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justporo · 7 months

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Astarion doesn't know how to cook, but wants to make Tav a romantic dinner. He enlists the help of Gale and regrets it near instantly. Do with this what you like :3

My dear mushy, this is a wonderful prompt, so thank you so much for that. (I loved that it had me write another one of the companions!)

It is in fact so wonderful that it will turn into a short little two-part thingy (because it makes sense in my head and also I can split up the parts, so I can go to bed now, hihi)

So, have: Gale and Astarion pissing each other off in this part and find out if Tav actually does get her romantic dinner in the second part of:

A Night of... Shattered Glass and the Smell of Burning?

“Dinner? Oh Astarion, all these months on the road and all this time since we’ve come to Baldur’s Gate. And you only ask me now?”

“Not with you, you idiot, with Tav!”

Astarion was standing in the wizard’s study – in the place Gale had obtained after your joint adventure to stay a while longer in the city. The wizard was sitting behind his massive desk, Tara on his lap who purred excessively because of all the head scratches she received. And in front of the desk stood Astarion, arms crossed over his chest and an displeased expression on his face. His body was halfway turned towards the door as if he wanted to be ready to leave the room and this place – forever – whenever the need arose.

Gale grinned at the vampire’s uneasiness but didn’t say anything to soothe his former companion – he was relishing the moment way too much for that. So he opted to just stare at the elf and make him suffer a little while longer.

Astarion sighed in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger before he let them stretch out, pressing into his closed eyes. “Gale, don’t make me regret I’ve come here, please”, Astarion pressed out from behind gritted teeth.

Tara stretched out on Gale’s lap, yawned deeply and jumped off her owner’s lap to saunter around the desk. Gale let her, keeping his gaze on the vampire: “No really, you have to give me at least this one moment in return, Astarion, just one teeny tiny moment of you coming to me for help. You’ve actually grown so much over just such a short span…”

Astarion zoned out while the wizard rambled on trying to have his superior moment of being sarcastic and sassy – Gods, it had been a horrible idea to come here. He felt the wizard’s cat stroke around his legs then, rubbing her head against his shins and looking up at him expectantly.

So, he bowed down to lift her up and started to pet her to which Tara responded with arching her back into the vampire’s careful touch and starting to purr loudly. At that a smile crept onto Astarion’s face. He’d always liked cats – fierce and beautiful creatures.

“…and I feel so honoured that you would ask me out of all people, Astarion – really!”, ended the wizard his sarcastic speech and was finally silent. Astarion rolled his eyes: “Now go and write it all into your journal and draw pink glittery hearts around it while kicking your little feet. Are you done now?” Gale lifted one finger and narrowed his eyes with raised eyebrows: “Allow me one more question.” Astarion groaned. “Does Tav know?”, the wizard asked.

“No”, hissed the vampire in response and stared angrily at Gale “and if you’re going to tell her, I am going to rip your godsdamned throat out.” Gale reacted with lifting his hands defensively: “Alright okay, I’m done. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Some of the tension left Astarion’s body. “So will you help me or not?”, he asked while focusing on the cat in his arms instead of the person he was asking something off – openly committing to wanting help, talking about a weakness – and may it be something as inconsequential as this – was not something he had learned awfully well to accept; perhaps he never really would.

Gale’s gaze softened a little and he stood up from behind the desk to walk around it and leaning against it in a relaxed pose. He crossed his arms over his chest: “So… come again, what exactly is it exactly that you’re planning?”

Finally, Astarion lifted his gaze to look at the wizard. His eyes was full of suspicion after Gale had at first opted to tease him about a genuine demand. And it had already cost him an enormous amount of pride to swallow to actually come over and voice his request for help. The wizard sighed: “Okay listen, I’m sorry, I was a dick about this – it’s just… I wouldn’t have expected this from you, is all…”

Astarion didn’t say anything in response, his reluctancy had not yet left him. And so an awkward kind of silence stretched between the two men – unable or unwilling to be more open and sincere; at least for the time being.

“Listen”, Gale started again “I’ll help you, I promise. But you have to tell me what you want to do or else I don’t know how.”

Astarion looked down again at the purring cat in his arms. After a few heartbeats he sighed and said: “In a few weeks, it will be six months since… Tav and I are official. And I thought after all the peril she, I mean we all, but she especially has been put through and after everything she’s done for me…” The vampire’s words trailed off and he threw Gale a glance. There were no more words needed in this instance, Gale had been there beside him and Tav when they had walked into Cazador Szarr’s lair.

The wizard felt his throat close up at the memory – as much in dread, as he remembered, as in compassion for his… friend.

“So”, Gale coughed and readjusted his position against his giant wooden desk, before he went on in a more animated manner, “you thought a nice romantic dinner would be a nice opportunity to show her a little bit of your gratefulness and also celebrate your love.” “I see we are finally on the same page, my wizard partner in crime”, Astarion replied then cheerfully – thankful for the change in mood.

“And the problem is that it’s been a while, naturally, since you had the pleasure in the kitchen”, Gale went on. Astarion cleared his throat: “To be honest, even before… let’s just say food had just always come on a plate.”

“Hah, and now it always comes from a neck, right?”, Gale tried to crack a joke and failed miserably. The vampire looked ready to leave once more: “Please leave the jokes to me, Gale. Else I’m leaving – and taking the cat.”

Gale let his head fall back until he was facing the ceiling. “This won’t be easy”, he whispered under his breath. Then he lifted his hands as he let himself look at the vampire once more that had started cooing at Tara in his arms – making little kissy faces at the cat that was stretching out one of his paws as if in a gentle caress of the elf’s face.

“Let’s just get to the point. What did you have in mind then?”, said the wizard and made a few steps towards Astarion how was now stroking Tara’s face with a single finger as if she was a baby. Only when Gale was almost in front of him did he notice that the wizard had asked him another question.

The vampire gave another sigh and then shortly bent down to set down the animal which protested softly but then just kept stroking around his legs. “I thought you could teach me some stuff. Show me to make some dishes so I can prepare the dinner for Tav myself…” “Yes okay, but what does she like – I mean, back on the road we all made do with what we could get our hands on, but if you want to surprise her with something shouldn’t it be something to impress her?”, Gale interrupted, immediately getting into planning mode. His head was already turning on how to get organised and starting. “Well, Gale, from what I’ve heard the last time you wanted to impress a woman it didn’t go all too well, didn’t it? Maybe tone it down a little”, the vampire bit out. But a sparkle had entered his red eyes, nonetheless, at the thought of actually pulling this surprise off.

Gale though was back at looking at the ceiling, cursing whatever had put this flatulated vampire in his path. “Alright”, Gale sighed, “first thing we have to settle is that we can’t go for each other’s throats all the time – VERBALLY, verbally”, he exclaimed with raised eyebrows and pointed a finger at Astarion when the vampire had started smirking at him in a kind of way.

“I didn’t start – at least this time”, the vampire shot back. “Astarion”, Gale drawled annoyedly in a tone that might’ve been used many a time towards his cat – which did actually look up at her owner and cocked her head at him.

“Fine”, Astarion agreed in the same tone. “So, let’s figure out the desired menu first, shall we?”, Gale said to put them back on track. “What’s Tav’s favourite food, what dishes does she like – sweet, savoury?”

Do that Astarion put a hand to his chin and started to think. His brows furrowed and his gaze was suddenly miles away: “Her favourite thing are strawberries by far, but that does only work for dessert. Maybe with something chocolate-y, she really does have a knack for sweet stuff.” At that point Gale opened his mouth to crack another joke but shut it immediately when he realised how genuine Astarion had become all of a sudden.”

“She likes hearty foods – nothing needlessly complicated or pretentious. And she always goes on about how she’d love to have more fish but that it’s so complicated to prepare sometimes, hmm.” Astarion was still lost in his thoughts and kept rambling on about every last detail he could remember about what might work and what they had to avoid.

Gale’s face split into a huge, warm grin, bewildered by Astarion and how much he knew about these small little details about his soulmate and how much genuine care and love shone in his eyes as he kept talking about her.

Gale put out his hand to lay on Astarion’s shoulder who was still somewhere else, still talking. At the light gesture the elf flinched and shock filled his eyes for a short moment before he realised is was only the wizard. “Second rule, don’t just touch me”, he hissed at the man who was still smiling warmly at his friend behaving like a feral street cat.

“Agreed. Let’s just get to work, Astarion. I’ll make a chef out of you in no time. Let’s go.” And with these final words Gale went off towards his kitchen.

Astarion expressed his doubts in the wizard’s self-impression but followed closely behind.

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milkywaydrabbles · 7 months

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kinktober 25 with rindou!!! 🔛🔝 kanto manji uniform

A/N: Honestly Rindou in uniform brain go brr. I am a firm believer that 18/19 year old Rindou is an obnoxious show off, fluffing his feathers up whenever he can. Cocky little shit in this fic and I'm into it. I hope you like it!! Mwuah!!

Uniform x Haitani Rindou

Your head was pounding. The bright light of your computer making you miserable--you’ve been trying to study the same material for the last three hours, and you were growing tired of trying. You thought if you kept looking at the screen your head would combust. It was time to take a break. Stretching your arms over your head, you felt all the joints release a crack that had you groaning. Looking around you realized you were the only one left in the library of your university. At least in your general area. Looking down at your phone you realized not only was it well into the evening but you had three missed phonecalls from your boyfriend. ‘Shit’. You gathered your things as quickly as you could into your bag and slung it over your shoulder before giving him a call back. It only rung once.

‘Jesus Christ would it kill you to pick up the phone?’ He sounded annoyed but you knew better than to think it wasn’t him just masking it to not show how worried he really was about you. ‘Thought I was gonna have to fuck some people up to find you’ You rolled your eyes, smiling as he spoke. Always so dramatic.

“Sorry, Rin, I was in the library and I lost track of time. I have that big test coming up you know? Just want to be prepared.” You sighed, thinking that when you got back to your dorm you should try studying some more, even if it’s another part of the curriculum. There was never enough time to digest all the information your shitty ass professors wanted you to learn but somehow you needed to figure it out. ‘You’re stressing yourself out too much, just relax babe.’ You snorted on the line, biting your tongue. As if the amount of times your gang affiliated boyfriend knocking on your student housing apartment covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his didn’t stress you out. “Yeah yeah, I’m heading home now though, stay on the phone with me?” ‘ Of course, baby.’

You’d gotten off the phone with Rindou a few minutes before getting to your door, saying he needed to finish a few loose ends before giving you a call again. So imagine your surprise when you walk into your one bedroom with none other than Rindou already inside. “Jesus!” You gasped, holding onto your chest like your heart was going to pop out. “You can’t just!....” your scolding trailed off, eyes scanning the new clothing on him. Rindou smirked, uncrossing his legs from your couch and leaning back, arms splayed behind the couch. “Whatcha lookin’ at, pretty girl?” You shook your head, trying to pull yourself out of a daze and dumping your bag at the door, along with your shoes. “What are you wearing, Rin? I’ve never seen that.” You mumbled, making your way over to him and sitting with your legs up to your chest next to him on the sofa.

“We got new uniforms. You like ‘em?”

Like was the understatement of the century. You loved it. It looked so clean, white made him look real cleaned up. Plus, even if you hated it (not really, you lair) seeing bright blood splatters on the crisp linen would be bad ass (as long as it’s not his!) But you had to play it cool, so you nodded, casually picking at your nails. He knew you better than that. Rindou patted his thigh with a grin, “come here, pretty. You’re too far.” he couldn’t help but coo when he saw how you scrambled from your corner onto his lap, hands running across his shoulders and thumbing the lapels. “It’s nice, Rinnie..” you whispered, feeling the embroidery on the sides of the sleeves. Your head was in turmoil: the new uniform was definitely doing it for you, trying your best to contain your horny little brain. “You look...good, in white.” He let you keep tracing the fabric, seeing your pupils dilate and your mouth part. It was kind of hot, seeing how horny you were getting just by seeing him in uniform. Maybe he’d have to stop by after meetings more often.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Rindou grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him with flushed cheeks. “Nothing!” Your voice cracked, clearing your throat before trying again. “Nothing.” He hummed, peering over his glasses. “You wanna fuck?” “Rin!” He couldn’t help but laugh, at how sweet you were for him, really. How he landed you and had you stick around he’ll never know. “Come on baby, lemme fuck the stress outta you. Missed you today.” He mumbled against your skin, kissing your jaw, trailing down your neck, pulling at your shirt to expose a shoulder and bite at the juncture that met your throat. You gasped, holding on tightly at the lapels of the jacket and bucking your hips onto him. “Missed you too, Rindou...” a hand made its way to his long locks, scratching at his scalp while he continued to give you attention. His hands made their way to your chest, grabbing and groping at your tits. “Strip for me, baby.” His voice held authority, your skin feeling like it was on fire. You nodded, getting up from his lap to practically rip your clothes off of you. “Does my pretty baby like my uniform?” He teased, cupping your ass when you stood between his legs. “Mhm” You nodded, moving to sit back on his lap but he stopped you with a hand. “Why don’t you suck me off, pretty girl?” felt much less like a question and more like a demand, one you couldn’t say no to. You knelt between his legs, shaky hands unbuckling his belt and zipping down the pants--pulling out his hardened cock from its confines. He spread his legs wide, making himself bigger. One hand smoothed down your hair while the other lay behind the couch. “Go ahead baby, show me how much you like my uniform.”

