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shurisneakers · 24 days

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paper man

warnings: angst, no sad ending, talks of death. unedited drabble that was written in 20 minutes.

a/n: i wanted angst and couldn't find any so i did this myself. will this make it onto my masterlist? who knows. it's 11pm and i have mary by big thief playing. my cat is yelling at me and really killing the sad girl vibe i got going. why does bucky look like a used car salesman in thunderbolts. whatever. love u guys

word count: 660

“If I die tomorrow,” he starts, eyes still staring into the TV.

Your eyebrow quirks. “You're not going to die tomorrow. We're going bowling.”

“If I die tomorrow,” Bucky repeats, and you know he's not with you. He's wandering around the morning fog and thickets of his mind, arm stuck out while he meanders inside a labyrinth.

It's late. He's right on time. You know from experience that his thoughts don't belong to him after the sun sets.

“I–” he begins, and then his mouth clamps shut again.

From across the couch, you shoot him a glance that hopefully conveys understanding. Fast food wrappers litter the worn leather, hurdles between the both of you.

“I don't have a will,” he finally manages to get out.

You let out an exhale, soft.

“Let's make one now?” you offer.

Through his mist, he looks at you. Eyes the way it would be if you tried staring into the sun. Mouth tired, shoulders so low it sinks into dirt.

“I'll write it on my phone. We can do something about it in the morning,” you continue.

Bucky turns back to the TV, and the mindless chatter of late night commercials fills in the silence you leave in your wake.

He could die tomorrow. So could you. So could everyone you knew. It was an occupational hazard you thought he'd made his peace with.

Your phone lies beside you, and you're honestly a little embarrassed that your suggestion was shot down.

Most days you don't know what he needs. Admittedly, he doesn't either. Sometimes slow kisses with his back pressed up against the headboard does the trick. Other days….well, you don't know. He never lets you see those.

You can't blame him. What you both had with each other found a description in the quiet and the twilight. You hadn't even really spent the night in his room.

“I don't have anythin’ to leave,” his voice comes out like gravel, snapping you out of the pit you wanted to dig yourself. “That's the thing. If I die tomorrow, I don't have anythin' to my name. Nothin’ that matters anyway.”

His gaze shifts downward ever so slightly. If the TV wasn't illuminating his face in a pale sickly yellow, you'd see that his cheeks were burning red. His throat feels like it's folded in on itself.

“You got people to leave things for?” you ask, watching him keenly.

He catches your eye, sending a jolt through you. You shift awkwardly on the couch.

“Think so,” he says solemnly. It reads more like a question, with the way he observes you.

“Okay.” You nod. “Then we'll find you things.”

His eyebrows knit together, deepening the crease between them.

“I don't know where to start.” His words sound raw, like a croak.

You watch his head duck again. His body is stiff, and he looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

You look around the room, but your eyes land on the paper remains of your dinner. A thought crossed your mind, and you hesitate.

Bucky is too busy trying to see through thick trees and fog. It stretches above him so tall, taking away even what little sunlight crawls through the leaves.

The couch dips next to him and he's snapped out his labyrinth for a second.

Your hand is held out for his. It comes so naturally that he doesn't even remember stretching his palm out to meet yours.

You drop a tiny paper man onto his metal hand. It's twisted together from a napkin and its mangled limbs are uneven.

“Just a place to start,” you tell him softly.

Bucky stares at it while you inch back to your place.

While you shift the channel to something less repetitive and tedious, his fingers wrap around the origami project.

The fog fades in the light of the morning. The trees look a little less daunting.

He's got people to leave things for.

And a tiny paper man.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Bucky angst #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier angst

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crashandlivewrites · 5 months

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@soapsgf and I were feeling gay so we wrote lesbian fics for each other <3

Pairing: fem!Ghost x fem!reader (or rather, stone top butch Ghost x pillow princess reader)

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, mention of a strap, relationship insecurities, Ghost communicating (?!?!), use of daddy one (1) time

Word Count: 2.1k (this was meant to be a drabble oops)

You were cuddled up on the couch late at night in your small flat you shared with your girlfriend, Simone, whenever she was back from deployment. Your hands had slithered their way underneath her jacket and shirt, leeching the warmth from her body as she had one of her muscled arms thrown casually over you, keeping you tucked into her side as her fingers traced mindless patterns over your body.

