grins, her confidence practically radiating off her. It’s the same look she wears after every game—this electric mix of pride and hunger for more. But tonight, there’s a sharper edge to it, a different kind of hunger simmering beneath the surface. One that only you know about.
Paige leans over suddenly, her hand grabbing your jaw, pulling you into her, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s rough, heated. You kiss her back, matching her intensity, the burner phone nearly slipping from your lap as your hand grips the back of her neck. The adrenaline from the night, from her win, from the secret you both share—it all mixes into a heady, intoxicating rush.
She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her voice low and teasing. “Wish me luck, baby.”
Her smirk is wicked as she slips the Ghostface mask over her head, the familiar face now staring back at you. It’s eerie, unnerving—everything it’s supposed to be—but you know who’s behind it. Paige.
The sound of the car door opening is the only thing that breaks the silence as Paige steps out, her black cloak trailing behind her as she disappears into the night.
You wait a few moments, scrolling through your phone before deciding to get out. The door slams shut behind you with a sharp, metallic thud that echoes through the quiet night. The cold Connecticut wind bites at your face as you step away from the car, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s freezing tonight, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones and lingers, but the thrill, the adrenaline of what’s about to happen, keeps you warm enough.
You shove your hands into your pockets, walking slowly toward the edge of the building. The apartment complex looms ahead, its brick exterior cold and silent, with only a few lights flickering from various windows. Your breath fogs up in the night air as you circle around, your shoes scraping against the asphalt, the distant sounds of traffic muffled by the wind.
You reach the back of the building, your body finding refuge against the brick wall. The rough texture scratches through your jacket as you lean against it, glancing around to make sure no one’s nearby. You’re careful, always careful. This isn’t your first time doing this, after all.
Paige is inside, probably already climbing the stairs, making her way to the bartender’s apartment. You can imagine her slipping through the shadows, as quiet and deadly as she is on the court, that same fierce determination in her eyes.
You pull a cigarette from your pocket, slipping it between your lips before lighting it, the flame briefly illuminating your face before you inhale deeply. The smoke curls in the cold air, the familiar burn in your lungs settling you, grounding you. This part of the night is always the same—the waiting. But it’s also the part you’ve come to appreciate. The anticipation, the patience it takes. You wait for Paige’s text, the one that’ll let you know she’s in position, ready for you to make the call.
The call that’ll lure tonight’s target straight into her arms.
The bartender. You think back to that night, just a few days ago, when you and Paige were out with her team. It was supposed to be a fun night, just you, Paige, and the rest of the girls, celebrating another win. Paige had been in her usual form—confident, charismatic, drawing everyone’s attention like she always does. But then she came into the picture. The fucking bartender.
The girl had been pouring drinks all night, flirting shamelessly with Paige, making little comments, smiling at her in a way that made your blood boil. Paige had stayed cool, giving her those polite but dismissive smiles, her arm draped around your waist as if to make it clear. But the bartender either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and it had pissed you off. You could tell Paige had noticed too, the way she tightened her grip on you, the way her eyes flicked to yours whenever the girl leaned in too close.
And, later that night, after a few drinks, the two of you had ended up in the bathroom, making out against the sink. Paige had been rougher than usual, her hands gripping your hips, her lips almost bruising yours, and in the heat of it, she’d pulled back, breathless, and whispered, “You wanna kill her?”
You hadn’t hesitated. Of course you wanted to kill her.
So, tonight, here you are. The plan is simple—Paige gets in, finds her, and you make the call. Then, Paige does what she does best. Only tonight, there’s something different. Paige had promised that you’d get the final stab. The last touch, the one that seals the deal, making it yours too.
You take another drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly, your eyes scanning the street. Everything is still, nothing but the occasional flicker of movement behind closed windows. The night is quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for what’s about to unfold.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a thrill shoot up your spine. You pull it out and glance at the screen.
It’s Paige.
One word: Ready.
Your heart skips a beat, the cigarette forgotten as you flick it away, crushing it under your heel. Showtime. You slide the phone back into your hand, dialing the bartender’s number. It rings once, twice, before the click of the line picking up fills your ear. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint sound of background noise—some low music, maybe the TV—and then her voice comes through, light and unexpectedly cheery for how late it is.
“Hello?” The bartender’s tone is casual, friendly, like she’s used to people calling her at odd hours. It’s clear she’s not expecting anything out of the ordinary.
You suppress a grin, knowing exactly where this is headed. You always start the same way—light, teasing, pretending to be someone she might actually want to talk to. And as always, you speak through the voice changer, your voice distorted into something deeper, something unrecognizable.
“Hey,” you say, the voice changer making you sound almost playful. “You still up?”
There’s a pause on the other end, like she’s trying to place your voice. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Who’s this?”
You lean back against the wall, settling into your role. “Just someone who noticed you the other night. Thought I’d give you a call. You just started bartending, right? At Ted’s?”
Another pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she says after a moment, her tone picking up with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, that’s me. How’d you get my number?”
You chuckle, low and smooth, keeping your tone flirtatious. “Got my ways.”
She laughs softly, clearly entertained. “Well, I guess you’re resourceful, huh? What’s your name?”
You sidestep the question, keeping her engaged, knowing that she’ll follow along if you give her just enough. “What’s yours?” you ask instead, turning it around on her.
She laughs again, a little softer this time, and you can picture her sitting up, maybe twirling her hair or playing with her phone. “Kelsey,” she offers.
“Kelsey,” you repeat, letting her name roll off your tongue, the voice changer making it sound almost sinister, but not enough for her to notice—yet. “Pretty name. You’re pretty good at pouring drinks too.”
She snorts. “Well, thanks. I do my best. You one of my regulars or something?”
You let the silence hang for a beat, then reply, “You could say that. I saw you with your hands all over that blonde girl the other night. What was her name? Paige?”
There’s a shift in her tone now, a slight hesitation. “Oh… yeah, I remember her,” she says, her voice a bit more careful, like she’s suddenly unsure of where this conversation is going. “You friends with her or something?”
You can feel her starting to get a little uneasy, and it makes you smile, the thrill of it building in your chest. You lean forward slightly, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
“Something like that,” you say, your voice low now, more serious. “You were really bold, flirting with her like that, Kelsey. I gotta say, I don’t think she appreciated it. And I definitely didn’t.”
There’s a beat of silence. A longer one this time. And when she speaks again, there’s a trace of nervous laughter in her voice. “Okay, uh… who the hell is this?”
You can hear her trying to play it off, but there’s a flicker of panic underneath. She’s starting to realize this isn’t a joke. This isn’t some casual late-night flirtation.
“You don’t remember me?” you ask, sounding almost innocent. “I was there that whole night.”
Her breath catches, and then she laughs again, this time more forced, trying to regain control. “Alright, this is getting weird,” she says. “I’m gonna hang up now—”
“Don’t.” Your voice cuts through sharply, commanding, and you hear the soft gasp she makes on the other end. “Don’t you fucking dare hang up.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing, shaky now, uneven. You can almost see her, sitting in her apartment, probably looking around, trying to figure out if this is a prank, if someone’s watching her. You know the thoughts running through her head. You’ve seen it all before.
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but—”
“I want you to stay on the phone,” you interrupt, your voice laced with cold amusement. “You’ve been real fun to talk to so far, Kelsey. Don’t ruin it now.”
You hear her exhale sharply, the panic setting in for real now. “This isn’t funny, okay? Just—just leave me alone, or I’m calling the cops.”
“Go ahead,” you say casually, starting to grin. “Call them. Tell them someone’s watching you.”
Her breath hitches again, and you can hear the unmistakable tremor in her voice. “Watching me? What the fuck are you talking about?”
Your smile widens. “Sweetheart,” you say softly, almost kindly, “I can see you.”
A small, broken gasp escapes her, and you hear her scramble, probably getting off the couch, rushing to lock her door or check her windows. The desperation in her voice is thick now. “Where are you? Where the fuck are you?”
You pause for just a second, letting the tension build, before finally answering, “Right behind you.”
There’s a crash on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a scream that’s cut short. You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor, the unmistakable sound of the phone dropping, and then—
The pleading starts.
“Please, no—no—” Kelsey’s voice is choked, panicked, and you can hear her gasping for air, her words coming out in sobs now. You can picture it perfectly—Paige towering over her, the blade glinting in the dim light of the apartment. The sound of a struggle follows, Kelsey’s voice growing more desperate, more terrified. “Please! I—”
And then the first stab.
It’s a wet, sickening sound, the blade sinking into flesh. Kelsey’s scream is sharp, but it quickly turns into a gargle as blood fills her throat. You hear her choking, trying to speak, to beg. There’s more stabbing, more squelching, before it stops, and all you can hear are weak, broken sobs.
For a few more seconds, there’s nothing but shuffling, the sound of Paige moving around, and then—quiet.
You wait, holding your breath, the anticipation still thrumming through you, until finally, you hear her voice. Paige’s voice, smooth, confident, and a little out of breath.
“Baby,” she says, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “you can come on up here now. She’s ready for you.”
You hang up before beginning to walk, keeping your pace quick as you stride into the apartment building. You’re trying to be fast—you don’t want her to fucking bleed out and die before you can finish her off.
The elevator ride up to her floor feels agonizingly slow, your foot tapping impatiently against the metal floor. When you finally reach her door, you stop for a second, taking a breath, checking the number to make sure it’s the right one. Your fist raises, knocking once—sharp and deliberate.
The door swings open almost immediately, and there she is—Paige, standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the dim apartment lights. She’s still wearing the Ghostface costume, though the mask dangles casually from her hand now. Her braids, still in that game-day ponytail, are a little mussed, strands sticking out here and there, but it only adds to the chaotic allure of her right now. There’s blood splattered across her face, stark against her skin, and across her clothes too. She hasn’t even bothered to clean it up yet, and God, you can’t help but think she looks so fucking hot.
Her eyes are gleaming, and there’s that familiar smirk on her lips, a wild energy simmering underneath her calm exterior. She steps aside, motioning you inside with an almost nonchalant flick of her hand, like she’s inviting you into some casual dinner party, not a murder scene.
“Come on in,” Paige murmurs, her voice low, still tinged with excitement.
You step inside, your shoes making soft thuds against the hardwood floor. As you move past her, you catch the faintest whiff of blood—coppery, metallic—and it sends a rush through you, like a shot of adrenaline straight to your veins. Paige closes the door behind you, and you take in the scene in front of you.
Kelsey is on the floor, twitching in agony, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. She’s choking on her own blood, gasping and gargling as it pools in her mouth, her eyes wide with terror and pain. It’s clear she’s still alive, but just barely. Paige has done her job, but she’s left enough for you to finish.
Paige steps up behind you, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “She’s all yours,” she whispers, pressing the bloody knife into your hand. The blade is still warm, slick with Kelsey’s blood, and the weight of it in your hand sends a thrill through you.
You take the knife, your fingers tightening around the hilt as you approach Kelsey’s broken, twitching form. Her eyes, glazed over with fear and pain, manage to lock onto yours as you kneel beside her. The sound of her labored breathing is all you can hear, the wet gurgle of blood in her throat. You smile down at her, a sweet, almost tender expression crossing your face.
