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songsofelisa · 1 year

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Unexplainable Episode 086 Internet’s Most Mysterious Song → mysterious legends

Warning: There are none! No gruesome or scary stories, just a fun one!

In the technological age we live in, any sort of knowledge exists right at our fingertips. Whether you need to figure out if you’ve seen that actor in another movie before, because you swear they look familiar, or you’re caught in a heated debate about which city has been destroyed the most in media (the answer is New York City, by the way), it only takes a quick search on the internet to figure it out. There are apps that even identify obscure music and songs by listening and immediately bringing up the title and artist.

However, what if there was a piece of media so obscure that no amount of searching and banding together could possibly identify it? Your apps are useless here and even through the collective power of people on the internet researching and diving into the mystery could not identify it. That is the case, with one such song. A song so mysterious that no one has been able to identify the name or the artists behind it. Today we dive into the mystery of the internet’s most mysterious song. This is Unexplainable.

*cue introductory music*

We set the scene in a dusty, old attic. Luisa Worthem is going through old boxes of her childhood things when she stumbles across a box of old cassette tapes. For those of you who are younger, cassette tapes came about after vinyl records but right before CDs. They had to be rewound, similar to VHS tapes, only sometimes when the ribbon was pulled at, you’d have to use a pencil to set it straight. It was tedious, but the nice thing about cassette tapes was being able to record things right off the radio. See, back in the day, so I’m told, when you wanted to get ahold of your favorite song, there was always the option of sitting by the radio, waiting for it to be played and then hitting the record button as fast as possible to capture it. Sure, sometimes you’d get the interference of an annoying radio host interrupting at the end, but at least you had your favorite song at hand whenever you wanted to listen to it on repeat. As long as you were willing to wait a few seconds in between playing it while the tape rewound, anyway.

Luisa Worthem had found one such box of these tapes, tapes that had been used to preserve and record such favorites off the radio and creating a unique playlist of what might be the an eclectic mix to some and an crazy man’s ramblings to others. Luisa began to go through them, noting some were her mixes and some were her brother’s. After all, who doesn’t love a trip down memory lane and into the land of nostalgia, right?

As Luisa listen through, there were plenty of songs she recognized, and others she didn’t. Her brother’s tapes in particular contained a mix of indie rock mixed with alternative music and slow, ethereal sounds. She wasn’t quite as familiar with his choice of music, but he had helpfully labeled many of the songs, providing a list that had the artist and name of the song corresponding with the tapes.

Except for one song. Luisa noticed that one of the tapes had question marks for both the artist and the song title. She asked her brother about this and he admitted that he had gone back a few years after having made the tapes to retroactively create his list rather than doing it at the time the tapes had been made. That was the one song he was unable to identify. It didn’t help that the quality was lacking and that many of the lyrics sounded garbled and could be hard to make out, thus making it difficult to even try to google the lyrics to identify it.

That was okay, though, because the thing about the internet is that it connects billions of people around the world, and undoubtedly one of them out there might have the answer.

It was a passing curiosity, but still Luisa went to the internet to try and identify the song. During her initial search, she posted about it, describing the time of its recording, estimated to be some time in the mid-1980s, as well as any other information that could be gleamed. She provided only a fifteen second sampling of the song. See, Luisa was worried about copyright issues and was hesitant to post the entire song. Fair enough, many video sites and even us podcasters have to be very careful with what we include lest our content be stricken down due to copyright claims.

However, after a few months, no one had an answer. Luisa herself was only marginally interested in the answer and would soon lose interest in identifying the song. But the fact of the matter was, the internet officially had a hold of this mystery and they were not giving up.

The problem was, they only had part of the song. Fifteen seconds of it. That was practically nothing! A man who was particularly keen on figuring this one out, reaching out to Luisa in hopes of acquiring a recording of the full song. Luisa, although hesitant, was eventually convinced, posting the full song, allowing the man to download it, before she deleted it.

The search would continue, Currently the song exists in its entirety out there, feel free to look out for it, and although it currently remains unidentified, I’m still not taking the risk of posting it here lest someone actually come along to claim it and get this episode taken down.

See, the problem is, the song itself is unassuming. It sounds like a lot of the rock music that was popular in the eighties at the time. If you go through every decade of music, you tend to find that there are trends and with trends, that creates similar sounding songs. After all, who hasn’t heard the opening notes of Under Pressure or Ice Ice Baby and, depending on what kind of person you are, hasn’t been immediately disappointed when you find out the song isn’t what you originally thought it was. This may not be the best example as the songs were released in entirely different decades, but the point stands that music can oftentimes sound the same, especially when being looked back on from a different era. And so, this mysterious song sounded like a lot of music from rock bands back in the eighties.

But this was recorded off a radio station. This means that there has to be some sort of record of the song and the band out there. This even means that the band and the song have to be known by people! After all, there is such a thing as One Hit Wonders, and even they get remembered year after year. Sure, they only have that one memorable song, but those are the songs people belt out in unison when they’re at a bar. One way or another, this song was featured on a radio station, which means someone out there knows this song. We know this because the full recording does include a radio DJ at the end coming in to move the program along to the next song (remembered when I mentioned that being a problem with recording off the radio?). So, naturally, the next step was to figure out the radio station who aired the song and potentially the host who might have played it in the first place.

Don’t worry, the internet got on it right away and figured out the radio station and even found the host. Turns out, the song was likely featured as part of of a radio show where the host would encourage up and coming bands to send in tapes with their original music and he would pick out the best ones to feature and air. This likely means that, being with how things are, the band likely never hit it big. They might have tried recording a few songs, sent it in to the radio station, had one of their songs played and then were immediately forgotten about. It’s sad, but it happens.

Unfortunately, despite this new development, the host no longer works for the radio station nor does he remember the song. He claims there is likely some binder somewhere with a listing that shows the band’s name and the song title, but that he no longer has access to it and who knows where those records would be now and if they were ever digitized or eventually thrown out. Don’t worry, I bet there are internet sleuths out there right now currently trying to track down the records (already having found the digitized ones online to no avail), but currently this line of inquiry is at a standstill.

This isn’t where the search ends, though. No, instead, audiophiles got to work on trying to identify unique features of the song, mainly they noticed that there was a particular synthesizer used for a brief moment that, according to them indicates a very specific keyboard was used. Apparently, the melody that can be heard is one of the preset options on the Yamaha DX7, which narrows down the time of recording. We already know the song is from the mid-1980s, but in pinpoints exactly when more specifically as this particular synthesizer was not available until 1983. This means, that the song was recorded after 1983 and narrows down that window. I will say, beyond the window of time this song was likely recorded in, not much was learned, though.

So, where is this search now? Well, as you’re listening to a podcast called Unexplainable, you likely already know that it is still ongoing. Despite the brute force of the internet, the song remains unidentified to this very day. There is a good chance one day, though, we may actually get answers to this particular mystery. No matter how small the band or its following was, there is a good chance someone out there will eventually recognize this song, if not one of the band members themselves. The nice thing is, there is a good chance everyone involved in the making of this song is still alive, and with the slow spreading of this mystery, someone somewhere will likely feel a twinge of familiarity and nostalgia when they hear it identifying it or those involved in its creation once and for all.

For now, though, this song will remain a mystery and is so far unexplainable.

Before I go, though, if you’re a music lover who likes to watch talented folk sing and serenade you on the internet with amazing covers then head on over to the YouTube channel YseultSings. No, this isn’t a sponsored plug, this is a genuine recommendation and I hope you all check it out. Who knows, maybe it’ll be one of you music lovers who eventually come together in the comments of her videos to figure out the mystery of the internet’s most mysterious song.