Playing on the tv was a reality show you enjoyed, yet tonight you weren’t really paying attention to it. Simone had even chimed in a few times, to show her interest in the show for you, but her statements and questions remained unanswered. It wasn’t until something ridiculous happened that would normally have pulled a barking laugh from you that she decided enough was enough.

Switching the tv, she placed a hand over your shoulder, shaking you lightly.

“You gonna tell me what’s been rollin’ in your head since I got home or not, pretty girl?” Her voice startled you, breaking you out of your daydream as you pulled back from her, furrowing your brows.

“What? I’m sorry, wasn’t listening.”

“Clearly.” She gave you a pointed look. “Wanna know what’s on your mind, lovie. You haven’t been right since I got back.”

“Nothing. Just tired. Been a long day.” You tried to dissuade her, waving your hand as you reached over her to take the remote, only to my stopped by her firm fingers on your wrist.

“I’m not stupid, nor blind, love. You haven’t been yourself. You’ve been quiet.”

Cursing inwardly, you looked away from your overly observant girlfriend, trying not to show your discomfort. Of course, she’d noticed the small things that no one else would. Your brows furrowed and you wrung your fingers as you tried to search for the right words. Simone just sat there, a reassuring hand against your shoulder, letting you know she was there to listen. She always was.

“It’s stupid… really, I don’t know why it’s affected me so much.” The hesitancy was evident in your voice, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“It’s not nothing. It’s got you in a tiff.”

“It’s…” You faltered, eyes flicking around the room as you were unable to look at her. Only when her hand reached out to grip your jaw did you force yourself to meet her gaze and continue. “It’s about sex.”

“What about it?”

“I just… don’t you feel left out?” Her brows knitted together, and she angled her head, signalling for you to continue. “I feel like I’m always just lying there when we have sex. I do nothing. You’re doing everything, Simone, including getting me off but not yourself. Don’t you hate that?”

Her hand went soft on your jaw as her thumb stroked your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

“What stupid video have you seen now?” Blinking, you cocked your head and looked at her in bewilderment.

“How did you—”

“Doesn’t take much. Let me guess, some wanker of a broad on tiktok made a video about how pillow princesses are lazy and should do more work, hmm?” Simone leaned forward, getting into your space as you stared at her, dumbfounded.

“But isn’t it true?”

“I think you’re missing the point of the term, princess.” She elongated the term of endearment as her hand ran down your neck. “I like making you feel good. Just you. Besides, the way you sound when you come, who wouldn’t want to hear that?”

Your face heated and you tried to push her away in protest as she smiled, flashing a toothy grin before running her tongue along her lips. Though her words struck a chord with you, there was still some lingering doubts swimming in your head.

You could count the total amount of times you’d gotten her off with your own mouth or fingers on one hand. The queasiness in your stomach, however, didn’t fade with her reassurance.

“Do you not like me in that way?” Your voice was small and filled with shame, as if you already knew the question was stupid, but you couldn’t stop the feeling from clawing its way up. Simone’s eyes softened and her long fingers ran along the back of your head.

“Lovie, it’s not like that. You know it takes me a lot to want to be in the mood to receive. It’s got nothing to do with not wanting you. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But your job is stressful! Surely you’d want some release when you come back?”

“You’re my release, princess.” She whispers, voice lowering as she leans in. “The way you’re so obedient for me, how you spread your legs so eagerly, how wet you get when my fingers barely graze your skin… you’re a fucking sight, princess. And you’re mine.”

The drop in her tone sent a rush of arousal through you. Pursing your lips and squeezing your thighs together, you whine in protest.

“I want to please you!”

“You do fuckin’ please me, lovie. The sight of you on our bed, legs spread open, begging for me to touch you like a good little slut. My good little slut. Makes my head spin. Hearin’ you scream my name as you squirt over my face? A fucking godsend.”

Simone was now shuffling over the couch into your space. You felt the sturdy armrest pressing into your body as you leaned back, face heating and heart thumping. True to her words, your legs were unconsciously spreading for her, accomodating her broad frame as she nestled between your thighs, her large hands caressing your pliant one.

“Simmy…” Your voice was barely above a squeak as she cocked her eyebrow up at you, the smirk on her face deadly.

“What is it, my little princess? What do you need?”

“You.” Simone hummed, shaking her head.

“More specific, princess. You know the rules.” Her hands slid up your thin shirt, tweaking at your nipples and drawing a gasping moan from you.

“Mouth… want your mouth Simmy please.”

