#but she'd be real LIKE THAT if she was in charge

[dreamwritesimagines]

Hey. Me again. I wanna talk about Sunshine being nervous the first time Logan goes on a mission on a weekend after they start dating

She's a natural worrier, powered by stress, so she doesn't care how invincible Logan claims to be, she'd be biting her nails the whole time. I think Logan would know this and would do his best to prepare her before but it wouldn't do much of course so as a back up he aslso talks to Theo

- "Don't worry, mom, Mr. Logan is the strongest! I once saw him lift a truck, it was so cool. And he's got healing powers and so he pretty much can't die. And he's usually only gone for a couple hours so I'm sure he'll be back real soon. And he told me while he's gone that I'm in charge! So don't worry mom, I'll make sure we're safe until Mr. Logan gets back. He said it's a very important job that only really strong mutants are even allowed to do so I must be really strong, huh mom?"

"You sure are, Bean." Sunshine would pull her hands away from her mouth to hold Theo in her arms and pray he couldn't feel her insane heartbeat as she continued to stress about Logan

- When Logan gets home, he'd find the two asleep on the couch in each other's arms and would silently take them both to bed so they wake up in bed as a family again

I AM MELTING AT THIS OMG LOVE, THIS IS A WONDERFUL IDEAAAA❤️ Thank you so much! ❤️

Oh she would definitely be worried out of her mind! Like, I'm talking biting at her nails, pacing in the room, bouncing her leg whenever she sits down type of worry ❤️ And she's normally very very careful not to do any of that in front of Theo but she couldn't help herself in that situation! ❤️

Logan talking to Theo about it aaaaaa🥰 And him rambling about Logan, he is so his son ❤️

And he told me while he's gone that I'm in charge! So don't worry mom, I'll make sure we're safe until Mr. Logan gets back. He said it's a very important job that only really strong mutants are even allowed to do so I must be really strong, huh mom?" Theo is a cinnamon roll omg❤️ Him being like "I'll keep us safe🥰" ❤️

And Logan telling him only really strong mutants are allowed to do so asdfghjkl I just- 😍

When Logan gets home, he'd find the two asleep on the couch in each other's arms and would silently take them both to bed so they wake up in bed as a family again I AM MELTING❤️

I feel like she would wake up to the happy chatter of Theo coming from the kitchen while Logan prepared breakfast, and she'd go down to the kitchen to hear Theo going like,

"And I did exactly as you said! I mean...nothing really happened but I would protect mommy and myself if it did!"

"Great job bub! Didn't doubt that for a second."

"Because I'm very strong like you said!"

"You are."

"I don't think mommy knows it though."

"How so?"

"She was a little worried."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah because- she tells me not to bite my nails but she does the same when she's worried."

[isaacathom]

i have so many thoughts about my campaign but absolutely nothing coherent. just snatches of ideas. the most clear thing i have in my head is that, if the acting-commodore steps down once he has liberty, and in the ensuing election and hullabaloo, naielle becomes commodore, there is absolutely no way she comes back from the jade sea

naielle understands how she gets when shes stressed, when theres crisis. theres a point along this bell curve of emotion, pursuant to context, where she stops thinking about herself and only those around her. and once that threshold is passed, she'll do damn near anything for them.

as commodore, her station would necessitate being that much more aware of the crisis. that much more aware of the state of play. that much more aware of the myriad lives that she holds in her hands.

she would cross that threshold far sooner.

she knows this about herself, and it applies outside of formal responsibility. she knows this, and does not know how to change it, and so instead she removes options from herself. like changing the phone's password just before wisdom teeth removal to prevent from saying something nonsensical online, she has to put the weapon away before she becomes of a mind to use it.

she's failed at that before. she told herself the weapon she had would be safe in her hands, that she'd use it only for 'good', and not ill. and in short order she had used it to enthrall, to even temporarily rob a man of free will.

she has such a weapon now. two, even, if you like.

the first, and least likely to kill her outright, is a caged king of dragons, whose essence is hostile to mortality but whose personality is not, who sees the crew as a means to liberate himself, his breathren, and their domain. she uses his power sparingly for its risk, but she's come close before, and been lucky not to be overwhelmed. there is far more power she could gain from him, but it would tear at her from the inside, like a hollowing parasite. she's seen a dragon's power wrought on a mortal, and seen that he marks a man decades older than he ought be. She may be an elf, but even decades would see her predecease a great many people, and that assumes it does not do her worse. She doesn't know.

the second is the offer, if it can be called that, of her patron. reach for the stars, young elf, and find the divine. channel his power in the storm to banish the dark, and in so doing lose yourself. merge with the celestial. its death, she thinks when out of crisis. sure, theres a lingering of the soul, bound in the eternal starlight of the astral sea. but the form is gone, and much of the person. to merge with him would change her, and she would never see her loved ones again.

but his power could save them all.

a naielle who is mere captain, whose responsibilites are smaller, who is delegated specific tasks, has the capacity to decide to be selfish. she has the capacity, and the excuse perhaps, to decide that she refuses godhood. she can risk success for her own soul, if she likes. she may yet do so.

a naielle who is commodore, and for whom's patron remains in earshot, will take that weapon and point it at their ultimate foe, and consider one life worth thousands.

[mylittleredgirl]

continuing to rotate margaret houlihan in my head (it will continue), and today's observation is that she NEEDS structure, and becomes a holy terror when she's trying to create it herself. not to always be comparing my faves to dogs (affectionate) but she's an Experienced Handlers Only working dog, and under henry's "let's just all be cool" style of leadership, she gets nervy and starts biting people. she's constantly going over his head because he's not giving orders The Right Way. she can't let it slide when hawkeye and trapper aren't toeing the line, even though it'll only bring her grief. she bullies her staff over minor infractions, and it's not even effective!! because while they're in henry's office crying about her harsh methods, she's also in there complaining that she can't control them.

then potter shows up, and her behavior changes. the second he calls her to attention, her objection to her and frank losing power disappears. she's not chaining nurses to their beds anymore. she appeals to him when she disagrees in deluge, but there's no threat that she'll do an end run around him, which used to be her go-to move. she even relaxes long enough to join in the jeep fun for a minute (even though it's "beneath her" as an officer), and enjoys it! she's not nice, her personality hasn't changed, but it's all bark. she's content to have a solid place in the pecking order and is no longer fueling chaos by frantically trying to control it.