Your lips were on him in an instant. Pressing wet sloppy kisses on his head and shaft, tongueing his cock. He held his hand on your head, not moving you but keeping pressure. He lifted his hips slightly when you moved to take him in your mouth, pressing his cock into your cheek and seeing it bulge. “Fuck, baby, look so good taking my big dick.” your lashes fluttered at the praise, slurping his cock into your mouth. You were messy, drooling already with spit bubbling at the sides of your mouth. Rindou moaned above you, throwing his head back in pleasure when he saw just how nasty you were sucking him off. “Didn’t know this would do it for you” he laughed, taking your hair in his hand like a makeshift ponytail. “Wanna come see me fight like this? In my uniform? I’d win, and fuck you right after.” Your pussy clenched around nothing, pushing yourself to take more of him. You looked at him through teary lashes, nose touching his pubes as you gurgled around him. “Fuck! Just like that, slutty baby, keep going.” You whimpered around his cock, taking him just how he wanted it. You’d do whatever he asked when he was dressed like this, mind completely turning into mush. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, flicking your wrist and jerking him as you suckled on his tip, laving your tongue over the slit. Rindou hissed, pulling your hair to tip your head back, his own hand taking over for yours and jerking his cock. “Open your mouth, baby, gonna shoot my load over your face.” He panted, taking a mental picture of you sitting so pretty with your hazy eyes unfocused and tongue lolling out, waiting patiently for his cum. He moaned, bucking his hips as he shot sticky ropes of cum on your tongue and face, dripping from your forehead to your cheeks, smearing what was left on his tip on your tongue, giving it a few smacks before leaning back and letting go of your hair.

“Fuck babythat was so hot.” He exhaled deep, hoisting you up from your knees back onto the couch. His fingers rubbed at your pussy, that had been dripping onto your floor. He grinned wicked, pressing his already hardening cock between your pussy lips.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you with it on, okay baby?”

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saturnsorbits · 4 months

Text

Delinquency

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Mention of Gangs, Talk of Babies/Starting a Family, Open Ending, Word Count: 2.8k.

Summary: Once a villain, always a villain: Can Dabi really leave it all behind?

‘I don’t have to put up with this…’ Dabi hauls air in through his nose, teeth clenched so tight it makes his jaw ache.

‘You?’ Somehow your eyes get wider. Your lids peel back, exposing the bloodshot white and shining iris’ that almost pop from your head. ‘Please, enlighten me to what you’re putting up with, Touya. Because it sure as shit wasn’t me lying about still being involved with the fucking league.’

Dabi rolls his eyes.

Bites his lip.

Reminds himself that he loves you. ‘You don't -.’

‘Don’t you fucking dare say I don’t understand.’ There’s a shake in your voice as you try and hold back tears, but you don’t drop his gaze. You'd been ten minutes away from ringing around hospitals and praying that he'd been admitted to A&E rather than the morgue when he'd swaggered back in, knuckles sore and face bruised. ‘You told me after all the shit with your dad, you'd be done with all of that.’

Dabi sighs. ‘I am.’

You snort.

Falling in love with Dabi had meant a lot of things: learning to live with the burnt hand prints on your fridge, adjusting to the looks and hushed judgements when you walked down the street hand in hand and the coming and going of the former members of the League. You’d accepted all of that, fuck, you’d hosted dinners for his old gang, had the famous Shigaraki grace your God damn table, but the one thing you couldn’t accept was his complicity. ‘Your fucking knuckles are bleeding.’

He shakes out his hand, wincing as the ligaments tug at swelled tissue. ‘It was one fight - Tomura just needed some guy putting in his place, I’m not going back - I pr-.’

‘Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping.’

‘Doll.’ He steps forward, arms opening to hold you, but you’re backing away before he can close the gap.

Choking back a sob, you lick the dryness from your mouth as the panic of the last few hours bubbles under your skin. ‘You’re almost thirty, Touya. We have a house, a fucking mortgage…' You bite your tongue and screw your nose up. 'Oh, my God, I was thinking about asking you for a baby. What, I - I must be stupid. How could I raise a baby like this… When, when it’s father’s off burning people to a fucking crisp just because his old boss asked him to…’

Air sticks in his throat. The word ‘baby’ ricocheting around his head like gunfire. ‘Shig -.’

‘Oh, Shigaraki can look after himself.’ You snap.

‘I…’ He wets his lips. Suddenly, his joints don't ache – the pain is in his chest instead. ‘Are you serious? About - about wanting a baby?’

‘Well not any more.’

He steps back as if slapped.

You run a palm down your face. ‘What if you go to prison? Huh? I get stuck on my own with a brat and a house I can’t pay for? Then, what? All because you couldn’t tell Shigaraki that you don’t want to be involved any more?’ There's tears spilling over your cheeks that you don't even bother wiping away. ‘What the fuck happens if you die, Touya?’

Chest tightening, he can feel his stomach ache. The now ancient scars of staples etched into his skin clenching as memories of Hell fire and bad blood threaten to overload his system. Then, you're laughing and it’s ringing in his ears snapping his attention back to you.

Your panic is fading now, being beaten out and replace with something stronger. Anger broils in your stomach so hot that you’re mad with it, but you’re too far gone to care. ‘Fucks sake, the girls were right - I should have dated Natsuo. You think his girlfriend has to put up with this shit? I bet you money he doesn’t come home wearing someone else’s blood like fucking aftershave.’

Dabi can't get his baring. His head is too full to think as the image of you cradling a child, his child, fills the void between his ears. ‘It was one job.’

‘Until the next one.’

‘I - fuck -.’

You shake your head, letting out a shaky laugh. ‘Don’t. It’s okay. I should have known what I was signing up for… It’s my own fault for thinking I could build a life here.’

‘No - wait. Doll -’ He reaches for you again, but you're already out of reach.

‘No.’ You lift your arms into the air in surrender. ‘It’s okay. I get it. The League is always gonna win.’

‘The League doesn’t exist any more.’

‘Could have fooled me.’

You go to bed alone. The darkness is suffocating, the bed too large without Dabi's frame, but even that is better than the smell of blood and spit. At some point, the shower gurgles to life, forcing out the menacing ricochet of thoughts that cause you to wonder just how long your relationship has left. It leaves you empty, sucked dry of everything, but the heavy thundering of the man you love washing blood from his knuckles next door.

The water is too hot, scorching the delicate seams of his skin. Scar tissue and skin grafts have long since settled, leaving him now with a more cohesive patch-work than the back-ally surgeons and staple guns could ever manage. He runs a hand over the scar covering the back of his wrist. That life seems miles away now.

Or, it would if he didn't go running back whenever Shigaraki called.

Which he did.

There was always a job his quirk was perfect for, or a meeting he didn't trust anyone else to mediate, a delivery that would only be safe if it was in his hands. Whatever it was, Dabi always said yes. Maybe it was because being a villain was all he had ever known? Or, maybe, just maybe, deep down, he enjoyed it... Couldn't take the restlessness of a house in the suburbs, a girlfriend who loved him despite all his flaws and the possibility of more: a baby. The word repeats on him again.

He'd never seen himself as a father. Never had an interest. Didn't want the responsibility of raising a brat, or worrying at every single turn if he was becoming his father. It had never appealed to him. That was... Until you.

Now, the image of you swollen and fat, round with his child made his balls ache. You'd look stunning, with glowing skin and one hand permanently rested on your stomach. He wonders if your tits would swell too. If your nipples, already so delicate and sweet would become more sensitive as your body prepared to offer new life to the world. Would the taste of your cunt change, once he finally allowed you to feel full of him. Something he's used to denying you time and time again. The image of you dripping with him, your fingers messily spooning the thick spend back into yourself as you beg for him to breed you burns itself into the back of his eyelids.

His eyes snap open.

Swearing, he reaches down and grips the base of his cock and watches as it twitches, helplessly in his grasp.

Sleep has barely begun to tug at your eyelids when the shower abruptly shuts off. You wait with baited breath, air locked in your chest as his footfalls creep back into the bedroom. You expect him to leave, to sleep on the sofa like he has done in the past when you have argued, but after a moment, he's moving again, rounding your side of the bed and dropping to his knees, still dripping.

Dabi's throat bobs. 'I told him, I'm done.' He mumbles, offering up his phone that he slides to you, screen up, across the mattress.

You push yourself up onto an elbow and peer at the phone where a text chain glows. To his credit, there's a message there – one swearing off further involvement, but still, your heart aches. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bring your eyes up to meet his. 'I don't -.'

He doesn't let you finish. Instead, he reaches for your hand and squeezes. 'I know... I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but look at me and tell me: does it look like I'm serious?'

The muscle in your jaw flexes. You've always had a good read on him. It's the only reason you've both gotten as far as you have.

'Am I serious?'

You lick your teeth.

'I...' Swallowing, he rubs a thumb over your knuckles. 'I mean it, I... Fuck, I wanna give you a baby so bad.'

'Touya – I can't...'

'I mean it.' He cups your cheek with his other hand. 'Don't just believe me, let me prove it to you.'

Covering his hand with yours, you peer into his eyes: searching. You want to believe him. You do. More than anything. 'Touya...'

'Doll.' Dabi leans in, his nose pressing against your cheek as he breathes hot air over your cheeks. In the millimetre of space between your lips, he whispers. 'Let me... Please.'

You close the distance between you and sink into the taste of him. His hand wraps around the back of your neck immediately, keeping you cradled close to him as he lets himself soak into your touch.

Letting yourself fall, you allow his weight to push you back until you're laying flat on the bed, but he doesn't break the kiss once. There's a desperation in his tongue. A passion had always burnt bright between you, hot and fierce, and yet, right now, his whole being is calm. He cages you in, bracketing your head between two strong elbows as he continues to pour himself into you. His tongue breaches the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth with a fever.

'Touya... Touya, please.' Gasping against his mouth, your hands find his hair and tangle in the strands there. You pull, earning yourself a quiet moan that he feeds into your mouth with another scorching kiss. Already you can feel a molten stone begin to burn in your stomach, with each of his touches your doubts are unpicked, his kiss the salve to your worries as he scatters love against your neck.

'Tell me what you need, Doll. Tell me.' Towel slipping from his hips, Dabi finds himself bare. It's odd. To be the one laid so naked while you're still clad in your sleep clothes. It makes him feel stripped, vulnerable and yet, there isn't a single inch of him that is weary.

Letting your hands slip from his hair, you cradle Dabi's face and force him to look at you. 'You... I need you.'

A smile breaks his features then. It still feels strange, tugging unusually at the edges of his mouth as if pulled by invisible strings. Pressing his hips down, he presses his half-hard cock against your pelvis and licks his teeth when he feels the blood pulse under your skin. 'Yeah? You need me, or do you need him, Doll?'

Squirming, you buck your hips anxious to feel more of him. He's searing hot, yet far too cold through the layers of your sleepwear leaving you anxious. You reach down, dropping his face in order to pull at your shorts, trying and failing to slip them from your legs.

Dabi sits back on his haunches, his hands trailing down your body slowly, but firm.

His palms are rough, calloused against your shoulders as they slip lower and take hold of your chest. For a moment he lingers, appreciating with a squeeze. You're so soft and eager, pressing up into him as he kneads at you.

A broad swipe of his thumbs over your nipples has you arching. The desperation inside of you feels as though it might tear you apart as he takes one between his fingers and rolls it, forcing it to pebble quick in the warm air.

'Shh, I've got you, Doll.' Bowing his head, Dabi lays a broad-thick lick against your neglected nipple while slowly pulling at the other. He'd never much cared for pleasure before you. Never really cared about being good. He fucked out of boredom, out of a stubborn biological need that was burrowed somewhere deep inside of him and yet, now... Now he could do without the orgasm. He'd give you his mouth, his fingers, his cock without anything in return if only it meant he was able to bask in your pleasure, to watch, to give.

It makes him want to laugh sometimes, just how much you've changed him.

How much good you bring to him.

If only he could give you something back...

If he could give you the best of him.

'Fuck, fuck... Touy – Touya.' Scrambling, you draw your nails down his back leaving brilliant red in their wake. He likes it. You know he does. Wearing the marks of how he makes you feel, so you don't bother to lighten your touch as you do it again.

Touya drops his head as a moan rolls up his throat and into your ear. The muscle in his back tenses under your abuse, a stark reminder of just how delicate the line between pain and pleasure so often is. 'Oh, baby...' He purrs.

Letting your knees drop to the side, you allow Dabi to nestle between your thighs - closer to where you so desperately need him.

He can feel it, the heat, almost burning to the touch as he reaches down to swipe two fingers through your folds. Usually, he's the one who runs hot, but right now, you're giving him more than a run for his money. His hand comes away wet and sticky. Strings of your arousal drip down his digits, reaching his knuckles before he raises his hand to his mouth and licks you from his skin.

'Touya...' Your heart is racing, hammering against your ribs as you watch him clean himself of you. 'Touya, don't tease.'

'Oh.' He feigns sympathy, before a cruel smirk twists at his features. 'Did you want a taste too, baby?'

There's no waiting for you respond, no answer or rebuttal. There's just a moan locked deep in your throat and then, his fingers pressing down on your tongue. The taste of you bursts in your mouth, mixed with the dull tang of Dabi's spit.

Dabi hums, but the noise gains gravel as soon as you begin to suck at him. He hisses through his teeth, his thumb digging into your chin as he slowly inches his fingers back of your mouth. He growls, hooking a finger to stroke at the plush of your lips. 'For that, missy, I ain't prepping you.'

'As if that's a punishment.' You grin and lift your hips.

There's a hunger in his eyes now. One that is laced with the millions of things he's scared to admit as his expression flickers to match yours. He cocks an eyebrow and reaches for the towel around his waist. Yanking at it, he tosses it off the end of the bed and sits back on his haunches.

You love this bit. The bit were he makes you watch. Your cunt drools onto the mattress, providing the perfect lube for him to begin stroking himself. He dips into you, collecting as much of your slick as he can before wrapping his soaked fingers around his cock.

The slide is perfect. The wetness from you mixes with his own pre-cum, making each pass with his fist divine. It sends shocks of flame up his spine. Licking at his vertebrae, the pleasure builds, bubbling in-between sinew and cartilage, forcing him to bend. He leans into it, letting his body roll to find more of the pleasure he craves. 'Fuck...' He sighs, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. Pressing his cock to your entrance, he tilts forward and then...

His phone rings.

-> Masterlist

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 17.

Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect

A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.

But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.

Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.

Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.

