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kinascum · 11 hours

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mamá of course!! I'd never thought of that, tysm!!!

CHARMED - A. BUTLER

SUMMARY: y/n, an interviewer at Variety, scores an interview with Austin Butler. As the cameras roll, Austin's subtle flirtation leaves her flustered and off-balance. Despite her best efforts to stay professional, his playful comments and lingering glances spark a chemistry neither expected.

WARNINGS: none

You sit in the quiet of the Variety office, surrounded by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clack of a keyboard echoing through the open-plan space. Your heart beats a little faster than usual today as you prepare for the interview of a lifetime. The email with the subject line "Austin Butler Interview: Confirmed" still sits open on your screen, a stark reminder of the excitement and nerves you've been juggling since you read it. You've done this before, of course, but something about Austin feels different. Maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to look right into your soul in every magazine cover, or the way his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine when you watch his interviews. You're a journalist with a knack for making even the most guarded celebrities open up, but you're not immune to the charm of Hollywood's golden boys.

The clock ticks closer to the scheduled time, and you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your blouse and taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You've spent hours researching his career, from his early days on the small screen to his breakthrough performance as the king of rock 'n' roll. You've rehearsed your questions, honed them to perfection, and now all that's left is to wait for the moment when he walks through the door.

When he does, it's like the air in the room shifts. He's taller than you expected, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him. He's dressed casually, but it looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread, his jeans fitting just right, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple white tee. His eyes scan the room, and when they land on you, you feel a jolt of energy. He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that reaches his eyes, and you can't help but return it, feeling a little bit like you're melting.

You extend a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm but gentle. His skin is warm, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of his touch. "Y/N," he says, as if he's known you for years, not minutes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice is like a caress, and you blush, hoping it's not too obvious. You've always been a little shy around the people you admire, and the fact that he's looking at you with such kindness isn't helping your nerves.

As you lead him to the interview set, you notice the way his boots scuff the floor, the quiet confidence in his stride. He seems to be at ease in his own skin, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around you. You offer him a seat and take yours opposite, placing your notebook and pen on the table. You've done this a hundred times before, but today, your hand trembles ever so slightly. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you thought you'd outgrown, and try to remember to breathe. The cameras start to roll, and you're aware of every little detail: the sound of the film crew moving around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the background, the way the lights cast a gentle glow on Austin's face.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "So," he begins, his voice like a purr. "What's the first question you've been dying to ask me?"

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You clear it, hoping he doesn't notice, and glance down at your notes. But as you look back up, you realize that the question you've so carefully prepared isn't what you want to ask anymore. There's something about the way he's looking at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before. And in that moment, you know that this interview is going to be unlike any other.

You take a deep breath and dive in, asking him about his preparation for his latest role, one that's earned him critical acclaim and a slew of award nominations. His eyes light up, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to those intense days and nights spent becoming someone else. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, his voice deep and resonant as he recounts the hours of research, the months of practice, the moments of doubt and triumph. You're captivated by his dedication, his passion for his craft shining through every word.

As you listen, you find yourself leaning in, hanging on to every syllable. His words paint a vivid picture of his journey, and you're drawn into the story as if you were there with him. You ask follow-up questions, eager to learn more, and he responds with the same thoughtfulness, never rushing, always choosing his words with care. His honesty is refreshing, and you can't help but admire the way he's handled the pressures of stardom with such grace.

But then his gaze starts lingering on you a beat too long, and when he smiles, it's a smile that says he's not just talking about the movie anymore, and suddenly, the air in the room feels charged with electricity. You blush, your cheeks grow warm, and you feel your heart race in your chest. Your hand fidgets with the pen, and you realize you're playing with your hair again, a nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in high school. But with Austin, you're feeling anything but professional.

He leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and asks you a question about your own work, your favorite stories, your dreams. And you find yourself opening up to him, sharing things you never thought you'd say out loud, let alone on camera. His voice is a gentle coax, drawing you out of your shell, making you feel as if you're the most interesting person in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

The conversation flows like a river, twisting and turning through topics of art, life, and love. His stories are peppered with laughter, and you find yourself smiling more than you ever have in an interview. His hand reaches out, resting on the arm of your chair, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric as he pulls your chair closer to his. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt through your body, making you aware of every inch of space between you as you catch a glimpse of how his muscles flex under the studio lights.