#unexplainable podcast*#i am gonna experiment with the format of this #as i want to focus more on in rp things #since i feel i have a good amount of stuff #rather than making it up #or basing it on real mysteries and true crime #so #if you see a future episode with bullet points #or something other than the usual format of a straight script #that's what i'm doing #also #if you noticed the header gif does show a different episode #because my laptop has been out of commission for a hot second #so just ignore that #i'll probably update it #when i get my laptop/files/photoshop back #anyway #bye

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bmpmp3 · 2 years

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in theory im very good at reading but in practice i cant read SHIT unless its in the perfect font with the perfect spacing so buying physical non-comic books is So difficult. why do online listings never put a picture of the page layout. i need to know how bad your paragraph spacing is. can i email my local bookstore and ask if they can take a pic of a page. is that allowed

#comics im mostly fine with (although ive realized i read some things like particularly manga easier than others)#(like if you tell me to read a superhero comic i'll die. mostly because of 'creative' font choices (whatever was going on in batman year 1))#(but comics with clear simple fonts and generous spacing between the text and the edges of the speech bubbles helps a lot)#(and a lot of translated manga is formatted that way so maybe thats why? just theorizing tho lol)#but with written novels im a MESS #i need large spacing around the text to the edge of the page (1.5-2cm in mass market paperbacks is okay but if a trade paperback doesnt have #at LEAST a inch or an inch and half around the text blocks i'll die irl)#i also need the font to be a good solid medium or smaller size so large print books are out for me #also the spacing between letters needs to be standard but the spacing between words and ESPECIALLY the spacing between paragraph breaks #needs to be a little bigger #USUALLY sans serif fonts are better for me but a good standard ass serif like times new roman works like as long as its clear and blocky #and the printing of the words needs to be CRISP like okay i wanted to read no longer human because of its influence #so i went to the store to check out the translated copies but then i was killed on impact when i saw how fuzzy and fucked up the text was #girl i cant read that. girl help.#AND LIKE the solution is obviously just reading more ebooks BUT I LIKE reading books physically 😔#easier to remember what books im reading and where i am in them that way jfklskfjdsa #sorry its just i love reading but my reading ability is mysterious and unpredictable HJKFLDSHJDKF #im trying to get a copy of phantom of the opera and im dying. not only are there 1000000 million translations. there is also...#100000 million different printings of the oldest public domain translation JFKLDSHJDKL:Ss #pray for me #luckily 99% of the books i read at least are from the library or borrowed from someone so i can check the font beforehand #but my library doesnt have everything RIP

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bardofavon · 26 days

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not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #tbh even if I got a comment that said ‘I hate you I’m going to kill your family’ on chapter 75 it still means they read 75 chapters first….#it just makes me sad to see so many writers shouting into the void #and also see ppl complain openly about the specific types of comments they receive #posting screenshots on Reddit like ‘should I be mad at this’ CALM DOWN #sigh

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onefey · 4 months

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oh yeah almost forgot to do this ^_^ i don't think my artstyle changed very much this year but i am pretty happy with where it's at rn!! happy new year!!

#2023 art summary #i formatted this differently than i usually do because i felt like it was too much effort to crop all these into squares...#this was also the year of the white backgrounds... or off white #art tag

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skrunksthatwunk · 10 months

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so a thing that my brain does on the reg is it makes me get nervous about a scenario (ranging from probably-won't-happen to Definitely-Won't-Happen) and then i have to spend like 40 minutes meandering my way through an improv youtube apology video until my brain feels like I've addressed the scenario about as well as i can and lets me move on. usually this comes in the form of like

you accidentally said a forbidden slur (i.e. one i can't reclaim) while streaming/in a group conversation and now have to explain that your brain misfired catastrophically hard and that you've never said this word before (true) And You Have To Do It Well Enough To Be Believed

because like. i wouldn't believe that guy either, y'know? most people in that situation just cross that bridge when they get to it and do pretty bad, so maybe my brain is trying to help prepare me via interrogation. my point is that i spend a lotta my spare time pacing in my bathroom fending off theoretical murder charges (which are either phony OR true OR a secret third thing depending on the day).

as soon as i woke up this morning my brain gave me a new one:

what if people accuse you of faking your (middling) knowledge of french? and also you're a celebrity and have to prove it by speaking french live on a talk show or something.

which like. good morning to you too, brain. the first thing i did was (slowly, mediocrely) construct an appropriately indignant sentence in my head (i haven't used french since my ap exam like a month ago) and then

BUT WHAT IF PEOPLE THINK SOMEONE FED ME THE LINE

ok we'll have the audience write in questions live

WHAT IF THEY STILL THINK IT'S RIGGED AND ALSO WHAT IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE ASKING ((<- LIKELY AND UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ROOTED IN LIVED EXPERIENCE!!!)) WHICH WOULD PROBABLY MAKE IT WORSE

girl that's The Most i can do what do you want from me.

and then once i woke up more i had a realization in that blasted out, quiet way—like an astronaut drifting away from their ship untethered, forever. that

the prognosis of taking american public high school language courses is to remember jack shit (pardon my french). it's a classic babe it's near universal. we all know we don't know.

Babygirl, (And I Cannot Express This Enough,) No One Is Ever Going To Make You Speak French Live In ~5-40 Years To Prove You Took It In High School. Go Back To Sleep. there's only like two scenarios you can think of ever where that happens and there's like a 70+% chance you can just say no or ignore it. what a weird thing to fake in the first place too who would even accuse you of that.

anyway sometimes being a citizen of Braintown is funny and not exhausting in a kind of sad clown way but it's usually just kind of awful. something something c'est la vie

#held captive to the world's saddest strangest most confused lump of meat sitting in juice getting zapped with electricity ever #i cant tell if it's hard mode scripting or if i just fully have compulsions about this in ways im only realizing now #sorry if the formatting is a bit much this used to be a big wall of text and i thought yhis would make it more digestible #anyway i have Tendencies and Thoughts i should get Evaluated For because what the shit IS that #the sentence was smth like 'je deteste le tache donnez-moi hier soir' which like. shoulda been ce soir dumbass god get it together #(<- actually just glad i haven't forgotten it. also idk if the donnez-moi is right. every time i use hyphenated verb-pronoun stuff im #flying by the seat of my pants. also i think the 'je deteste' was different but idr how so there's what i prolly woulda done instead)#FUCK IT'S LA TACHE??? GOD THEY'RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE ME #making a new tag for these:#skrunk story hour #in case you want more of my stunning 2 notes talespinning #me: oh if i have ocd it's pure. also me: (see above)#idk idk. fully not sure tbh. but the fact that they tend to align with the intrusive thought subject matter (moral concerns) doesn't seem #coincidental to me.#but then again the fear of doing wrong vs the fear of being accused/misconstrued (often justifiably) are separate (albeit fused for me)#anyway tell me you had to go lawyer mode with your parents to justify feeling/wanting anything without telling me that. yes im blaming them #it all comes back baby. you can't buy fear of confrontation this bad in stores you have to grow it yourself #oh also im not going back and tagging old story times unless i happen to see ppl interacting them and remember bc i usually didnt tag them #and it would be a nightmare to dig through like 8 months of blog for it. sorry 🫶#i know im sorry. no one likes those posts better than me so i for sure know and am sorry #rare skrunk intrusive thoughts L where i can just look at it and go girl no. not only no but absolutely not. but only after i do the #homework it gives me about it. hell on earth #etc etc. moving on now

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jamminvroomvroom · 5 months

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our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourfriendmia and 332,211 others

youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

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your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

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you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

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tempestuous-lush · 1 year

Text

perfect || steve rogers x f!reader

summary: reader breaks up with steve over insecurities regarding lack of experience. he insists she is perfect, and proves to her just how perfect she is.