"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.

"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.

Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.

"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.

"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.

"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.

"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.

"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.

"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.

When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.

"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.

"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.

"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."

"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.

"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.

"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."

Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.

"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.

The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.

"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.

There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.

"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.

"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"

"Grammy," you supplied automatically.

"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."

"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.

"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"

"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.

"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"

"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."

Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.

"What colour were they?" You ask softly.

"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.

"No."

"Red."

There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.

The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.

For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.

"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."

You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.

While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.

"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.

Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.

Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.

When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.

"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.

"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.

"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."

With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.

"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.

"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."

"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.

"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."

You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.

"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"

You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.

"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.

"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.

"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.

"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."

Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -

"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"

There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.

You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.

A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.

But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.

You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.

"My Felix."

"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.

That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.

But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.

"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.

"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.

"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.

"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.

"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"

With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -

"Did you?"

"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.

"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.

"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.

"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.

And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.

"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."

"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.

"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.

"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.

"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.

"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.

Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -

"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."

"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.

"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.

But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.

And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.

"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.

"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."

The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.

The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver x reader x felix #head heart hand fic #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton imagine #manic writer

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kvthgok · 9 months

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Webs | Miguel O’Hara x Teen Spider Reader (Platonic)

Warnings- none

Summary- Miguel helps you learn how to control your webs!

Side note- not proofread hehe, to lazy 🤭

"Quit the whining before I throw you off the building myself" groaned Miguel. Today he was teaching you how to control your webs. This whole Spiderman thing was new to you.

I rolled my eyes, "Rude much? Still there is absolutely no way I'm jumping off this building! Your crazy!" I rambled on. He sighed.

"How old are you again?" Miguel asked, raising his eyebrows. "Oh right. Your 15 and you're afraid of heights. Well, you better figure out how to do what I tell you to do. Or else." He said, while crossing his arms. His tone becoming more threatening.

"yeah yeah bossy pants" I said looking at my nails.

Miguel shook his head. He was being more than bossy, he was being a bully. "Now, you better do what I say. Quit your whining unless you want to go for a little trip." Miguel said, motioning towards the edge of the building.

"Can we make a trip to Mcdonalds ?" I smiled like a idiot trying to piss him off and it was working perfectly.

"Why, so you can stuff your face with Big Mac's or french fries or whatever else that greasy food joint serves?" Miguel asked, shaking his head. "You don't need anymore junk food. It's a wonder you're not heavier than you are considering how unhealthy you eat." Miguel groaned, a scowl on his face.

My jaw dropped.

"Yeah." Miguel said, leaning back and crossing his arms. He was still scowling at you.”And you wonder why I'm so tough on you when you stuff your face with that junk food. If you want something to eat that bad, I'll make you something when we get back at the HQ." Miguel sighed and turned his back to you, his arms crossed and his head resting on one of his arms.

I still stood dumbfounded process what he said before. All I knew that it was super out of pocket.

Miguel stood there, his back still turned to you. He was still muttering to himself. "It's like you're always thinking of food," He huffed, turning his head back to face the sky and closing his eyes. "It's not healthy for you to eat all of that junk food. Don't you care about keeping yourself in shape?" Miguel asked, looking back at you.

“Nope not really." I said happily, skipping to him like a toddler that just got a toy from a store.

Miguel glared at you as you skipped towards him. He was annoyed at your childishness but wasn't going to show it. "Yeah, well you should be more worried about your health than you currently are," Miguel said, while tapping his foot on the pavement. He wasn't pleased about your carelessness towards your health.

"Wasn't this whole purpose to help me control my webs and not talk about my love for food?" I raised my eyebrow.

Miguel sighed and looked back at you, tapping his foot on the ground again."It was at first," He started to explain. ”But then the whining began." He said. Miguel's arms remained crossed as he looked at you, his eyes narrowed and his face expressionless. He was annoyed with you and he wasn't afraid of showing it.

"whaaaaaa what whining " I nervously laughed trying to act innocent knowing damn well I was.

"Oh please." Miguel groaned and turned his back to you once again. "The whining isn't going to help. All you need to do is learn how to control those webs of yours." Miguel said. He glanced back at you through the corner of his eye. He looked annoyed.

"Well what are we waiting for?" I questioned.

Miguel took a deep breath and looked over the edge of the building once more. "First things first. You need to face your fear of heights." Miguel said. He turned and faced you, his arms still crossed. "I'm not going to wait for you to conquer your fear. It's sink or swim and I'm not afraid to give you a good shove." Miguel said, his tone becoming more stern and more demanding. Miguel looked back at you and his eyes narrowed some more. "Yeah mhm sure buddy" I said in a smart ass tone.

Miguel's scowl became more prominent. He stared at you for a moment, before grabbing the front of your shirt. ”Ready or not, here we go." Miguel then proceeded to drag you towards the edge of the building.

"Shit."

Miguel held you over the edge of the building, with your only lifeline being his grip on the front of your shirt. "Now, are you going to keep whining or are you going to help yourself?" Miguel asked. He looked down at you, he had a small smirk on his face. I glared at him.

“Oh don't give me that look. I've been more than patient with you," Miguel said, before glancing back at the edge of the building. Miguel continued to hold me over the edge of the building, with his grip tightening on the front of your shirt.

"You wouldn't dare."

Miguel scoffed and narrowed his eyes at you. "I would dare," Miguel said. He began to shake you side to side, his grip still intact on the front of your suit. "Quit complaining and just learn how to control those webs of yours." Miguel growled. “I rather die" I started complaining again.

His grip on the front of your suit tightened. He was frustrated by your continued complaining, and he didn't have much more patience. "I'm going to drop you," Miguel said in a stern tone.

"Doubt it but whatever floats your boat.”

He ignored your sarcasm. He tightened his grip on the front of your suit once again. He took one more look over the edge of the building.That's when he made his decision. Miguel threw you over the edge of the building, your only lifeline being the fabric of your suit. That's when Miguel let go.

"I HATE YOU!” you screamed while panicking in the air. HES CRAZY WHY COULDN'T I TRAIN WITH PETER? I thought to myself. Miguel had found it quite entertaining however.

Miguel chuckled as he watched you frantically move your arms and legs around. Your attempts to use your webbing to slow your fall were not going well. You were in a panic, desperately trying to reach for something to support yourself and slow your fall. You were looking to the side of the building and noticed Miguel had his arms crossed, watching you fall. He had a smile on his face.

I was trying to hug onto a window from a building. People were looking at me , “Hai..." I nervously chuckled.

Miguel just watched you panic and make a fool of yourself. He didn't help or say a single word. He was amused, and he enjoyed watching you struggle. You tried to grab onto the window from another building. Some people were looking at you, some of them looking down from their balconies across the street.

"That's right, keep making a fool of yourself." Miguel said under his breath. I sharply turn to look at Miguel with daggers in my eyes. He was trying to hold in his laughter.

Miguel looked at you, still with that sinister smile on his face. He was entertained by what was happening to you. He continued to watch and see what you would do. Miguel wasn't trying to hold in his laughter, he was letting it all out. Miguel laughed the entire time at you and your struggles.

His laughter continued, and he started speaking again. "You know, I didn't think you'd be able to grab onto anything. This is way more entertaining than I expected."

I yelled in anger and in fear, "Imma kill you once I get to — OH GOD I HATE YOU MIGUEL!" I started slipping. Miguel rolled his eyes and continued to watch you. He didn't take your threats seriously at all. You were still hanging onto the window from the building you grabbed onto, still struggling.

"What's that?" Miguel asked. "You hate me?" he chuckled, clearly not taking you seriously when you yelled that you were going to kill him. "How cute." Miguel said in a mocking tone. "This could end if you would just learn to control your webs and save yourself." He said.

"YOUR A PSYCHO YA KNOW THAT RIGHT?!"

"Maybe I am," Miguel smirked. "But, at least I'm not the one hanging on to a window for dear life now, am I?" Miguel asked with a grin on his face. "Still struggling there, are we?" Miguel said with a smirk , watching you struggle.

He noticed as your nostrils started to flare, and he smirked. "Someone's getting annoyed, huh?" Miguel asked, then turned his back, crossing his arms and resting his head on one of his arms. "Go ahead, keep yelling." Miguel said just continued to watch you.

You finally managed to get back onto the rooftop after some time later. You sat down on the edge of the building roof, breathing a sigh of relief and glancing at Miguel. He wasn't talking to you, and he wasn't looking at you. He was still with his back turned, his arms crossed and his head rested on one of his arms. Miguel then broke the silence.

"Are you ready to learn how to control your webs now?" Miguel asked, his tone becoming more serious.

“I thought I just did?” I said out of breathe.

"You grabbed onto a window, that's all," Miguel said. "I've seen kids do better than that. That's not controlling your webs. That's just desperation." His tone was a dismissive and sarcastic tone. Miguel then turned and faced you, a hint of annoyance in his voice. ”Do it again." Miguel said. I mocked him.

Miguel just stared at you, unimpressed by your mocking tone. "Well?" Miguel asked. He was expecting you to start practicing and trying to control your webs again. However, it seemed the fall had taken the wind out of you. "What are you waiting for?" Miguel asked with a slight scowl on his face.

“Waiting for my breathe to come back” I sighed laying on the concrete floor.

Miguel rolled his eyes, thinking you were just being lazy. "Well get a move on. I'm not waiting all day for you to get your breath back." Miguel said. He didn't sound very convinced by what you had to say. His arms were still crossed and he didn't like that you were taking a break after what just happened.

-Skip 2 hours later-

The sun was starting to set, the sky gradually becoming darker. Miguel had been standing on the edge of the building roof for two hours, and he was clearly getting more annoyed as time went on.

Miguel then turned around to face you, sighing. "Alright? You ready yet, or are you going to need another break?" Miguel asked in a sarcastic tone. "At this rate, this entire night is going to go by and you still won't have gained control of your webs." Miguel said with a groan.

“Okay okay fine I’ll do it.” I said confidently walking over to the edge then I looked down and we were back to square one.

Miguel rolled his eyes. "You're afraid of heights, aren't you?" he asked. He had a smirk on his face as he asked you that. "You're too afraid to face your fear and learn how to control those webs of yours. I thought you wanted to become a better Spider-Man. I had expected more."Miguel shook his head, clearly annoyed by this point.

He kept telling me if I wasn’t going to face my fear then I would never be successful and on and on. At this point he was getting on my nerves.

He then got close to you, his face just inches away from yours. His voice became more demanding and he didn't try and hide his annoyance at this point. Miguel's eyes narrowed and he looked at you with what can be described as disgust."I'm telling you right now," Miguel started, his tone changing.

"If you don't face your fear and control those webs you'll be nothing but a failure. You'll just be a joke." Miguel paused for a moment. "You'll never live up to Peter Parker's legacy the way you're acting right now." “Oh yeah?!” I grew pissed. “Yeah.” He repeated to start getting you mad so you could do it.

Miguel smirked and looked away from you. He was playing the psychological cards and he knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to get more pissed off. That way, you'd maybe prove him wrong and use that anger to control your webs.

He turned his gaze back on you, looking at you with a smirk. "You can prove me wrong, you know," Miguel said with a small laugh. "You can make me eat my words. Is that what you want to do? Or, are you just going to be a coward and let me win?" He scoffed and chuckled as he said that last line. It was a cruel thing to say, and Miguel knew the effects it would have on you. Miguel had pushed your buttons, and he was playing you like a puppet.

I glared at him and then went for it. You might have a chance at making it as a Spider-Man after all," Miguel said with a smirk. He still had that mocking tone in his voice, but he had changed his expression from annoyance. "That's the way I like seeing you," He added. He looked away from you, but then glanced back after a few seconds. "Do it again." Miguel said in a demanding tone.

“I swear if I fall imma…oh wait this is kinda easy” I said surprised. Miguel couldn't help but chuckle at your response. You were still trying to be sarcastic, but it also felt like you were enjoying yourself. Miguel continued to watch, watching your progress unfold before his very eyes.

"Keep going," he said. Miguel let out a grin in approval of what you had just said. He had been pushing you to this point, and he was glad to see you were trying to control those webs of yours.

Few minutes later we were sitting on top of that same roof eating the McDonalds I begged Miguel for.

Miguel had a big smile on his face as he took a bite of his McDonald's burger. His eyes were focused on you the entire time, just watching you closely. He was impressed that you had learned to control your webs.

"You did it," he said in a genuine tone as he took another bite of his food. Miguel was no longer annoyed, nor was he mocking you. Now, Miguel was just proud of what you accomplished.

"How does it feel?" Miguel asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Awesome” I smiled

He spoke again, “You know, if you want to be a good Spider-Man.” "You need to learn more than just web control and using your Spidey senses."Miguel looked at you as he spoke. "You need to learn how to fight. There's more to being Spider-Man than shooting Webs at people."

“You gotta be kidding me man” I started to whine again.

Oh boy here we go again…

#atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #teen reader #x teen!reader #x child reader #oneshot #miguel spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider man 2099 #x y/n #across the spiderverse #platonic #platonic friendships #child reader #miguel x you

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sturniolo-rat · 26 days

Text

The High Life Part 1

Matt Sturniolo X Stoner!Reader

Part 2

A/N: because I need a babysitter when I’m high and this is generally how it goes.

Contains: fluff💕, daddy k!nk

TW: drug use

In which Matt babysits a high Y/N and she becomes submissive and breedable😏

“Matt, would you still love me if I was a worm?” Y/N asks, looking at him through a cloud of smoke.

He looks up from his game “You’re high as shit, but yes, I would, the fuck”? She’s always asking dumbass questions when she smokes. Matt doesn’t smoke himself, but he likes to be around to watch Y/N. Not only does she look really hot, but she becomes so baby, and he wants to take care of her.

“Okay, but what would you do?” She looks up at him expectantly, looking for a very specific answer.

He turns in his chair. “I’d put you somewhere safe and find the wizard bastard that did this to you.”