“My mouth where?” She pressed, squeezing your tits now in her large hands as her mouth descended on the bare skin of your stomach, pressing soft kisses as she waits for you to reply.

Moaning both in delirious pleasure and frustration, you managed to lift your head up and look down at her with a frown.

“You’re so cruel.” You pouted accusingly at her, and she laughed darkly in response, but she didn’t make any further movements. Not able to resist any longer, you tilted your hips up so they were closer to her mouth. “Want your mouth on my pussy and want you to make me come.”

This time, your girlfriend grinned wickedly, adjusting you both so your legs were thrown over her muscled shoulders.

“My good fucking girl, using her words. Gonna reward you for that.” And she did.

Her lips immediately latched onto your clit after pushing your underwear aside, dragging her tongue up your slit as she moaned, fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. Moaning into your cunt, she moved down, tongue lapping over your wetness as your fingers wound their way into her hair.

She usually buzzed it short whenever she left for the field, then let it grow. Right now, it was just long enough for you to tug at with your fingers as you cried out her name. Simone had always been godly with her mouth, and tonight was no different.

Tonight, she was taking her time with you, pressing soft kisses over your sensitive flesh, her tongue sliding languidly up your cunt, delving into your wet hole and groaning at your taste.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me lovie. Practically dripping on our couch.” Our couch, she says. You grin amidst the pleasure, thinking about how quickly Simone began to call your home hers as well.

Sucking your clit back into her mouth, she reached down so the pads of her fingers were prodding at your soaked entrance. Clutching at her hair, you rolled your hips, eager to feel the delicious stretch as she pressed her long fingers into you. But she didn’t. Instead, she clicked her tongue and pulled back.

“So greedy tonight, princess. What was all that talk about earlier? Wanting to do all the work? No sweets, you belong here, beneath me writhing and moaning like the little slutty princess you are.”

“Simone.” You whined, rolling your hips once more as your cunt throbbed in need.

“Look at you.” She cooed, grinning salaciously as her eyes raked over your body, clothes having been shoved haphazardly out of the way. “Looking like a proper slag now, princess. Cunt all wet and swollen, perfect tits out on display. Should take a photo.”

Your lips parted at the suggestion, the debate waging in your head.

“Is that what you want?” She hummed thoughtfully.

“Probably not. As much as I’d love to show you off and brag to the blokes that you’re a fuckin’ babe, you’re mine, princess. And only I can see you like this.” To back up her words, Simone’s teeth dragged possessively along your inner thigh, wringing out another moan from you.

Returning her attention to your clit, she flicked it with the tip of her tongue, the barest stimulation still sending shivers up your spine and making your thighs clench around her ears. Ghosting her middle finger down your slit, she pressed it inside you, groaning at the ease.

“Fuck lovie… never gonna get over that feeling.” She pressed another in for good measure and curled, making you squeal and grip her hair tightly, holding her face to your cunt as she ravished you.

“Please… oh god please Simmy. ‘m gonna come.” You panted, heat pooling in you. She pulled back, thumbing your clit as she grinned down at you, fingers still plunging into your slick hole.

“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl for me and come, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over our couch and make it smell like you?” Now it was her turn to moan as she leaned back down, alternating between her tongue and thumb as she spoke.

“Love the way you smell, the way you taste… I’d live off you if I could, sweet girl. My good girl. Mine.”

“Yours, Simmy… always yours.” You managed to get out, head spinning as your fingers tightened. You were spiralling, her attentiveness to you was unparalleled, knowing exactly where to press, flick, and suck.

Unable to contain the feeling, you cried out, one hand flying to grip the couch below you as your back arched and thighs trembled. You could feel your pussy pulsing around her fingers, clenching around them tighter as the coil in your gut tightened. Your body was tantalisingly close, perched on a knife’s edge before the spring snapped and you moaned her name as your eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back.

Simone hummed contentedly into your pussy, lapping gently as she worked you through your release. Once your body had sagged back down onto the couch and your walls had stopped spasming around her fingers, she lowered back down to place a soft kiss on the hood of your clit. Jerking from overstimulation, you whined softly, but giggled as you opened your eyes blearily to look up into her smiling face.

“So fuckin’ pretty, lovie.” She whispered before diving in to claim your mouth, tongue immediately pressing in so you could taste yourself. Pulling back just as quickly, her eyes darkened with lust, she looked down at you, head cocked slightly.

“Got an idea, princess. Since you had all that talk about doing some work in the bedroom, why don’t you get out that strap of mine that makes you scream?”