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, multiple creampies, brief size kink, brief daddy kink, virgin reader, hints of a darker steve, blowjob. I think that’s it?

misc: just know, never written steve before so this is VERY new for me. I’m trying to move past my comfort zones. Also this was written on my phone, so. If the format is off that’s mostly why.

also some people I think may enjoy this, @sweetieswiftie @a-bang-for-your-bucky @grippingbeskar @castlesnchurches

You had broken up with him via text.

He didn’t respond well to that. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. So, he went to the nearest flower shop and bought a dozen brightly colored dahlias…your favorite. The next thing he had done was go out of his way to get takeout. It was your usual order from the Vietnamese place you had brought him to. Last, he stopped to get you a book. He knew you were reading a series, and decided to get you the next one in the series. Then he found himself at the door of your apartment. He was nervous. Clearing his throat, he knocked.

You pulled the door open without checking, the one thing Steve always got on you for doing. You spoke first, “Steve, I just br” -

“I brought a few things so you might let me in, and tell me why.”

This was the last conversation you were wanting to have. Yet, you knew Steve and he wouldn’t just step away. So, reluctantly, you stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. The aroma of the food he brought followed him to the kitchen, and you smiled at the thought of him going out of his way to get you one of your favorites.

Then your eyes registered flowers as he turned and offered them to you. You looked down with a shy smile before taking them from him, whispering a thanks. Steve’s eyes stayed glued to you as you walked around the tiny island to open it and pull out a vase, filling it with water to drop the flowers inside.

You decided to place the merry vase on your coffee table and as you moved them around in the vase and didn’t look at him, Steve spoke up, “So, are you going to tell me what went wrong? Because last I checked, we were doing wonderful. More than that even.”

You looked at him then, your cheeks redding as you thought of why. You hugged your arms to your torso and Steve looked at you, patiently waiting. There was a reason you broke up with him through text message and you were hoping to avoid this conversation. Desperately. Your eyes were beginning to water and you looked away. Steve stood there, still as a statue. Reluctantly, you come clean, “Look at me, Steve.”

Not understanding, a bit of a laugh escaped him before he answered, confused, “I am.”

“No…look at me. Why do you want me? No one else ever has. I’m not thin enough, not social enough, not bright enough, not…good enough.”

Steve’s face was scrunched with confusion, before he shook his head, “I’m not understanding.”

He watched as you threw your head back with a frustrated sigh. You stomped off to your bedroom in a dramatic fashion that would have been adorable under different circumstances. He bit back his smile. Then, just as swiftly as you exited, you came back and threw a magazine at him. Steve turned to the page you had dog eared and saw a photo taken of the two of you. You were walking into headquarters in streetwear. He didn’t see the issue until he saw the caption.

Captain America Dating Grunt

You watched as he read the article, words ripping you apart and pointing out everything you’ve ever had an insecurity about. When he was done, his hands made quick work of ripping the pages apart. He crossed the space between you and you stepped away, “They’re not wrong Steve…I’m not a good fit for you. Between the looks and the lack of experience, I’m not exactly batting the best.”

Steve came to a still. His blue eyes pierced through you, “You’re perfect.”

“I just…literally anyone else could be better for you. And don’t even get me started on reading everywhere in gossip columns how you should be with a model or the elusive redhead in photos that we both know is Natasha. It’s tiring.” You averted your gaze and picked at your nail beds, an old nervous habit that Steve knew was your bluff. You were lying about something. He just wasn’t sure what.

Instead of hiding it though, he called you out on it, “That’s a lie and we both know it. C’mon beautiful, those comparisons never bothered you before. I know that’s not the issue.”

You knew it wasn’t the issue, too. No, the truth was, the night before last the two of you had gotten much closer and that terrified you for more than one reason. For starters, you were already well in love with him and terrified any time he went on missions. What would happen if you became even more attached? Was it even possible? Then, what if you were bad at it? Sure, the heated kisses and level of intimacy already were wonderful, but you didn’t really know what to do besides that. And, part of you was insecure. What if he didn’t appreciate or even want the full package once it was opened?

Biting at your lip, you mumbled out, “I’ve also…never had sex.”

Steve stared at you in disbelief, his blue eyes taking in the blush on your face.

“I’m sorry?”

“God Steve, I know you heard me.” Your eyes landed on the floor. That seemed the safest option at this moment. Though part of you felt like you might spontaneously combust at any moment. Tears pricked at your eyes in embarrassment.

A small smile hinted at the corners of his lips before he cleared his throat, “I’ve only ever had sex once sweetheart. It’s not like I would have much comparison myself. What if I’m god awful?”

Your head shot up. Only once? How could that be the case? You blinked away your forming tears before sniffling, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better. Look at you. Who wouldn’t be trying for that? You’ve had to have offers.”

“Well, I didn’t get many looks before the serum, and afterwards I was a bit busy with war. It was right before I ended up on the front lines though. So, roughly eighty years ago…” he winced at the way that sounded before laughing, “And now I feel old.”

You found yourself feeling a little better. A laugh escaped you before adding, “You are…but I like that about you. You’re the only grown man I’ve met that likes to dance with me.”

“Sweetheart I will do absolutely anything with you.”

A fierce blush spread across your face and you cleared your throat, “Wanna help me eat the food you brought?”

“Only if it means you’ve rescinded the breakup.”

“I suppose I acted with haste.”

“You can say that again. And just know, I will never ask you to do something that would make you uncomfortable.” His hand found yours, engulfing your small hand in size and warmth and comfort. That was just Steve.

The two of you sat at your small table in the kitchen and ate in peace with one another. You moved to clear the table and Steve stood and began to help. You moved in comfortable silence. Though, there was an odd electricity in the air, knowing what each of you knew now. And, as he brushed your hair back and kissed you goodbye, his lips lingered on yours and you ran a hand through his hair before deepening the kiss.

He chuckled deeply as he broke the kiss, thumb stroking your cheek, speaking softly, “I have to say, there is no way you’ll be bad at it, and there is no way I won’t enjoy it. But I have to go sweetheart. Bucky and I are getting shipped out in less than an hour now, but I couldn’t leave things the way they were. You’re too important to me.”

He kissed you again on the cheek and you called out once he turned around, “Hey.”

Steve looked back at you, a smile spreading on his face as you said three words, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I will see you when I get back, yeah?”

As you nodded, your heart feeling lighter with your revelation, he left out and you softly closed the door behind him, whispering, “Be safe.”

Steve made it in record time to the military air strip, weaving in and out of traffic on his bike. When he pulled up he saw Bucky already there. Even as Steve climbed off the bike, Bucky was impatient to learn, “How did it go with your girl?”

“Well, she said she loved me for the first time…” Steve wasn’t sure how much to divulge to his best friend.

Though, over the course of the mission, Steve accidentally slipped up on just what the problem was. They were at a small cafe grabbing a bite to eat when Steve slipped up. Bucky put his food down and looked at Steve incredulous, “No, there’s no way. A girl that looks like that” -

“Hey, watch it!”

“Steve, I was just saying, I don’t believe it. There’s no way no one has really tried before.” Bucky remembered when he first met you, how if you were anyone else’s but Steve’s he would have tried to take you away.

Steve was getting uncomfortable with the conversation though and dismissed it, “No it makes sense. She spends so much time at work and in that lab. It’s the only reason I met her when I did. I was with Natasha and she brought me with her. Said she needed to pick up some new equipment. But now? She was absolutely trying to fix us up.”

Bucky nodded as he finished his meal. As Steve went to take another bite, Bucky offered his unsolicited advice, “Eat with enthusiasm.”

Steve choked a bit on his last bite and once he cleared his throat gave Bucky a shove, his friend laughing playfully.