Y/N shakes her head furiously. “No, there’s no wizard. The universe just took my human form back and decided I was actually supposed to be a worm.” She says, pulling the rolling tray onto her lap as she sits on the bed facing him crisscross applesauce.

“Alright, easy.” He claps his hands. I got this.” She pauses grinding her weed to lean in. This time, she’s hoping for a more pleasing answer. “I’m going outside every day, rain or shine, even if it’s a hurricane, and I’m screaming up at the sky and demanding the universe turn you back.”

Wrong again. “Oh, so you only care for my human body and not my worm body?” she says indignantly as she struggles to roll her joint.

He grabs her face and kisses her forehead. “Baby, please, you already know you’d have a 6-foot terrarium in our room” he takes her rolling tray off of her and starts fixing her shitty rolling. “but I know you’d be sad cuz you wouldn’t be able to talk. Hence my screaming at the universe.” He licks the end of the rolling paper and seals the joint up. “It’s all for you, my love.” And he holds the perfectly rolled joint out. He learned to roll for her recently. He can only roll joints thought because blunts are for losers, and Y/N doesn’t fuck with tobacco.

She takes it from him, completely shocked. “Well,, I guess that’s nice of you?” Referring to his hypothetical screaming and his unhypothetical miracle joint rolling skills. “Since when did you know how to do anything even remotely related to drugs?”

“Last week. I thought I would help my baby out in all her endeavors.” He cracks a smile, knowing he’s thoroughly impressed her.

She spaces out for a few seconds, then Says, “Could I come outside sometimes?”

He nods, instantly, knowing that her brain just did a factory reset, and is talking about the worm hypothetical again. “Mhmm, I’d put you in my shirt pocket, and we’d go on dates, and I’d get you plates of dirt to eat.” This was not the answer she was looking for because it was so much better, and just so perfectly Matt.

“You’re amazing.”

He pats her head. “I’ll go get you some snacks and water, Lovie.” He leaves, and Y/N feels so comfy and loved.

“Get my special cup, please!” she yells to the kitchen. The cup in question is a 40-oz stainless steel tumbler that says Daddy’s Girl. Matt knows she’s in subspace.

When he comes back to the room, Y/N is all cuddled up in bed with the stuffed shark he won at the fair last month. He’s got her special cup in hand and his arms full of chips. He throws them all on the bed and hands over the cup. “Got your cuppy, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” he never liked being called Daddy before he met Y/N. She just brings something out in him. When she’s around, he just wants to take care of her in every conceivable way.

“Anything for you, Baby.” He sits beside her on the bed, and she lies her head on his lap. Matt feeds her chips as they watch Family Guy. It’s amusing watching tv with Y/N when she’s high because she can’t follow the plot story shit. He likes asking her what she thinks is happening and listening to her crazy, convoluted answers.

Somehow, over the course of a couple of hours Y/N ends up sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. She cranes her neck and stares up at him for a while. His lips look so soft, and she can’t look away. Matt notices this and tries to focus her back on the show. “So, what do you think Brian and Stevie are up to right now?”

“D’know.” She shrugs and continues to look at him.

“Do you need something, baby?” He asks.

“Mhmm,” she said, shaking her head and biting her lip.

Matt knows exactly where she’s going with this. “What do you need,

Love. You have to tell me before I can help you.”

“I need you, Daddy.” with that, she opens up a whole new can of worms.

Smutty part 2

Masterlist

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sycamorelibrary754 · 4 months

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Guardian Angel

Chapter 6: Compound Living

Summary: Your recovery continues in the Avengers Compound. You open up to Wanda about your past and have a heart-to-heart that may lead to something more for the both of you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Sorry for the delay! The next chapter of Guardian Angel will most likely be posted after the holidays. I hope you enjoy!

Guardian Angel Masterlist

If you had to stare at another cup of jello, you might just scream. After being stuck in the Med Bay for two weeks, you were craving something sweet from the shop. You were surprised that the food wasn't better given that Stark could have brought up filet mignon if he wanted to. You were extremely grateful that you were finally leaving the Med Bay today, even though you weren't going far.

Wanda would be here shortly to help you move into her old room in the compound. The redhead had been coming to visit you almost every day when she wasn’t out on a mission or at home with the boys. It was the highlight of your day when she walked through your door and brought some much-needed color and personality to your plain old Med Bay room.

Every moment spent with Wanda you learned something new. Her childhood and the happy memories she had of Pietro, despite the struggles they faced growing up in war-torn Sokovia. She waxed poetically about her parents. How her father would bring home American sitcoms that she fell in love with while simultaneously learning English. The Chicken Paprakish her mother lovingly prepared.

Despite all the information you had learned about her and everything she knew about you, you still felt like you were holding back. You couldn’t miss the look she gave you when Dr. Cho said she couldn’t reach your parents, but you were too scared to mention the kiss you had shared when you first woke up after the accident. You feared that Wanda would dismiss it as a mistake caused by your shared vulnerability. However, you knew you couldn't avoid it forever.

Dr. Cho and Banner entered your room, interrupting your thoughts. "You're all set," said Dr. Cho, handing you your discharge papers and aftercare instructions. "Remember, your first follow-up appointment is on Friday."

“Thank you both so much. I'm really grateful,” you said, choking up.

“Okay, who’s ready to bust out of this joint?” Wanda announced pushing in a wheelchair.

Oh great, my driver is here," you joked, wiping your eyes before Wanda could see. "Will you ever stop treating me like a baby? I've made significant progress in my recovery thanks to the cradle.”

“Not a chance,” helping you shift from the bed into the wheelchair.

*^~^*

“Steve, Bucky, and Sam are at your apartment getting your stuff and Natasha should be back from the Candy Bar any minute with an update from Harper on the shop,” rolling you down the hall and into the elevator. “Because you can’t just rest and let yourself heal, you have to be a workaholic,” Wanda mumbled.

"I have never missed a day of work, not even when I had a fever of 102," you proudly declared.

Wanda sighed and said, "I'm sorry Y/N, but I don't think that's the kind of flex you think it is.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Maximoff," said FRIDAY.

“Oh, my God!” You exclaimed. “Who is that person?” If you could stand up from the wheelchair, you would have.

"Relax, it's only FRIDAY," Wanda said as she laid a hand on your shoulder.

“What?”

“Tony's AI interface is integrated into every function in the compound and can provide assistance with any needs.”

“I notice that you have a guest, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Yes, FRIDAY. This is Y/F/N Y/L/N. She’s going to be staying with us for a bit in my old room.”

Welcome Ms. Y/L/N. Please let me know if you need assistance.

“Hi FRIDAY, it’s nice to meet you too.”

“She’ll be your new best friend,” Wanda joked.

“Stark really can do anything,” you said.

The elevator stopped as FRIDAY announced your arrival in the living quarters. Doors opened to a stunning common area, leaving you speechless. Needless to say, it was much nicer than your apartment.

"Welcome to the common room and the kitchen," Wanda said, as she led you through the room. "We usually keep some late-night snacks in the fridge, and if you ever need something sweet, I can show you where Clint keeps his stash of chocolate," she giggled.

"This is amazing," you say, your eyes wandering around the room.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you hear rumors about the Avengers Compound, but you don’t know if it’s true. Oh my god! Look at that plasma screen TV! A Ps5!” Squealing like a little kid.

“Yes, when they're not working, you'll find the boys and some of the younger ones gathered around that ridiculous thing.

“I want to play!”

“Y/N, you only have one good arm.”

“So, I could still play! Call out moves,” you pleaded as Wanda rolled her eyes.

“Tony’s lab is down that corridor to the left. He’s usually in there tinkering away at all hours of the night until Pepper comes and gets him.” Wanda continues to roll you down a separate hallway, “Team bedrooms are down this way.”

You passed a few doors before coming to a stop. “This is my room,” gently opening the door and pushing you inside.

“Wow, Wanda, this is awesome.”

If you walked in a forest at first light, if you let the awakening green hues into your soul, that would be the sense that was her bedroom. There was a calmness, a serenity, a feeling of optimism. The same feelings you felt whenever she was in your presence.

“Thank you. It’s not as fancy as some of my teammates' rooms, but I loved it,” helping you out of the wheelchair and onto the bed. “I did my best to make it my safe space. So no matter what was going on outside, no matter what happened out in the field, I could come home and find my peace of mind again.”

“That’s beautiful, Wanda.”

As you looked up, Natasha called out "Knock knock" from the doorway.

“Reporting back from the Candy Bar, boss,” Nat said walking towards you.

“Oh God, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Relax, everything is fine,” Nat said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “That Harper girl has the shop running like a well-oiled machine.”

Thank goodness, you exclaimed. "Do we need anything? I could place an order from here," you said, reaching for your phone.

"Y/N, you shouldn't be working. Your number one priority should be your recovery," Wanda interrupted.

You simply grumbled at her response before turning back to the Black Widow.

“I called Harper and let her know you were coming. Is there any chance she didn’t fangirl over you when you arrived?”

“If you consider knocking over a jar of jelly beans and dropping some kid’s ice cream on the floor keeping her composure, then sure. She was very composed,” Natasha said.

You ran a hand down your face, imagining your best friend's clumsiness. You said, "Thank you, Natasha. I owe you one. I have been going crazy not being there. It was a relief to have someone in there to keep an eye on the place.

“No problem, Y/N,” patting your leg. “Oh, and one more thing,” bringing her other hand out from behind your back. “I brought you back a little something.” Holding up a bag from your shop. “Harper told me what you liked. The first rule of compound living - guard your snacks or they will be eaten by one of the boys,” handing you the bag.

“You’re the best! I’ve been craving some sweets from the shop,” taking the bag.

“I know,” Natasha smirked. “Second rule of compound living - I know everything.”

“It’s true,” Wanda confirmed.

“Delivery!” Sam called out as he walked into the room carrying a couple of boxes with Steve and Bucky trailing behind with boxes of their own.

“Wow, did you pack up the entire apartment?” Nat teased.

“We wanted to be prepared for every eventuality,” Bucky said. “We weren’t sure what Y/N would need.”

“Wow, thank you so much, you guys,” you said.

Steve said, "We'll be happy to help you unpack after our meeting with Hill," placing down the boxes.

I'll come with you guys," Nat said. "See you in a bit, Y/N.

“Bye,” you waved.

Wanda fluffed the pillow behind your back before sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, I’m alright for now,” a small yawn escaping your lips.

“I should let you get some rest,” rising from the bed.

“Wanda, wait,” placing a hand on her arm.

She turned back toward you, her face curious.

There's something I need to share with you. It's the reason why I'm here, recovering away from my family," you say, your gaze fixated on the soft comforter. "You see, my parents and I are not on good terms. We're estranged.”

Wanda’s face softened at the admission.

“My parents founded Onyx Petroleum in California in 1978. They're not exactly Tony Stark rich, but pretty close. Growing up, I always felt resentful towards them - they were never the kindest people in the world, and their wealth and status just made it worse. But once I started researching climate change and the impact of fossil fuels on our planet, everything changed. It was disgusting to see the sheer amount of pollution that Onyx Petroleum, one of the world's top five most polluting companies, was responsible for. And yet, despite all of this, they still don't seem to care even an iota. It's just not right.”

Wanda's calming hand on your thigh pulls you back into the present moment as you take a deep breath.

“Throughout my entire childhood, my parents never failed to remind me that one day I would inherit and run the family business. When I turned 18, they presented me with a legal document that would bind me to take over the company as the Chief Executive Officer after completing my college education. The mere thought of it was enough to make me feel physically ill,” you look down at your lap as you recount the painful memory. "I remember the day I told them that I would rather live on the street than work for their business," you said softly. "I had always dreamt of doing something that aligned with my values and passions, and I knew that working for them would compromise that. But they didn't take it well. The very next day, they cut me off and kicked me out of their lives. It was as if I had never existed to them." Your voice cracks a little as you finish your sentence, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"Oh Y/N," she said, gently placing a hand under your chin and tilting your head up. Your eyes glistened with tears that threatened to spill over.

“I moved in with Harper,” wiping at your eyes. “I funded my college education using the savings I had accumulated over the years and pursued a degree in entrepreneurship. Upon graduation, I took a leap of faith and established the Candy Bar with Harper. It has been the saving grace of my life," you breathed out, feeling a sense of release from the burden that had been weighing you down.

Wanda didn't respond immediately. As you looked up, you saw tears shining in her eyes. "I am grateful that you trusted me enough to share all of this with me. I am so sorry that this was your reality."

“It was a long time ago. I’ve built a life and a business that I love, and I don’t think about it for the most part. But, when I heard Helen say that she couldn’t get a hold of my parents after the accident… I don’t know,” you trailed off.

“I understand that the accident must have brought up some painful memories for you. Trust me, I know firsthand how much courage it takes to face such buried trauma," she said, placing her hands gently on top of yours. "You're an incredible woman, and it's a shame that your parents aren't here to witness the amazing person you've become.

You nodded silently before meeting the gaze of the redhead. Those beautiful green eyes caught your attention once again.

“If you ever want to talk about this I’m always here, or I can talk to Bucky about introducing you to Dr. Raynor. She’s a terrific therapist.”

After thanking Wanda, you thought the conversation was over, but you could see her contemplating something. "What's wrong?" you asked her.

Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just… I’ve felt so guilty about what happened between us after you woke up in the Med Bay,” struggling to get the words out. “I felt like I took advantage of you and how vulnerable we both were in that moment.”

"Oh, thank God you finally said something!" you exclaimed, relief washing over your voice.

“What do you mean?” A look of confusion on her face.

"I felt the same way, but I was too scared to say anything. I've been wanting to bring it up for two weeks, but I was afraid you would dismiss it as a mistake in the heat of the moment," you rambled. "Then I thought maybe the reason you weren't bringing it up is because you did think it was a mistake, and I didn't know--" Wanda cut you off by placing a finger over your lips.

“Shhh…”

You didn’t realize that you were out of breath.