“Hi, Kelsey,” you say softly, your voice gentle, as if you’re greeting an old friend.
You think you hear her try to form the word please, but it’s lost in the thick, choking blood that fills her throat. Her body jerks slightly, like she’s trying to move, trying to plead, but it’s useless now.
You bring the knife to her face, the tip of the blade tracing lightly along her cheek, not even hard enough to cut. It’s almost affectionate, the way you drag the metal across her skin. But then, with a quick, practiced motion, you bring the knife down to her throat, slitting it cleanly, efficiently. There’s a brief spray of blood—splashing up onto your face—as her body convulses once, twice, and then slumps against the floor, lifeless.
“Fucking bitch,” you mutter under your breath, watching the last bit of life drain from her body. You stay there for a moment, just staring at her, taking in the scene—the blood, the broken, twisted limbs, the silence that settles over the room now that she’s dead.
You’re still staring when you feel Paige behind you again, pulling you up to stand. Her hands slide around your waist, her front pressing against your back. One of her big hands splays across your stomach, holding you close, while her other finds your wrist, gently taking the knife from your hold.
“That was so hot, baby,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with admiration and lust, her breath right against your ear.
You lean back into her touch, your body relaxing against hers as she starts to pepper soft kisses along your neck, her lips trailing up your jawline. The tension in the room shifts from the violence of the kill to something more intimate, more charged. You close your eyes, letting the sensation of her mouth on your skin, her hands on your body, wash over you.
Paige’s teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck before she begins to suck, hard enough to leave a mark. You gasp softly, the sensation heightened as her hands slowly slide up your arms, fingers brushing the fabric of your zip-up hoodie. In one smooth motion, she tugs it down, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your red, lacy tank top. Ironically, the color is a perfect match for the blood spattered across the room, across both of you.
Her hands move to your shoulders first, but then one of them drifts lower, grabbing at your chest, squeezing your tit through the thin lace, pulling your back tighter against her front. You feel caged in her hold, a gasp escaping your lips as her grip grows firmer. But the real shock comes when you feel the teasing touch of the knife, the cold metal ghosting along the skin of your arm. Paige trails it down, tracing the sliver of bare skin just below where your tank top ends and just above where your sweatpants begin.
And then, with deliberate precision, Paige slashes the knife upward, cutting clean through the middle of your tank top. The fabric falls open, revealing your skin to the cool air and the warmth of her breath on your neck. You whine softly, “P, that was expensive.”
Paige just chuckles darkly, her fingers tightening around your breast, thumb brushing over your now pert nipple, as she whispers, “I’ll buy you another one.” With that, she pulls the torn fabric off you, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you completely topless. You weren’t wearing a bra beneath the tank, and the sudden exposure makes you shiver, but Paige’s body pressed against yours keeps you warm.
In one swift motion, she’s spinning you around, pressing her lips against yours, kissing you with a rough intensity. You can taste the blood on her lips, probably a mixture of the blood spatters on both of your faces. Her hand grips the side of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Her palm presses into your lower back, and the cold handle of the knife digs into your skin, a reminder of everything you’ve just done together.
Your hands move instinctively to her ponytail, fingers threading through her braids before you give a slight tug. The moan that escapes from your lips is muffled by her kiss, but it’s enough to make Paige groan against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You pulling her hair seems to set something off in her, fueling that dark intensity behind her eyes. She bites at your bottom lip, tugging lightly as she starts to push you back, guiding you towards the couch.
When the back of your legs hit the edge, you lose your balance and fall back onto the cushions, and Paige doesn’t waste a second. She’s immediately on top of you, her knee slipping between your legs, nudging against your clothed core with a teasing pressure. Her hand is already at your chest, kneading your breast while her other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you wince—but in the way you like. You can feel the heat building inside you as her fingers press into the sides of your neck, right where your pulse pounds beneath your skin.
Paige’s mouth meets yours again, more demanding this time, her tongue pushing past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. The pressure of her thumb on your pulse point makes your head swim, the sensation mixing pleasure with just the right hint of pain. You moan again, this time louder, your hips instinctively shifting under her as you crave more of that pressure between your legs.
She pulls away for a moment, just enough to trail her tongue along the edge of your lips, teasing and slow. Her tongue slides down to your chin, licking away the last remnants of the bartender’s blood from earlier, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The metallic tang still lingers as she leans back in to kiss you again, the taste of blood filling both of your mouths, and it only makes you want more.
And then you begin to feel something cold and sharp press against your skin. It takes you a second to realize what it is—she’s taken the knife again, and now the cold, wet metal is sliding over the valley between your breasts. The feeling sends a shiver through your body, and you gasp into her mouth as she presses the blade against your skin, wiping the blood from earlier onto you.
She pulls back slightly, her darkened eyes focused on the trail of blood she’s smearing onto your chest. The sight alone makes your breath catch. Paige’s lips curve into a smirk as she watches your reaction, clearly enjoying the way your body tenses beneath her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets her mouth move downward, trailing kisses along your collarbones, lingering there as her hot breath mingles with the coolness of the blood.
“God, you look so fucking good like this,” Paige murmurs against your skin, her voice low and gravelly. Her lips are teasing, pressing soft, feather-light kisses that make your heart pound harder.
Then she lowers her head further, until her mouth is right between your breasts, where the blood is smeared in a messy line. You feel her tongue dart out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your skin, cleaning the blood off in one long motion. The sensation makes you arch your back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as her tongue glides over your skin.
Her knee presses harder between your legs, creating a delicious friction that has you biting your lip, trying to stifle another moan. But it’s impossible to keep quiet when Paige is so close, her body practically overwhelming yours with heat and pressure. You grip her back, nails digging into her shirt as she keeps licking the blood off your chest, the knife still cold in her hand as it brushes against your skin.
Paige chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you as she moves her lips to one of your breasts, taking your nipple into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, teasing, sucking lightly at first. Your whole body reacts, your breath catching in your throat, and a gasp escapes you as she bites down gently, enough to send a shock of pleasure through you.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin as she switches to your other breast, her mouth relentless. “So perfect and pretty for me, baby.”
Her words send another wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan again, louder this time, your body arching into hers. The pressure of her knee between your legs intensifies, and you grind down instinctively, craving more of that contact.
Paige’s mouth leaves your breast, trailing wet kisses down your abdomen. Her tongue flicks out, teasing along your ribs, before she starts sucking at your skin hard enough that you know she’s leaving marks—evidence of where she’s claimed you, the sensation sending sharp tingles through you.
Her hands move with purpose, finding the waistband of your sweatpants. You don’t even realize what she’s doing until you feel her fingers digging into your pocket, pulling something out before she slides your pants down your legs, leaving you in nothing but the lacy red thong that matches the blood-smeared mess around you and that did match your now-ruined tank top.
Paige takes her time, her gaze dark and heated as she admires the way the lace clings to your skin. She reaches out, hooking her finger under the waistband of the thong, pulling it back teasingly. The pressure is light, but it’s enough to make you shiver as she flicks it back against your skin with a soft snap. Paige hums, clearly pleased by your reaction, her smirk growing as her eyes meet yours.
You’re about to say something, maybe tease her back, when you notice what’s in her hand. It takes a second for it to register, but then you realize it’s the voice changer. The same one you use to make all your taunting phone calls.
Paige brings it up to her lips, turning it on with a flick of her thumb. “Do you wanna play a game?” Her voice comes out distorted, deep and twisted in that familiar way, making your heart race with a mix of excitement and surprise.
Immediately, you reach for the voice changer, shaking your head. “Babe, that’s my thing—” you protest, because it is. You’re the one who always calls the shots. You’re the one who makes the phone calls, who controls the game. Not her.
But Paige is quicker. She pulls back just enough to keep it out of your reach, sitting up on her knees and holding the voice changer above her head, far enough that you’d have to try harder to grab it. She cocks her head, a playful yet dangerous glint in her eyes. “Ah-ah,” she clicks her tongue, the sound sharp and commanding. Her expression makes it clear—if you try to take it again, you’re not going to like what happens next.
You lower your hand, your heart pounding in anticipation, your body already responding to the shift in control. Paige’s eyes stay locked on yours, her smile widening as she brings the voice changer back to her lips.
“I said,” she repeats, her voice low and sultry before flicking it back on, “do you wanna play a game?”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no real defiance behind it, just attitude—the kind Paige loves and hates equally. “What kinda game?” you ask, the challenge evident in your tone.
Paige’s grin grows, dark and wicked. She’s clearly enjoying this. “Oh, it’s simple,” she begins, her voice turning to a dangerous purr. “You’re gonna follow my rules. You do exactly what I say, and maybe I’ll let you finish.”
You scoff a little at that, trying to keep up the act of being unimpressed, but there’s no denying the way her words send a surge of heat straight through you. “And what if I don’t?” you counter, testing her.
Paige’s eyes flash, her smirk growing more predatory, the same look she gets before she kills. She leans in close, the voice changer still in hand as she trails the back of the knife down your stomach, teasingly slow. “Then I’ll make sure you beg for it,” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.
You feel your throat go dry at the sensation of the knife, her breath, the words she says. You swallow, staying quiet.
“You like that, yeah?” Paige says, her voice dropping lower as she presses the flat of the knife against your stomach, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. “When I’m the one tellin’ you what to do, when I make you all desperate and shi.”
Paige continues to move the knife down, grazing along the edge of your thong, the metal tracing the fabric lightly as she keeps talking through the voice changer. “Here’s what we’re gon’ do,” she starts, giving you a pointed look. “You’re gonna keep your hands right here,” she instructs, using her own hand to bring your wrists together and pulling them over your head, resting behind you against the armrest of the couch. “And you’re not gon’ move them. If you do… I’ll make sure it’s not pretty, ‘kay?” The implication is enough to make your breath hitch.
You stare up at her, heart racing, but you don’t argue. The way she’s looking at you—hungry and in control—makes you want to give in. To let her push you to the edge.
“And you’re gonna beg,” Paige adds, her voice husky, the grin on her face positively wicked. “Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to let you cum. You’re gonna tell me how much you need it.”
Your lips part, but before you can respond, Paige presses the knife lightly against your skin again, the threat clear but enticing.
“Do you wanna play?” she asks once more, using the voice changer. But this time, it’s not really a question. It’s more of a demand.
You don’t say anything for a long moment, staying silent. But Paige won’t have that. She takes the handle of the knife, lightly stroking your clothed clit with it, keeping her eyes on your face. Your hips buck up involuntarily at the feeling, and your gaze lands on hers, catching sight of her waiting expression. You sigh in discomfort, wanting more, shifting your hips a little. However, you know she won’t give you any more of what you need if you don’t agree to play her stupid fucking game. So, you kiss your teeth and mutter, “Fine. Let’s play.”