[sir-adamus]

2B has too soft a heart to be the murderer she was made to be

[dongiovannitriumphant]

anyway forget a spongebob episode or whatever the TRUE lost media white whale is whoever originally drew these pixel horse linearts which were endlessly remixed into sprite sheets and premades on literally HUNDREDS of little internet horse websites run by 12-16yo scandinavian girls in the 00s

[seilon]

i usually dont comment on these kinds of things because they shouldnt be treated with the level of weird parasocial interest they tend to be on social media generally but. claire (lil tay) was so fucking young. it doesnt take knowing her personally to feel just how jarring and genuinely tragic her sudden death is. like shit. she was only 14. she didnt even get to live her own life. sorry if this is pointless and theres no call to action or anything here but. jesus.

[vanteguccir]

Thinking about boyfriend Matt that has a girlfriend that lives by herself and everytime she gests new forniture, she calls him like "Baby, can you come put this together for me? Thank you". I also think she would try to help and Matt would be tottally against it (not sure about this last part tho). Please write this.

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where Y/N loves to buy new furniture for her home, and Matt is the one she always goes to to ask to put it together <3

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Y/N had a knack for making her little apartment feel like home. Every few weeks, she'd spot something online; a new bookshelf, a cozy chair, or a quirky table, and decide that it was exactly what her space needed. But there was one catch: she wasn’t exactly a pro at assembling furniture. That’s where Matt came in.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of Y/N’s living room as she admired the large box that had just been delivered. It was a new coffee table, one she’d been eyeing for weeks. Knowing full well that she wasn’t going to tackle it on her own, she reached for her phone.

"Hey, baby." Y/N's voice was warm and playful as Matt answered on the first ring.

"Hey, dove. What’s up?" Matt replied, his tone softening at the sound of her voice.

Y/N glanced at the box.

"I got a little something for the living room. Think you could come over and help me put it together?"

Matt chuckled, already grabbing his car keys.

"Let me guess, another piece of furniture?"

"You know me too well." She grinned. "But yes, please? I promise to make us dinner afterward."

"On my way." Matt said without hesitation, already heading out the door. The thought of seeing her, even if it was to assemble something as simple as a coffee table, was more than enough to make his day.

About twenty minutes later, Matt arrived at Y/N’s apartment, greeted by her bright smile and the unmistakable excitement in her eyes. She stood in the doorway, barefoot and wearing one of his oversized hoodies; something that made Matt’s heart do a little flip every time he saw her in it.

"Thanks for coming." Y/N said, stepping aside to let him in. She watched as Matt eyed the box in the middle of the living room.

"Another project, huh?" He teased, approaching the box.

"Yeah, but I promise this is the last one for a while." Y/N laughed, knowing full well she’d probably find something new soon enough. She kneeled beside him, ready to help.

Matt quickly shook his head, gently nudging her hand away from the box.

"Uh-uh, you just sit back and relax, okay? I’ve got this."

"But I want to help!" Y/N protested, though there was no real determination in her voice. She knew he loved doing things like this for her on his own.

"No way." Matt insisted, his tone gentle but firm. He gave her a playful look, then tapped her nose lightly. "I can handle it. Just sit on the couch and look pretty while keeping me company. That’s all I need from you."

Y/N sighed, feigning disappointment, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She settled onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she watched him. There was something incredibly comforting about the way Matt moved around her space, confidently taking charge of the task. His broad shoulders flexed beneath his shirt as he opened the box and started laying out the pieces.

"How do you even know what all these parts are?" Y/N asked, genuinely impressed as Matt made quick work of organizing the screws, panels, and tools.

Matt shrugged, flashing her a grin.

"Just good at following instructions, I guess. Plus, it’s kind of fun."

"Fun?" Y/N echoed with a laugh. "You’re putting together furniture, not playing a game."

"Maybe." He said, glancing over at her, his eyes full of warmth. "But it’s for you, so that makes it fun."

Her heart swelled at his words. Watching Matt carefully assemble the table, piece by piece, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. It wasn’t just about the furniture; it was about the way he cared for her, the way he was always there to help without a second thought. It was the little things, like how he’d insist on doing the heavy lifting, or how he’d make sure every screw was tightened perfectly so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

After a while, the coffee table began to take shape. Y/N couldn’t resist getting up and kneeling beside him again, pretending to inspect his work.

"Looks good." She remarked, trying to keep her tone serious.

"Of course it does." Matt said with a chuckle. "I’m a professional."

She leaned in closer, teasingly brushing her fingers against his biceps.

"Maybe I should double-check, you know, just in case."

Matt rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide.

"If you want, but I guarantee it’s perfect."

Y/N gave him a look of mock suspicion before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I trust you."

Matt’s hands paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to her with a mix of affection and pride. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You better."

With the table finally assembled, Matt stood up, stretching his arms above his head, his pink shirt riding up slightly, displaying his tummy to Y/N’s eyes.

"Done." He announced, stepping back to admire his work.

Y/N clapped her hands together, genuinely impressed.

"It looks amazing, baby. Thank you."

"Anything for you." Matt replied, his voice sincere. He watched as Y/N excitedly placed a few decorative items on the table, her eyes lighting up at how perfectly it fit into her living room.

"Okay, now that you’ve put that together…" Y/N began, trailing off as she looked at him with a playful smirk.

Matt raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going.

"Oh no, what else did you order?"