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you nodded eagerly, quickly getting up on shaky legs as you stumbled to the bedroom. You could hear Simone laughing as you walked, but you didn’t care. Returning, strap in hand, you held it out to her.

It was a mean thing, cruelly thick and curved, large enough to hit that spot inside you that made you cream with ease, and she knew it too. Standing up, Simone loomed over you, shucking off her jacket and pants revealing her hulking frame, she tugged on the strap before sitting back down on the couch, legs spread in a way that made you want to crawl between them and worship her. But she had other plans.

“Want you to ride me, lovie. Ride my cock until you can’t take it anymore and need me to take over. Wanna watch that pretty face fall apart as you realise you can’t come without me, then I’ll plow you into the couch.” Whining softly, you crawled into her lap, positioning yourself over her strap.

“Be a good girl and ride Daddy’s cock, like a pretty little slut.”

#crash writes #cherry 🍒#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost smut #fem!ghost x reader #fem!simon riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut

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vampcubus · 1 year

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𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓?

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : a filthy ramble because i just know kyojuro eats pussy like a man starved.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, oral (f!receiving), sub!kyojuro rengoku implied, meme title cus i do what i want.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 0.6k+

He can indeed eat pussy like that, and will. He’s what comes to mind when I think about enthusiastic oral. Literally worships the cat I don't make the rules.

Settles himself between your soft thighs and tugs your underwear down with his teeth — sometimes he’s too eager to get a taste and mouths your cunt through your panties, soaking the fabric with your slick and his spit.

He’ll slurp and suckle at your sex until your legs are trembling, dragging you back down onto his mouth when the overstimulation makes you squirm. If you want a break you’ll have to twist your fingers in his hair and yank him up by his fiery locks, and the dazed look he sports on his slick-covered face is salacious and hungry.

“Why’d you stop me, my flame?” Kyojuro pants as if he hadn’t made you gush on his tongue several times.

“You know why, you insatiable shit,” you only whine between heavy breaths, and you see those wet lips curl into a grin.

Because he definitely knows when you’ve cum, and purposely pretends like he doesn’t so he can keep lapping at you. He doubles his efforts, sucks on your swollen clit, and slides his fingers in to replace his tongue, moaning into your hot flesh like he's the one being pleasured.

It’s the sweetest revenge; you loved to keep sucking the life from him long after he’s spent his seed, what’s the matter with him doing the same? It’s a thought he keeps to himself lest he inspires you to wring him dry yourself afterwards, though the idea still makes him throb.

Sometimes you'll hear him murmur nonsense against you, muffled whimperings of "tasty. you're so tasty..." eyes all glossy n unfocused like he's in another world while he fucks you with his tongue, laving over your sex between babbles.

Eye contact is important to him, though sometimes he can't help but stare at your cunt as it swallows his fingers, mesmerized by how you clench down harder when you feel his breath on you again.

"Quit fuckin around, kyo. use your mouth more... mhnn," and he's all too eager to comply, pulling out his thick fingers to suck them into his mouth and audible moan before diving right back in for seconds.

Truth be told he likes to be bossed around, to see your brows knit and feel your hips grind impatiently upwards. He knows better than to tease, but he can't help but want to savor your taste.

He absolutely humps his cock against the futon while he’s got his head between your thighs, and frequently creams in his pants when he tastes your cum on his tongue. And if you pull on his hair n guide his head the way you want it while you rut against his mouth? He’s so gone.

Sit on his face, crush his head between your thighs, and use his nose to rub your cute little clit on. He doesn’t care, he just wants you to feel as good as possible. Praise him, moan for him, tell him what a good boy he is and he’ll whimper and squirm along with you.

He'll beg you to cum, to use him to get off, and it's hot. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head when you finally do cum with his name on your lips, babbling curses and mindless praise like you often did. It's too much for him to handle, he has to stuff a hand down his pants and fuck himself into his fist.