You notice the way his fingers tap against the chair, a subtle beat that matches the rhythm of your heart. His eyes, so blue and deep, seem to see right through you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read your thoughts. You realize you're not just asking questions anymore; you're exchanging glances, sharing silent moments filled with understanding. The chemistry between you is palpable, and the crew seems to have melted into the background, leaving just the two of you in the spotlight.

The interview comes to a close, but the energy between you and Austin doesn't dissipate. As the crew starts to pack up, he lingers, his hand still resting on the arm of your chair. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That was one of the best interviews I've had in a long time." You blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was an honor."

He stands, and you follow suit, the space between you closing as you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the traffic. His eyes never leave yours, and you can't help but feel like there's something unspoken hanging in the air. He's charismatic, down-to-earth, and thoughtful—everything you've read about him, but seeing it up close is like experiencing the gravity of a star for the first time. His words come out measured and deliberate, each one chosen with care, as if he's afraid of saying too much or too little.

As you walk him out, the quiet of the office seems to amplify the sound of your shoes on the floor. The lights seem to dim, and the world outside the glass walls fades away. You find yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to dance when he smiles. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees wobble. "Y/N," he says, and the way he says your name feels like a secret shared between the two of you. "Could I interest you in a drink? To celebrate a successful interview?" His words are followed by a cheeky grin as he addresses you in an overly formal manner.

You're surprised by the invitation, but something in his tone tells you that it's more than just a professional courtesy. You hesitate, your heart racing as you laugh nervously. You've never mixed business with pleasure before, but the way he's looking at you, the way his thumb brushes against the back of your hand as he holds the door open, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You nod, trying to sound casual. "Sure, I'd love that."

The bar he chooses is dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers are the loudest sounds and secrets feel safe. He orders a whiskey neat, and you ask for a glass of wine. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the way the light plays with the shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He talks about his love for music, the way it's shaped him as a person and an actor, and you listen, enraptured. His passion is contagious, and you find yourself sharing stories from your own life, things you rarely speak of outside of your closest friends.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol, and you realize that you're not just talking about work anymore. You're laughing, sharing, connecting in a way you never have with an interview subject. His hand reaches across the table, and he takes yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. It's a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, a question, a door opening to something new.

A/N: kinda in a love-hate relationship with this one yall

tell me if yall want to be added to this masterlist's taglist !!🩶🩶🦫

#kina's stuffies!

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kinascum · 2 days

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UNDER YOUR SKIN

stalker!Lee x noneater!reader

wc: 1.08k | summary: When does desire become destruction, and how far will you go to feel alive? | nav ♡ taglist

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. blood/gore. sexual themes. violence. obsession/manipulation. dark themes. cannibalistic metaphor. stalking. infliction of pain. blood drinking.

You're standing in the rain, the droplets clinging to your eyelashes and making the world blurry. You can't feel the cold, not really, because every inch of your skin is alight with the memory of his touch. You remember the way his fingers traced your spine, the gentle pressure of his mouth against your neck, the warmth of his breath in your ear. Your heart races just thinking about it, your chest tightening, your breath hitching. It's been days since he last held you, but it feels like an eternity.

You know he's watching you from the shadows, his eyes burning with a hunger that's both terrifying and exhilarating. You've seen that look before, in the moments when he thinks you're not looking, when he thinks you can't see the yearning that consumes him. You know what he wants, what he craves. And even though it should repulse you, you find yourself leaning into the darkness, craving the taste of him, the feel of his teeth on your skin. You want to be consumed by him, to become a part of the very essence that makes him who he is.

The rain starts to come down harder, soaking your clothes, making them stick to your body. You shiver, but it's not from the cold. It's from the anticipation, the tension that coils in your stomach like a living thing. You're acutely aware of every inch of your body, every nerve ending singing with the promise of pain and pleasure. You want to call out to him, to tell him to come to you, but you don't. You don't need to. He's already moving, a silent predator in the night, drawn to the scent of your desire.

You feel his presence before you see him, a warmth that pierces through the chill. He's so close now, so close that you can almost feel his breath on your skin. You can smell the coppery scent of his craving, mingling with the musk of his arousal. It's intoxicating, a potent mix that sends your senses reeling. You don't dare to turn around, not yet. You know that when you do, there will be no going back. But you want this, you want him, in a way that defies logic, that defies everything you've ever known. You want to be devoured by him, to be a part of his twisted, beautiful obsession. And when he finally does touch you, when his hands slide around your waist and pull you against him, you know you're lost.