"I like you, Y/N. It's the first time I've felt this way about anyone since Vision, and it scares me. From the moment I saw you in that cafe, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind, and then when I saw you in that car..." She started to choke up.

I know," you reassured her. "I haven't stopped thinking about you either. When I woke in the Med Bay and you were there," reaching up and stroking Wanda's cheek, "I knew I was going to be okay.

Wanda leaned into your palm as her eyes met yours.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Wanda.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

As she leaned forward, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation. Suddenly, her lips met yours again for the second time. It was a soft and tender kiss at first, but then you felt Wanda's hands gently cup your face, pulling you closer to her. You could sense a deepening urgency in her touch as her lips moved against yours with a newfound passion. In that moment, you forgot about everything else - your worries, fears, past, and future. All that mattered was the intimate moment you were sharing with Wanda. When you finally broke the kiss, your eyes met and you both knew that you had found something special in each other.

*^~^*

After their meeting, Steve, Bucky, and Sam kept their promise and returned to help you unpack. When Steve knocked on your door, there was no answer. Upon slowly opening the door, he discovered that you were sound asleep on the bed. Your good arm was wrapped around Wanda, who was peacefully dozing while snuggling up against your chest.

“Should we wake them?” Sam asked.

"No, let them sleep. We can start unpacking the boxes," suggested Steve.

You woke up a couple of hours later with the afternoon sun shining on your face. Wanda stirs slightly next to you.

"Hi," you muttered wearily.

"Hey," Wanda said while stretching and looking up at you.

“I guess we fell asleep.”

“It’s lunchtime. You should eat something. Let me grab you some food,” she said, looking at her watch.

“I'll come with you. I'm tired of being cooped up in rooms.”

As the two of you sat up in bed, your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the state of the room around you. You couldn't help but notice that all your belongings had been carefully unpacked and placed in their proper places, giving the space a neat and organized feel. The room was adorned with delicate fairy lights that cast a warm, inviting glow around the space, while a beautiful bouquet of flowers sat proudly on the coffee table, adding a touch of elegance and charm to the overall decor. It was evident that someone had taken great care and effort in decorating the room, and you couldn't help but feel grateful and touched by the thoughtful gesture.

“Um, can FRIDAY unpack boxes?” you asked

Wanda smirked and said, "I don't think she can." Then she added, "In case it isn't clear, I think the team likes you too, Y/N."

“Wow,” you were completely amazed.

#guardian angel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #avengers compound #avengers x reader #mcu #comfort

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hawkinsharlot · 2 years

Text

argyle nsfw rambling + headcanons

.🍃

MINORS DNI

summary; my dumb ass rambling about argyle and his kinks or just anything nsfw related about him.

.🍃

he loves thighs and tummy <3

more often than not, he’ll make sure your thighs are nice and marked up when he goes down on you too

speaking of going down, GOD does argyle know how to make someone cum

he’s so good at eating pussy it’s insane

it’s the type of good that’ll leave you gripping your sheets and quivering under his tongue after he gives you the most mind numbing orgasms

he’s such a needy sub though

seriously, when he subs, he subs real nice. does anything you ask of him, and honestly gets off on praise a lot

he doesn’t mind when you’re a bit pushy as he goes down on you. he loves being smothered by thighs or when you completely grind into him as he eats you out.

the prettiest mental image just popped into my head

imagine being eaten out by argyle while high as fuck, and after you finally cum, argyle just looks up to you from between your legs and just rests his cheek against your inner thigh. he has this hazy, dreamy look in his eyes as he smirks up to you. he completely melts into your touch when you run your hand through his now messy hair and call him a good boy.

no one can tell me otherwise, argyle would be super into cockwarming

passing a blunt back and forth as you try and stay as still as possible on his cock. making out with him between puffs and marking one another up with hickeys <3

i’ve talked about how cute submissive argyle is. but i must talk about how i’m a firm believer in switch argyle, therefore, dominant argyle is hot as fuck

he’s not into anything super rough or degrading, nothing of that sort

but definitely just a bit of dirty talk. it’s minimal though, but honestly that’s what makes hotter? i can see him, fucking you nice and deep with long strong strokes and he just says stuff between moans and groans. “you feel so good” or “shit, you’re so wet”

the hottest things he says though? it's when he's not even trying super hard to be hot, it kinda just happens?

like the way his voice gets when he's about to cum, most of the time he ends up moaning your name when he finally cums, then immediately goes for your lips to make out with you. it's the type of sloppy, needy, making out. he kisses like he needs it to live

this man is good with his hands and i stand by that

he can roll a perfect joint or blunt in like 3 seconds, so yeah he'd know how to use those fingers of his

he has pretty hands too <3 good hands to hold and good fingers to suck on

he likes finger fucking you sometimes when the both of you are too high to move but both horny as fuck and needy for one another

his fingers are so precise it's insane

argyle definitely learns what your body likes and every single time you two mess around, he'd pull out some new tricks on you

it leaves you breathless and quivering every time

his favorite positions, in no particular order, would be lotus, missionary, and cowgirl

lotus he prefers when the both of you are smoking. it's easy to just pass a blunt back and forth before you two even start getting busy. it's normally the default position because of how often you two end up like that just naturally. he also likes lotus whenever he's feeling particularly sappy and wants to kiss you while you fuck. not to mention he just loves being close to you. lotus is normally the go to position

missionary is when you're feeling more submissive or he's feeling more dominant. he really likes watching your blushed body squirm and quiver under his touch. you're also just hot, he likes looking at all of you while he fucks. it gives argyle easy access too if he feels like kissing your neck or your tits at all. over all just a good position for when you're feeling like being a bit more submissive

cowgirl is for when YOU are feeling like being more dominant or when argyle feels like pleasing you. this is also when he makes the prettiest sounds oh my GOD <3 argyle's needy moans are the cutest. just watching him moan under you while you ride his cock is almost a religious experience. sometimes though when you're both desperately horny for one another, argyle gets a little more grabby. deep strokes while the both of you make out like you need each other to live. when you're both needy, it's when things get the most passionate

this is something i stand by; argyle cannot and i mean, cannot, be mean when getting head. he's literally the most gentle ever whenever you give him head.

he was so nervous the first time though <3 he nearly exploded just seeing you get on your knees and pull down his boxers

ended up finishing on your face too and literally would not stop apologizing for getting cum in your hair/on your glasses/etc

he even promised that he'd let you make a mess of his face by sitting on it. he crossed his mf fingers for you to say yes

argyle is 100% the type of dude who's like "yes, sit on my face. none of that hovering bullshit, no no, i mean like sit sit on it. okay and? if i die, i die"

one thing i think i cannot stress enough is just how not serious argyle is during sex. some people are super fucking serious and no drama about sex, but no, not argyle!

first time you ever sat in his lap, both of you guys high as a kite, you couldn't help but be giggling the entire time as you two made out

when making out, a lot of the time between little lulls, argyle just looks at you with the biggest grin on his face before letting out a little laugh and attacking your lips again

he's the sweetest little goof during sex

sex with him is just so sweet? there's no other way to put it, but genuinely after, it's emotionally fulfilling as well as physically fulfilling

this man. worships, and i mean worships your body

seriously, every single time without a doubt, he's there loving and kissin' on you. even things you dislike about yourself, he finds enchanting because he's so in love with you <3

he loves marking you up but would never outright say it

mainly because he himself never realized it until you jokingly asked if he had a thing for it and then he realized, in that moment, that he did.

he got a lil embarrassed about that <3

honestly, he gets embarrassed pretty easily for the most part. one time, you nipped at his neck a bit when another one of his friends was around and could've seen you two, and he was like "woAH WOah, heh, stop stop, they'll see" and he's just in shambles. a completely stupid giggling mess as he's trying his hardest not to get hard then and there. you rode him into the mattress later that night <3

hand jobs. giving him a hand job is literally so cute. edging him for a while before finally milking his cock and over stimulating him? he's a fucking mess. legs quivering and everything. but god he's begging for it the entire time you jerk him off

i've said this before in a different post, but argyle has such an intense oral fixation it's insane

literally he cannot fuck you without sucking on your tits first. he just loves seeing your chest all slick and nipples all puffy from him sucking on them.

he just loves boobs tbh

anytime he sees your boobs he's just like :D before cupping them

he likes anything squishy tbh. thighs, tummy, ass, hips, chest, literally anything squishy. he'd wanna lay there or suck on it or both depending where

morning sex the morning after a long ass smoke sesh the night before.

in conclusion, argyle fucks B)

#stranger things #argyle #argyle headcanons #argyle x reader #stranger things imagine #argyle smut

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grvyrd-drms · 8 months

Text

creepypasta characters getting absolutely zoinked!!

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A/N: in honor of me getting so stoned i puked last night. how i think crp's feel about the mary jane.

characters: jeff, toby, ben, masky, hoodie, e. jack, l. jack, natalie/clockwork, jane, liu, nina, helen/bloody painter, puppeteer, jason, candy pop, zero, kate

CW: drugs obviously lol, flashbacks/trauma

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jeff: secretly too afraid to use lighters anymore so he sticks to dab pens. claims he "doesn't want weed all over his shit" but everyone knows the truth lmao. takes baby hits cause it hurts his lungs. 4/10.

toby: oh ABSOLUTELY handles it like a CHAMP. the one who's constantly ripping the bong that it gets annoying. he likes that it calms his anxiety and tics, and its one of the only times he feels like he can relax and get away from all his... issues. finishes peoples bong rips and joints for them. doesn't like blunts. prefers to smoke alone but likes when brian tags along cause it makes toby feel like he has a brother. helps people out if they wanna roll/learn/etc. 11/10.

e. jack: prefers to be in touch with his senses completely. afraid that if he's too careless he'll go all spooky cannibal demon on everyone. doesn't mind when other people do it, though. 0/10 just cause he doesn't smoke.

l. jack: never let this thing near any drugs ever. i feel like drugs wouldn't even work on them??? stoned toby once tried to get them to smoke cause he thought it'd be funny. they ate the joint. -1/10.

masky/tim: prefers his cigarettes. he already has issues with the constant DID switching he doesn't need anymore time skips or anything. likes feeling in control. in high school and college before it all got bad he definitely blazed it up though. 6/10 for past experience.

hoodie/brian: 100% was the one blazing it up with tim in school. hits pipes like a PRO. sometimes smokes with toby if they've been on good terms/its been a good day and the proxies aren't at each others throats. 8/10.

natalie: dooooeeessss not like not being in full control. can't handle it and it freaks her out big time. she'll start getting triggering flashbacks if she's high enough. when her and toby were dating she fucking hated whenever he got high. for effort, 2/10.

nina: the gf who looooooovessss weed and then is gone by the first hit. definitely takes a way too big hit and throws up after trying to impress everyone. she likes fruity vapes and puts stickers on them. 7/10.

jane: NU-UH!!!! does not go near drugs of any kind and gets nervous around intoxicated people. keeps her guard up when she's around anyone like that. she did once help natalie to her room when she was stoned though. and for that mom energy, 1/10.

ben: i have this little hc that ben just kinda. gets shit for people. being a part of the internet he can get anything ordered, anything shipped anywhere. as a fee he likes to charge people in weed (or something sexual if he's being a nuisance and likes the person). has never once bought his own bud and doesn't keep track of it. you'll get strawberry cheesecake and banana pudding in one bowl and you'll fucking like it. nobody will smoke with him due to that. 9/10 tho he blazes it up.

kate: never learned how to do any of that and doesn't really feel like learning. hates people too much to ask someone to teach her. gets intimidated whenever she sees toby and brian work out the mechanics of it all. 1/10 poor baby.

liu: DOES NOT PARTAKE IN ANY OF THESE ACTIVITIES AT ALL ‼️🙅 acts like he's too high (lol) above to do drugs. in reality he's just too awkward and scared to ask anyone to smoke with him. if anything he would have a dab pen cause he can't roll or pack for shit. 3/10 you'll get there one day buddy.

helen: casually smokes here and there to relax himself. not addicted, more of a recreational/medicinal user. 8/10.

puppeteer: this fucking GUY. in competition with toby for highest tolerance/biggest stoner. i mean look at him he's a theater kid and he has a beanie. thats like 100% stoner material. smokes blunts like theres no tomorrow. 11/10.

zero: definitely makes it into a competition and judges people if they can't handle a hit/finish their milk. every single time accidentally gets way too stoned trying to beat everyone. worst person to smoke with but her tolerance is incredible. 7/10.

jason: believes he has better things to do than get high and do drugs. always busy with his 'work' and his companions (the circus pastas) feel the same. 0/10.

candy pop: no one lets them near their stash. they have not once encountered any type of drug. no one is willing to share. so sorry buddy. 0/10.

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thewriterg · 11 months

Text

𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭

pairing(s): Dallas Winston x gn!reader, Dallas Winston x greaser!reader

summary: you thought it would help, the calming feeling of your smokes but instead it makes in worst and Dallas helps in his own Dallas Winston way

word count: 950+

request: could i request something for dallas winston? reader and dallas smoking weed together and maybe reader greens out and he’s there to comfort them while also being high as fuck —@jokersscarrd

warning(s): marajomama, under the influence, underage smoking, anxiety/panic attack were gonna ignore how mental health wasn’t really a thing back then bc no, kisses, pet names, and language

A/n: —GIFs: @obsessed-artist & @pelopides— I’m getting to request slowly but surely also the GIFs don’t determine race they’re just inspo

You didn’t smoke cigarettes.

So every time someone offered you one out of the carton looking box you politely declined they burned your throat, the smell was un-washable, it suffocated you. After a while people around your hood learned to stop offering unless you were asking

When you needed the burn, when you needed to suffocate.