And if he ever worked you up enough to squirt all over his face, he’s growling against your cunt, dewy eyelashes fluttering as you shower him with your sweet juices. He treasures your pleasure like it’s his own, but can’t help but scramble up as soon as you’ve come down, pleading shakily into your ear if he can “please please put it in you now” because he wants you to squirt on his cock next.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #kny smut #fem!reader #female reader #sub kyojuro #sub!kyojuro #sub rengoku #n/sfw

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zosiayarn · 7 months

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i did not count my rows so im going purely off vibes to figure out when im done lol

#yarnblr #knitblr #knitting #hand knit #circular needles #pattern credit in image obvi #this is just a mindless tv knit to keep my hands busy when i dont want to be focused on my sock and im really happy with it.#i feel like i might just keep making these if i like the results for the sake of having a just stockinette project to work on #i cant wait to wear it #it gets so cold at home

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azurevi · 1 year

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sopping wet cat & love confessions

pairing: leona x gn!reader

summary: where leona has had a long day, and you have the power to make everything bad go away.

note: this is basically just 1.8k of domestic fluff

It had been an agonizingly long day for Leona.

He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and thus carried this dark cloud over his head the whole day. The second lesson had barely started when he was called to stop a dumb fight over an omelet between his dorm members. During his wait for the lunch delivery, Trein made a personal visit and warned him about his ghastly attendance record. While he’d taken it with a pinch of salt, the fact that his rest was disturbed dragged his mood even further down.

Then Ruggie came with a vegetarian sandwich because the canteen was already filled to the brim with students when he’d arrived. Needless to say, Leona didn’t get anything in his stomach in the end.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Kifaji messaged him a reminder of Farena’s birthday party next month, assuring him that he had more phone numbers ready in case he planned to block him.

What really took the cake, though, was the fact that you weren’t around to chase the gloom away. You were so preoccupied with the schoolwork on hand that you’d missed his call, which you later made up for by texting him three consecutive messages.

‘busy rn, ttyl, love u <3’

Joyous.

It was barely four, but the sky was already dimmed by the rain that’d been brewing the whole day. After the last school bell of the day, Leona walked out into the courtyard, hands stuffed in his pockets, donning a ‘don’t touch me if you want to live’ look. He’d take a nap to get his mind off things, but they were supposed to have a club practice today.

If only it could be canceled due to bad weather...

For once, the world seemed to have heard his wish. Scarce raindrops dotted his shirt and bruised the flowers. It was a mere drizzle, but enough of an excuse.

However, he could only make a few steps before it got heavier at an alarming speed, assaulting his face. Picking up pace, he hoped to get under a roof before it could turn into a downpour, but the sky was quicker as it tore a hole in itself. The rain poured down on him in showers, dousing him in a matter of seconds before he could make it back into the hallway.

So fate really was hellbent on dampening his mood. He was pretty darn close to turning the whole campus into sand.

As he made his way to the mirror chamber, the passing students casted bewildered yet timid looks at his permanent scowl. The uniform was suffocating him, clinging to his body like a second skin. His hair stuck to his neck. If one more person dared breathe in his direction, he wasn’t going to be the only one having a bad day.

Head clouded with thousands of ways to cuss the world out, he let his legs lead him through the mirror. He navigated the turns and corners, swung open doors in his way, and walked through corridors with muscle memory alone, until he came to a stop in front of his room, and realized that it wasn’t his room.

It was yours. Somehow, in his mindlessness, he’d ended up right at your doorstep, hand raised in the middle of a knock. And somehow, he completed the action.

“Coming!” You yelled. Footsteps chased towards the door, and then he was face to face with you. Your jaw dropped open as you took in his soaked state.

“Hey.” He said. You sidestepped to let him in, not so subtly eyeing the puddle on the floor. “Sevens, you’re drenched.”

“What a keen observation.” he couldn’t help the sarcasm slipping through his tongue.

Stepping forward, you observed the tight knit of his brows and the downturn of his mouth, and asked, “Bad day?”

He only grumbled, finding it a bit embarrassing to admit. Instead, he leaned forward with outstretched arms, trying to pull you into one very damp hug.

“Woah, stop there,” you clasped his elbows, keeping him at arm’s length. A look of betrayal dawned on his face. “How about we get you out of those clothes first? You could get a cold like this.”

“And then what, wear yours?” He gave you a once-over, emphasizing on your height.

You made a look before heading towards the wardrobe, where you pulled out a shirt that was way too big for you.

“...So it’s you,” he took the shirt, noting the way it was bathed in your scent. “Ruggie berated me for weeks about this missing shirt, you know.”

“Yea, got it. Now go change,” you pushed him toward the bathroom. He gripped the doorframe, snapping his head toward you.

“Would you happen to have my pants too?”

“Haha. No.” You rushed to grab your pajama pants, rolling your eyes at his grimace. “It’s either this or fish skin around your legs.”