Paige immediately grins at your response, clearly eager for some more excitement (as if her night hasn’t been filled with enough of that already), tossing the voice changer across the room. She leans down, pressing her lips against your hipbone as she twists the knife back around to the sharp end, trailing the tip along your thong teasingly. You feel yourself shudder a little bit at the feeling, glancing down, chin pressing into your chest as you try to get a better look.
And then Paige is effectively ruining more of your clothing, tearing the fabric of your thong apart with the knife. It splits open, revealing your glistening cunt to the blonde.
“Paige—” you begin to protest annoyedly, irritated with her affinity of slashing your clothes apart tonight.
However, her head snaps up to look at you at the sound of your attitude leaking back into your voice. She glares, eyes narrowing as she tells you, “Shut the fuck up. Ion wanna hear none of your attitude bullshit tonight.”
You fight the urge to scoff at her, instead opting to stay quiet. You watch as she hooks her fingers around the flimsy fabric of what’s left of your thong before tossing them to the side, leaving you completely naked before her. Before you can even really process what’s going to happen next, she’s leaning in, her hot breath landing between your legs. But instead of her tongue or her lips making contact with your folds, it’s Paige’s teeth—biting at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, a little taken aback at the mixture of sting and serenity, and you can’t help but let your hand fall to her head to hold her there.
She won’t have that, though.
The feeling of your hand in her hair makes her pull back immediately, making you lose any feeling between your legs. You whimper a little at the loss, but she doesn’t care, slapping your hand away from her head. She grabs at the wrist of the same hand she’s just hit, eyes flashing at you as she pulls your arm back above your head, locking your wrists together with her fingers.
“The fuck did I tell you?” she snaps, glaring pointedly, irritation clearly seeping into her. “Keep your hands up there. Don’t fuckin’ move ’em unless I say so.”
You glare back at her, equally annoyed and turned on by her demands. She’s staring expectantly at you, waiting for a response, her nails digging into your wrists slightly. Eventually, you roll your eyes and cave, muttering, “Fine, Jesus.”
You watch as her eyes narrow at the bratty tone of your voice, though—surprisingly—she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t snap at you again to behave yourself. But she also doesn’t do anything. She removes her hands from your wrists, making sure you keep them up there, but, after that, she doesn’t make herself useful in any way. Instead, she leans back a little, her body still between your parted legs, just staring. She keeps her lips pursed as her eyes flick between your face and your glistening cunt that’s on full display before her, just inches away. You shift your hips a little, hoping she’ll get the message and do something for you, but she doesn’t. She just keeps watching you, eyes tracking the movement of your hips, keeping herself still.
You whine a little, nails digging into the couch armrest above you. “What’re you waiting for?” you finally retort, very annoyed by this point.
However, that annoyance seems to seep out of you pretty quickly as you feel the tip of the knife blade dig into your hip bone, just enough that if Paige pushed it any harder, it would certainly draw blood. You swallow a little, looking up at the blonde, trying to hold your ground.
“Enough with the fuckin’ attitude, ma,” she says firmly, clearly as tired of your shit as you are of here. You feel her begin to trail the blade along your skin slightly, before she’s adding, “And what—you already forgot one of my rules?”
You furrow you eyebrows at the question, not sure what she’s referring to. All you can really feel is the heat between your legs, and the stark cold metal of the knife against your skin.
She clicks her tongue at your obvious confusion, tipping the knife against you, breaking the skin ever so slightly. It doesn’t really hurt, just stings some, and you look down to see the tiniest bit of blood surrounding the cut she’s made, a hint of crimson tainting the silver of the knife. And then Paige is crawling a little forward, so that she’s hovering over you, and you feel yourself shiver beneath her.
She leans closer, her breath hot against your cheek, the cold metal of the knife now grazing along the curve of your jaw, before slowly, deliberately, moving toward your lips. She traces the blade across your lower lip, and you feel the wetness of your own blood against it.
“Open,” she orders, her tone firm, eyes alight with a mixture of control and something more primal.
Your heart races, but you do as she says, parting your lips slightly. The flat of the blade presses against your tongue, leaving the metallic taste of your blood in your mouth. She’s watching you do it intensely, pupils blown and eyes focused. And then she’s pulling it back, teasing you, leaving your body tense and wanting. Her lips quirk into a smirk, clearly pleased with the way your body reacts beneath hers, the power she holds over you.
Then she straightens, pulling the knife away, her expression both playful and commanding as she watches you intently. Her voice is soft, but dripping with authority, “You gotta beg for it, baby.”
You bite your lip, staring defiantly up at Paige, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you beg. You can see the flicker of frustration in her eyes as her grip on the knife tightens. She leans in, her breath fanning across your skin, but you hold firm, a smirk playing on your lips despite the tension crackling between you. You’re playing with fire, and you know it.
It’s right then where Paige’s patience snaps. Her hand shoots up to grab your jaw, her fingers pressing into your skin, hard enough to hurt some. “You’re being a real bitch tonight,” she husks, eyes narrowing as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I think I might just have to punish you for it.”
You can feel your heart race at her words, but you refuse to back down, a flicker of defiance still lingering in your expression, a slight smirk still pulling up your lips.
Paige tilts her head, her grip tightening slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just act like this and get away with it?” she continues, her voice low and controlled, though you can feel the anger bubbling underneath. “Fine. If you won’t beg, then you don’t get to make a single sound.”
You feel your eyes widen without thinking about it, realizing what she’s getting at, but she only smirks at your reaction.
“If you make any noise,” Paige says, leaning in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “then I won’t let you finish. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not until you learn how to fucking behave.” Her voice is dripping with authority, every word hanging between you like a challenge.
You swallow hard, trying to steel yourself, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s already won this round—makes it difficult. You know she’s pushing your limits, testing just how far she can take this.
She doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead crawling back down your body, keeping your thighs spread open, resting herself between them. Immediately getting to work, probably impatient herself, her mouth attaches to the skin of your inner thigh, sucking harshly, certainly enough to leave a mark for tomorrow. And then she’s kissing her way up to the cut she’s imprinted on your hip, ghosting her tongue along the small sliver of slashed skin and the blood that rests with it. It stings, and you hear yourself gasp, whimpering at the feeling. She’s not fond of that, though, wanting you to stay quiet as she’s told you, so she pinches your thigh hard. You fight to not let the noise that’s burrowed itself in your throat get through, swallowing it down. If you behave, you’ll get what you want—so you might as well just let her have her fun.
She’s getting closer to where you need her, her nose brushing against your clit as she ghosts her lips along the side of your pussy, teasing you. You shift your hips slightly, desperate for the friction you’ve been needing, but her hands grab at each hip bone, holding you down so you stay still.
And then she’s diving in, pressing her tongue to your aching cunt, licking a long stripe right up between your folds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the long awaited pleasure, keeping silent just as she told you to. She presses her mouth against you completely, enough to feel her every breath on you, rolling her tongue right against your clit.
Paige moans a little against you, sending vibrations through you that have your legs shaking. As she continues rolling her tongue in that famous, miraculous rhythm of hers against your bundle of nerves, one of her hands reaches up to your tit, thumb brushing along the nipple and pinching it.
You bite your lip, finally being a good girl and listening to Paige’s demands like she’s wanted this whole time. You stay silent, though your breaths come quicker, faster, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Paige’s hand.
She glances up at you, smirking against you as she catches sight of the beads of sweat forming along your skin, your flushed face, the way you’re fighting to stay quiet. Her tongue slides along the expanse of your slit before slipping inside of you, making your thighs quiver and a tiny gasp to escape your lips. Paige glares up at you warningly at that, making sure you remember well that if you’re not quiet, you’re not cumming.
And then she’s returning her focus back to your pussy, sliding her tongue in and out of you a couple times in a slow rhythm. You can tell she’s enjoying this by the way her eyes slip shut, brows furrowing in concentration. She then brings her mouth back up to your clit, flicking her tongue up and down, up and down, up and down, in a way that makes you see stars. You dig your nails into your palms, squeezing your eyes shut at the euphoric feeling.
“Shit,” Paige mumbles as she pulls away, staring at your soaking cunt before adding to the wetness, spitting on you. She watches her saliva slide between your folds and then leans in to lap it up with her tongue. She moans against you, probably at the taste, saying, “You’re gonna kill me with this pussy, baby. Could eat you forever.”
You let out a long, shaky breath at the words, scrunching your face up a little she sucks on your clit. Hard. You feel her teeth scrape against it, too, and you swear your nails are going to draw blood if you dig them any deeper into your skin.
Breathing heavily, she suddenly pulls up and sits on her knees between your legs, letting go of your hips and pushing your legs further apart. Looking down between them, Paige is suddenly thrusting three of her fingers into you without any warning. You can’t help it—it makes you shudder out something between a moan and a gasp, exclaiming, “Fuck!”
Paige won’t have that for a second, immediately pulling her fingers out of you to slap your pussy. “Shut the fuck up,” she tells you, biting along your skin as she slowly crawls up to your face again. “Can’t ever fuckin’ listen to me, can you?” she asks, her fingers trailing to your clit, circling it harshly. It makes your legs shudder and shake and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.
“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, gasping as you feel the heat in your stomach begin to rise, the coil getting ready to snap.
Paige’s fingers find their way back inside you, all three of them pumping. Your pussy squelches with her relentless pace, the sounds beyond filthy. Her other hand has found it’s way back to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck, your pulse racing against her hand. “Don’t lie,” she snaps, eyes flitting between your face and the way her fingers are thrusting into you with absolutely no mercy. “You’re not a bitch, I’ve seen you take worse.”
You whimper a little at her words and it only makes her fingers speed up, sliding in and out and then curling in a come hither motion, making you see stars. “Y’know, Kelsey wanted to fuck me,” Paige taunts. Your eyes flash open at the words, the same flare of jealousy and anger rushing into you as remember the night at the bar. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t still care, especially as your gaze darts to see a quick glance of Kelsey’s dead body across the room. But, still, Paige’s words send a rush of irritation through you. She can tell, and she smirks, her thumb now abusing your clit as her fingers continue their pace. “You think she coulda kept quiet? Think she woulda been a good girl for me? She seemed very sweet.”
“She’s dead,” you grunt out, trying not to let Paige’s words get in the way of the feeling of her fingers in you, on you. “So I guess you’ll never know.”
That makes Paige’s hand squeeze your neck a little, enough for you to cry out at the dual sensation of that and her thrusting fingers. It’s all getting too much, the heat building as Paige’s pace keeps steady, your hips rising to meet her digits as they pump in and out. “Fuck, you make me crazy,” the blonde says, her lips trailing to your neck to suck a mark against your skin. “Such a brat, baby.”
The sensation between your legs has you forgetting Paige’s rules, and you think that at this point, she’s forgotten them, too, because your hands are moving from above your head to tangle in her ponytail, tugging as her fingers curl inside you. She doesn’t do anything to stop you, instead humming against your neck.
“P,” you manage to gasp out, voice shaking. You’re faintly aware that you’re sweating, your hair sticking sticking to your damp forehead and neck, your whole body pulsing with heat. “Paige, ‘m gonna cum.”