Meanwhile, back home you paged Natasha to come and meet you in the lab. When the redhead got there, looking around as though expecting to see a reason she was there, you waved at her and stated, “Natasha I need your help.”

She walked over towards you and cocked an eyebrow when she saw your face already getting red, “Everything okay?”

“I, uh…I don’t know what to wear for an…event.”

“Okay, well, what’s the event?”

Your blush spread to your ears and you timidly showed her your phone screen. You had been looking at lingerie. It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were incredibly out of your depth. Which is when you called her in. Natasha tried to bite back a smirk but you could hear it in her voice, “And what an event it is.”

“I wanted something special but also everything I’ve found just feels a bit…”

“Much?”

You nodded, feeling relieved she understood and also kept you from over explaining.

Natasha reached below your work space and grabbed your purse and nodded to the door, “Take the lab coat off and come with me. You’re taking a personal day and I don’t think anyone will mind.”

A week later found you looking at your phone in your apartment, nervously eyeing your last text received. As much as I want to go home and shave before you see me, I missed you too much. On my way to see you.

You had slipped into what you and Natasha had settled on as soon as you received his message. To cover it, the two of you had decided on a loose fitting silk slip dress in a light pink. You tied the nude colored silk sash around your waist. It still baffled you that stockings could cost so damn much, not even acknowledging the rest of it. You had always been a mismatched sports bra and panty kind of girl. A blush spread over your cheeks as you thought of what you were wearing. Huffing, you looked up at the ceiling and spoke to no one but yourself, “Get it together, girl.” A yelp followed as a knock interrupted your self talk, and you could feel your heartbeat already beginning to race.

Walking to the door, you looked through the eyehole and your breath caught in your throat. It was Steve. You fumbled with the locks long enough for it to be noticeable. Was that sweat on your palms?

By the time you got the door open, Steve’s face held a questioning look. That was, until he drank in the sight of you. His tongue reflexively licked his bottom lip, blue eyes traveling slowly up your body until they rested on your face, “Jesus sweetheart, you look incredible. I hope you didn’t get dressed up just for me though...”

Looking down to hide the new blush erupting on your cheeks, you took a step back to let him inside.

When you looked back up, you felt your insides clench at the sight of him. He had a beard. His hair had gotten the tiniest bit longer. Something about him not looking as polished as he normally did had your stomach fluttering. That was when you realized you were just staring, your mouth slightly open and eyes glazed over with lust. Snapping yourself out of it and doing your best to ignore his knowing smirk, you cleared your throat and responded brutally honest, “You're exactly who I dressed up for.”

You winced at the way it sounded. You turned and walked away, face in hand, wondering just how red your face could get. Steve let out a sympathetic laugh before walking in behind you and closing the door. He sat on the couch as you went into the kitchen. You opened a bottle of Pinot noir and poured a rather…healthy glass. Taking a sip you called out, “Want anything to drink Steve?”

“No I’m good sweetheart.”

Letting a sigh escape, you downed the entire glass before dry heaving at the feel of so much red wine at your throat before chugging water. Walking into the living room, your eyes immediately fell on Steve.

At first you were looking at his face, tired and eyes closed. However, soon your eyes fell lower. Your mouth ran dry. You had never understood the excitement over sweatpants weather. Until now. Resting between his legs was the larg-

-“well sweetheart I came here to see you, so come over here please?”

Pulled as though by attraction alone, you found yourself standing before him before straddling his hips. Your fingers were shaking as you threaded them through his hair, whispering, “I missed you.”

Before you could think, you found your lips slowly working on his neck. A groan escaped him as you continued along his shoulder. Your hands grabbed hold on the back of his biceps before you rocked your hips slightly, experimenting.

Steve’s hands instinctively grabbed at your thighs to try and steady you, to try and slow you. You looked at him, studying the face you knew you loved more than you thought possible. His blue eyes looked at you, silently questioning. It had you thinking of what you wanted. Him. Leaning forward, you whispered softly to him as though scared anyone else might hear something so private, “I’m yours, Steve. And I want you to take what’s yours.”

The two of you stared at one another in silence, your turn to smile at the disbelief on his face. He only snapped out of it when you rocked your hips forward again. His fingers wrapped around your thighs as he stood and picked you up. A shriek of laughter at the unexpected movement escaped you before his lips found yours, your own hands weaving into his hair to eagerly return the gesture.

As Steve backed you into your bedroom door, you let go of his hair to open the handle. Just as you did and broke the kiss Steve asked you, “Seeetheart, are you sure?”

“I am sure, Steve. Just promise you’ll still love me after?” Just as you asked, your door opened and the two of you fell through. His lips were once again on yours, answering your question with a kiss.

You landed on your bed with Steve on top of you. Your legs parted for him immediately to make space and his hand ran along the outside of your thighs, pausing where the stocking gave way to soft lace. He buried his head in your neck at the same time. Possibly to hide his own blush. But then you heard his voice, teasing and affectionate, “Did you wear these for me sweetheart?”

Just as he asked you, he bucked his hips into you. Both of you were still clothed. You suddenly realized there was too much fabric in the way. And yet, the feeling of his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants elicited a moan from you. Steve nearly whines as he repeated the action, another lustful sound escaping you, before whispering, “Such pretty stockings for such a pretty girl. Gonna keep them on you, is that alright?”

There was a question. Yet, you weren’t sure what it was as Steve’s free hand caressed your face before kissing you again. The pressure on your lips was bruising but it didn’t matter. You just needed more of him. Your hands found his back, clinging to him as he continued dry humping you.

You were so quick to respond. It didn’t take long for your arousal to spread through your body, soaking your pretty nude panties and leaving a damp spot against his sweatpants. Then, the smell of you reached Steve just as he grunted at the feeling of your arousal wetting his sweatpants. You smelled divine. You felt heavenly. Now? He needed to taste.

Steve’s mouth slowly worked down your neck. You moaned as his tongue grazed over a sensitive spot on your neck that neither of you knew you had, licking along the soft line of your clavicle, before he placed a kiss between your breasts.

It was there that he paused and looked down…wanting to know what you looked like. This dress, as pretty as it was on you, was in his way. A soft smile as he glanced up to you before muttering apologies had you confused until his hands made easy work of the dress, ripping it down the middle. The soft silk pooled around your sides as he let go and his blue eyes roamed over you before huffing, “Sweetheart, I will say it again and again till you believe me. You’re perfect.”

Something shifted in him and he fell onto you, mouth hot and hungry as he explored your body. His wet tongue on the delicate lace cup of your bra as he kept rutting against you. Another moan tumbled from your lips before it turned into a desperate whine, his tongue through the fabric igniting your core.

Steve was running on autopilot now, thinking of everything he had wanted to do for so long, your pretty little sounds driving him on. His hands pulled at the cups so that you spilled out. His mouth closed over your nipple, the direct contact causing you to arch your back…getting closer to him. Cool air hit your damp nipple, causing it to peak. Steve’s mouth fell to the other, his fingers lightly pulling and twisting at the one his mouth abandoned.

That combined with the way his cock grinded against you was sending you somewhere you hadn’t been before. You had cum before but suddenly your own fingers felt so lackluster as they clutched to his back, your nails giving him pleasure in an unexpected way. And then, just when you felt yourself on the precipice, Steve’s hand came between the two of you. His mouth continued sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin and his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, the slickness of your arousal making it far too easy to slip his middle finger inside of you.

Just like that, you called out for him, your cream covering his thick digit as he pulled it from you.

You watched, equally hypnotized and mortified as he pulled back and sucked that finger into his mouth, licking it clean. A soft smile was on his face as he looked down at you, his voice coming out almost strained, “Yeah….perfect.”

It was only then that he looked down at himself, arousal evident, that same teasing affectionate voice from earlier surfacing, “And you thought I could possibly not want you, sweetheart?”