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest.

"Nothing… yet."

Matt shook his head, smiling down at her.

"You’re lucky I love you."

"I know." Y/N murmured, looking up at him with pure adoration. "And I’m so lucky to have you."

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[k3n-dyll]

Kingpin!Sevika

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: Dom!Sevika, sub!reader, Sevika is mean, degradation, free use kinda,squirting, cunnilingus (r! receiving), face fucking (S!receiving), fingering, AFAB reader, pussy slaps, aftercare, she loves you but won't say it

A/N: I just had some thoughts I needed to get out, this was meant to just be a few headcanons but it got a little long

Word count: 1,494 Divider creds. Masterlist

kingpin!Sevika who's taken Silco's place after his untimely death. In need of a right hand of her own, she chose you

kingpin!Sevika who- though, of course, chose you because you're capable, loyal, and trustworthy -just as she had been to Silco- also has a few...personal reasons as to why she made this decision.

You're a tough girl and she is well aware of that. She acknowledges it quite often, always telling you how well you do with the missions she leaves you in charge of. From someone like Sevika, that praise is a lot, and though frequent, it comes in small packaging. Short, sweet remarks that may seem like nothing to anyone else

"Y'did good." "Keep it up."

Or even just a head nod or pat on the back or shoulder to show that she approves of what you've done. It's the ultimate sign that she respects you.

kingpin!Sevika who would keep you by her side 24/7, 365 if she was able to. When you aren't out doing an assignment, a good amount of your workdays are spent in her office, either standing beside her as she sits lazily in the large chair behind her desk, as she uses you as a second pair of ears and eyes while she meets with the other chembarons - or, simply discussing future plans.

kingpin!Sevika whose sharp, silver eyes track your every movement at the end of the day when you're finally alone with her. Watching you fidget with the little nicknacks on her desk as you report back the events of the day, not making full eye contact with her because you know what's coming. There aren't many other reasons she'd have locked her office door completely after letting you in, it isn't like anyone had the gall to barge in unannounced.

"Strip" she'd mutter, fully interrupting whatever you were telling her because, at this point, she's more annoyed at the fact that you're still dressed than she is at some of the cargo being compromised due to the negligence of her blockhead henchmen - she'll take care of that later.

kingpin!Sevika who isn't one for talking about it once you do as you're told because of course you do, shedding yourself of the fabric that shields your body from her intense gaze, giving her a bit of a show because she'd scold you if you rushed.

kingpin!Sevika who can't seem to go a full five seconds without marking you once you're propped up on her leg, naked except for your underwear. She especially loves leaving marks on your tits, biting and sucking on the fat around your nipple, leaving as many pretty little bruises on your skin as she pleases with no real regard for how intense the feeling may be for you

As much as she likes making you feel good, this is about what she wants. She's had a stressful, rage-inducing day and this is the part of your job that she loves just as much as you do. The part where she gets to take out all her frustrations on your body. She's always rough with you, never giving you a second to catch your breath, and though one would think you'd be used to this treatment by now, it takes you by surprise every time. Her strong hands feel like they're everywhere at once, grabbing at your ass, your waist, your thighs, your tits - anywhere she can hold you to keep you close.

kingpin!Sevika who gets impatient with her own teasing rather quickly, a breathy, "fuck this" escaping her thick lips, because she needs to see and touch all of you. Using her mechanical arm to swat at the contents of her desk, allowing the paperwork, the merchandise, and whatever else is up there at the moment to crash to the floor below because it doesn't matter right now. None of it is you. She forces you up onto the surface of her desk, wasting no time in getting your panties off of you, kissing down the length of your body as she lightly presses a finger to your pussy, starting at your leaking hole - a low chuckle leaving her as she feels you begin to clench around nothing- then trailing up your pretty folds until she makes contact with your already swollen clit. The way you squirm and twitch underneath her is enough for her to let out a groan, not giving you much warning before two of her thick fingers plunge inside of you.

"Shut it" she murmurs against your skin when you whine at the sudden fullness, and you're so good to her that you actually try - and fail - to keep quiet. Sevika doesn't actually expect you to succeed, but she loves watching you struggle to obey, sliding her fingers in and out of your drooling cunt at a faster pace the harder you try. "Such a fucking slut, look at that..." she pulls her slick-coated fingers out of you, the emptiness making you whimper. Ever the sadist, she hears this and just like that her mechanical hand squeezes onto your thigh, keeping you in place as her real one lifts up slightly, the palm of her hand coming back into contact with your pussy with a smack. "I said keep that fucking trap shut." In the end, though, it doesn't really matter what you do - biting your lip, clenching your teeth, hell, trying to cover your mouth with your hand - it doesn't work.

kingpin!Sevika who would overstimulate you until you were a mumbling, babbling, drooling little mess, ignoring the aching in between her own thighs and fucking into you with her fingers, rubbing the pad of her thumb over your clit with each hard thrust. After you've sufficiently begged her enough through your ragged breathing and incoherent words, she'll even let you have her mouth, flattening the pink muscle and dragging it up your slit before latching her soft lips to your sensitive bud, sucking on it. Your body jerks forward at the feeling, your hands knotting into her short black locks as your thighs press to the sides of her head. Despite how sensitive she's made you, you can't stop yourself from grinding yourself into her mouth, desperate for yet another release.

kingpin!Sevika who will force you by your pretty hair down off of the desk and onto your knees in front of her, peeling her own jeans and underwear off of her body, unable to take waiting anymore. She's not giving you much of a chance to recover from all the overstimulation, nor is she even going to let you go at your own pace. No. If there's one thing this woman loves doing its gathering all your hair up into her hand and pushing your face into her dripping cunt, rutting herself onto your tongue as you keep it out and flattened for her as instructed.