You did however smoke pot it helped you relax and it benefited your anxiety which is why you should walking away from your childhood home now a rolled joint in between your finger tips flicking the silver zippo lighter with different swirls and engravings that Dally had gotten you for your birthday when you were fourteen

Fourteen and smoking pot the memories flashed your mind occasionally You’re head was fuzzy like Tv static and you usually when you inhaled the smoke it cleared your mind now it just blurred your vision further as you walked along the streets of Tulsa

You suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder and your reaction usually was to clutch your switchblade but you were just stuck you thought about Ponyboy and wondered was this what it was like when he ‘didn’t use his head’ as Darry claimed

“Y/n what’s your problem stupid!? Oh doll, what’s- what’s the matter?” Dally stated a little softer your eyes were filled with tears and were red he couldn’t tell if it was from you joint or the tears

You didn’t respond instead you looked at him like he was a void it seemed you were looking through him rather than at him and he cursed under his break before throwing his long arm over your shoulder and walked you down the street as if he was shielding your body with his

💌💌💌💌

Dally pulled you into his room locking the door behind him as he tried not to go wreck the whole part Buck was throwing downstairs the music muffled traveled through the thin walls

“Will you light one with me?” You whispered clouds of smoke comforting over his room like blanket as the rolled paper hung loosely from your lips and the brunette scoffed before snatching the smoke and putting it between his own taking in a deep inhale

“What’s tha’ matter with you?” The juvenile delinquent questioned you again as you sat on the end of his bed his New York accent a little thicker than the one he acquired from Tulsa and suddenly the room was too stuffy the smoke burned your lungs and suffocated you like a cigarette

Dallas noticed your heavy breathing and stretched his arm out towards you offering back your smoke and you nudged his hand away from you line of view not noticing as he stubbed it out in the glass ashtray on the worn down wooden nightstand next to the head of his bed

The brunette lied a hand on your shoulder before you were shooting up out of you seat it looked like you were shedding your damn skin he thought rushing to stand less than a few meters away from you

“Deep breathes doll c’mon, you’re not there. It’s over, it’s done, forget about it.” His voice that usually comforted you scratched your skin the wrong way it sounded like nails on a chalkboard as you reminisced on your time and New York

What you sawn, what you been around, what you went through.

“But it’s difficult don’t you understand!? It is difficult.” Your voice raised as you pulled away from his grasp clutching yourself when had he even touched you?

“I didn’t want it to happen but it happened and now- DON’T YOU COME ANY CLOSER” You screeched as Dally took a step towards you not letting your screaming shy him away from you as much as you wanted it to

“Y/n it’s me” He stated firmly trying to get you to Lock eyes with him but you eyes were wild and frantic like a scared cornered animal darting everywhere but him

“Don’t you understand you disgust me!? I CANT STAND YOU TOUCHING ME” You screamed beginning to tug at you hair before Dallas wrapped an arm around your waist firmly as you squirmed and struggled against his grasp the other arm going to cover your hands forcing your fingers open to let go of your hair

“You’re alright, you’re fine. I know doll, I know.” The hood muttered into the crown of your head before pressing a quick comfort kiss on the surface letting you hit at his chest and sob into his sleeve until you finally came down from his high and let your body unknowingly fall limp as he held you up without a struggle walking you both to the small twin bed

You were in his arms as he sat up against the cheap headboard of the small cushion rubbing his cool hands over your warm body grounding you like he always did

“There’s so much I wanna say, but I don’t know where to start.” You whispered carefully your breath caught in your throat before it finally was released and Dally hummed in acknowledgement before reaching over to the small table by his side grabbing the once discarded joint from the dusty glass ashtray in between his fingertips

“Well, we better get to it huh?” He stated quietly lighting the rolled paper until smoke settled in his lungs when he inhaled he made sure to blow it out of your face or rather the back of your head as your back sat against his chest You let out a breathe before the smoking drug was in you view and this time you took it

This time it didn’t burn nor suffocate you

#dallas winston #dally winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders x reader #fluff #anxiety comfort #romance #fem!reader #gn!reader #male!reader #i love you #thewriterg #2023

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gourdkeeper · 9 months

Note

Hi, tysm for your amazing Jamie fics 💗

I was thinking about a fic where Jamie sees Fem!Reader with Luke, whether it be catching a bite to eat, or sharing a hug or something, and Jamie takes it completely the wrong way and thinks there is something going on. Queue the issuing fight between Luke and Jamie!

Tysm again, best Jamie fics ever! 💓

Arghhahdhsks thank you!! I wouldn't say they're the best tho, Jamie got quite a few great writers <3 also damn!! First non smutty request! Enjoy!

Content warnings: jamie is really fucking jealous in this, violence, swearing, fem!reader, jamie is possessive once more, luke is just a perfect friend but he gets heated up too, reader doesn't put up with crap either

Word count: 1648

The sun was shining bright, there was a faint breeze in the air and the streets were bustling. It was the perfect day to grab a bite with a friend. And that was just the plan for today.

You invited Luke to hang out after working out together and he was overjoyed, accepted immediately. He likes you a lot as student, you're always eager to learn and you don't back down from a challenge, besides, you're really good company and friend. Luke likes playing video games a good deal and so do you, so every now and then you visit an arcade together or just play something online.

It's nice! Him and Bosch were your first friends when you first moved here and naturally, you cherish them a lot.

You walked through the park at first, it's a nice place nearby the academy and made way to the main streets.

Luke wanted pizza. Again.

"Luke please I'm gonna be sick of pizza at this rate." You huff at him and he just shrugs his shoulders at you.

"Getting sick of perfection? Couldn't be me-"

"You've eaten pizza the last time. And the time before that. And the one before too."

"Ok fine, what do you want instead? Burger?"

You can't help but laugh, how does this guy keep his physique when all he eats is junk.

"I don't know? Maybe we can grab some street food instead? The weather's nice and all!"

"Sweet! Sure, there's the pizza stall-"

You punch his shoulder in jest.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

You both joke around and end up settling on going to Chinatown, there's a new joint you wanted to try for a little while now and you were craving some ramen and soup truth be told.

Luke's stomach is growling and he starts mumbling about how he's gonna need to order the entire menu.

You suggest to take a starter to eat on the spot while you wait for the takeout order to be finished.

---

It's been a godawful day. His eyeliner isn't perfectly even. Just as he went out a bus splashed mud all over his pants. Then he got harrassed in the subway when all he wanted was to mind his business. Ugh.. he's sick and tired of the good-for-nothing brutes that keep taking over the city. It's even worse when the weather is good. The streets become packed. People bump into him. Thugs will try picking on him simply for being a "pretty boy".

And then there's the issue at hand, he wanted to grab some lunch and every damned place is full, bursting at the seams.

Jamie feels like he can't catch a break.

He decides to just call it a day. He'll just cook himself something much better anyway. "If these losers want to waste upwards to an hour in a queue they can take the L." He thinks to himself.

He's not aware that his day is about to become even worse.

He stops in his tracks just as he cuts the corner to go in his apartment.

"Luke?! What the hell is this douchebag doing here?" He stares for a bit and as Luke moves he notices someone covered by his wide silhouette. "...No way."

His thoughts are racing. "Now why, *today* of all days, is this joke of a man here and with *my* girl? What does he think he's doing? In *my* turf of all places."

He observes with a vein nearly popping at his temple as Luke extends a spring roll to your mouth and you happily take it. His blood boils as he sees you being all buddy-buddy with his rival. Trading smiles. Laughing at his lame jokes. The idiot even has the audacity of touching your face to wipe away a bit of food? How fucking dare he? How fucking dare he put his hands on you?

Jamie's fuming, any more anger bubbling in him and smoke would be coming out of his nose.

He spots the vendor calling them over to hand them take out boxes and bags. Huh? They're not gonna finish eating here? What? Is he intending on stealing his girlfriend away? Take her home? Nah, he ain't letting this slide.

He pulls and rolls up the sleeves of his yellow jacket and starts walking towards you and Luke. Head low, glaring through his brows and teeth bared.

"Oh Jamie hi!" You notice your boyfriend approach and wave, you didn't expect to run into him but you're always happy to see him.

"Jamie? Is everything ok?" You find his lack of response odd.

"Huh?" Luke turns around, spring roll still halfway in his mouth.

Expressing his initial confusion was all he had time to do before the long haired man pulled his arm back and swung at him. Fist landing right on his face, sending him backwards a few steps and making him spit the food out.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR BRO?" Luke doesn't understand what prompted him to this.

"Don't even start with the "bro's", I'm ain't no bro of yours." He spits at the ground directly in front of the blond. He's ready to throw hands.

"Jamie?!" You're caught completely off guard, why the hell did he do that? You rush to your friend, "Luke are you okay?"

He pushes you away lightly. "You might want to step aside. I'll deal with this."

People starts gathering around curious.

"Oh yeah? Why is that? Got tired of her boyfriend? Was I not enough?" Jamie snarls, "Or are you just trying to steal her away from me Mr. Perfect?!"

They push each other back in turns.

"What?!" You're incredulous, but... Kind of entertained at the same time?

"Is your girlfriend not allowed to have friends now?" Luke retorts.

"Not with dipshits like you, you fuckin' meathead loser."

"Oh I'm the meathead?! I didn't walk in here swinging. Peacekeeper my ass, that's the damn opposite you-"

"Watch your fucking mouth army boy."

"Or what?"

Their foreheads are almost pressing at each other and you decide to intervene before they both go fully at it and thrash the street.

"Both of you knock it off! What the hell is going on?" You slide in the middle and push your boyfriend away. "Back off Jamie, what is this all about?! You too Luke, back off!" They hardly move.

Luke tries to put his hand on your shoulder to get you to get away and Jamie slaps it off.

"Touch my girl one more time and you're eating concrete."

"Jamie! Luke is my friend, he's not doing anything wrong-"

"Oh is that so? Sharing food while giggling to each other? Right in front of where I live?"

"...we were just grabbing some food? Like...how friends do?" You can't believe you need to explain how friendships work to your partner. Is he really that jealous? Or is it just because it's Luke?

You heard that they don't get along before but this is a whole other level.

"Touching your mouth?"

"For fuck's sake this is ridiculous-" You can hardly believe this.

"Don't worry, that's what he does best, being ridiculou-" Luke can't even finish what he's saying before another punch comes flying in his direction.

He straightens up and launches himself at Jamie.

You quickly step away, trying to avoid being hit on accident.

Luke isn't holding back. He's holding Jamie by the jacket's collar and punching freely until Jamie manages to stick his foot on the other's abdomen and kick him off.

"If you both don't knock that off right now I'm going home."

They ignore you, more focused on fighting than on you.

"Fine. Have fun, get a room while you're at it." You walk off, huffing. "What the hell is their deal..." You mutter to yourself as you walk home alone.

---

A few hours have passed when you get a text from your dear coach.

"Hey, sorry about today, I'll pay lunch next time. Hope you're not mad at me."

You're not mad at him, I mean, he didn't really do anything wrong, he just refused to take shit.

There's a knock at the door.

"Babe, are you home? I'm sorry!" Jamie is yelling from outside.

You take a deep breath and go to open it.

Yikes... he looks like roadkill.

You keep your head low and you let him walk in.

"...I'm sorry about today." He takes his hands from behind his back and pulls out a small bouquet of flowers. "I know it doesn't make it right but..." He hands them over to you.

"Jamie... What was all that for?" You accept the flowers and you take a hand to his face, his lip is busted and eye swollen, it looks like it hurts.

"I just... I just thought that you two were being too close and that...you know."

"Luke and I are friends, I know him for longer than I know you, if I wanted to be with him like that I would have done it before. You can trust me."

He clearly feels stupid. He knows his actions were irrational and brash. Amplified by the bad day he had of course, but it doesn't excuse it.

"I know I can trust you... I'm sorry."

You crack a smile and laugh.

"W-why are you laughing..?"

"It's kinda cute-“

"What is-?"

"That you're soooo insanely jealous."

"Lies. The great Jamie Siu doesn't get jealous of anyone." He's struggling not to laugh himself, fully aware of how silly he sounds.

You hold his hands and kiss his cheek.

"I'll forgive you..."

His eyes light up.

"... If..."

"If?"

You smirk at him.

"You also apologize to Luke. I think he deserves flowers too."

He shakes his head laughing and clicks his tongue, "Tsk, I'm not giving that guy any flowers."

You raise your brow at him.

"Okay fine! Flowers for the scoutboy it is, ugh..."

#jamie siu #luke sullivan #street fighter 6 #jamie siu x reader #sfw #gourdkeeper #requests #reader really wants to put them in the “get-along shirt” lmao

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wordsbyrian · 1 year

Text

The Owl and The Lioness - Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Rugby player!R meets Alessia Russo and things go from there.

A/N: This is the fic I made you guys vote on me writing like a week ago. Also does anyone else feel like I'm writing these pretty fast because I have 3 other fics just waiting to be posted and a 4th in progress.

As a rugby player, you can honestly say that you do not spend much time thinking about football.

In all honesty, you can’t say that you’ve spent more than ten minutes thinking about it in the last 10 years, but that’s all about to change today.

Today, you along with the rest of England’s women's national rugby team are at St. George’s Park because apparently, it would look good if the Red Roses were seen supporting the Lionesses and vice versa before your major tournaments.

You’ve never been more uncomfortable than you are right now standing in front of these footballers in your training kit.

The two sets of captains and coaches are currently trying to figure out the best way to go about this faux joint training. They don’t take very long and before you know it, you and your fellow wings Jess, Ellie, and Lydia are standing with their strikers.

“I’m Beth. That’s Bethany, Nikita, and Alessia,” the newly identified Beth says.

“I’m Lydia and that’s Jess, Ellie, and Owl,” Lydia says, smirking as she purposely tries to wind you up by using your nickname.

“It’s Y/N,” you say, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Speak up Owl,” your teammates say at nearly the same time with identical eye rolls.

Taking a deep breath you try again, voice coming out at a normal volume, “My name is Y/N.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Alessia give you a small grin, which you return despite the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

It’s then that the drills start and you find yourself silently showing her the correct way to pass a rugby ball and the correct way to tackle, chuckling softly as she and her three teammates struggle to bring you down.

In turn, she shows you how to do keepy-ups and how to use your laces to add some power to your shots.