Your eyes were large as you looked at him. Timid at first, never having done this, you hooked your fingers around his waistband before pulling them down. His cock was heavy as it fell free and you were suddenly intimidated by the size of it.

On your hands and knees before him, Steve sitting back on his heels now, you slowly smeared the precum coming from his top down…surprised by just how soft the skin was.

Steve moaned at your slight touch. His head fell back, eyes shut, relishing at the tiniest amount of contact. What he wasn’t expecting was what you did next, sucking on the head of his cock while lazily dragging your hand down. A hiss escaped him before he looked at you. Your ass was in the air as you dragged your tongue around him. It was like you were teasing him with it. Come and get me.

The movement surprised both of you. You, because it felt so good to be stretched just a bit more, and him because it forced you to take about half of him into your mouth. Steve made to pull back but you were so encouraged by the noises he made that you had the opposite idea in mind. Instead, you took more of him into your mouth and Steve cried out, “Fuck!”

It sounded so unlike him, so uncharacteristic. Grunts came from him as your head moved up and down. A growl came from him. And suddenly he was giving you praise that you never expected to hear from him, “You look so pretty like this. Gonna leave that delicious cream on my fingers again, this time with my cock in your mouth, huh?”

“Oh g…Steve!” His words, his fingers, were driving you crazy.

You took him back into your mouth just as you came, the vibrations of your moans causing him to follow behind you. You eagerly sucked down everything he gave you, the taste of him salty on your tongue.

He slowly pulled his fingers from you, again watching him lick them clean. You felt your pussy flutter when he took them away, a whine escaping you that wasn’t missed by him. He helped you lay back down, your legs once again eagerly splayed open for him. A soft smile appeared on his face as he slowly ran the head of his cock along your folds, “I have a confession sweetheart.”

You were confused, “A…confession?”

“I planted a bug underneath your bed one day, a few months back, and I’ve touched myself listening to you whimpering around your fingers, knowing how much better you’d sound with your pretty pussy taking me. Does that bother you?” His confession had you more aroused than anything and you shook your head no while bucking your hips up for friction against his cock.

“After I claim your pretty little pussy, you’re mine in every way. Are you ready for that?”

You felt your pussy weeping with arousal at the anticipation of it. Frantic, you shook your head yes before barely managing to say, “Yes. M’yours.”

Steve shifted and slowly pushed his cock inside of you. You cried out at the stretch before commenting, “S’not gonna fit.”

“Oh it will sweetheart. You’ll be taking all of me soon, and then you’ll feel so good and full.”

His thumb fell on your exposed clit, the stretch he was already inflicting on your pussy giving him easy access. He rocked the first few inches back and forth inside of you while rubbing circles around your sensitive bud. Steve shuddered a bit. Even this bit inside of you felt like heaven. He screwed his eyes shut and muttered, “Gonna cum already sweetheart. Feel so good. Are you…oh god.”

He couldn’t finish asking if you were on birth control before his cum was filling you, his still hard cock pulsing inside of you. Steve bent his head down and took one of your nipples in his mouth, pushing further inside of you. You moaned at the sensation before begging, “Fill me with your cock Steve. I’m ready. I - oh fuck - I need you.”

In one fluid motion he pulled you up as he sat back, impaling you on his cock. You cried out at the sensation before instinctively rocked your hips with a moan, settling skin to skin.

Steve held your face with his hands, checking in, “Is everything alright sweetheart?”

You nodded before commenting, “I never expected something to feel so right.”

“Gonna lay you down now sweetheart so I can see my cock fucking you. I’ve wanted it for too long.”

He kissed you deeply before laying you back down and leaning back. He pulled out of you, his semen from before spilling from you, before he pushed back in and watched a bulge in your lower stomach appear. He slowly rocked before pressing on the area where his cock was moving, causing you to spasm with pleasure. Excited by your response he picked up the pace, “That’s my cock deep inside you sweetheart.”

The words escaped you before you realized but it didn’t matter. Steve had heard you before when he listened in…your pretty little voice begging. He didn’t expect you to feel so comfortable so soon though, “Feel so good buried in me daddy.”

Steven doubled his effort at your revelation, fucking away any doubt that what you said was wrong. At his sudden increase you felt your orgasm hit you. You were calling out for him, skin slicked with sweat, nails scratching along his back. Steve swallowed your cries hungrily as he leaned over to kiss you, his second orgasm rushing over him. He gasped out, “G-gonna cum sweetheart. Gonna fill your pretty little pussy with me.”

“Gonna fill me up till I can’t hold anymore daddy?”

Steve growled out, “Fuck.”

At that, he shot his cum deep inside of you, stilling for a moment with his blue eyes fixated on you, “See? Fucking perfect. And mine.”

As he claimed you with words you felt his cock stir inside of you once again.

“Yours. Only yours, Steve.”

As he drove his hips into you, he hung his head, “I was so eager, I forgot to…eat with enthusiasm .”

Feeling emboldened, you used his moment of uncertainty to flip him to his back…sinking down onto him just the slightest bit more. You looked down at him before rolling your hips, “Plenty of time later, Steve. I’ve waited too long for this.”

The two of you spent the next few hours like this until finally, your pussy was too tired, too bruised.

You lay there in the bed, your leg and arm over him with your head on his chest. All of his cum was slowly leaking from you and down your thighs, though there were also splattered with it from him fucking your breasts too. He traced an imaginary pattern on your back as he whispered, “I love you so much, sweetheart. I’m yours.”

A chill ran down your back for some reason as he added, “And you’re mine.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #captain america smut

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fateandloveentwined · 9 months

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wuxia, xianxia, and cultivation differences meta

translations: wuxia 武俠, xianxia 仙俠, and cultivation 修真/修仙 (xīuzhēn/xīuxiān)

think i've seen posts on this eons ago, and i'm pretty sure there are tons of these online, but since this has been written up already let's just have another one.

wuxia 武俠

wuxia and xianxia sound similar, but basically for wuxia it is about the pugilistic world (江湖 jiānghú). It is relatively more down-to-earth, and people practice martial arts ("kungfu") in their current life -- they do not do it to become xians (仙) and gods (神) however.

Like Thousand Autumns and Faraway Wanderers/Word of Honor, it has more historical background and ties to the current court and kingdoms, because people are living in the moment and concern themselves with worldly issues.

Martial arts may seem unrealistic, but in view of chinese fantasy it would be considered "real". It consists of fighting moves and internal energy, which they call qi or nèigōng (內功), and at times you see people flying around, climbing hills and jumping across rooftops which is qīnggōng (輕功).

xianxia 仙俠

A level up would be xianxia, where characters in the story cultivate to become xians (and gods, like in the heaven official's blessing). They don't really care about earthly issues here now, because their ambitions lie beyond the current world, and cultivation, getting stronger, and an immortal life are majorly all their goals.

You may not always see them working towards that purpose, such as in mdzs they are considered a lower-xianxia society (低魔), meaning people don't go through all the steps of cultivation and only stay at the stage before the "golden core" stage.

In xianxia, characters still learn basic fighting moves aka. martial arts, but to direct the internal energy they use línglì (灵力), zhēnqì (真气), and fǎlì (法力), all xianxia terms you commonly see. "neigong" is practically nonexistent in this genre. That's why people building up their "neigong" instead of "lingli" are likely never going to be able to cultivate.

cultivation 修真/修仙

A subgenre in the xianxia category would be cultivation. Characters actively go through the stages of cultivation, and likely for the MC, because they are the main character, they successfully become a xian and exit the world at the end of the novel.

There are many stages of cultivation, usually defined at the beginning of the novel in the synopsis, and a typical example of the different levels would be this:

练气，筑基，金丹，元婴，化神，炼虚，合体，大乘，渡劫

And with a cursory search, an English translation would be something like this, albeit not with all the cultivation ranks identified.