"You like when I fuck that slutty face of yours, yeah?" she'd cut you off before you got the chance to even try to answer, not that she'd even understand whatever muffled words youd attempt anyways. "Yeah you do, pretty girl - fuck - take it, baby, just like that..."

kingpin!Sevika who's a squirter for sure. You aren't coming back up from your knees without being fucking drenched in her juices and she loves every second of it. An even more cruel part of her wants to push your head to the ground and force you to lick up whatever you missed off of the floor, but she settles for making you clean it up off of her inner thighs, pulling you up for a hot, hard kiss when you're done.

kingpin!Sevika who literally will not let you leave her office until you're all cleaned up and taken care of. In stark contrast to how rough she was with you a moment ago, she'd treat you like a fragile little thing once it's all said and done. You aren't allowed to clean yourself off, no. that's her job. She's not letting you put your own clothes on, not without any help at least. And as much as she may threaten to "make sure you can't walk out of this office properly" she will hold you in her lap until you've somewhat regained your balance.

"You okay?" is likely the most you'd get out of her in terms of sweet words, verbal affection isn't really her forte, but her actions always show that she cares more than she lets on.

It's like this every time, Sevika gently rubbing your aching muscles and pressing gentle kisses into your skin as you come down from the intensity of it all, but she won't talk. Sometimes she even gets back to work while you recover, but she never asks you to leave. She doesn't want you to leave and both of you know that, but you've both decided that it's better left unsaid.

[crossdressingdeath]

The thing that gets me about the changes Larian keeps making is that all the things they change them to would've been perfectly fine and in-character... if it wasn't for the fact that something else had been there first. Lae'zel being a little more business-like and "You're the boss" about being left in camp would've fit her character (you are in charge, it makes sense that she'd obey without any fuss once she respected you at least a little), but because they started with "You're going to die without me" it's become them softening a strong character because people complained about a woman being slightly mean to them. Gale being less aggressive about you denying him magic items would've fit him with the way he very openly expects you to kick him out of the group when he brings up the orb, but because he was aggressive about it it feels like they're pandering to the people who throw massive temper tantrums about having to give him three of the vast pile of useless, easily-obtained magic items. And Gortash's letters to Franc being less passionate and more professional would've fit him as a consummate politician who in-game only shows any real affection to Durge (and to a lesser extent Karlach), but because we started with these very passionate and delightfully personal letters it feels like a massive blow to his characterization. Not to mention the uncomfortable fact that they cut him openly flirting with another man but as far as I'm aware left the letter regarding him seducing Lady Jannath alone; what's going on there, Larian...?

But basically it really is like... if we'd started with the changed versions they all would've been perfectly fine! They wouldn't have been a problem! The problem comes from the fact that by changing these things now when the game should be finished (and changing them from equally in-character things that give the characters more depth) it feels like Larian is pandering to the worst parts of the fandom to the detriment of everyone else.

[hijackalx]

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS

SHADOWHEART

HARD DOM

ISN’T THIS OBVIOUS i feel like she's so into being the dominant one regardless of whether she's on top or bottom. like dominatrix vibes for real. and she can be really mean too, like step on u/spit on u/whip u type of mean 😹😹 (me next) something about u being at her command is just sooo hot. she loves that you’ll do anything for her

WAXPLAY

i think she'd want this done to u AND her. like she's the type to pour it down ur chest or neck while she's riding u. i can't decide if she'd like to use colorful candles or all black candles 🤔 dark purple would be sexy actually. she likes how u flinch when it touches u. BUT she also likes how it feels on herself (that's probably how she gets off seeing it happen to u cuz she knows how good it feels 🤤). might tease u by pouring it on herself and making u watch

LEATHER/LATEX

yeah like full BDSM gear and all that lol. i think she would like the full body latex suits i dont actually know what they're called (shocker i know) but think velma in the one live action scooby doo movie LMAO

DOUBLE PENETRATION

i feel like she would be into either being tag-teamed herself or tag-teaming u with a strap lol. but also it doesn't have to involve another person it could be u riding a toy while also sucking off her strap and vice versa. i think if ur the one getting fucked she'd want another dom person to join because she gets off on seeing u be submissive

BODY WORSHIP

she would 100% want u to treat her like the princess she is. praise her body/figure and tell her how much u love it. leave kisses all over, maybe fuck in front of a mirror so u can actually show her how much u love her body. she’d probably do the same for u just a bit more nasty LMAO like the shit she says will be intense

LAE'ZEL

PETPLAY

OKAY this one i had dragonborns in mind lol but also it could work for anybody. like u guys can't tell me she wouldn't be into collaring/leashing u and having u do as she asks. will call u things like "pet" or "pup"

BRAT TAMING

now i know everybody thinks that SHE would be the one taming U but i honestly think it's the other way around OOP. like i think she likes when someone takes charge and pushes her around.... like she's just dying for somebody to come by and force her to take down that hard exterior of hers. u just have to prove urself to her first is all

BONDAGE

once she trusts u she will want u to tie her up. maybe would be into shibari? like i mean intense bondage. full body. she'll call u out on some pussy shit if u hold back and go easy on her 😹 she definitely wants it to hurt too and to be able to see marks/bruises left behind from it after

SIZE DIFFERENCE

if anyone is a size queen it's lae'zel LMAO. but this also plays into the whole brat taming/proving urself thing like if ur big and physically intimidating then she's more likely to respect u. she just likes the pain from trying to make u fit too though. and the accomplished feeling afterwards lol

PRAISE

i see her as somebody who is lowkey insecure. like she needs constant validation otherwise she feels like she's not doing good enough. so let her hear u !!!! let her know how good she's doing and how good she feels. tell her that she's beautiful and that ur proud of her. literally anything just don't be dead silent she will get up and walk away 💀

KARLACH

PEGGING

she wears the strap ALMOST exclusively. sometimes she'll make exceptions but most of the time she just prefers to be the one doing the fucking. this goes for AMAB and AFAB obviously. she loves the way it feels to be able to make u feel good and fuck u to the point of cumming. i don't really think it's a control thing she just likes to please u (and she usually has too much energy to bottom lol)

SIZE DIFFERENCE

LOVVVESSSS how big she is compared to u. like it makes her feel so strong and capable. particularly interested in how big her hands are compared to urs and also how easy it is to balance u on her thigh. she'll want to pick u up and fuck u, it's one of her favorite positions. she just loves how easy it is to manhandle u in general

MOMMY DOM

i think this would start out as a joke and then snowball into an actual kink of hers lol. she's usually a soft dom when it comes to this. as in lots of praise and saying stuff like "cum for momma baby". i don't really see her being a hard dom (maybe on special occasions?)