It looked like arguments were brewing in his head, but he bit down on them and closed the door. While you waited, you grabbed a few sheets of paper towels and cleaned up the wet footprints on the ground, shaking your head when he tried to suppress a few sneezes.

The giggles that came out of you when he emerged was almost enough to make him change back into the wet clothes. He tugged at the cloud-printed trousers that reached all the way above his ankle. “Not a word about this.”

“Pity. I know a few people who would get a kick out of this.”

Shoulders slouched, he headed over to where you were seated on the bed, a towel resting on your lap. Just as he thought he was finally getting the recharging hug, you pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel. “Your hair is dripping.”

“Are you just doing this on purpose now?”

“If you mean purposefully safeguarding your health, then yes, I am.”

“It’s just wet hair, you go to bed like this all the time.”

“Rainwater's different,” you snatched your phone from the nightstand, thumbs gliding across screen quickly. “Okay. You know what you looked like just now? This."

On the screen were a few photos of doe-eyed cats in the shower that you’d searched up by typing ‘sopping wet cat’.

“I did not -”

“You did!” You scrolled further down, and suddenly a chortle erupted out of you, which you immediately hid by shielding your face. It didn’t stop the laughs spilling out of you though. “Oh my- Oh my goodness. Look at this cat,”

He squinted at the photo of a kitty, face covered in milk, with the resemblance of an old, weak man. Meanwhile you were still struggling, flopping onto your back as you laughed wildly. Despite the roll of his eyes, the corner of his mouth quivered. Not at the cat, obviously, but at your poor, absurd humor.

“Fine, whatever. Do what you want.”

You sat up immediately, still trembling at the memory of the cat drowned in milk. After wrapping the towel around his head, you started ruffle his hair, pursing your lips when his ears twitched at the brushes of your fingers. You pulled the towel toward his jaw so that only his face was visible, and burst into laughter again. Who knew what you were imagining in your head.

“Stop it,” he grabbed your wrist, but the chuckle that escaped him at the end of the sentence was indisputable.

“Ok, sorry.” You carried on, undoing his twin braids and tousling his hair into a birdnest. On your face were remnants of a grin, gracing your features. He would very much like to see them bloom into a smile again.

Closing his eyes, he willed his senses to focus on your fingers as they untangled the stubborn knots in his mane. From left to right, you dedicated meticulous attention to each collected strand. He couldn’t help but shiver when you moved on to his ears, wiping the water that’d collected there. The tension in his muscles relaxed along with the tightness that’d strained his face the whole day, and soon he felt his chest rumble in satisfaction.

“You’re glad I love you,” he opened his eyes at your words. “Or else I’d never spoil you like this.”

You got off the bed with the damp towel while he stayed frozen in his spot.

Right. Love. That thing.

How in the world were you able to utter that word all the time without batting an eye anyway? Anytime he tried to tell you how much he adored you, it felt like spitting his whole heart out onto a plate. It felt like pushing something spiky out of his throat. It felt like admitting that he was very, very vulnerable, and he couldn't stomach that. Not yet.

"Do you want to talk about your day?" You said from the bathroom, voice overlapping with the running tap.

"There were these pups who only knew how to use their brawn. Trein spent a whole 30 minutes bugging me. Skipped lunch. Kifaji texted."

"Yikes," you returned and climbed back onto the mattress, leaning against the bed frame. "Alright, let's make it better then."

He half expected you to block him again as he dived in, but you welcomed him with open arms. He lay his weight on you at first, reaching around your waist, before shuffling closer. Despite just having been soaked to the bones, he was as warm as a bowl of hot soup. Sleep crept on him almost instantly, he couldn't help it. Everything around him was way too soft– your bed, your torso encircled by his arms, his shirt around his body smelled nothing like him and everything like you, your hands buried in his hair. He took a greedy breath as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, then exhaled, hot air fanning your skin.

God forbid that anyone should see him in this state.

"By the way. That thing you said earlier," his words slurred. "I feel the same."

"What thing?" You replied innocently.

He shifted. "Y'know. The thing I'm lucky for."

"I'm afraid I'm clueless."

His head snapped up in annoyance. You weren't fooling anyone with your tone, but if you wanted to act oblivious, two could play this game

"I mean this," He moved in to press his lips to your forehead. "And this…" Another kiss fell on your left eyelid. "And this," The top of your nose. "And also this." He moved on to your cheeks, lastly sealing the spell by burying his head against your neck again. They were like stamps, his own way of showing you the evidence of his love.