Qi condensation (练气), Foundation establishment (筑基), Core Formation (金丹), Nascent Soul (元婴), and the names after that vary too greatly with translation and fandom so I'll jump straight to Immortal Ascension

extra info: getting into the philosophy of it all

It'd be interesting to note that the word "xiá" (俠) permeates all these genres. This is something akin to the concept of "hero", but not at all also, and I'd love to speak more on this but this post has already gone way longer than I hoped it would be, so perhaps another day.

Regardless, it is interesting to note that wuxia has a greater emphasis on "xia" than xianxia. (some joke that cultivation doesn't have the word "xia" in it, and much of that is because characters have foregone heroism and focused on gaining powers and working towards ascension instead). As a result, wuxia is more confucianism-oriented, though not without its taoism and buddhism influences.

xianxia, on the other hand, is mainly derived from "dào" (道), from taoism, which is another lengthy concept if I ever get to it.

And some may have heard of the "farming" genre, 种田 (zhòngtián). This has to do with golden fingers (mary sues) in imperialistic china, earning a wealth of money, and all that. It has nothing to do with cultivation, alike they sound in english.

that's it for now, hmu if you wish to ask/discuss!

(and apologies for the pinyin translations, hope it's understandable still! formally writing pinyin they are supposed to be two separate words not one.)

#danmei #mdzs #word of honor #cdrama #thousand autumns #cnovel #wuxia #xianxia #cultivation novel #chinese language #chinese #fate's meta

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

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Almost made Adam Headcanon Yandere? You need to do it!!

ᯓ★ "Cus You're Mine, All Mine." (no shit I love you!) Yandere! Adam / Reader ignore my trying a little bit of a diff format

ᯓ Yandere! Adam and regular Adam honestly have a lot of parrels, at least in my mind they do, but they also have some key differences. They're both quiet obsessive and possessive in their own rights, and they both try and hide it. Yet, while regular Adam will be the type to completely deny his habits, Yandere! Adam will be quiet proud of them. "It made you stay, no?" He would ask with a cheeky, wide spread smirk on his mask. He stood behind you, your reflects seen on the dead screen of the TV, as his hands rested on your shoulder before trailing down to wrap around your waist. You could feel the claws of his hands slowly trail down, almost like they were touching your bare skin when you knew better; They weren't, at least not in this second, and yet it still felt as intoxicating as when Adam's hands did trail on your bare skin. It was almost his way of claiming you as his, outside of fucking you, and his gentle yet firm touch always got you. Even as you swallowed down some silva that formed in your mouth out of some unquenched nerves in your stomach, you felt safe with Adam. Even if his grin, which now laid next to your face as Adam rested his chin on your vacant shoulder, was slightly unnerving as he admitted to a usually bad habit. "And if I can keep you away from everyone who would want to take you from me.." Adam's husk voice whispered in your ear, "Than I think I'm doing my fucking job right. Wouldn't you agree?"

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who just always happens to know where you'll be and is there waiting for you; Not like he stalks you, of course not (he doesn't have to do that anymore),he just always has a similar schedule! Not like it's creepy or anything, most of the time he just knows you are longing for his company (like he's longing for yours) or just wants to make sure you're safe! Which is a no brainer why Adam was currently sitting at a nearby table, watching as you and Azrael, the Angel of Death, got some smoothies at a nearby shop. Neither of you had noticed him yet, he had made sure of that. He didn't want Azrael, and his god forbidden good senses, to pick up on him as he followed you both from the court room; And he didn't want Azrael to pick up on him now. It wasn't like Adam didn't trust Azrael, he was an angel and you could be in much bigger danger (like hanging out with a demon in hell!). Yet, out of all the Angels, Adam always had an yucky feeling about Azrael; He was always rather quiet and solemn, keeping to himself, yet seemed just peachy chatting with you and hanging out with you and no one else. Public or not it just rubbed Adam the wrong way. He better not be trying anything. Everyone should see you in the light Adam does, but no one had the pleasure of taking you home other than him. And that was a fact, whether Azrael wanted to admit it or not.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who is somehow both egoistical and yet insecure, despite all the conflicts they provide. You can tell, after being around Adam for so long, when he gets jealous of other people you hang around. He'll never out right tell you, unless someone crosses a big line, but you can always see the slight scowl or pout on his lips, even behind the mask, and you get the hint to get to his side soon. Now, it's important to clarify, you go to his side out of free will, he's not dragging you there unless someone is touching you in ways they shouldn't; And even then, Adam is only dragging you back behind him and square punching the sucker in the face for even thinking they had the privilege to touch you! Adam will shit talk the guy who tried to get close to you when you come over him, saying how he was much better for several reasons (one being that he was the original dick, and thus he would always be better than any man or women) but would oddly enough point out things you didn't notice. Such as, the way they dressed, the way they carried themselves, their tone of voice, who they kept going to, and he would go on and on until your vision of that person is tainted. And he would snicker to himself as you sit down next to him, allowing him to drag you on his lap, as he knew he successfully managed to warrant away another competitor for your love.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who knew, since day one, he wanted you and only you. It made Lute a little disturbed how quickly Adam had catch your figure in the crowd and instantly began to ask questions about you. Lute was sure you had gotten to Heaven in that week, she hadn't seen you around before, and yet that didn't seem to deter Adam. "So, I figured out who that hot Babe was from yesterday," Adam would tell Lute the next day as they sat upon the council, waiting for the next hearing. Curious, and a tad amused (as she didn't believe him), Lute would roll her eyes and amuse him. "Oh, really?" She would mumble, resting her elbow on the railing and her cheek against her fist. "Who is she then?" And Lute was certain she almost fell off of her seat in shock when Adam began to list your name, the mortal age you died and how, when you got to heaven, where you were living in heaven, possible family members, and some basic information about what you liked and didn't and your current favorite place in Heaven. She was sure Adam had gone insane, at least until he noticed and quickly gave her a cover story: He simply had met you in one of his favorite lunch places and you began talking and you two just clicked.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who will never, ever, hurt you or anyone you care about yet take out his frustrations on the sinners of hell. Too many times have Lute had to watch, and listen, as Adam completely shredded through Sinners like they were nothing yet flies under his shoe while ranting about the last person you hang out with that got just a little too close. Lute was sure that if this kept up, Adam would not only violate some of the agreement terms that were laid with Lucifer, yet he would obliterate the overpopulation problem by killing the sinners, basically, single-handily. She wouldn't admit it yet it terrifies her a little how deep rooted Adam's love for you is, that she subconsciously began to distance herself from you just to not get on his shit list.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who, after a long day of work, wants nothing more than to come home and lay in your arms all comfortable; And who is surprised, when walking through his apartment door with his guitar in hand, to see you sitting in wait at the kitchen island. "Adam, Honey, you're home!" You would chirp, shuffling off the bar stool and rushing over to his side; Letting out a soft bit of laughter as you noticed his slightly shocked look. Gently, you would take his guitar from him, asking in your ever sweet voice how his day was and if he managed to help keep Heaven safe. He wasn't sure why you had such an effect on his heart like this, on his whole body. Your single touch made Adam feel more alive than he did when he had been alive. Your sweet voice was like music in his ears and a drug he could never get enough of. And fuck your lips, Adam was sure he could kiss them for ever if you would let him. And so, when you reached up to take his mask off him, he would stop you. You were perplexed, a little shocked, as Adam raised his hands up to cup over your hands once they cupped his cheeks. Yet, upon seeing his face, the way it relaxed almost instantly upon your touch, all you could do was smile softly up at him. "Honey, come on, let's go sit on the couch and you can tell me everything that happened.." You would whisper softly to him, coaxing him to come and rest his body after a long day of work. And how could he say no to his darling? After this lovely, warming welcome, Adam felt like he should be the one praising and giving you such attention you bask on him.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who waits on foot and knee if you ever need him. Yandere! Adam who would do anything to keep you with him, and only for him. Yandere! Adam who has charmed most of your friends and family. Yandere! Adam who doesn't force you to do anything but might play with your thoughts a little to get his way. Yandere! Adam who loves you more than he ever loved Lilith and Eve and makes sure you know it. Yandere! Adam who thinks, and half believes, he doesn't deserve someone like you and is selfish for handing you all to himself. Yet, also in turn, Yandere! Adam who might just die or go insane if he cannot bask in your love and affection.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam.. oh boy do you have your hands full with having him as your lover.