Paige nods against you, her tongue swiping against the hollow of your throat, her fingers thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. Vaguely, you wonder if her hand is cramping yet. “I know, baby,” she says a little breathlessly, against your skin. “Come on, ma, give it to me. Wanna feel it bad.”
You let out a shaky cry, hands finding their way beneath Paige’s shirt, nails digging into her back, certainly leaving scratch marks. Every thrust, every breath that Paige takes against your skin—it’s all too much, and you can feel herself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, the pleasure building with every second.
And then you’re moaning out, “Oh my God—fuck!” as the coil within you snaps, your back arching against Paige’s hand, your heart racing. “Fuck,” you say again, quieter this time, trying to blink away the stars in your vision.
Your breath comes in quick bursts as you slowly come down from your high, feeling a euphoric mixture of adrenaline and warmth coursing through your veins. You lean back against the couch cushions, now damp with blood and your own arousal, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Paige presses further into you, her breath hot and feverish against your neck, and you feel her say your name against your skin. And then she’s slowly pulling her fingers out of your soaking cunt, trailing them up to your mouth as she draws back slightly.
She slips them past your lips and you let her, mouth sucking her fingers clean, tongue gliding along her digits. The way her eyes glaze over watching you do it, lust filling her pupils, makes you think that you’re about to get fucked into oblivion for a round two. But then her gaze trails somewhere behind your head—probably to Kelsey’s dead body, if you had to guess—and she’s sighing, resigned, as she pulls her fingers from your mouth, tangling them in your hair. She presses her lips against yours firmly for just a moment, before she’s pulling away, saying, a smirk pulling the corners of her lips up, “We gotta go before they catch us.”
You frown a little, pouting as you say, “Fun’s over.”
She shakes her head slightly at you, still smirking as she responds, “Nah, when we get home, we can have all the fun you want.” And then she’s reaching down onto the floor, grabbing the ghostface mask and slipping it over your head, covering your face. “C’mon, let’s go.”
You slip into your clothes quickly, watching as Paige grabs the knife and checks around the room to see if either of you have forgotten anything. Once you’re ready, the two of you open the apartment door, leaving your mess for someone to find later. However, you and Paige leave, she of course does not forget to call out into the empty apartment, “Bye, Kelsey!”
The door slams shut behind you, and, obviously, there is no response back.
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ganondoodle · 3 days ago
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(OC Lore and design time!)
(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)
i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D
so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;
at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-
Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)
Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries
However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it
only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)
alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)
#ganondoodles#art#ocs#original art#oc lore#demons#monsters#WHY does writing things liek this take me so long#i spent two hours again on this and im falling asleep as we speak bc its almost 2 am#ANYWAY this was alot again ... sorry#but its a relatively new storyline that i have been afraid of telling#since it touches on things im afraid might come across wrong and uses themes im a lil uncomfy with#but i found it interesting ... and works well with eadrya as a character bc it challenges alot about them#yes im wrote and mean this genuinely#i would have made the cut from her human body to the demon parts more smooth ... but this hard cut is the point#so that she looks rather normal on the upper part and can hide the rest#thoguh im unsure about the color scheme and if maybe i should be more creative with the demons parts#then again its largely just legs lol#if anyone actually reads this ........ i hope it comes across correctly#i like to use darker and more mature themes but am riddled with anxiety over how it will be understood#im gonna work on zelda comic stuff again now .. sorry for all the oc spam#but if there are questions PLEASE feel free to ask im pretty sure i have answers to almosst anything?#also i havent thought of a name for her or the kid .. though im starting to like lady 13#13.1 wont do as a name though poor kid deserves a proper name after already being a weird hybrid that shouldnt exist#either way ... going to bed now GOODNIGHT q-q#(any typos are excused by me being deadly tired ok)
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redwinelew · 1 day ago
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joyride | lewis hamilton
social media au. female!east asian!reader.
summary — in which the internet goes wild when the seven times formula 1 world champion co-wrote and stars in his girlfriend's music video for her comeback single after a long hiatus.
face claim — rina sawayama | song — joyride by kesha
warnings — swearing, suggestive content, one kms joke
author's note — first fic on tumblr !! pls be kind and lmk what i can improve <33
all pictures taken from pinterest. credit to owners.
instagram!
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liked by arianagrande, carlossainz55 and 489,273 others
tagged lewishamilton
ynln enjoying life 💙
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user1 "enjoying life 💙" as if u don't have an album to write like ok 🙄🙄
user2 user1 ???? she doesn't owe u anything — liked by ynln
user1 user2 omg it was a joke chill 😭😭
user3 user1 well tell that to her now we're def not getting that album
user4 HOLY SHIT MOTHER JUST POSTED
yourbff my girl is glowing!! — liked by yn
ynln yourbff 💙💙💙💙 ilysm
user5 ever since she started dating him she rarely posts anything anymore :(
user6 user5 does it matter? like she said she's enjoying life and she looks happy with him so what's the problem
user2 lewis being in this post twice oh she's so in love with him
user2 user2 god when is it my turn to be happy
user5 idec about the album anymore 😭😭 she looks so content and that's all that matters
rachelzegler the cutest!!!!
naraaziza beautiful ❤️❤️
lewishamilton when did you take the last picture i didn't even notice?
ynln lewishamilton when you were too busy staring at other girls
user6 ynln LMFAO
user7 ynln do u want me to fight him
lewishamilton ynln baby please
ynln lewishamilton 🙄🙄🙄🙄
user8 ynln GAG HIM
user8 if i was dating sir lewis hamilton i would abandon my career too
user9 user8 ikr who needs a job when your bf is a millionaire
ynln user8 nothing's abandoned babe :)
user8 ynln WAIT WHAT
user10 ynln YN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN
user11 ynln EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM
user12 ynln not her teasing us 😭😭
user13 ynln not the ":)" is everything a joke to u
user14 ynln STOP PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS PLS WE NEED THE ALBUM
user15 user14 FR IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS YNLN PLEASE 😭😭
instagram!
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tagged roscoelovescoco and ynln
lewishamilton a much needed gateaway
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ynln 💙💙💙💙 i love u
lewishamilton ynln i love you more baby
user1 ynln lewishamilton god idk how many me and who i got left in me
user2 user1 if they ever broke up i will never believe in love again
user3 user2 the standard fr
mercedesamgf1team do u guys need a third
user4 merdecesamgf1team HELP 😭😭
user5 mercedesamgf1team ADMIN??????
user6 mercedesamgf1team admin is just like me fr
user7 mercedesamgf1team dont u guys have better things to do like idk, fix those fuck ass cars? — liked by ynln
user8 OMG ROSCOE
user9 hey sir lewis is your gf single
danielricciardo did you guys try the restaurant i suggested?
lewishamilton danielricciardo yes! the food was incredible mate thank you
user10 danielricciardo lewishamilton 344 interaction in the years of our lord 2024 this was not on my bingo card
user11 can you pls tell yn to get her ass to that studio her fans are starving 🙏🏼 — liked by lewishamilton and ynln
user12 user11 yk what else we need? a xnda comeback 🙏🏼 — liked by ynln
user13 user12 OMG YES
user11 user12 LEWIS LIKED YOUR COMMENT OH MY GOD????
user12 user11 AND YN AS WELL WHAT IS GOING ON
twitter!
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instagram!
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liked by livkatecooke, chappellroan and 3,837,930 others
ynln "joyride" single and mv out 11.2 co-written and featuring the one and only xnda aka lewishamilton 🧡🧡 told u guys i'm not abandoning anything ;)
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user1 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I JUST WOKE UP
user2 YN WHAT THE HELL
user3 FINALLY
user4 QUEEN OF POP IS BACK
user5 CO-WRITTEN AND FEATURING WHO??????
lewishamilton you're fucking killing it babe 🧡
ynln lewishamilton ilysm baby thank u for agreeing to be part of this 🫶🏼🫶🏼
user7 SCREAMING CRYING SHAKING THROWING UP
user6 WE ARE SO MF BACK
rkive can't wait!
ynln rkive i love u!!
user8 rkive ynln bts x yn ln collab when
user8 she's coming for her third grammy already i can feel it
alex_albon ready to have it on repeat!
georgerussell63 let's go!
twitter!
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instagram!
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liked by iamhalsey, megantheestallion and 7,638,927 others
tagged ynln
lewishamilton joyride by ynln feat. xnda is out now 🧡 me and yn have always wanted to make a song together but my own insecurity halted us from releasing it. we got the idea for joyride while on our roadtrip in italy and i originally did the demo and was only supposed to co-write with yn but my lady convinced me to fully be part in this and how could i say no? thank you for believing in me, my love. i am so proud of you 🧡
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ynln baby 🧡🧡🧡🧡 i love u so much thank you for agreeing to be part of this it means a lot to me
lewishamilton ynln anything for you sweetie 🧡
user1 lewishamilton ynln i'm gonna sleep on the highway tonight
ynln user1 pls don't do that the album is coming out in three months
user1 ynln EXFUCKINGSCUSE ME@!-!&!#;#!
user2 ynln WE'RE ACTUALLY GETTING AN ALBUM??????
ynln user1 user2 ;)
georgerussell63 banger!
lewishamilton georgerussell63 thanks mate!
user3 yn could ask lewis to jump into a volcano and he'd do it
ynln user3 don't tempt me
user3 ynln HELP
user4 we love a supportive boyfriend
user5 god i've seen what you've done to others
user6 love the bonnie and clyde theme and roscoe cameo 🙏🏼
user7 "my lady" "my love" "sweetie" god i'm so painfully single
tomcruise amazing!
maxverstappen1 i still can't believe you can sing
lewishamilton maxverstappen1 believe it
twitter!
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— thanks for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated 🫶🏼🧡
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falafelluva · 2 days ago
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I love your work so much!
I don’t know if you take requests but if you do can you write something with Kenan who has to do his 2 year old daughter’s curly hair? 🫶🏾
; 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮
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summary: when a nasty cold hits you, kenan is left in charge of the parenting duties— that includes taking care of your little girls wild curls.
warnings: idk, illness ig? help? tangled curly hair (very triggering)
author’s note: i do in fact take requests for now I can still write them quickly but after this week i have to focus on school bc #examyear, i love this one cs i have curly hair myself but excuse the way this is written- i myself have a mixture that ranges between 3a-3c and kind of went with what i know about my hair even tho i don’t know shizzle about curly hair care💔 also i just named her Ayla bc I don’t know how to write with those y/d/n things [sad]
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The afternoon sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You lay in bed, bundled under a soft blanket, battling a nasty cold.
Your head throbbed, and your throat felt like sandpaper, leaving you utterly drained. You could hear the soft sounds of your two-year-old daughter, Ayla, playing in the living room, her laughter breaking through your fog of illness, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to join her anytime soon.
Kenan stepped into the room, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Hey, love,” he said softly, checking in on you. “How are you feeling?”
You managed a weak smile. “Not great, but I’ll be okay. Just tired.”
He nodded, glancing toward the living room where Ayla was happily babbling to herself. “I have to take her out for a bit, but I don’t know what to do with her hair.”