Instead of responding, you gave him a stamp of your own, sure and gentle on the crown of his head. Outside the storm was still wrecking havoc, but he was inside now, not just under a shelter, but especially in your embrace.

Leona wasn't sure how or when, but your presence in his life had made his dreams a bit more bearable, a bit more attainable. And perhaps, in this very moment when he was able to forget the world around him, they had already come true.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes

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lemarideleclerc · 3 months

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The Hardlaunch

Charles Leclerc x famous reader

Summary: you and Charles have been dating for about 7 months now and have been keeping it a secret from everyone except your tight-knit friends and family. After he wins the Grand Prix in his hometown, you guys decide to nothing in in the world mattered except one another.

It was almost like any other Friday morning, Monte Carlo’s warm spring air waltzing through your window in a mindless manner. You had awoken comfortable and warm in your bed, the mattress only slightly distorted and your hair splayed over your pillows in a messy fashion. You unplugged your phone, lying next to you, excited as ever to dress up and sneak your way past the paparazzi into the Monaco GP. Your assistant entered your apartment, first making her presence known by two quick and prominent knocks. “Good morning, have you decided what you wanted to sport to the race today?” She quickly asked as a metal rack of pre-picked designer outfits was rolled into the entryway by one of the clearly underpaid apartment staff. Glancing at the outfits, you deciphered that some were too gaudy and chic, while others were too casual and plain. You ended up picking a medley of vintage channel from the 90’s, as well as some of your signature black sunglasses. To your ensemble, you placed one of your boyfriend’s rings on your finger, a reminder of safety and comfort for an otherwise unfamiliar situation. Your boyfriend, Charles, was the only reason you were going to the race anyway. You two were so happy together, feeling like home to one another. Although you two were going on only your 7th month of dating, you had known each other for much longer. Ever since he went backstage to find you after your headlining Coachella performance 2 years ago, you hit it off instantly. You were both nervous around each other in a timid and embarrassed manner, which still sometimes lingered around you to this day. Your relationship with Charles was quite healthy and passionate, although not public; not even to his own teammate or fellow drivers. The only people who knew about your relationship were both his and your family, and your guys’ tight-knit friends. Putting on your baby blue sun hat, you made your way down to the car, where your driver awaited you, with the help of your assistant and security detail.

After arriving at the venue and seemingly making it past the press, you flashed your padock pass to the guard, your own security guard following you. You made it front row in your own quiet little section of Ferrari’s garage, outside to see the race in the golden sun but secluded from any main cameras or tv casters. The race was tight, Your beloved Charlie fighting with Max (who you’ve actually become quite close friends with) for first position. By just a mere 1.3 seconds, Charles Leclerc had crossed that finish line first. Your heart pounded with excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming eager causing you to shuffle his ring around your finger. Meeting him at the podium, he fought past other fans and even some relatives to get to you. The two of you exchanged glances at each other, the busy crowd coming to a mute at each other’s presence. Almost instantaneously, he wrapped his toned arms around you and picked you up, spinning you in the air. He set you down ever so delicately, and kissed you so passionately it felt like he had been gone at war for years. All of the major cameras and news outlets captured the moment live, the crowd erupting and the press having a field day. But you two didn’t care. You were happy with one another, happy with the loud and public lives you both live. “Mon Cheri” your boyfriend whispered under his breath whilst holding you to his chest. “We did it”.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x famous reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc x singer reader #charles leclerc x y/n #Drabble #ferrari #first post

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

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She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader

Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!

Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves

CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.

Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.

*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner

Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.

You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”

You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.

“Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”

Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.

“Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been.

You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people.

Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives.

Until you were 14.

Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.

The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.

You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.

Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy.

Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone.

When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed.

You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case.

You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you.

Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.

“A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”

Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”

You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away.

Tav,

My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.

The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter.

Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.

Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things.

Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.

-Mary

No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.

She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now.

After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind.

You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.

“How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”

You stop dead in your tracks.

No.

“Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.”

“Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”

“No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”

Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.

“Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”

“Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”

Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too.

“No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear.

Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.

Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.

“It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”

You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent.

Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.

“My mom’s dead, Wyll.”

“What?”

“Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”

“Oh Tav…”

“And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”

Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.

“I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.”

“I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”

You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.

“And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”

“You are also the only monster hunter I know.”

Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.”

Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.

“Thank you Wyll.”