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ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #not proof read #yandere x reader #yandere x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x you #yandere!adam x reader #yandere! adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lute

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h0rnyauth0r · 1 year

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ghost never noticed just how much you squirm when he talks until now :)

i apologize for my break but i needed it and i should be back for now! (also this was a requested work!)

word count: 3.3k

tws: blindfolding, voice kink, unprotected sex, reader with a vagina, pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, cumming inside

ghost would like to say that he’s an observant person. he kind of has to be with his career, but when it comes to you he feels like it’s impossible to understand anything. you seem so shy around him and he doesn’t know if it’s because he did something wrong or if you’re just shy.

he’s interested in you, to say the least. you’ve been a member in the force for several months now, only speaking to him on occasions where it’s absolutely necessary. it’s certainly different from soap, who doesn’t shut the hell up.

something is definitely off though. it’s the way that you react to him sometimes. most of the time there’s only professionalism, a firm stature that screams confidence and seriousness, but other times…

he just notices the way your body shudders when he’s speaking to you. is it fear? some sort of arousal? he can’t be certain at this point in time, but he has added this observation onto his list of things he wants to learn about you.

tonight you’ll be doing training with soap, and he’s decided that he’d like to join even if it means he’s just standing there doing nothing. he wants to test your reactions to try to understand you better.

you, on the other hand, have no idea about that. you’ve been more focused on trying to get your punches down after dislocating your thumb during a mission a few weeks ago. you almost died because you didn’t punch right, so soap offered to help teach you how to throw them without injuring yourself too bad.

as you’re on your way to the training room, you can overhear soap talking with someone. it intrigues you, how whispered and rushed his words are. so you decide to stop walking to avoid confusing him as you listen in.

“are you sure about joining us? you know, she’s quite shy around you. she might not be able to learn a lot if the man who makes her stutter is around!” his voice sounds frustrated, and you feel your whole body become flushed once you process his words.

so, ghost wants to join in on the training session? that doesn’t make sense, and the worst part of it is that soap somehow noticed that you have a crush on the older man. you avoided him so much, but you figure that’s probably what made it more obvious.

you suck it up and push forward, walking down the hallway and approaching the room. most of the usual training dummies have been put away, mats placed on the floor with only one of the larger dummies placed to the left of the mats.

soap is standing in there by the dummy, ghost standing a few feet away from him with his arms crossed. you won’t back down and shy away today, you’ve decided. you’re truly hoping he doesn’t say a single word though.

soap notices you as soon as you shut the doors, waving you over with a grin on his face. “i decided that you can use the dummy and we can practice using myself as well, i just want to test out the dummy first so we can get your formation down.”

you nod, looking over to ghost to see him staring at you already. “hi, lieutenant.” you say to him, turning back to soap and getting prepared for the training session.

“hello.”

after a little while, you’ve gotten the basics down better than before. your issue was mainly not throwing punches properly, which led to your thumb being in the line of your shots too. soap helps you adjust accordingly, finally landing punches that only affect your knuckles rather than your thumbs.

soap announces that he has to use the restroom and excuses himself, leaving you alone with ghost. you decide to not say anything, opting to focus on punching the dummy in front of you rather than focus on him.

“you’re doing good.” his voice comes from right next to you, startling you and causing you to jump slightly as you look over at him.

“thank you.” you say, looking down at your now seemingly bruised knuckles and rubbing them gently with your other hand. they hurt pretty bad, but you know that soap will probably ask you to keep going for a little while longer so you’re more prepared.

you notice his shadow loom over you as he gets closer, a hand reaching out and grasping onto your bruised one. “you know, this will get a lot less intense over time. the more you train, the less it’ll hurt.” his voice is right in your ear, causing your eyes to shut as you try your best to not make anything obvious.

everything about his voice just gets you going. from his accent, to how it sounds when he’s calm versus yelling. no matter what he does, his voice makes you melt and turns your panties into a sopping mess within just seconds.

his hand drops yours, causing you to open your eyes as you look at him. he’s looking at you intensely, eyes filled with emotion you can’t read. your whole face feels hot, though, and you’re almost ashamed to even look at him.

he knows what he does to you, and he’s going to be doing it on purpose now.

you opt to ignore him, waiting impatiently until soap finally comes back into the room with a fresh bottle of water and a sheepish smile on his face. he senses the tension in the room, but doesn’t mention it at all since he knows it’d be awkward.

the three of you remain in the room for some time longer, before eventually an hour has passed and it’s time to leave and focus on other things. there’s an upcoming mission you’ll be going on, so you decide to spend some time with gaz to figure out the details.

your walk in the dark is mildly terrifying. the light heading towards the building where gaz stays is limited, several areas of shadows that cause your vision to be impaired. you don't feel right, an anxiety developing that normally isn't present.

several vehicles leave gaps in between certain spots, a feeling of someone following you causing you to stop in your tracks and take a look around.

nothing.

you sigh in relief. it must be some sort of paranoia from how tired you are after training. you did break quite a sweat, which was made worse with ghost’s gleaming eyes on you for the majority of the time you had been in the room.

you decide to continue forward-

but something stops you, from the shadows. a small reflection of someone’s eyes, a large figure looming in between two large trucks. your heart begins to pound harshly, quickly trying to make a break towards the building so you can find some sort of defense against the figure.

but you’re stopped, large hand grabbing and pulling you back into the shadows. you let out a scream, adrenaline pumping as you kick and punch as hard as you can muster. a low grunt is all you hear, an ease in the way the figure carries you away.

something is put over your eyes, a blindfold perhaps? you’re shaking now, being led to who knows where in the darkness and you can’t even be sure if anyone will ever find you. you’re certain that death looms closely now, deciding to just give up because no amount of force is stopping this human wall from taking you.

you want to cry but stay strong, keeping a cold and stoic appearance (you think at least) as you’re finally let go of in what you think is a small building nearby. wouldn’t this person have locked you in a car or something? why here? you’re confused now, not understanding what’s going on.

“you don’t need to kick so hard.”

you feel embarrassed as the voice speaks. of course it’s him. but why you’re blindfolded, you still don’t understand. ghost is probably trying to prepare you for something, maybe a training on how to escape a kidnapper.

he keeps your arms pressed tightly against your back, though. not a single ounce of movement on his end, just the heat of his body near yours in the dark.

“where are we?” you ask, trying to move your arm with no luck present in him leaving you be.

“nowhere that matters right now.”

you feel kind of nervous. this man has saved you many times before working together. you can’t help but feel in your gut that he may somehow be plotting your murder or disappearance with the way he’s acting.

not having any sights of what’s going on has led to the smallest of noises feeling so much louder, so you’re flustered when you can hear and feel his breath right at your ears.