Lee's eyes are a fiery ember in the gloom, boring into yours with a ferocity that steals your breath away. He whispers your name, the sound a dark caress that sends shivers down your spine. His grip tightens, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your neck. You gasp, the sound lost in the patter of the rain. You know he's fighting it, fighting the urge to sink his teeth in and claim you in the most primal way possible. But the battle is a silent one, a war raging just beneath the surface of his self-control. You can feel it in the tremor of his body, the way he's holding himself back. And you want to scream at him to let go, to give in to what he truly wants.

Your heart is racing now, a wild stallion in your chest, galloping towards the precipice of something you can't quite name. It's a feeling that's equal parts terror and ecstasy, a cocktail of emotions that's intoxicating and overwhelming. You lean back into him, arching your neck, silently begging for more. His breath hitches, and you know you've won. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable now, the beast inside him straining at its leash. But instead of fear, you feel a strange thrill, a pulse of desire that matches the tempo of the rain.

His hand moves up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face towards his. His thumb traces the line of your bottom lip, and you can't help but part them slightly, inviting him in. His eyes flicker down to your mouth, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But instead, he leans in, his nose brushing against your skin as he inhales deeply. The scent of your blood fills his nostrils, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. He's torn between his love for you and his insatiable hunger. It's a battle that you want to end, a war you want to win. So you take the plunge, tilting your head to the side and exposing the delicate column of your throat. The invitation is clear, and Lee's eyes darken with a need that's so raw it's almost painful to witness.

Slowly, oh so slowly, his mouth descends, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin. You hold your breath, your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he gives in. And when it comes, it's like a dam bursting, a flood of sensation that drowns out the world around you. His teeth sink into your flesh, and you cry out, the pain a white-hot spark that ignites the kindling of your desire. You feel his tongue swirl around the wound, lapping at the crimson liquid that wells up. And as your blood mixes with his saliva, a strange warmth spreads through you, a sense of belonging that's more profound than anything you've ever experienced. You're no longer just two separate beings; you're one, connected by a bond that's deeper than mere flesh and blood.

The rain continues to fall, a cacophony of whispers around you, as Lee drinks from you, each pull sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You feel lightheaded, your knees threatening to buckle, but his arms are there, supporting you, keeping you upright. This isn't just passion; it's obsession made manifest. And as the storm rages on, you know that you're ready to be consumed by it, to be devoured by the man who has become your everything. The metaphorical cannibalism is no longer a fantasy but a reality, a shared moment of depravity that somehow feels right. Your body responds in ways you never thought possible, every nerve alight with the intensity of his hunger. And as the rain washes away the evidence of your transgression, you know that nothing will ever be the same again. The line between love and obsession has blurred, and you've crossed it willingly, eagerly, into the abyss of his dark desires.

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kinascum · 2 days

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how do i click on your masterlists

its not done yet im so sorry im working on them :((

#kina's exhausted #kina's asks!

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kinascum · 2 days

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ECHOES OF HIS TOUCH ⋆ ˚｡⋆

gale cleven x innocent!reader

wc: 1.7k | summary: gale's return home after years of war ignites a deeply emotional reunion, where love, longing, and healing intertwine in a moment of intense intimacy. | nav - taglist

18+ MDNI. emotional intensity. explicit content. themes of war. piv. virginity loss. fluff.

A/N! repost from my old account, which is now my personal account! feel free to peek @kinaslie ;))

You stand in the crowded train station, the sound of distant trains and murmuring travelers a stark contrast to the quiet anticipation in your chest. It's been years since you've seen him, and the thought of his return sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. The digital clock above the ticket counter ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as you wait for the moment Gale Cleven steps off that train.

As the metallic beast pulls into the station, the doors slide open with a hiss and a groan. A flood of soldiers, weary from battle, begin to spill out onto the platform. Each one carries the weight of untold stories etched into their faces. You scan the sea of uniforms, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. And then you spot him, his eyes locking onto yours through the throng. Gale's smile is like a beacon in the fog of war-weary faces, lighting up the gloomy station.

He strides towards you, the familiar lilt in his step that's somehow remained untouched by the horrors of war. His arms open wide, and without a word, you rush into his embrace. The fabric of his military jacket is coarse against your skin, but the warmth of his body envelops you like a comforting blanket. His scent, a mix of musk and distant lands, fills your nose. You breathe it in greedily, feeling like you've come home.