You chuckled softly, even though it hurt. “She’ll be fine, just leave it for now.”
But Kenan shook his head, his brows furrowing. “Nein, I can’t let her go out like that.” He paused, then added, “Besides, she needs to look..not this uh… wild? people will think I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You watched him, a mix of admiration and amusement. Kenan had always been determined to be an involved dad, but when it came to Ayla’s hair, he was a bit out of his element.
“Okay, just give it a try. You can do this.”
Taking a deep breath, Kenan nodded and headed to the bathroom to gather supplies. He emerged with a small basket filled with the essentials:
an edge brush, edge control, gel, water, curling cream products, and a random wide tooth comb/denman brush. You couldn’t help but smile at how determined he looked.
“Alright, Ayla, come here, Kleine” he called out, trying to keep his voice light and playful. Ayla wandered over, her beautiful but wild curls bouncing with every step. (little one)
Kenan knelt in front of her, brushing his fingers through her hair to assess the situation.
“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here,” he said, his tone serious as he misted her hair with water from the spray bottle.
Ayla giggled as the droplets landed on her forehead, but then she wrinkled her nose, unsure of what was happening.
“Easy, it’s just water..damn,” Kenan said softly, his tone soothing as he muttered the last word.
“We’re just going to make you look pretty.” He squirted some curly hair product into his hands, rubbing them together before working it through Ayla’s curls.
“This will help keep your hair nice and bouncy, just like how mommy does it for you” he explained, trying to channel the routine he’d always seen you do.
Next, he picked up the Denman brush, the brush glinting in the light. But as he began to gently brush through her curls, Ayla’s mood shifted.
“No, Baba! No!” she whined, shaking her head and pulling away from him.
Kenan paused, glancing at you with wide eyes. “Was mache ich falsch?” he muttered in confusion, clearly at a loss. (what am I doing wrong?)
“It’s okay, just take it slow. Maybe try using your fingers instead,” you suggested, wanting to help him navigate the moment without adding to his frustration.
“Okay, okay,” he replied, his voice still calm but edged with uncertainty. He set down the Denman brush and began to use his fingers to separate her curls gently.
With each careful tug, he began to see the way her curls twisted and spiraled, their natural shape coming to life.
“See, we can do this,” he encouraged, but Ayla still squirmed in his grip, her little face pouting.
“it’s just a little bit of..hair care,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful. “You’ll look even more like a princess when we’re done.”
“Baba, no!” Ayla whined again, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Ach, digga,” he murmured, trying to keep the mood light. “We can go get ice cream after this, I promise.” (oh, bro)
Her little face lit up at the mention of ice cream, but she still squirmed, trying to pull away.
Kenan watched her, biting his lip, and then he grabbed the edge brush, hoping it might give him better control over the styling process.
“Okay, let’s try something else,” he said, taking a deep breath. He gently brushed back the front curls to smooth them down and began working on her edges.
He carefully applied a small amount of edge control with his fingers, rubbing it into the baby hairs around her hairline.
“There we go,” he said, concentrating hard. He picked up the edge brush, using it to create little swoops and curves that framed her face—Ayla giggled, her curiosity piqued by the new sensation, and for a moment, the tension eased.
“Pretty, Baba?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, and Kenan felt a surge of pride.
“Very pretty,” he confirmed, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re going to be the cutest girl at the park.”
Encouraged, he continued to work on her edges, and as he styled, he found his rhythm. “See? Isn’t this fun?” he said, still maintaining the cheerful tone he knew she loved.
“Fun!” she echoed, her little hands now playing with the edge brush while he worked.
“Just a little more,” he said, carefully applying some gel to set the style in place. He lightly spritzed her hair with water again, letting the curls bounce back into their shape—with his fingers, he fluffed the curls, giving them definition and volume.
“Baba, I want to help!” Ayla exclaimed, reaching for the brush again.
“Okay, okay,” Kenan said, chuckling at her enthusiasm.
He let her take the brush, guiding her little hands to help. “Just like this, we go from the bottom to the top. Can you do that?”
Ayla nodded, her focus entirely on the task. As she brushed through her curls, Kenan felt a wave of warmth wash over him.
It wasn’t just about getting her hair done; it was about sharing this moment together.
As they both worked on Ayla’s hair, Kenan quietly reminded himself that he was doing this for her. “Wir schaffen das zusammen,” he whispered under his breath, his determination shining through. (We can do it together)
After a few more minutes of playful styling, Kenan finally finished. He leaned back, taking in the sight of his daughter’s beautifully styled curls. “There you go, all done!” he exclaimed.
Ayla turned to look in the mirror, her eyes wide with excitement. “Pretty!” she exclaimed, running her fingers through her curls.
Kenan grinned, relief flooding through him. “You look like a little princess, just like I promised.”
“Baba, I want to go!” she said, tugging at his hand, eager to head out.
“Alright, ice cream it is!” he laughed, ruffling her hair one last time before they headed toward the door.
As they stepped into the bright sunlight, you settled back into your pillows, content in the knowledge that your little family was navigating life together— Kenan pointing at you through the window, the two of them waving at you as you blow a kiss at them.
Watching Kenan hold Ayla’s hand outside, you couldn’t help but smile.
Even though you were feeling under the weather, knowing that Kenan was trying to up his game as a dad made your heart swell with pride.
The way he approached parenting, with such tenderness and determination, filled you with gratitude.
You closed your eyes for a moment, thankful for the life you were building together, one day at a time.
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leadmetothegardenbetty · 2 days ago
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OKAY I AM ON THE TRAIN SO HERE IS THE BREAKDOWN MY FRIENDS:
• I got there late bc I didn’t plan well enough and thought I’d be okay time wise and it was Not Okay and I fully almost had a panic attack complete with crying and hyperventilating bc I knew I was gonna be at least five minutes late
• Since I got there late I’m not sure if they did like an intro to the film but in attendance was: Kyle, Emily, Adam (director), JP (director of cinematography), Ross (producer)
• They talked a lot about things we’ve already gathered from interviews when the movie initially came out (i.e., they got time to spend together before they first started shooting, all the music was written first before shooting started — mentioned how Watermelon came to fruition through Emily journaling in character as Patty and that Adam played all the music for Watermelon, also mentioned how Kyle blew out his voice twice during the process of recording for PSYOPS (he apparently tried to prep by singing along to the tracks in his car which as a Bad Idea))
• I did not actually know/do not know if this has been shared before but Kyle and Emily flew out to the shoot together and Adam booked it so their seats would be next to each other, they talked about how much time they spent together and how they would grill steaks, have dinner together,
• There was a Pumpkin mention (the pitbull Kyle got from his neighbor that he bought off of him bc he could see the dog needed a better home), also apparently Kyle found out at 5:30 AM during the shoot of the PSYOPS show that the former owner of Pumpkin was willing to sell her to him and there were a bunch of problems with the dog (she had her period, had to wear diapers, etc, etc))
• Emily talked about how playing Patty healed her inner child and she talked about how Kyle and her really just played versions of themselves in Patty and Simon. Kyle mentioned how he’s always loved punk/pop punk and he grew up in mosh pits and he loved getting to be a musician for this movie (I was tempted to yell out FINGERS ERASURE at one point because Adam and Kyle both talked about how Kyle had “never been in a band before” but alas I am a coward and idk if it would’ve been appreciated lmao)
• A couple people asked Adam for writing/creative advice, he told them to just kind of go for it!
• Kyle and Emily touched on how important it was for the film to go to those crazy/more vulgar places to really show what Patty was going through
• There was A LOT of Patty/Emily love!! I think pretty much every audience question was either aimed at Emily or Adam and 9 times out of 10 Kyle or Adam directed the question back to Emily
• Someone did ask when we could expect the PSYOPS tracks to be released and they said they were “working on it”
Overall guys it was an absolute BLAST to see this film with a crowd, I think like half the audience was seeing it for the first time which was fun in itself. There was no singing along and some people laughed at odd parts (I thought) but ultimately getting to watch with Kyle and Emily in the audience and seeing how much love they were getting—especially Emily, was so so incredibly wonderful!!
I am still kind of soaking everything in so if I remember anything else I will reblog and add!!
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agentcalypso · 19 hours ago
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my (mostly) coherent thoughts on the vengeance saga
spoilers obviously (and once again written during the livestream because i once again have shit to do tmrw)
🩸NOT SORRY FOR LOVING YOU🩸
lol so remember how in my wisdom saga post i said there were over 100k ppl in the livestream by the time the wisdom saga started and i thought that was a record? yea theres 167k ppl in the stream rn
already i am in love with the color pallette
love the steel pan also its a very nice touch
lowkey the percussion kinda sounds like the percussion in monster but idk if that means anything
i can already tell this is going in my audition binder
GIGI ANIMATIC HELL YEA
ok shes a horrible person but i kinda feel bad for her tbh (and you can tell ody does at least a little)
10/10
🩸DANGEROUS🩸
FULL SPEED AHEAD JUMPSCARE JESUS
HERMEEEEESSSSSSSS
this animation is EATING holy shit
troy never ceases to amaze me with his vocals omg
ODY IS BACK BABEY
bro is fighting for his life and hermes is just groovin
bringing back the wind bag is just *chefs kiss*
also confirmation that it was rigged is nice
11/10
🩸CHARYBDIS🩸
well he uh. certainly needs luck for THAT
ALL OF THESE ANIMATICS ARE FUCKING EATING HOLY SHIT
not much to say but holy SHIT HES BACK BABEYYYYYY
god fucking dammit poseidon
9/10
🩸GET IN THE WATER🩸
THE ORGAN????? HELLO???????
ALSO WELCOME BACK STEVEN ONE HELL OF A FUCKIN ENTRANCE
this song was already great in the snippet but its EVEN FUCKING BETTER MY FUCKING GOD
oh i. forgot he threatened to do that to telemachus
god odys part is so. idk. soft? either way i love it
SHATTER THE MOTHERFUCKING OCEAN
welp hes certainly afraid of the water now
NOT AGAIN GODDAMMIT
15/10
🩸SIX HUNDRED STRIKE🩸
WIND BAG COMING IN CLUTCH AGAIN
3D???????
BRO IS LITERALLY USING IT AS A JETPACK
"I WILL GET BACK TO MY WIIIIIIIIIFFEEEE"
THE FUCKING ANIME BATTLE
BRO IS CASUALLY BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF A GOD
poseidon what the fuck do you mean
AND NOW HES JUST THREATENING A GOD????? BRO IS FUCKING FERAL
OH GOD THE DIFFERENT BEAST HORN
OH SHIT WHAT IS HE DOING
I MEAN I CANT RLY BLAME HIM BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
"HOW WILL YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT" "NEXT TO MY WIFE" FUCK YEA GO GET YOUR GIRL
175K FUCKING PEOPLE
45013534058/10
in conclusion AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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gremlin-girly · 2 days ago
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Flufftober Day 27
Alt 8: Written But Never Sent
Pairing: Steve Rogers x gn!Agent!Reader
Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, ANGST (idk why I'm putting Steve through the ringer this week lol), mutual pining (this is apparently my bread and butter as well as my jam), mentions of death, crying/grieving, alcohol consumption/drunk (mentioned), confessions, first kisses, second chances, not beta'd I try to cover everything in my warnings but they are non-exhaustive - please read at your own risk! I will say that this fic is Angst heavy for the majority of it
Summary: You've been missing on a mission for longer than expected; all of your friends and teammates believe the worst to have happened. When packing up your apartment, Steve finds a series of letters addressed to the team in a box in your closet, and decides to read the one addressed to him. Word count: 2.6k
A/N: This one took me longer because I was really struggling with coming up with something for the afternoon stroll prompt. But hey! I think I kinda made this fluffy? We'll ignore the parts that are really sad though. I wanted a little mix of angst and fluff to switch it up. - Love, Grem x
As always, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!