LINGERIE

if u dress up in lingerie for her she will actually LOSE IT. like it makes u look so dainty and sexy at the same time. she loves the ones that have the thigh garters because she likes to play with them. i think she really likes the feeling of the lace but also adores the fluffy ones too

EDGING

she likes this done to the both of u. i feel like she'll try to prolong the sex for as long as she can or maybe tease u/get u horny in public and leave u like that for soooo long, that way when u guys finally fuck it's like EXPLOSIVE from being so pent up lmao. BUT she also likes when u do it to her too. i can see this being especially exciting for her because she's so raring to go all the time 😹 it's like a fun little challenge

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS

[romanoffsbish]

On The Edge

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt Request | Natasha’s patience for your lack of time management boils over, and you pay the price | WC: 2,210

No pronouns used, but “pretty” and equally as soft terms are used to label / describe R.

Warnings: Non-Con (unintentional / momentarily) | Possessive Natasha

Smut: Dom!Nat | Prior Solo Play (R) | Oral / Fingering / Strap (R) | Teasing / Overstimulation | KO

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha groaned, punching the bag in frustration as the secondary hand on the clock landed on the three. You were late, like usual, but you knew better than to leave her waiting in the training room for this long. So, the redhead tossed her gloves beneath the swaying bag and made her way to the elevator to collect you.

It wasn't like she didn't know where you were, seeing as how every time you are late it's because of sleep. It was honestly adorable to watch you stumble in, with the occasional patch of dried up drool on your chin, but usually that's only a few minutes after the time to train. Natasha never let you off the hook for it, but she also went far easier on you than she ever had anyone else, and that was simply because she adored you.

——

You were the light of the compounds, and her life... She's just never told you that before for the sake of professionalism as she was in charge of making you Avenger ready. Feelings, no matter how real, would not keep you safe in the field, so for the sake of a future relationship she dreamed of, she focused on training.

It worked, for the most part anyways, but there were times she nearly lost her cool. Like every time she'd pin you to the mat, your eyes would roll back at the impact and her mind would picture it in a different light. Or, the post training glow you usually sported that made you look twice as delectable. Natasha needed you in a way that challenged her every known process, she was not regarded as soft and sweet, but with your head on her shoulder after a long day, she knows she can be...

You were undeniably perfect, beautiful in both looks and spirit and as pure as the light of the halo that she imagined hovers atop your head... In a moments time though, her entire view of you would be changed, all because she was too frustrated to remember the proper etiquette, and the one of many reasons, for a knock.

Or to respect the barriers you'd put in place, as her trusty bobby pin clicked into place Natasha flung your previously locked door wide open and gasped. Her eyes laser focused in onto your exposed skin, and her hands were quick to shut and re-lock your door lest anyone else see what she now deemed—soon to be, hers.

The redhead wasn't the type to crumble, and if anyone else had been before her she'd remain an unmoved fortress, but if you begged she might just fall to the ground. Might a loose word really, because the longer she stared at you, the more she felt her knees shake.

Which would only be fair as you've blessed her with such beauty, lying there spread open for her. It was as if you were posed for her by a deity, in her worn down death metal hoodie that went missing after a mission.

You in her clothes was an undreamed fantasy, you truly looked ready to be ate, the fabric had ridden up significantly, leaving your naked lower half exposed to her predatory gaze. Natasha was gnawing on her lip when her eyes locked in on the strap beside your leg.

You were going to make such a pretty slut for her...

The smell that surrounded her was enough for her to know this was a recent endeavor of yours, fresh slick still shining on the skin of your thighs a clear mark too. An unexpected groan fell from her lips at the sight, leading to your body shuffling as your eyes snapped open. "Natasha?" Your adorable, groggy voice made her feel like smiling, but she kept her neutral face. "Y/L/N, why weren't you at our morning training?"

"Clint told me it was cancelled," you loudly yawned, but for some reason you didn't move to cover yourself up and the redhead smirked. "Y-you have a mission?"

Natasha now knew exactly what had happened, her best friend decided to meddle and now she was met with a glorious opportunity. Clint likely didn't expect that it would work out this way; she didn't mind, nor did she have the urge to ask him, she’d won regardless.

Natasha ignored your question and began to stalk her way over to you, her eyes roamed over your frame without even a hint of shame. This time you attempted to pull the hem of fabric down, but her hands latched around your wrists to stop you. "Is that my hoodie?"

The way you gulped in fear amused her tremendously, then you nodded and her lips upturned devilishly. "We are going to have so much fun together krasivaya," her tone dropped an octave, causing your body to shimmy as a pathetic little whimper left your chapped lips.

Natasha was two sounds away from ripping you apart, but she needed to be sure she wasn't taking advantage of your vulnerability. "Do you want to have fun Y/N?"

"Please," you cried instantly, hips desperately canting off the bed in emphasis as she swiftly straddled them. The way your slick spread against the skin of her toned abs and settled into the defined lines was what truly drove the woman into action. With determination and precision on her side Natasha helped you out of her hoodie, one hand fell to your bare chest to fondle your sensitive breasts while the other held your hands down above your head, her eyes were blown out in a way you had only ever dreamed of before this surreal reality.