He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”

_________________________________________________

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #bg3 #karlach #astarion x f! reader #astarion acunin #baldurs gate #bg3 tav

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crazylittlejester · 1 month

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the fandom has felt kinda quiet to me for a few days now (which might totally be my fault i dont think im using this app correctly) and i kinda feel like im standing with a group of people where everyones done talking and no one know what to say next so im gonna do what i do then too: Yap ‼️ (its my one talent)

if you’d like to yap with me feel free to hop in my ask box and say whatever you like, headcanons, theories, whatever, but for now here are some random little headcanons I have:

(disclaimer: my apologies for weird spelling errors or oddly autocorrected words im dyslexic lmao)

- Wild loves to do fun things with his hair! He loves braiding it up in new styles or putting pretty things in it or buying fun clips to keep it out of his face. Sometimes one of the others with shorter hair who can’t do their own fun hairstyles will ask Wild if they can do his, and he almost always says yes

- Legend is the most likely to buy little gifts for the others. He’s not as likely as the others to verbally say he cares, and he can come off as a bit standoffish, but he really does love the others and gifting them little things is how he shows it. He bought Sky a beautiful new carving knife once, he loves giving Wild earrings (and Wild is not above just poking new holes in his ears so he can wear more of them at once), he gave Warriors a new journal one time, etc.

- Four is a HUGE fan of rain at night. He loves the sound it makes on roofs, it’s calming to him. It’s less fun when he’s sleeping outside, but he just loves the sounds and smells of rain. Warriors does too, and the two of them have sat out in the rain together silently, just enjoying each other’s company

- Twilight loves the occasional pet as Wolfie, as long as the others still hold the same respect for his physical space they do when he’s a hylian. He loves hugs, he loves the occasional pet, and he loves bonking the top of his head into the backs of Warriors’s legs to trip him before he innocently runs off to Time and acts like he’s done nothing wrong in his life ever

- Sky wakes up every day and chooses peace. He chooses kindness and love, and he seems so very calm and sweet on the outside, but if someone dares to lay a finger on someone he cares about he will explode and there will be serious consequences. He’s genuinely a very loving person, but he does have a side of him that’s just full of rage that he occasionally unleashes on monsters that deserve it. He one time let a sliver of that anger loose at a monster that knocked Wild unconscious and the others stood their with their jaws open, and then of course Sky turned back around after he calmed himself down and looked at them all like “:3”

- Hyrule cuts his own hair and because it has a good amount of curl to it, it ends up looking fluffy and it’s hard to see exactly how uneven it is. When Legend found him just trimming his hair in the dark with a knife he was like “what the fuck” and ever since he’s at least tried to help Hyrule make his hair a LITTLE more even (its still an absolute mess, but it looks fine on him)

- Wind gets under stimulated a LOT, it’s hard for him to just stay in one place or walk super slow or not be doing something with his hands, so Warriors taught him how to finger knit so he can do that while he walks as a sort of mindless activity. He doesn’t really make anything in particular, and he ends up unraveling it at the end of the day so he can keep reusing the same ball of yarn, but it helps him stay with the group and it gives him something to do as they walk

- Time is the biggest prankster of the group and he gets away with it every single time, and Wind, Wild, and Hyrule often end up taking the blame for it. The only ones who know it’s really him are Warriors (though he never actually catches him in the act, he just knows) and Twilight, who’s seen him do it several times and had to swear his silence. He’s too scared that Time will be disappointed in him if he reveals who the true prankster is, but he does feel genuinely bad every time someone else gets yelled at for one of Time’s dumbass pranks. On their last day together Time does reveal it was him all along, and then he literally leaves and disappears before the others have a chance to yell at him for it. When he arrives at the ranch alone with tears in his eyes, laughing his ass off, Malon somehow knows EXACTLY what just happened

- Warriors is usually the one who helps mend the other heroes’s clothes. They all have SOME ability to sew (some of them are better than others, like Wild and Legend, and some of them refuse to fix the holes in their clothes until it gets so bad there’s no fixing it and they literally just have to buy another tunic, *cough* Wind), but more often than not Warriors gets asked to do it, and he does it gladly. He does a wonderful job every time, and sometimes he gets to embroider little patterns, which is a lot of fun for him. When he gets bored he’ll just do that on his own spare tunics

again feel free to come talk to me in my asks or add ur own headcanons to this post :) i like to yap and i’ll gladly yap with you if you send me things

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu wild #lu four #lu wind #lu headcanons #jes headcanons #jes talks

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