Prev | Next | Masterlist
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You had went to Hungary over a month ago on a long mission; excited to be flying solo for the first time. Everyone was excited for you too. Natasha had given you a charm bracelet for good luck (that just so happened to be a mini taser), Bucky had shown you had to gut a man three ways, Sam had kindly offered you a lollipop since he had nothing as interesting to gift you last minute and Steve.... Well, Steve had offered some very leaderly advice and urged you to call if anything went wrong and you needed help. You'd assured him, and the others, that you'd be fine but promised to keep it in mind. You waved them goodbye from one of the quinjets and headed for your mission, already daydreaming about returning with grand tales of espionage and action to share with your friends.
But a week and a half ago you went radio silent.
All agents are given 72hours to reach a pre-determined checkpoint, usually a safe house 15 miles from your allocated location for the mission. Usually, when a cover is blown, an agent makes it to a safe house in an average time of 17hours, accounting for hiding out and ensuring they aren't followed.
No one was phased for the first seventeen hours. Not even for the first twenty-four. This was your first mission after all. But the hours dragged longer and longer, and by the 48th hour Steve and the team were desperate to make contact with you and head to Hungary themselves. However, as Nat had pointed out, any other agents in the field could be casualties and putting them at risk was not an option either. So, they had to wait.
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Everyone knew what it meant when an agent hadn't checked in for a week.
There were two options; you were either dead or, by the grace of God, you were alive somewhere, somehow, and hadn't managed to make contact.
It was unlikely to be option two.
Although he didn't outwardly show it, Steve was the most affected by your assumed death. He'd planned a welcome home party for you before you left as a congratulations on your first mission, and had been fretting over what flowers to get you (or if he should get any at all). He'd been so proud you were flying solo - you'd been ready - even if he was a little anxious that he couldn't be beside you.
He'd held it together when Sam announced it to the team but barely. He was glad Sam had offered to speak instead of him - Steve wasn't sure he'd be able to make it through just speaking your name. Steve had made sure, as he usually did, to check in on everyone. He nodded along when Tony ranted about getting tracking software in everyone's suits to stop this from happening again and held Wanda when she cried about losing yet another person dear to her.
Hours and hours of endless grief and yet Steve stood tall being everyone else's rock. Being Captain.
Bucky had checked in on him once, and so had Sam, but Steve had only nodded with an "I'm okay. Don't worry about me." They clearly didn't believe him but knew better than to push it just yet. He was grateful for that.
It was when he was at home that night, in the dark of his apartment watching the lights of the city flicker from the window that he finally cried. He couldn't remember the last time he cried so hard but once he started he couldn't stop. Curled in a ball on the floor against the sofa, Steve sobbed until he somehow managed to drag himself to his bedroom in the early hours of the morning.
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Steve had only managed to get a few hours sleep before he was up again. He was pouring himself a second coffee and rubbing his tired red eyes when his phone rang.
"Yeah?"
"Steve." It was Fury. "I'm sorry to hear about Y/N."
Steve hums in vague acknowledgement, stirring creamer into his coffee. "What is it?"
Fury sighs into the phone and there's an audible creak as he slumps back into his chair. "There's no easy way to put this but we have to collect Y/N's things from their apartment."
Steve sucks in a breath. Army training makes him bite back vicious comments about how no one knew if you were dead and, even if that were the case, it hadn't even been a month since you'd disappeared. Angry bile burned in his throat and he breathed slowly through his nose, trying not to give away that he was furious. Fury was his friend too - and he was just doing his job.
"We're keeping the lease in their name, don't worry." Fury adds, seemingly noticing Steve's icy demeanour through the phone. "But the belongings and possible traces back to covert operations and the Avengers need to be held in secure storage until... a future time."
There's a heavy beat of silence before Fury continues. "I just thought you may want to be there when the agents pack things up is all."
"I'll be there." Steve says without a second thought. "Just tell me what time."
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Steve walked to your apartment that afternoon. He knew it wouldn't be smart to take the motorcycle; the ability to speed and cause more harm to himself than necessary because of his grief was tempting but ultimately pointless.
It was a sunny day. A light breeze softly tousling his hair as he wandered the streets to your apartment. He'd been there a few times - in a totally leader/co-worker/friend manner of course - but the memories that flitted through his brain had him pausing more than once to stop himself from running back home.
One of the first times he'd been to your apartment was your housewarming. You'd finally moved from Natasha's couch into your own place and invited everyone around for drinks and food. You'd thanked him for the flowers he'd brought you when he'd arrived a lot earlier than everyone else and gave him a quick tour of the small apartment, showing off your paintings and trinkets with an infectious glee that had you both giggling and teasing one another. Unlike his apartment, yours had warmth. He'd never felt so at home in a new place before but then again, with you, he always felt like that. Safe.
Another time, you had been drunk. He only remembered when he pushed through the door and saw that you still hadn't fixed the gouge in the doorframe where you'd shoved your key into trying to open your door. Steve chuckled wryly and closed the door behind him. You and the girls had gone out drinking and Steve had offered to be your chaperone home; insisting that as team leader, your safety was priority.
"I don't see you walking Nat home," You had slurred, walking into him multiple times until he took your arm. "Or Wanda."
"Wanda can control people with her powers and Natasha can break four bones in twelve seconds." Steve chuckled, looking down at you. "Come on, you need to get home."
You swayed outside your apartment door, keys poised in hand, eyes narrowing on the key hole. You jabbed viciously, missing the lock entirely, spearing the door frame.
"Whoopsie." You giggled, setting Steve off too.
Steve wandered past your kitchen counter, remembering how he had to unlock the door for you, help you out of your shoes and usher you to bed with a glass of water. You'd looked beautiful that night and he should have told you so.
Tears threatened to spill and Steve was thankful he made it early before any of the agents sent to pack your things. He glanced around your living room, wiping at his eyes. He didn't know where to start. Only that he had to.
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A few hours later, Steve finally managed to set foot into your bedroom.
Everything smelled like you in there. It was overwhelming. Steve had to sit on the floor for a few moments to regain his composure. Clothes that you hadn't managed to pack were left strewn across your bed and floor, your jewellery at your dresser, nothing of note to be found. Except, from where Steve had sat in a hurry, he could see a brightly coloured box peeking from your closet.
His face flushed as he wondered what could be in there; something he shouldn't see? More trinkets? However, curiosity got the better of him and he inched closer, tugging the box towards him and ripping off the lid.
Envelopes.
It was full of envelopes.
The very top one had his name on it written in neat, block writing. Steve pulled his envelope from the top and set it aside and returned to the box. The next envelop read N a t a s h a. Steve flicked through the next few and sure enough, there were envelopes addressed to the whole team as well as some family members and other friends. Steve's blue eyes flickered to his envelope beside him. He touched it tentatively like it would burst into flames before him. There was something inside of it - a letter most likely - and it made Steve's stomach lurch.
You'd written him a letter?
Morbid curiosity had him opening the letter carefully and tugging out the contents. Steve smiled through tears seeing your handwriting and scrawled mistakes through the paper and unfolded it, reading it slowly and meticulously, trying to imagine you sat at your kitchen counter writing it.
Dear Steve,
Who starts a letter with "dear" anymore? "To" didn't seem right and "Hi" was just... bad. Anyway, if you're reading this I guess that means that I've taken a short walk off a long pier. Which sucks but I knew if I didn't write these letters, I'd probably come back as a ghost and be miserable for all eternity or something.
Steve snorts at the first paragraph, chuckling thickly through the stream of tears.
Firstly, I want to say thank you. For being a friend and my captain a great team leader. It was an honour and privilege fighting beside you. That being said, I know that you're going to be there for everyone but yourself - so I have taken it upon myself to request that the team help take care of you in my letters to them.
Now Steve fights back a choked sob, cursing quietly and wiping tears away furiously. How did you always manage to read him like a book? You knew when he lied in truth or dare, when he lied to Tony about stupid shit, when he lied about being fine. He loved and hated that you could do it. Loved and hated you could see Steve Rogers beneath Captain America.
Secondly, I have something I want to confess. Maybe I'm I was reading into things to much but I have had, what the kids call these days, a "crush" on you. My only two regrets about this are not telling you sooner and not asking you out for coffee - even if you'd complain it was over-priced and that "back in your day you only had one type of coffee."
And finally, I want to say thank you for everything and I wish you nothing but the best - it's no less than you deserve. Love, Y/N
All of the air in Steve's lungs has evaporated. His heart has halted and he stares at the piece of paper in his hand like it's some sort of cosmic horror mangled with a joke. You'd been "crushing" on him? Steve reads the final half of your letter another few times, his heart aching in his chest.
Getting coffee with you. He'd have liked that. He vaguely remembered Nat mentioning to him that he should ask you out for a coffee and his lip quivered. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry.
"You could always ask Y/N out for a coffee, Steve." Nat had smirked at him. "You know, if you want to get to know them a little more."
Steve had frowned at her, confused. "We have coffee here," He said, pointing at Tony's old percolator that he'd just refilled. "Why would I need to go out with them to get to know them?"
Nat shook her head and sighed at him. "Nevermind, Rogers."
Your bedroom was quiet as Steve sifted through all of his memories of you. How many opportunities had he missed? He hadn't realised you had felt the same way and he'd pushed his feelings aside because he was your leader. He didn't know how long he sat for, still clutching the letter in his lap, but when there was a commotion in the main area of your apartment he frowned and clambered to his feet.
Yelling echoed throughout the apartment but before Steve could open your bedroom door it was flung open. Steve inched back and stared wide-eyed, still holding the letter.
You stared back at him.
"Hi Steve," You say quietly. Your gaze searches his face, seeing the tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes of your Captain boring into you. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Your eyes trail down and see he's holding a bit of paper, chest tightening when you realise what the paper is. However, before you can even open your mouth again, Steve's lips are on yours and his arms are hugging you so tightly you think you might burst.
His lips are salty from his tears but you don't mind, considering you haven't had a proper shower in days and he clearly didn't seem to care. Your own arms wrap around his waist, leaning into the soft, tender kiss without so much as a second thought.
The moment you break for breath, Steve's face is buried in your neck. You can feel the wet of his tears staining your shirt and it makes your own eyes well too. You squeeze him back tighter than before.