"Fuck detka," she moaned, so deep and raspy that it was nearly a growl, "Your perfect tits are pierced?" The question was rhetorical, but her eyes were full of a lusty wonder, her fingertips pressed into the metal balls and her hand twisted, tweaking your nipple and ripping a deep moan of your own from within you.

Natasha moaned too and felt as her walls pulsed, she had you pegged as an angel, but here you were, a deviant and for some reason the subtlety was much hotter. In public you'd be her precious little peach, but behind closed doors you would be her pretty little slut.

"Do you have a safe word honey?" You nodded, then whispered a soft, "widow," when you saw that her eyes were waiting for more. "I can't wait to hear you use it." The redhead winked, then chuckled softly as she saw the way your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. "Don't worry now darling, I'll be gentle enough," her teeth grazed over your racing pulse. "Rough is fi-fine," you practically shrieked, hands flying up to grip and claw at her shoulder blades to drive home the need.

Natasha nodded with a smirk, not only hearing your message loud and clear, but finding it appealing too.

However, she believed in more of the long game, she slowly, painstakingly so, began to kiss all over your body, purposefully missing both sets of your slick lips. Open mouthed and fervent the more she got into it, leaving behind dribbles of spit along the various spots of injured skin as she'd claimed you without asking.

There was no need to ask to claim what's already yours, with you sleeping in her hoodie the ties were sowed, so all she was doing was making sure the world knew too.

Once she felt satisfied with the way your body looked, and more so how easily she'd gotten you to squirm, she devoured you wholly, her tongue slid in and out of your oozing hole until she could feel you growing restless. She’d crawled back up your body and pressed a kiss to your parted lips just as soon as she was released by your quivering thighs. A smile stretched her face as she saw the clear effect she had, you harshly panted as she'd worked you up so well, and she wasn’t even done.

You blinked a few times, clearing your vision only to be met with her blackened eyes. Part of you was terrified, but the other part was more so antsy for what was going to come next. Her eyes spoke to you, whispering promises of something you couldn’t quite decipher. Your heart was hopeful for love, but your heated body prayed for the opposite, it craved the widows carnality.

After only a second of time to think you got an answer, as did she as you couldn't stop a moan, but she did as her tongue seductively slid over yours while her middle and pointer fingers abruptly divorced inside of you. It wasn’t like the stretch of your strap had been, that was nothing but a filling up, her fingers were slender, but it was somehow better just because it was her doing it.

Natasha wasn’t the only one dreaming of this moment. Every training session ended the same, with you in the shower fucking yourself senseless to thoughts of her.

The redhead could feel that honesty with every thrust of your jittery hips that met her fingers, she truly felt liberated from the confines of your former student-teacher roles. It couldn’t be wrong when it felt this good; having you beneath her felt prophetic, and if today hadn’t been your last day together before you were tested by Fury she would have had to resign.

There was no going back to the grey area between the roles now, the blurred lines were finally washed away, that much was clear as you arched off the bed with a sultry cry of her name; Natasha officially had a new job, and that was to have you trembling and desperate for her, which you were, it was borderline humiliating.

Every move she made was intimately sloppy, the way her fingers prodded at your sensitive walls had you mewling around her tongue that played chicken with yours, intermixed with sharp inhales that wordlessly spoke to the woman above you of a job well done.

"You're so desperate," she acknowledged in a purr against your swollen, parted lips. Your inability to keep up broke the kiss apart, and allowed her a chance to take her teasing up a level. "This pussy is crying..."

"Natasha..."

"Do you remember what I say to you when we train?" Natasha knew it was cruel to ask you such a thing as your mind was blanked, with her fingers doing their best work inside of your velvety, clenched warmth.

"You can't keep being late and expect not to be punished Y/N," she taunted, a rough chuckle felt against your cheek as she removed her fingers. You whined, "I-I, Natasha please, I need you," just as she expected you to, and she brought the wet pads of her fingers up to your pulsing clit. "I always remind you too, that I call the shots detka, you’re far too precious to know what’s best Y/N, so hush yourself and relax."

The redhead rolled her eyes when she found your glossy ones already boring into hers, then without anymore hesitation she filled you up with a thick strap you'd left out, once again making her think this was what you wanted to happen from the start. Strong, eager hands held your hips down as she picked up a quick pace, her breath was hardly even different aside from the deeper rasp as she rutted her hips into you and whispered her filthiest dreams. Meanwhile you came with a loud whine and tears that pleaded with her to stop, but Natasha only rolled her hips faster.

"I'm not letting you go until you've either drenched the sheets, or passed out," she growled against the welted skin of your throat, her teeth nipped at the fresh sores, a display of her brutal carnality.

You were a panting mess at the mere threat of more, you were already sensitive from your private session. "I-I can't take anymore, please," you managed to stutter, but your resistance was as weak as your cunts grip. Natasha was ruthless, and since you didn't utter your chosen safe word she happily continued, "You can take it, and you'll do it graciously, one more complaint and I'll edge you all month."

"M-month?" Natasha rolled her eyes, she was strap deep inside of you, lips marking up your skin and still you questioned her attachment. Though that frustrated her, there was a rare softness to her tone that held a much deeper meaning. "If you thought this was a one time thing you were mistaken lyubov'." Natasha's lips pressed to yours right after her half baked confession, intent on devouring your soul as it left your body with the next deep thrust of her thick strap. "You're as good as mine now Y/N," she sighed against you as she felt the waves of pleasure ripple off your convulsing body.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered in amusement only moments later as your body relaxed and her eyes caught sight of your peaceful sleeping face. Natasha settled in beside you, strong arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, a sigh of relief followed, "My girl."

[angyo]

I unironically love csm 167. Not for horny, but because it's so fucked up on so many layers and if it follows up on even 1 of those layers of fuckery it's gonna be explosive.