“an annoying bird has told me that you’re interested in me. and my observations seem to have proven him right.” he whispers lowly, hotness of his breath brushing against your skin slightly.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on now. his voice makes you unbelievably wet, and you don’t understand how you’re not dreaming right now.

the heat that has developed between your thighs is almost burning, a desire bubbling up in your abdomen that has you almost shaking. “hmm, see? you’re not too great at hiding that, love.”

you clench your jaw, sucking in a deep breath. you have goosebumps along your whole body, the cool air around you making the feelings of his warmth so much more intense.

“now, i’m going to let your arms go. but if you even move a muscle i will leave you here alone and we won’t speak again. got it?” you nod hastily at his words, feeling his arms finally release the tight grip on you that makes your shoulders and arms crack lightly.

he shuffles around the room, and you can hear as he leans down and abruptly has your pants tugged down slightly. the cool air hits your panties, making you shiver. one of his hands grasps onto your thighs tightly, squeezing and slowly working its way up.

you realize he’s down on his knees in front of you when he easily slides your panties down too, now at your ankles with your pants. you’re absolutely dripping, feeling wetness leak down your thighs to where his hands are.

that’s when he lets out a soft, amused laugh. “so wet already and i haven’t even touched you? you’re desperate.” he says, a single finger pushing between your folds and gathering up wetness.

you can hear the way his fingers move, entering his mouth with a soft squelch. the way your face heats up when you realize he’s unmasked sends you reeling for more, wanting him to do anything to you now.

“you’re in luck, as i’m desperate as well.” he whispers, making you bite down on your bottom lip tightly. the heat of his words is close to your pussy now, a light blow of his breath against your clit.

you’re trying hard not to move, staying so completely still despite the shake in your bones. “please…” you whisper, wanting him to touch you or just something.

when his tongue laps right up your folds, you inhale sharply, eyes clenched shut despite the blindfold on your body. a small and quiet moan breaks through your lips when he pushes a finger in, curling it into you as he blows air onto your clit.

“please what? you want me to make you cum?” he asks, and you nod desperately as his finger stays still.

he smacks your clit with his other hand, making you cry out and tears sting at the corners of your eyes. you feel disgusting for finding that so pleasurable. “use. your. words.” his voice is quiet, and you inhale sharply.

“yes. please make me cum.” you mumble out quickly, words rushed and almost slurred. he hums in approval at that, finger moving in and out again and sending your mind straight to the gutter.

light squelching sounds turn louder once he adds two more fingers, stretching you out as his lips latch onto your clit. you’re almost in disbelief from how good it feels, eyes rolling back and legs shaking. you almost feel like you could fall over, but one of his hands remains on your hip to reassure you that you won’t.

your orgasm builds steadily, arms remaining tucked at your sides out of fear that his words were true. you can’t just let this end now, now when he’s eating you out like his life depends on it. he’s so skilled at what he’s doing that you can barely contain your composure.

you know you’re going to cum soon after he starts getting rougher, wetness becoming more and more until it’s almost so loud you can’t hear anything else. when his mouth leaves you and he starts talking again, that’s what sends you over the edge.

“such a pretty pussy. you’re so good for me, you know that?” he says quietly, thumb swiping at your clit and making your spine tingle.

“i can feel how close you are. go on. cum for me.” the raspiness in his tone has you moaning out, orgasm crashing through you as your walls clench around his fingers. you can’t think straight, mind becoming absolutely fried as he continues finger fucking you through your high.

your hips are shaking as his fingers slide out, a small dripping noise of your arousal hitting the floor below you. you hear him stand up, arms gripping your waist as he pushes your body into his.

his nose brushes up against your own, and you force the gap closed with urgency. you can’t keep away from him anymore, not now. his lips move against yours roughly, tongue forcing itself into your mouth.

you push your hips against his, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans and, more importantly, the feeling of his hard cock against you. you can even feel how big he is, and you know it’ll make you sore later. just the thought of that has you soaked again, lips leaving his for a moment for air as your heart rate picks up.

“i’m not done yet.” he whispers in your ear, pushing his lips onto yours again.

and just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter.

as you kiss, he leads you to the wall. it’s cold, pressing into your ass hard as he leans further into you. his hips grind into your naked bottom half, the mild overstimulation making you mewl against his lips.

you’re basically heaving, barely able to breathe when his lips leave yours. “you ready?” he asks, and you mumble out ‘yes’ as he fumbles with his belt and eventually tugs his pants and boxers down.

you can’t see his cock, but you imagine it’d be nice and pretty. you can hear him stroke it a few times before it’s pressed against your folds, sliding up and down and making you bite your lip in anticipation. the tip feels big against you, just the right amount of stimulation to make you want him to fuck your brains out.

the tip presses into you, making your hips twitch from shock as your nails dig into your palms. as he slides in, your mouth falls open and you moan shakily. “fuck, you’re tighter than i thought you’d be. such a nice cunt.” he says, hips bumping into yours as he bottoms out.

tears stream down your face from the feeling of fullness, so overwhelming but you already can’t get enough of him. the tip just barely grazes your cervix, and when he slowly begins thrusting it slaps against it over and over again. it’s painful, but you love that.

he decides to lift you up by the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around him and the new angle feeling more pleasurable as he fucks you into the wall harshly. his hands are squeezing your ass, lips finding their way to your neck as he bites down on your skin roughly.

he moves at a steady pace, cock hitting all the right places that send you closer and closer to your peak. his movements are hard, dick ramming into you in a manner that makes you finally move your hands and grip onto his hair.

“fuck.” he mutters, hips picking up speed as he kisses you again. small noises leave his mouth, muffled by your lips but still so hot to hear coming from him. he sounds so good to you, his grunts and groans causing your pussy to clench against him.

he fucks into you harder and harder, the stimulation of his groin smacking into your clit making you feel as if you’re melting. the way your eyes have rolled back again, clit throbbing from the stimulation, you know you’ll probably cum soon.

“touch yourself for me.” he says, a small break between your kisses. you comply instantaneously, fingers reaching down and circling your clit and smacking harder against yourself from his thrusts hitting your hands.

his lips separate from yours, leaning towards your ear and biting down on your earlobe. the stimulation of that causes your fingers to start moving faster.

the feeling of your fingers is what sends you reeling, a loud moan escaping as you finally cum for a second time. “fuck, just like that. cum like the desperate slut you are.” he mumbles in your ear, making you cry out again.

his hips don’t falter for even a second as you hear him inhale sharply, small grunts leaning his mouth as his hands slap into the wall behind you. “gonna cum in you. i think you can take it.” he mutters, words making you feel like you could explode right now.

“please.” your voice cracks.

he finally cums afterwards, ropes of it warming your insides as his hips stutter into you. he rides out his high with a few more thrusts, gentle noises finally being let out again as he slowly comes to a stop.

he pulls out after a few moments, cum leaking out of you and streaming down your thighs. you stand still for a moment, not sure of what to do now.

"you can take the blindfold off now." he says, and you decide to do so.

you still can't see great once it's off, the room very dark with minimal lighting coming from the occasional light outside shining into the windows. but you glance over to ghost anyways, noticing that he still kept his mask off in front of you. while you can't see too well, you smile anyways in adoration.

"as handsome as soap always claims." you say to him, hearing him sigh out as he shakes his head. his hand smacks your ass and he pulls his pants back up, a grin forming on your face as you gather your clothes back onto yourself as well. your thighs and cunt are sore, but you feel almost floaty despite the pain.

"of course you'd think that." he mutters, noticing the way you're off balance as you pull your pants up and over your thighs. one of his arms reaches out for you to help balance you and you thank him quietly before standing upright and looking him up and down.

"so, an annoying bird?" you ask.

"quite annoying. certainly not wrong though."

as you go your separate ways that night, you can't contain your excitement. gaz can immediately tell what took you so long when he sees your messed up hair and crooked smile, but he doesn't bother to say anything. you've talked about ghost for months, he's just glad you finally got it over with.

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