The very last activity of the day is a foot race and it involves most of their team taking on the backs from yours.

“You’re all about to learn why we call her the Owl,” you hear Jess shout from somewhere down the line.

There’s a bit of laughter from your team and even a couple of ‘yeah rights’ from the footballers, but you’re not paying attention to any of that. Your eyes are locked onto the pole at the opposite end of the field, your finish for the race.

All you need is for their coach to blow the whistle and the second she does you’re gone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that at least two of the footballers are slightly ahead of you but you’re not worried about that.

Your only concern is beating your teammates, which you do by a lot.

Upon turning around you see that most of the runners are still a good 15 meters back.

It doesn’t take very long before your teammates are circling you and ruffling your hair though.

“Way to fly Owl,” your captain shouts, hooking her arm around your shoulders, “Really did us proud little rose.”

“Thought I should show that we’re not all big brutes like you, boss,” you respond quietly, a small grin on your face.

She doesn’t find it as funny as you do though taking the opportunity to put you in a headlock.

You struggle against her for a while, not making any progress towards escaping until the coaches call the two teams back in front of them.

Neither of the coaches says anything important, not in your opinion anyway, and they release the two sides to mingle and get ready to go.

Not one for talking with people, you go to gather your stuff and are slightly surprised when a shadow appears above you.

Looking up, you're surprised to see one of the football players standing above you. You recognize her having seen her talking to Alessia earlier.

“Hey Owl, I’m Ella,” she says, “My idiot friend Alessia over there thinks that you’re cute but is too nervous to ask you for your number, so I’m doing it for her.”

“What,” you say confused, “You’re asking me for my number for your friend?”

“Yup.”

Shaking your head, you pull a piece of paper and a pen out of your bag before writing down your number, accompanied by both your name and nickname.

Handing it over, you ask Ella to deliver a message for you, cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Tell her that I think she’s cute too.”

Over the next few months, you and Alessia spend a considerable amount of time texting and getting to know each other.

When United make their way down to London for games, you take her on dates and show her all of your favorite spots, and the few times your team makes their way to the Manchester area, she does the same.

This of course garners some teasing from your teammates, who have taken to reminding you that most owl species mate for life every time they see you leaving a room to talk to her on the phone.

It’s during one of these phone calls, a facetime to be specific, that her phone gets hijacked by Ella and Mary.

“‘Lo there Owl,” Ella says, accent strong as ever, “I was wondering if you could solve an argument for me.”

“I mean, maybe?”

“Do they call you Owl because you’re fast like a bird or,” Ella’s cut off by Mary snatching the phone away.

“Or because you’re really quiet,” the keeper finishes.

“It’s both,” you answer, “Most owl species can average speeds of 20 mph but they can fly faster in certain situations. The crazy thing is that despite going so fast they make very little noise, virtually silent in fact.

The look on the two players' faces causes you to grin a little because you know exactly why they’re those faces: they’ve never heard you say so many words at once before.

They manage to say as much before Less takes her phone back telling them to “say bye to Owl.”

You smile a little more as the two others rush off, already arguing about something else.

“What are you doing next month,” she asks when they finally leave the room.

After thinking about it for a moment you answer her, “Season ends this week so probably some recovery work and injury prevention to prepare for the world cup and next season.”

“Do you want to come to some of our matches during the Euros?”

“Do you want me to come to your matches at the Euros,” you ask back, watching as her cheeks flush before she nods, “Well if you want me there, I’ll come.”

A smile breaks out on her face and the two of you continue your conversation.

Although you can’t seem to get a clear answer from her about what she’ll be doing for the rest of the week, which is weird.

You do your best to not focus on it and by the time your championship game comes around you’ve forgotten all about her squirrelly behavior.

Then when the final whistle blows, you’re too caught up in your exhaustion and excitement to even remember anything that happened before the game started.

When the whistle blows, you drop to the ground not having the energy to celebrate winning the game and becoming a champion.

You aren’t sure how long you lay there before your teammates come and dogpile on top of you screaming about your performance.

You then find yourself being hauled to your feet by your scrumhalf, Jane, who immediately pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet.

The smiles don’t leave any of your faces as you shake your opponents' hands. They don't leave when you get the medals put around your necks or when you raise the trophy or when you approach the crowd that hasn’t stopped screaming since the first whistle.

It’s then that you notice a head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes that you would recognize anywhere.

Rushing to the crowd, you climb the barrier meant to keep fans off the pitch, ignoring the shouts of security, and sprint to the person you’ve been looking forward to seeing for weeks.

Pulling her into a hug, you speak directly into her ear, “You said that you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I lied, you played great today, baby. Three tries, congrats champ.”

Your cheeks heat slightly at her praise, so instead of responding, you press a kiss to the top of her head, content to just stand there holding her.

Eventually, she pushes you away, sending you back to celebrate with your team.

“We’ll be switching places at the end of next month,” you tell her before walking away.

And you’re right because, on the last day of July, you’re standing in a sold-out Wembley watching as your girlfriend (recent development) and her idiot friends jump around singing Sweet Caroline.

She eventually makes her way over to where you're sitting with her family in the crowd, climbing to the barrier to get a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” you say directly in her ear, not caring about the number of cameras on you. In your mind, if she cared she wouldn’t have leapt into your arms the way she did, so you continue with your praise of her performance, “You played amazing all tournament, Less.”

“Thank you.”

She pulls away and you can see the cogs turning in her mind, her eyes repeatedly flickering to your lips before she surges forward to kiss you.

You both end up smiling into it as the cheers of the crowd around you get louder at the sight.

Pulling back, you smile at her some more before sending her back to the field to continue celebrating with her team.

Pulling your phone out you send her a text that you know she won’t see until much later tonight.

It reads: I can see the headlines now, England’s Superb Lioness and Their Speedy Owl, An Unexpected Power Couple?

#womens soccer #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #alessia russo #muwfc imagine #muwfc x reader #engwnt x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine

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mixelation · 5 months

Text

okay i did something interesting. here's a scene from reborn au (the ONLY thing i have written from kushina's POV) and then how the same thing would go in reborn au au. spoilers: obito makes everyone worse.

reborn au first. kushina after she backs back to konoha from iwa. includes some Adult Intimacy with minato but the actual sex is fade to black. also this was inexplicably written in present tense so i had to edit it to match the other bits; apologies if i missed a sentence

****

Kushina let Minato lace his fingers through hers while they waited for their Ichiraku order, then step directly into her so their shoulders brushed. He always got so needy whenever her missions went bad.

She didn’t mind. She’d missed him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, watching Teuchi’s daughter Ayame set bowls in front of dine-in customers.

“Thanks,” Minato said, accepting three plastic tubs in a plastic bag from her. Half a second later, they were in their dining room.

“Naruto!” Minato called. “Your mom is–”

A small orange hurricane crashed into Kushina. Kushina grinned as she wrapped her arms around her son. She knew Naruto really loved her because he hugged her tight and told her how much he missed her before grabbing for his share of ramen.

They didn’t tell Naruto a thing about her kidnapping. He was still too young, and the incident already had Minato’s ‘need to know only’ stamp on it. Kushina hated keeping secrets from her son, even ones that would upset him, but a ninja’s life was always filled with secrets. The only reason she didn’t have to keep any from her husband was because she lucked out and married the Hokage.

Kushina was already mostly healed, anyway. She didn’t have to explain away any injuries, only that she was tired from travel.

“Did you do anything cool?” Naruto asked through a mouthful of noodles. “Dad said there’d be a big tournament.”

Kushina grinned at him, and then spent the rest of the dinner recalling all her students’ matches through her own mouthfuls of noodles.

“He won the whole thing?” Naruto whined of Itachi. “Sasuke’s never going to shut up!”

“I won the tournament at my exam,” Minato told him. “You can tell Sasuke about that.”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count, you know.”

Kushina winked. “Deidara really gave Itachi a run for his money, though. And all the Iwa-nin think he’s your brother.”

Minato buried his face in a hand as Naruto’s brows furrowed.

“Why would they think that…?” Naruto wondered. “Cuz he’s blonde? That’s stupid.”

Kushina laughed.

After dinner, Naruto very excitedly showed Kushina a project he’d been working on at school. They’d been learning to make traps, and he proudly showed her diagram after diagram of traps he made up himself, which largely overestimated the laws of physics. Kushina grinned and ruffled his hair anyway. She knew her son. He might be a disaster on paper, but he would figure out how to get every one of those traps to work, even if he had to make a hundred nonfunctional traps first.

She dumped the duty of actually checking Naruto’s homework on Minato in favor of taking a luxuriously long bath. She loved her long hair, but it accumulated travel grime like no one’s business. Her joints felt truly exhausted while she brushed out her washed hair after her bath, making her wince. Kushina almost never got this tired. Iwa had really done a whammy on her.

By the time she was out, Minato was talking to Naruto down the hall, putting him to bed. Kushina listened to their faint voices affectionately as she went through her clothes in search of pajamas… ah, an old shirt she’d stolen from Minato. Perfect. She’d missed home so much.

It was only once Naruto was sound asleep in bed that Minato came back to the bedroom. He was still adorably needy.

“I was worried,” Minato murmured between kisses to her neck, his hands buried in her damp hair. She was so glad she’d washed it.

Kushina huffed in exaggerated irritation even as she tilted her head to the side to let him at more of her neck. One of his hands switched from her hair to his hip, fingers pushing up her pajama shirt. Kushina moaned as his familiar callouses brushed over her bare skin. God, why had she even bothered putting anything on?

“It was over before you even knew anything had happened,” she said as Minato backed her up to their bed, his other hand also working its way under her shirt. His teeth grazed the shell of her ear. “My team had me out almost immediately.”

“That’s why I was worried,” Minato replied. He obediently leaned back so she could pull his own shirt over his head. “What’s the point of you having a hiraishin marker in your seal if things happen before you can use it?”

Kushina snorted as she tossed his shirt away and dropped down onto the bed in one motion. Minato still had his mesh armor on, and she ran a hand over it, enjoying how it fits his chest. Minato was always making puppy dogs eyes at her about how he missed being able to kiss her first thing in the morning and last thing at night when she was away, but Kushina had always missed the warmth of his skin.

She very carefully rolled up the mesh armor, watching his chest move with long, relaxed breaths.

“Like you teleporting into Iwa wouldn’t have made everything worse,” she said, discarding the mesh. It clunked to the carpet, deceptively heavy.

Minato whined at her like the giant needy pushover he was, pushing her further back onto the mattress so he could straddle her. Despite the topic of conversation, Kushina couldn’t keep a juvenile grin off her face.

“Who cares?” he said, carefully brushing hair out of her face. “They kidnapped my wife.”

Kushina knew Minato was not being serious. The third war lasted more than half their lives, cost him two of his students and Kushina her entire clan, and Minato would never do anything so brash that he might rekindle it. But also, when it was just the two of them, she kind of liked this side of Minato.

Also, even though it had been almost ten years, it still makes her stomach flip to hear him say my wife.

“Your wife is fine,” Kushina told him, cupping his face and running her thumb over his bottom lip. “But she’s a little disappointed she’s still wearing clothes.”

Kushina was barely wearing clothes. She was in her panties and a baggy T-shirt, currently bunched up around her armpits, and she felt great. Minato’s gaze dropped from her face for the first time since they’d started making out, his eyes lighting up with acute interest at the sight of her under him, like it had just occurred to him he could look and not be hopelessly lost in her eyes.

You dweeb, Kushina thought affectionately.

“I missed you,” she said out loud.

Maybe she was a little needy too.

In the morning, Kushina woke to find Minato on his back, frowning at the ceiling. She blinked a few times, trying to focus on his profile in the dim light of sunrise. This exercise didn’t last long, as Minato realized she was awake. He beamed at her, rolling over and pushing himself up to lean over her.

“Good morning,” he said, and then pressed his lips to hers.

Usually, his good morning kisses were brief. A small peck to say I love you before he ran off to some new Hokage crisis, or before one of them went to wake Naruto. Often she was only half awake, and he’d have to go for her cheek or temple. Sometimes it was Kushina initiating it, on the rare occasion a mission had her out of bed earlier than him, or on his days off when he’d let himself sleep in.

This time, his kiss lingered, and god, she’d missed just the weight of his body on hers. He opened his mouth, poking his tongue at her lips, and she almost let him in.

Instead she turned her face away, and he drew back.

“I am so tired,” she admitted. “Rain check?”

He flopped back down into bed next to her, careful to avoid her untied hair as best he could, and she could tell from his body language he was upset. Minato never got upset when she denied him, though. Something else in the exchange had gotten to him… oh, was he upset because of why she was so tired?

She poked his side. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can let Iwa get away with kidnapping you,” he said. “Bad optics. Can’t let Konoha seem weak.”

“Well…” Kushina said, tracing a finger across his ribs. “Deidara did take out the entire demolition squad, and they think he’s your bastard child you used to steal their bloodline limit. So you might be even, you know.”

Minato covered his face with a pillow.

////

okay, so then here's just the very last bit, but now reborn au au. minato POV. assume the mission went exactly same, even though i might retcon this

****

Minato pulled back when Kushina turned her head, his eyes focusing on her face. She was so pretty in the morning light, her eyes dark and her hair turned to a red glow. He would kiss her forever if she let him.

“I am so tired,” Kushina admitted. “Rain check?”

Kushina’s hair looked so good spread out over the sheets, beautiful red swirls against their cream-colored linen, like a painter’s masterpiece across canvas. Minato loved it, loved seeing it after weeks without her, loved the way it made the whole bed smell like Kushina, but he was keenly aware it would hurt if he laid on it. Kushina had yelled at him more than once. He was very careful as he laid back down next to her.

Kushina was almost never tired first thing in the morning, not after a good night’s sleep, and Minato had made sure she’d slept very well. She might have healed any wounds, but her mission had taken a lot out of her.