Denji:

He's already been sexually assaulted so many times. Every time he has a dream it gets monkey's pawed into fucking him up worse. He doesn't know what he wants. Deep down he just wants to be loved and be able to trust that if he puts his soul into the hands of another person it won't get crushed. But his love for aki and power was used to break him. His love for reze and makima betrayed. His love for nayuta and the dogs used to goad him into violence. Everyone he opens his heart to either dies or uses him, so all he has left is this hope that sex gives him the love he so deeply needs without the commitment that makes it dangerous. He thinks getting his rocks off might give him the same love he needs without the possibility of having it stolen from him. An orgasm is an orgasm, even if the other person immediately betrays you you still got "love" in a far more transactional and solid sense.

But that's not how it works. Post-orgasm is a very vulnerable time, especially if it's from a high tension surprise hand job (rape) in a backalley. It's his last dream that hasn't been ruined yet and it happened after a castration attempt and will likely end with Asa looking at him like a disgusting monster and vomiting on the ground.

Yoru:

Of course the war devil can't process love. She and Asa share a body and swap a lot of emotions but they're still different people and when something they now feel strongly goes so directly against all of their lives experience they'll react in unpredictable and possibly dangerous ways, ESPECIALLY war. Yoru got the memory of the first kiss meaning asa probably got it too. Asa's not stable, she's so desperately lonely this revelation that denji never stood her up must've felt so relieving. But yoru was in charge when asa got this flood of emotion. War isn't about love or compromise, it's about stealing from the weak and kind, asserting absolute authority, and a lot of rape and pillaging. Of course when faced with such a human and kind emotion as love war doesn't care about anything but satiating the most immediately available impulse in a way that asserts her "superiority" and leaving before she'd have to actually confront the emotional turmoil she caused.

Asa:

Oh she's fucked. Just like denji she is desperately lonely and always has love ripped away from her in the cruelest ways. But unlike him, she just pretends she doesn't need it and tries to feel superior so she doesn't have to feel the real depth of her loneliness. Yet she can't help but love anyway, and every time she falls into the trap of caring it dissolves all of her defenses and when it's betrayed it breaks her core. She is sex-repulsed, which is understandable for a teenager and possibly a sign of asexuality but thematically can be tied to her fear of opening her heart to damage. There's a difference between finding it disgusting on a reasonable level and being so viscerally disgusted by the thought it can drag you into hell. Sex is vulnerable. Your expose a lot of really sensitive organs to each other and stimulate hormones that make you open yourself up and expose yourself to risks like stds. When it feels like all her vulnerabilities get hammered against her of course she'd be scared of such a vulnerable act.

And now she's got cum on the only hand she has left, denji's spit in her mouth, and the lingering feeling of his dick on her, again, ONLY REMAINING HAND. And he's going to need aftercare, and really substantial care because she just sexually assaulted him and he doesn't know she's 2 different people. He's either gonna be so immediately depressed by the anticlimax of his first time he starts isolating or so desperate for this sex to be the time it finally means love he clings to her but it's gonna be terrifying to her because yoru took her subconscious vulnerability and externalized it to hurt the guy she just realized might be the only person to actually give a shit right now. She loves him and as soon as she lets that emotion wash over her it gets used to melt him into a puddle of desperation and vulnerability right in her arm that is so far beyond anything she can emotionally handle it could make him hate her forever. The only one who ever gave a shit and in the span of a couple minutes her body has been used to deconstruct him into a million little pieces she couldn't possibly put back together.

Not to mention the fact that in assaulting denji yoru also sexually assaulted Asa but denji doesn't know that. They both need immediate calming that isn't going to happen.

And she can't run away from yoru. The girl who assaulted her, exploited every vulnerability she has, and ruined her only chance is in her head. Even if denji realizes his worth and runs away asa is still stuck. Her assaulter is in her head, and the only hand she has left is covered in jizz.

[wileys-russo]

I just saw a recent interview Stanway where she says she’s learning how to tattoo, so maybe something where Georgia convinces reader to tattoo them and it’s just cute fluff

inkmaster II g.stanway

"she's getting pretty good you know?" you looked up from your book as vik appeared, nodding to your girlfriend working away in the corner of his tattoo studio. "she harassed you to try it on some real skin yet?" the man grinned as you playfully rolled your eyes. "only every single day."

"you any closer to saying yes?" he smiled knowingly. "maybe a little. like you said, she's getting pretty good." you admitted fondly, marking your place in your book as vik disappeared to greet a client out front.

not wanting to throw her off you walked behind where georgia was tattooing, watching over her shoulder as she concentrated, hair thrown up into a messy bun and the sleeves of her baggy t-shirt rolled up out of the way showing off the dozens of little tattoos littering her arms.

"hello you." she paused, flicking off the tattoo gun and carefully place it beside the prosthetic fake skin she was practicing on. "looks good amor." you complimented as she swiveled her chair around to face you, tugging you down to sit on her lap.

"you look good." she grinned cheekily, her thick accent sending you swooning. "would vik let you tattoo someone yet?" you questioned with a small smile, watching georgias face absolutely light up at your question.

"wait here!" she gently moved you off of her and raced away making you laugh quietly and take a seat, admiring the small designs she had been practicing just moments before.

"he said yes! he has to supervise me and i can't charge ya, not that i would do that obviously, but he said yes!" georgia beamed, grin from ear to ear as she came sprinting back into the room. "do ya know what you want?" georgia asked and you nodded, standing to retrieve your phone.

"wait. baby are ya sure?" georgia grabbed your hands, interlocking your fingers and sweetly kissing your palm. "very sure. why? are you scared of what my sisters might say?" you teased, smile widening seeing the way her face instantly paled.

"er i didn't think bout that! maybe not then." georgia worried as you grinned. "baby they both have tattoos too, they will not care!" you assured, reaching up to move some flyaways out of her face.