Tears stream down your face as you cling to him, your mind racing with the years that have passed and the fear that he might not have come back at all. Gale's grip tightens around you, his breath warm on your neck as he whispers reassurances. "I'm here," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "I'm home." His words are like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your fears and worries.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you standing in the noisy station. You pull back to look at him, your eyes searching his for any signs of the pain he must have endured. They're the same piercing blue you remember, but there's a depth to them now, a maturity that wasn't there before. He wipes a tear from your cheek, his thumb lingering for a moment before he takes your hand and leads you out of the station, into the blinding sunlight and the promise of a future you've both been fighting for.

You walk through the town, the familiar cobblestone streets feeling like a dream under your feet. His hand in yours is the only anchor you need. Each step feels like a silent dance, a ballet of two souls reunited after a long and perilous journey. The air is electric with the anticipation of what's to come, a slow burn that's been simmering between you for years. You've written letters, shared stories, and dreamed of this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of having him back.

You reach your small cottage on the outskirts of town, the ivy that climbs the walls a testament to the time that's passed. Gale looks around, his eyes taking in every detail, as if he's trying to memorize the sight of it. His gaze lingers on the porch swing where you used to sit together, sharing secrets and whispered promises. With a gentle tug, he leads you inside, the door creaking open to reveal a space that's remained unchanged, frozen in time. The sun filters through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the simple furnishings, highlighting the dust motes that dance in the air.

He sets his duffel bag down with a thud, and you watch as he moves through the rooms, his eyes lingering on photographs and knick-knacks that you've collected over the years. "It's just like I remembered," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You sit down at the kitchen table, the same one where you used to do homework together, and he pulls out a chair, sitting so close that his leg brushes against yours. He reaches out, tentatively at first, to touch your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb. His eyes are intense, searching for any hint of doubt or fear. "You're so beautiful," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

The air between you crackles with tension, the kind that comes from years of longing and a thousand unspoken words. You lean into his touch, your eyes closing as his hand moves to cradle the back of your neck. His mouth finds yours in a kiss that's tender and sweet, a promise of what's to come. It's a moment that feels like forever, a perfect encapsulation of every emotion that's built up within you.

Gale pulls back, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a gentle whisper. You nod, unable to find the words to express the certainty that fills you. He smiles, a soft curve of his lips that reaches his eyes, and leans in again, this time with more urgency. His kiss is a declaration, a silent vow that you're ready to hear.

You stand, taking his hand, and lead him up the stairs to the bedroom you've shared so many times in your dreams. The floorboards creak beneath your feet, a nostalgic sound that seems to echo the beating of your hearts. As you reach the door, he stops you, turning you to face him. "I need to hear it," he says, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Tell me you want this."

The words come out in a rush, a breathless whisper. "I do. I want this, Gale. I want you." His eyes darken with desire, and he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you over the threshold. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the bed neatly made but untouched since he left. He sets you down on the mattress, his hands trembling slightly as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the muscled chest that's seen so much.

He lays beside you, his hand tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip. His touch is reverent, as if he's afraid you might shatter in his hands. You reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing the line of his jaw as you chuckle. "I'm not going anywhere."

The tension snaps like a bowstring, and he kisses you again, his hands roaming over your body with a gentle urgency. You feel the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart against your own. He takes his time, exploring every inch of you with his mouth and hands, worshipping you like the treasure you are. When he finally enters you, it's with a soft groan that mingles with your gasp of pleasure. The pain is brief, a fleeting reminder of the innocence you're leaving behind.

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, praising your beauty, your strength, your courage. You wrap your legs around him, holding on tight as he moves with a rhythm that feels like it's been written into your very soul. Each stroke is a promise, a declaration of love that's been forged in the fires of war and tempered by time. Your breaths mingle, your bodies joined in a dance that's both new and as old as the stars.

As you reach the pinnacle together, your cries of ecstasy fill the room, echoing through the quiet house like a battle cry of triumph. For a moment, the world stops, and all that exists is the two of you, intertwined in a web of passion and love. Gale holds you close, his breathing ragged, his heart racing against yours. He whispers your name like a prayer, his arms tightening around you as if he's afraid you might vanish.

And in that moment, you know that you've come home. That this is where you're meant to be, with this man who's seen the worst of humanity and still chooses to love you with all that he is. You lay in his arms, the sweetness of the moment lingering, the warmth of his embrace a cocoon around you. The world outside can wait, because right now, all that matters is the two of you, together again in the soft embrace of the night.

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