Chakra poisoning in Iwa, Kushina had said. It was a very tricky thing to manage, but Iwa had correctly hypothesized it was one of the few things that could reliably take out an Uzumaki. It was also one of the few things that would reliably work on a jinchuriki, although he was reasonably confident Kushina’s status as one remained confidential.

Minato felt a flash of anger, both at Iwa and at himself. How dare Iwa send him so many simpering letters about peace and good-will, and then do this to his wife? And how dare Minato be so stupid as to let her walk right into their village?

Kushina poked him. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can let Iwa get away with kidnapping you,” he said. He said it slowly, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue. He would not let another long, pointless war break out. But how could he let Iwa get away with this insult? What else would they do to Konoha, if he let them do something so brash without consequence? “Bad optics. Can’t let Konoha seem weak.”

“Well…” Kushina traced a finger over his ribs as she described her team’s destruction of the Iwa Demolition Corps, and Minato wanted nothing more than to ease into her touch and just listen to her talk for hours.

He couldn’t, though. In a little bit he’d get up and get Naruto ready for school, because Kushina needed rest, and then he’d go into his office and schedule a full day of meetings about what to do about Iwa. He had to think this over.

“Obito burned down Kusa,” Minato said contemplatively. Kushina’s fingers didn’t stop. “And Ame said it was understandable. Nothing bad happened.”

Ame was in the neighboring country and leadership was… kind of nuts. If anyone would flip their lids over Kusa being decimated, it would have been them. But they hadn’t, and they’d more or less told Iwa to shut up when they’d sent an inquiry.

“Mm,” Kushina hummed. “But that was in the moment, part of a rescue. That’s more justifiable than retaliation after the fact.”

This was very true. Minato highly doubted Iwa would go public with losing their strongest combat group, but if they did and tried to point the blame at Konoha, it was unlikely anyone on an international level would get involved. Iwa had kidnapped Team 4’s beloved sensei, and they’d gotten her back. What else would anyone expect?

Then again, as the peace treaties currently stood, no village could drag another one into war by virtue of their alliance, as had happened in the Third Shinobi War. If he did something to Iwa, as long as their ally Kumo didn’t want to be involved, Iwa couldn’t force them to help. This also meant that if Konoha got into an altercation, they couldn’t force Suna or Kiri to send aid, but… did they really need that? Unlike Iwa, who had turned funneling civilian children into shinobi training into an art, the number of active shinobi in Konoha still hadn’t recovered since the war. However, several key individuals meant their actual combat power was higher than ever.

Would it be worth the risk?

Maybe he should talk to Obito…

#reborn au #reborn au au: it's gotten sillier #my writing

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the-grimm-writer · 2 years

Note

Dabi keeping his darling drugged so he can keep them sweet and compliant 🥴

Ahhhhh this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away lmao

Tw: angst, dubcon, oral (fem recieving), drug usage, smoking, dumbification? (kinda), praise, dabi's kinda sweet in like a really fucked up way, fem reader

A small high only went so far until you started craving more.

It had always calmed you down at first, the scent of marijuana heavy in the room, music playing in the background as Dabi blew smoke into your mouth, laughing whenever the hit was too strong for you and you'd break into a fit of coughs.

"Relax," he breathed smoke into your face the first time he'd gotten it out. "Just take a hit. Don't tell me you're scared of a plant."

At first you hated it. When he first took you, the last thing you wanted was to have a smoke sesh with your captor of all people.

But you started to learn fairly quickly it calmed both of you down. So you started to embrace it, started actually enjoying the high to escape the constant fear you lived in. Your eyes would go red quickly, feeling like your mouth was full of cotton and would laugh at stupid things.

You wouldn't even mind when he pulled you into his lap, kissing and touching and squeezing your body while you just laughed away at random stuff that popped in your head.Dabi was the more calm one. Sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was phased by it. He'd lean back lazily against the couch, joint in his mouth and puff out smoke. If he was in a good mood he liked to show off, blowing out "o" shapes and chuckling when you try to copy and fail.

You couldn't deny how pretty he looked like that in the dim lighting, a cloud of smoke surrounding him.

"Hey babe," Dabi came back to his apartment after a long day of "work" with a grin on his face, taking out a bag of weed and tossing it to you. "Giran finally got the good shit. Said it's some of the strongest around."

You took a glance at it before throwing it onto the table. "I don't want it, Dabi."

"Is this about earlier? You know I don't like coming home and fighting. Why not kiss and make up?"

"That's not what this is about. I'm sick of just sitting here and getting high."

"Oh?" He smiled, walking towards you. "Is this not good enough for you now? You need somethin' stronger?"

"No-"

"That's kinda hot." He cut you off. "Going from a little prude that was scared of getting high to wanting something more.”

You frowned. “You never listen, do you?”

Dabi grinned, pecking your lips. “Wear something pretty tomorrow, sweetheart. I’m taking you out.”

Him suddenly telling you he was going to take you out worried you. He’d kept you inside his little apartment for god knows how long. But you did miss going out, even if it meant you had to do it with him.

The next evening you'd gotten ready. He stayed quiet, which you’d learned with Dabi was never a good sign. He was the silent, deadly type. A wild card. It made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t tell if you’d rather go back to being trapped in the house again or not.

After thirty minutes, Dabi parked before turning to you. “There’s going to be a lot of shady fuckers here.”

“Like you?” You chirped in with a snicker.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, like me. But if you want some creepy fuck snatching you up by the end of the night then you’ll only talk to someone if I allow it, got it?”

You sighed, wondering why he’d put you in such a high risk situation if it was so dangerous, but you couldn’t deny you were drawn in by the loud music and flashing lights.

Never had you been around so many felons and wanted criminals. Dabi had his arm wrapped around your waist, pointing at some of them and telling you their names but you weren’t paying attention.

It wasn’t long until someone pulled Dabi to the side. An older man, with silver hair. He gave you a nod before he led Dabi away.

You looked around. There wasn’t very many people that looked approachable. No matter how much you weren’t thrilled with it, you didn’t want to talk to the wrong person. Because not only would the person get cremated alive, but then Dabi would punish you. And he was always cruel with them, finding new and creative ways to really make you suffer so the lesson was burned into your brain.

Just the thought of it happening sent shivers down your spine, and you shook off the thoughts.

There was one guy alone in the corner by a table. He was around average height, on the thinner side. He looked vaguely familiar so you walked over to him.

He had a disheveled appearance. Messy light blue hair and dry, cracked pale skin. He looked creepy, if you were being honest. Yet somehow he pulled it off.

Shigaraki, you think his name was, looked you up and down, making you shift in discomfort. You remembered Dabi mentioning him when you came in.

“You a hooker or somethin’?” He asked as he lined the white powder on the table up with a card.

You immediately shook your head. “No.”

He stood up. “Oh. With clothes like that I thought you were. Who are you with?”

“Dabi. He’s my...” What were you supposed to say? Boyfriend? A friend of yours? You definitely couldn’t say captor. He’d just laugh in your face.

“Pimp?” He snickered. “Joking,” he added when you glared at him.

After a tense moment of silence he motioned to the table. “You gonna have some or what?”

You looked at it. It felt like you were in a movie, at the point where the main character was about to hit an all time low. You made eye contact with Dabi and he smirked, motioning for you to do it.

"Nah." You learned back, away from it.

He grabbed you so you were face to face. "You know, everyone in this room is running from something. It's why we're villains. It's why most are willing to try it at least once. I can tell there’s something you’re hiding, so why not forget it for a while?” He motioned to the table.

Did you have anything to lose? This wasn’t elementary school, a simple “no” and “stop” wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Besides, you were so tired of fighting.

Finally you gave in, smiling. “Show me how it’s done, will you? Don’t be too hard on me, this is my first time doing something like this.”

Shigaraki grinned. “Don’t worry about a thing

Your eyes were dilated, wide and unblinking and looked around like it was a whole new world you were seeing. Shigaraki laughed, but you just ignored it and walked away from him.

You were on the dancefloor, laughing and spinning around with other people. All their faces blurred together yet you didn’t care. You closed your eyes, still feeling the multicolored lights flashing.

Dabi had finished his conversation with Giran, heading straight towards Shigaraki and taking a seat, watching you dance around.

“What is she to you?”

Dabi turned and looked at Shigaraki, a cigarette dangling in his mouth. “Mine.”

Shigaraki hummed at his answer. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Getting her hooked on shit.”

He shrugged at his boss. “I know what I’m doing.”

Sometimes Dabi felt guilty, dragging you into his world. Before he took you, the life of heroes and villains barely affected you. You were just normal. A plain, average civilian. Yet he was attracted to your life, and the more he watched he couldn’t help but drag you into his.

But you fit right in when you were in this state, soothing his doubts.

Dabi knew he was walking a fine line, getting you hooked on the rush. But that wasn’t the only thing he was doing.

All Dabi did in life was hurt people. Hurt random, innocent people. Hurt his family despite a part of him knowing well they were also victims of his father. He even destroyed himself, every single day.

That’s not what he wanted with you. He wanted to treat you like glass. The way you deserve to be treated. Like a fragile, beautiful being. It felt like he could only do that when you had your head in the clouds, the only time you’d allow him to touch you gently. Worship the smooth skin that was such a vibrant contrast against his.

It was beautiful, in a twisted, horrid way. This world you found yourself dragged into. You always thought there was beauty in darkness, and this was no different.

The pleasure, you thought. That was it. That was the beauty in it. The rush, the euphoric rush as the drugs danced inside your system.

Dabi was like a drug. You hated him, just like the drug itself, but you loved the feeling he brought you.

You don’t remember when you got back to his house, but you’re laying in his bed, his hands on your thighs, squeezing the flesh tight as he gives your slit a testing lick, making you moan out. You were already so wet before he even started, noticing your arousal when he’d rubbed your clothed sex before the both of you left and felt a damp spot in your panties. It almost made him lose what little self control he had.

The sweet noises you let out encouraged him, his rough hands running down your body as he sucked on your clit. He looked up at you, watching you moan and grind up against him, pushing up against his mouth, silently begging for more.

“I - I -” You babbled out as he continued, licking and sucking at your cunt.

“I - I what?” You whined when he pulled away and mocked your tone, leaving you throbbing and desperately needing more, to be sent over that edge you were hanging right over. “Use your words, sweetheart, tell me what you want.”

“Cum,” you whimpered as he started eating you out again, running your hand through his black hair and pulling at it. “I need it!”

He groaned, and you almost cried as it vibrated against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Keep begging,” he demanded, his hot breath hitting your bare skin, making tears gather in your eyes.

“Please!” You cried out, feeling like you would go crazy if you didn’t release soon like you desperately needed to. “Dabi!”

“There we go, such a good girl,” he cooed. “You know good girls get rewarded.”

You squirmed around on the bed, body writhing in pleasure as he hit all your sweet spots, screaming out his name.

You were going to regret this in the morning, if you even remembered it, but for now you relished in the way your tummy tightened, your whole body relaxing as you came on his mouth, your vision turning white as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Dabi wanted to fuck you, but he decided you were done for the night, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“I hate you,” you groaned out, falling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. It was painfully intimate, these moments.

He chuckled and it vibrated against you. “That’s fine, as long as that pussy keeps loving me.”

It wasn’t long before the attitude died out of you as well. You barely talked on most days, already knowing what was to come. He hadn’t taken you out since the party, or maybe he did, you couldn’t really remember. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You became so pliant, so pretty, so sweet and gentle when you were under the influence. All his. You’d even give him a kiss on the lips, making sure it felt real and genuine before he gave you what you truly wanted.

And Dabi was damn proud of himself. You were addicted to some hardcore shit but he didn’t allow you to look like you were. He only let you do it once in a while, and he always made sure to feed you and take care of yourself.

He’d never allow you to overdose. No matter how much you begged him for another dose, just a little bit more, he’d refuse.

Unfortunately it got to the point where when you were sober, you didn’t like it. You didn’t know who you were anymore and you couldn’t tell which you hated more. The fact you craved drugs or the fact that your body also craved him.

Drugs were bad but Dabi was the worst of it all. You despised the ground he walked on, yet you couldn’t help but think you’d be lost without him. Without everything he provided you with, without the feeling he gave you.

When he thought he was going too far, or he gave you too much, he’d call the quits for a bit. For you, those times were the worst.

It had been a few days since Dabi decided he’d give your body a break. At least you thought it was a few days, but you couldn’t tell. It could’ve been weeks, months for all you know.

Your head was pounding, you’d break out into sweats and chills. You’d yell, scream and cry feeling like you were going to die if you didn’t get your next fix. Dabi just stepped away for a bit, only coming back when you finally gave up and accepted it.

After debating with himself, Dabi decided in giving you what you desired. When he came home, you were on the living room floor, asleep on your stomach. His heart clenched when he flipped you over, pushing away the hair that clung onto your sweaty skin. Your cheeks were dry with tear marks staining them. You wined when he picked you up, slowly waking up.

"Don't fight it," Dabi mumered softly, laying you down on the couch. "You'll feel better in a moment."

You looked up at him sleepily. “What are you doing?”

“Open your mouth,” he demanded.

Some might think he's changing you, trying to break you and twist you into something you weren't. But he wasn't.

Your lips parted and you let him slide a pill into your mouth. You swallowed it and a moan escaped you as the familiar euphoric rush jolted through your body, your eyes dilating.

You needed this. At the end of the day you needed to have the thrill.

And there was nothing Dabi loved more than seeing the soft, lazy smile on your face as he kissed your neck, gently pulling off your clothes and moaning with bliss.

Your head was somewhere lost, your thoughts just a blank, endless void as you just allowed your body to feel.

Then you'd fall asleep so peacefully. No tears, no loud arguments before he wound up knocking you out or threatening to use his quirk until calm down.

Instead, he could just relax and hold you close. He could almost trick himself into thinking that this was normal, that you actually loved him. He'd close his eyes, pretending there was some sense of normalcy in his life, the way yours used to be.

Maybe it could happen one day, then he could be your drug the same way you're his.

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