"'M sorry it took me so long to get back," You murmur into his shoulder. Steve barely moves a muscle and his voice is so quiet, you have to strain you're ears to hear him.
"You're back, that's all that matters."
Your heart hammers in your chest and you bravely rest your head onto his shoulder, slumping in his arms wearily.
"It was a nightmare getting back," You confess. "But I'm glad to be back. Especially if that's my welcome home present from now on."
That earns you a chuckle from Steve, who briefly moves back to look down at you, his eyes glistening with happy tears of relief and something a little more. "It can be. How about you tell me everything over coffee?"
Your eyebrow quirks and for the first time in week, you both smile at each other. "You're not talking about coffee from the percolator, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
You snort and shake your head in disbelief. "I'm AWOL for two weeks and everyone's panicking that I'm dead." You tease, giving him a playful sideways glance. "Oh, ye of little faith. Found the letter, huh?"
Steve's arms squeeze your sides again, the smell of his aftershave engulfing you in the familiar scent that made you feel warm and fuzzy whenever you were around him. "Was it that obvious?"
You pretend to ponder for a moment before answering yes. Your eyes gleam playfully up at Steve, looking the same as you did that night he walked you home from the bar, making him want to kiss you all over again. And he does. The flushed, shy look you give him after he pulls away again makes his heart soar.
"Come on," He urges, not wanting to waste a moment longer now that you were back.
Alive.
With him.
"I owe you a coffee date. Or ten."
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loquarocoeur · 2 days ago
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are you a bit ashamed of posting some stories sometimes because you’re aware it’s like 99% smut ? or do you know we’re as crazy as you are and will enjoy anything you give us ?
Hm, well, considering the things I've read (and enjoyed) in my lifetime as an ao3 enthusiast I don't think I can really be ashamed of what I've written...
But I do sometimes get a tiny bit self-conscious, I'll admit
It's less than you'd think though, because it's actually only when it's something that's like really oh okay this does something for me, and I'm really sorry to admit, but I'd say a good 80% of the smut I've written weirdly does nothing for me, I was just fucking around tbh or it was all just there to allow me to put in that one line or thing that actually means something to me
Also a large part of me not caring is that you guys aren't really real people to me, you're just pixels in my screen
Like idk how other people perceive their readers, but you guys aren't real. I can't comprehend you until someone is a serial commenter or someone dm's me as a real human and I'm like uh what. And fandom policy is don't like don't read so if there's ever an actually negative comment the writing is like so not the biggest issue there
Also you have to consider I've stared at my docs and my fics so much at this point that I am very desensitised and I only realise oh wow this was a bit wild like.. after I've posted it at which point there has always been someone who said they liked it and I'm like okay idc anymore as long as 1 person is weird with me I'm like yep cool immediately no longer self conscious
But yes sometimes I do need to hold my own hand and be like hey, it's okay, you're allowed to put e rated things on the website.. which is dedicated to e rated things. That's like.. the point.
Anyway yeah some fics waayyy more than others, but it also depends on lots of things so like yeah
And also there is always someone in the inbox that is in fact so much worse than me which is so comforting actually
I'm realising now that this ask probably did not require an essay but it's too late now you got the essay
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machiroads · 2 days ago
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Fic Writer Interview
Thank u @plusultraetc for the tag wheeeeee
How many works do you have on AO3?
8️⃣
What's your total AO3 word count?
251,850, 150k of which is one fic lmao
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Nine Lives, by an order of magnitude over 2nd place
Naruhata Noir
A Tumultuous Sea, You and Me (the mer-pirates fic)
Being No One, Going Nowhere (the 2 broken arms fic)
waiting on the seasons to change, waiting for the curtain to fall (the fortuneteller fic)
I am surprised to see the 2 broken arms fic in the top 5 tbh!
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I like to get responses to my own comments, so I try to reply to everyone's comments :]
What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
Uhhhhh PROBABLY 9L since it ends with everyone going off to war haha oopsie
What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?
Uhhhhhh probably merpirates? It's really gross and sappy. Dive into the ocean and kiss a mermaid in front of your entire crew. The 2 broken arms fic also got a pretty happy ending (Aizawa goes to bed and also maybe jerks it a little)
Do you write crossovers?
Not crossovers per se but I do enjoy a deep in the weeds AU
Have you ever received hate on a fic?
I don't think so? The worst I get is people saying "wow almost no typos" which is very tame lmao
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Not yet! Kintsugi (the epilogue to 9L) will have some mild spice but I'm at a point in my life where I just couldn't be jazzed to write folks doing it sloppy style
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I don't think so except for that website that's scraped like a ton of fics a few months back
Have you ever had a fic translated?
I had one person request to translate 9L into Ukranian, though I never saw if they ended up doing it. Recently I've also had a couple people leave comments in Spanish so I assume they translated the story into Spanish somehow!
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
The unpublished FFXII AU is partially co-written by Robbirdthe8th, but it's been parked for like a year and a half. Also I would be remiss to omit @kyurilin who might as well get bonus credits for the Nutstang
What's your all-time favorite ship?
I have been in fandom spaces for over a decade YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE ME CHOOSE A SINGLE ALL-TIME FAVORITE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. Perhaps a low-commitment list of OTPs from across the years:
Erasermic (obviously)
Edwin (FMA)
Netteflix (FE3H)
Asanoya (HQ!!)
Kanej (6 of Crows)
Yuchi (FB)
Asucaga (MSGS)
Soukana (FMP)
Maiko (ATLA)
Hanvi (DB)
Nejiten (Naruto)
What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?
Probably any of the Fire Emblem or Fruits Basket fics I started drafting in 2020/2021 before I figured out how to write fic lol
What are your writing strengths?
People tell me I am good at characterization! I think I'm also good at describing a setting, a skill that I exercise often in my technical writing.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Exposition, my nemesis. A necessary evil, but it's like pulling teeth, every time.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Short answer: I just. Don't.
Longer answer: I think there's a time and place for it, and I've seen both well-executed and clunky ways of doing it. I've never seen a need for it yet in anything I've written.
What was the first fandom you wrote for?
BNHA was the first fandom I published anything for, though honourable mention goes to Fruits Basket and FE3H for convincing me that I can tell my own stories (and then get stuck trying to figure out how to write fiction woops).
What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?
Idk man I'm just vibing in my lane of erasermic et al right now
What's your favorite fic you've written?
Listen it's gotta be 9L. This fic is the reason I have made so many friends in this community. People have drawn fanart for it (one of which now lives permanently on my desk in the form of a mousepad, thank u Dragon). It is the story that got me into writing fic because it was a story that nobody else was telling, so I wrote the story that I wanted to read.
People still get to the endnotes on 9L and are like THIS IS YOUR FIRST FIC???? and yeah. I started writing fanfiction at the tender age of 28 and the first thing I decided was worth sharing is still my magnum opus. Anyone can write fic! Find a writer whose style you like, emulate it, and write the story you want to read. It's that simple.
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smalltown-babygirl · 1 year ago
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Jonathan fell back on the bed. Like the first time Steve pushed him down his breath seemed to push itself out of his chest.
Jonathan felt a brief flash to first fight between them, looking up at Steve with blood trickling down his temple. His perfect hair slightly mussed up as he straddled Jonathan right before punching him in the face.
He had looked so pretty.
Now Jonathan looked up and that old Steve had been replaced with a new Steve, his Steve. Steve wasn’t looking to hurt him, if anything he was concerned he’d been too rough. Steve was already rushing over to see if Jonathan was alright, ready to fuss over him.
Steve leans over Jonathan with an outstretched hand, and Jonathan grabs on before a sly smirk emerges from his lips and he pulls Steve on top.
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ronanlynchbf · 1 year ago
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tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY
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rawbin-hsr · 10 days ago
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OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.
You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
Aventurine x Reader
You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)
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Read part 1 here !
CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.
Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!
Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )
Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 
In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?
He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.
But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 
And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 
Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 
“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 
He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 
“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 
“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 
“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)
“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 
“Maybe we should.”
You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 
Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 
You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.
Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 
“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”
The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.
You kiss his neck. He shudders. 
“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 
Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.
“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)
“Your hand is shaking.”
It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.
(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)
“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.
“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”
Squash. Slice. Tear.
Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 
(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)
“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.
“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”
“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”
“I’ll deal with it, then.”
Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 
He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 
(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)
“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”
Cut, slice, slash.
Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.
He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 
He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 
“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”
“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”
He smiles.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
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My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro
#[rawbin]#[aventurine]#[rawbin fanfic]#[by me]#aventurine x reader#Tried some sort of weird monster metaphor by bringing up werewolf vampire and siren imagery idk if that worked out the way I wanted but -#whatever part of the process is making weird decisions and learning what did and didn't work out#Not entirely happy with this but I wasn't with the previous part either so yolo I don't have the patience to scrap this and start over#Tried to make the dialogue sound like things real actual human being would say but idk if I succeeded#Especially when reader reassures him what person actually speaks so eloquently ?? not me that's for sure#And the part where Aventurine is like “😢 i-i-i don't w-w-wanna hurt you pookiebear!!!” he would not say that straight out#but whatever I'm tired and I can tell I will not be finding the motivation to work for this one more night#plsss continue sendinf requests guys it makes me happy#Currently working on qpps Aventurine (whoever sent that request I actually love you)#(reason it's taking so long is because I've written so much in the tumblr app and my phone keeps overheating so I need to take breaks HELP)#(I've learnt my lesson and will try to stick to writing in my notes app when I suspect I might write a lot <3)#Jesus these tags are an essay sorry I just CANNOT shut up I looove speaking I love it love it love it#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine hsr#aventurine star rail#hsr aventurine#aventurine#aventurine fanfic#reader x aventurine#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr#star rail
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powerfultenderness · 1 year ago
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That Time...
That time you maybe sorta accidentally almost had phone sex with König
Rated: Mature Word Count: 2097 Notes: [Neighbor!König] 1. Chronological order? Never heard of her. 🤷‍♀️ (what happened before he left is an event for another chapter). 2. Sorry for the hiatus. IRL, you know?
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König retreated to his temporary quarters with a sigh. It had been nearly 72 hours since he had proper sleep. A few naps in a jostling humvee was nothing compared to his bed at home. Free of gear and mask, he gently laid down on the stiff bed, wishing he was at home. This mission, already supposed to be a long one, had gone haywire before he even arrived. Meaning he first had to take control of the situation before he could even attempt his mission. Lucky for him, that meant he’d get bonus pay. 
He sighed again as he flopped over on his stomach, arm dangling off the edge of the bed, and eyes drifting to the small, much too small, desk. Some paperwork and a canteen of water sat on top. In the little drawer a pen and, the most important item he carried here, his personal phone.
He blinked and pushed himself up a bit, black paint leaving a small stain in his pillow and reached for the drawer. He had to lean over a bit more to reach, but he found his phone after a few blind taps. After a quick unlock he looked at his only text conversation. Yes, only. Very few people had his personal phone number, and all but one of those contacts communicated with him solely through calls. Ever since he exchanged numbers with you, you texted him quite often. Mostly quick questions: would he like to join you for dinner? Can you stop by real quick? Things of that nature.
He actually hated texting. The keyboard was too small for his big hands and auto correct proved not to be his friend. Still, he put up with even the small amount he did for you. 
He glanced at the time, doing quick mental math to determine what time it was at home. It was late, but not too late, and you had a habit of staying up late. He could- the phone slipped in his hand and, 
Shit!
He quickly sat up as he accidentally called you, finger hovering over the button to end the call. What if you answered? He desperately wanted to hear your voice. He loved his job but,
“König?” 
His stomach flipped and his heartbeat spiked as he faintly heard your voice. He swallowed thickly and put the phone to his ear.
Your voice, slightly creaky, started to panic. “König? Is everything alright? Are you back?” 
“Yes. I’m fine, darling. No, I’m not back yet.” He answered in an even and calm voice, feeling both guilty and touched that you were so worried about him.
You sighed and there was some faint shuffling, “it’s…” you paused and he could just see you biting your bottom lip. “What’s up?” 
“I.” He swallowed nervously again. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” 
The only thing he could hear was his blood pounding in his ears as he waited for your response. 
“König?”
“Yes?”
“Do you…miss me?” Your voice pitched up teasingly; he’d heard the tone enough to know that you were grinning.
Grateful that you couldn’t see how flushed his face was, he took a moment to push himself up the bed enough to lean back against the wall. “Y-yes.” He mumbled into the phone. 
“Aww! That’s sweet!” 
“It is?” 
“Yea.”
His heart, his stomach, his blood, fluttered again as a relieved smile crossed his face. “Do you,” he licked his lips, “do you miss me?”
You coughed on the other end of the call, “uhh…welllll….”
König gasped, “you don’t miss me?!” 
“What! No! Of course I do!” 
“No. You forgot about me the moment I left, didn’t you?” He sniffled dramatically, even placed a hand over his heart even though you couldn’t see him.
“Noo, König! I DO miss you!” You half giggled as he played with you.
“Oh? Then why the pause?”
“Uhm…” 
You looked around the room. His room. You really didn’t know how to explain this without coming off as creepy. (does that mean you are, in fact, creepy?) 
König saying your name, and not one of those cutesy nicknames he often used, drew you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just. Uhm. You see.”
Now it was his turn to be worried. “What is it?”
You took a breath, “ok. I. I thought you were coming home tonight.”
He sighed, “I know, angel. I’m sorry, some unexpected-”
“No, no! That’s ok! I’m not upset about that!”
“Then what?” “I mean, I’m not upset at all!” 
“Ah. I was right. You don’t miss me.” 
“König!” 
He chuckled, “what are you trying to tell me?”
“Like I said, I thought you were coming home tonight. So I, uhm, used the key you gave me to cook dinner at your flat. I thought you might like to have dinner in the comfort of your own home.”
König’s heart thumped in his chest. In only a second the image of going home, to see you waiting for him, pampering him, feeding him, caring for him all flashed through his mind. It was an image he very much wanted. Your name quietly slipped past his lips, but you had only paused to take a breath and continued with your rambling.
“But then you didn’t and that’s fine, like, you said you were only estimating when you’d be back and then I started cleaning and, uhmm…” “Don’t tell me you burned down my flat?” 
“No!” You barked out a laugh, a little thankful that he interrupted before you could fully embarrass yourself. 
You sighed, you knew he wouldn’t drop it now. Sure enough you heard him once again asking you to just tell him. Instead you pulled your phone away from your face and turned on the camera. You snapped a quick selfie and after a breath, sent it to him. 
König’s phone buzzed in his hand just as he called your name again. He blinked and opened the text message you just sent him. His eyes widened and he quietly gasped as instead of a text, you sent a picture. It was nothing provocative, but it was you. Of you in bed. His bed. His blanket pulled up to your neck as you smiled sheepishly into the camera.
“-And then I got tired and laid down in your room.” You finished your explanation, unaware that König was still staring at the picture you sent. Unaware that he was now imagining what his life could be like if instead of staying on base after a long shift, he spent the extra time to go home and crawl into bed with you. 
“König?” You asked, voice tight with anxiety. “Are you mad at me? I’ll leave! And I’ll wash-” “No! No! I’m not mad! You can sleep there!”  Please sleep there!
“Are you sure? I get it, if I crossed a line-”
“I’m sure. Don’t leave. It’s late and it’s cold out.” 
It was late, sure, but it wasn’t cold; it was still summer. It was an excuse you both accepted.
“I am just surprised. You hate sleeping in your day clothes.” He tried to joke, to reassure you that he absolutely did not mind you sleeping in his bed. At least someone was enjoying it. Even if he did wish that he could enjoy it with you. 
You coughed nervously again, “well…”
Dear God. If you told him that you were sleeping naked in his bed? He’d abandon his post, steal a helicopter and fu-
“I kinda borrowed one of your shirts to wear as a nightgown. Is. Is that ok?” 
Oh. That made more sense than you climbing into his bed naked. He took a deep breath. “Of course, darling.”
You sighed in relief. The fact that he switched back to your normal nickname put you at ease. "Oh, good. It really makes for a comfy nightgown, so I can sleep in your comfy bed." 
You teased and chuckled at the groan he let out, assuming that it was his bed that he was missing. 
König chuckled with you, relaxing against the wall, and licked his lips as he felt another spike of anxiety flutter in his stomach. “Did you borrow a pair of my shorts too?” 
“What! No!” You laughed, “are you kidding? This shirt is so big on me, it can be a dress.” 
He closed his eyes and let his head drop against the wall. “Good. That is good.” 
“What? Why?”
He hummed as he imagined crawling into bed, flipping you onto your back so he could settle between your bare thighs, his hand grabbing a fistful of your smooth soft flesh until he was gripping your hip. 
“König?”
He froze, only now realizing how hard he was getting and where his free hand had been. He cleared his throat, “ah. It’s nothing, darling. I just want you to be comfortable.” 
“Me? How comfortable are you right now?” 
“Not very.” He answered honestly. The bed he was currently sitting on was too small for him, it was both stiff and lumpy, and the blanket was thinner than his shirt. “My couch is more comfortable than this.” 
“I mean, you do have a really comfortable couch.” 
“Hm. Especially with you on it too.” 
You blinked, stomach alight with butterflies. You must have heard him wrong, or he must have misspoke. He must have meant that his couch was more comfortable even if he had to share it with you. “Well, there is enough room for both of us.” 
“Yea.” He agreed, eyes closed as he thought about the night he left. Of the little shorts you had been wearing, so short that his hand hit the elastic of your panties before the fabric of your shorts when he “casually” dragged his hand up and down your body. “Enough for you to lie down with me.” 
You let out the quietest little gasp, a shiver running down your body as you remembered the feeling of his hands on you. “Oh. Yea…I was…kinda on top of you, though.” 
König grunted, now palming himself through his pants. He had a hard time forgetting the feeling of you grinding your hips into him. “A perfect fit.” 
That night had started out normal enough. Maybe it was the calming scent of the candle, or the steady rainfall and rolling thunder. It was not a cold night, but you still just wanted to cuddle with him. And he obliged.
You sighed over the phone, into König’s ear. He was so solid. And warm. You bit your lip, thighs clenched at the memory of his meaty thigh between your legs. 
Just a breathy whisper of his name had his eyes rolling back into his head, his free hand desperately pulling at his belt. 
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“König!” The voice of one of his men interrupted him before he could even fully undo his belt (thankfully). 
He growled and pulled the phone away from his face, “shit! What!” 
You jumped when König started yelling, there was some shuffling and more shouting. It gave you a moment to collect yourself, to realize what you were about to do, and think of an excuse to get off of this phone call.
An excuse you didn’t need, as he sighed and put the phone back up to his ear. “Listen, darling, I have to go.” 
You nodded, you expected as much after all that commotion. “Be safe.” 
“Yea. You too.” 
You stared at your phone once the call disconnected. He was always worried about you even though he was the one running into what you presumed to be an active war zone. You felt a little guilty that if things hadn't been so urgent on his side, you were about to end the call before things got even more intimate. (It was late! And you had to work in the morning!) What if you made it up to him?
Before you could chicken out, you quickly turned on the light and set your phone up on the nightstand to get a picture of you on the bed. You hadn’t borrowed one of his t-shirts, but a tank top, with a comfortable scoop neck on him. But on you? It dropped deep enough to reveal plenty of cleavage. 
Then you snapped a few pictures and choose the most flattering flirtatious one and quickly sent it to him, with the message: “thanks for letting me borrow your shirt!” 
To say that König was surprised when he returned to base was an understatement. How in the world was he supposed to concentrate on his work now?! 
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[Neighbor König Masterlist]
Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.
@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 
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oceanwithouthermoon · 9 months ago
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ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them
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griem · 3 months ago
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ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.
#opinion 😱 in tags
#our life#gb patch#gb patch games#our life beginnings & always#i also think it should be acknowledged that the white queer 'experience' and the black queer 'experience' are totally different#bc there are multiple occasions where GBLady has recieved an ask where shes accused of Something bc of a super specific issue#this whole situation is just the biggest case of GetOverYourself ive ever seen icl#i think rose is entitled to their opinion as a black trans person + a person who previously identified as a trans man#i think its easy to attack rose as an inflammatory person who 'purposely incites discourse' bc they dont use that super-pacifying#everyone is welcome on my blog tone that if not used is immediately interpreted by white people as hostility and rudeness#i don't agree with a lot of their takes that ive seen on their blog that were allegedly posted BEFORE they became a sensitivity reader#but irdgaf#bc its their personal blog and theyre entitled to their opinion and i don't believe u get to feel insulted or slighted#or deem them as unprofessional and inflammatory just bc they didnt speak to u on their personal blog as Nicely as u wanted them to#i just think this all leads back to a growing sense of entitlement in the gb patch fan community#esp among the our life fans#just bc this is a deeply customizable game doesn't mean that the dev can customize Every Single Thing to ur liking#it also doesn't mean that ignorance on the devs part or the staffs part in most capacities is purposefully discriminatory in nature#like no offence but wdym 'ur hands are shaking and u need to get offline' bc of all of This... please grow up and go outside#also This is controversial but a lot of yall use the fact that GBLady is a white cis woman who happens to b writing stories#with a very diverse and nuanced cast to railroad ur ideals on how the characters should b written#and if they don't meet Your personal experience as a member of that marginalized community then They are automatically written incorrectly#again just a very entitled community IJBOL#idgaf if u disagree come and kill me over it 🤷🏾‍♀️#but also im very curious abt what people think !! 👁#i also dk how to phrase this but the white gb patch community also Reeks of this strange entitlement and i hate to say it but . . .#Sensitivity ??#they have this weird almost parasocial relationship with GBLady + this fantastical relationship with the characters themselves#LOL idk if anybody gets what i mean
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rythyme · 1 year ago
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really not a fan of boston very explicitly saying "I want to be exclusive romantically but not sexually" only to be told "You're lying to yourself. I think you should be alone."
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