"anyway. i want these, can you do them?" you showed her your screen, worry replaced with a frown as she inspected the two small designs. "yeah, i think so." she nodded confidently, bending down to reward you with a kiss before running off to grab what she needed.

"okay. ready? ready?" vik sat down beside georgia to watch on as you both nodded, georgia kissing the crook of your elbow as you sent her a smile, laid down on a chair as your arm was stretched out and ready.

"baby tell me if i'm goin too deep and it hurts." georgia warned, eyes glazed over with concern. "it's supposed to hurt, no?" you teased but nodded in agreement making vik chuckle, instructing georgia as she flicked on the tattoo gun.

your chosen designs were all linked in with your family, and though you'd been tattooed before you had seldom in visible places so a lot was on the line here and your girlfriend knew that.

you flinched just a tiny bit as her needle met your skin but once you adjusted to the buzzing and the slight sting you mumbled encouragement over and over to the blonde in front of you whose confidence grew as each minute passed, watched over carefully by vik.

"ya alright love?" georgia checked in as she wiped down the first little tattoo she'd now finished, vik nodding he was also happy with it. "you're doing so good baby, barely hurts." you complimented, your girlfriend blushing slightly which the man beside her was quick to tease her about as she rolled her eyes and flicked the gun back on.

"just try not to think about that you're tattoing la reina's baby sister a week before you play her." "shut up vik man! your makin me dead nervous."

~

"did you forget your barca jersey in germany hermanita?" you rolled your eyes before you even turned around, your older sister pulling you into a headlock and ruffling your hair before you pushed her off.

"im not picking a team today." you glared at her, refusing to choose between your sister or your girlfriend as they lined up against one another for the champions league, much to the annoyed protests of both parties at your decision.

"hola mami." you smiled, your mother pulling you into a tight hug, not having seen you in over a month now you held her for as long as she needed before you released her and she wiped away a few tears, you quick to promise you would try and come home to visit more.

"you got new tattoos!" your sister realized the moment you'd pulled away from the hug with her. "shut up alba!" you hissed smacking her arm as you all walked into the stadium and up to your seats, your mother well in earshot who only turned with a smile.

"i have long given up reasoning with any of you about what you put on your bodies mija."

"i like them but they are a little....wonky?" you yanked your arm out of her grip as the three of you sat down. "georgia did them. be nice!" you warned only causing her to throw her head back and laugh.

"oh hermana just you wait till ale hears that, your little girlfriend is a dead woman."

~

"assist and a goal. you played so well gee baby!" you greeted your girlfriend by the barrier with a grin and a kiss, pulling her sweaty form into a hug, murmuring a more quiet condolence for the loss.

"wish my name was on your back." the blonde frowned causing your smile to widen as you kissed away her pout. "any other game you know it would be." you promised softly, glancing up and seeing your eldest sister marching her way over.

"incoming. be strong! don't let her boss you around." you warned as georgia's eyes widened but before she could even speak it was too late. "stanway!" you shot alexia a firm glare as she arrived, slinging an arm over your girlfriends shoulder and steering her away.

"no. you stay!" she warned as you tried to jump the barrier to follow after them, watching on sympathetically as your sister marched the poor girl away from you. "you had a good game." alexia started, georgia stammering out a thank you with wide eyes.

"whats all that then?" keira appeared beside you, pulling you into a hug as you congratulated her for the win. "i let her do it." you smiled, holding out your arm with the fresh tattoos as keira inspected them with a whistle.

"well its been nice knowing her, but she's a dead woman now." "why does everyone keep saying this!"

"so. you have been permanently marking my sister now stanway?" alexia accused, moving to tower over the shorter girl whose face pale as she tried to stammer out an excuse.

"no more. if i find one more single tiny mark on her that i know she was not born with, i will make sure to have the barca crest inked on your face. that is a promise!" alexia warned firmly, georgia nodding repeatedly and rambling out an apology over and over, a satisfied smile settling on the eldest putella's face as once again her arm slung over the midfielder and she walked the two of them back toward you.

"i'll see you at dinner hermana, you too stanway." your sister kissed your forehead and winked to your girlfriend before striding away toward the change rooms.

"are you okay baby? what did she say?" you asked a very pale georgia, keira doubled over in laughter at her best friends expense, having been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place.

"er well i think i need to learn tattoo removal now."

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

nina pt. 1

nina and annie's post-work wine sessions became something of a habit. annie slowly told her everything. nina started talking too. of particular interest to annie was the story of the campground nina's family had run for generations...

Nina's father drove her up the camp for the summer a few days after her 16th birthday. Something about that, about her age now, made her sense this summer would be different. For a few years now she and her brother had lived at the camp, and nominally worked for her mother, each year gaining more independence and freedom. Nina could feel it reaching an apex.

The camp had been in her family for as long as she could remember. When she was a little girl, her grandparents managed it. They were retired now, and so her mother and her brother, Nina's uncle Evan, managed it together every summer. Their dad came up and visited some weekends, but he had to work. They didn't see him much in the summer. Nina would miss him, she thought, looking at him as he drove, eyes on the road.

"You looking forward to the summer?" he asked her. "I like being outside so much. And the indepence." "I am sure," he said. "And the indepence is great. Honestly I don't mind having your mother out of my hair." Nina laughed.

The day before, Nina had lost her virginity. She'd impulsively fucked Joe, a friend from school, in his room after going there with him to watch a movie after running into him downtown. It had been so impulsive that Nina wasn't wearing a matching bra and panties, hadn't shaved her pubic hair in a few days. It wasn't at all how she imagined it would be. He'd lasted much longer than she'd assumed he would have--several minutes of real thrusting and moaning and kissing. And it hadn't hurt the way she'd feared it would. Pressure, sure. But more pleasure than pressure. She hadn't had an orgasm, she knew that. She was very familiar with those already. She'd given herself one later, in bed recalling her time with Joe, feeling a phantom emptiness in her pussy as she rubbed her clit.

She felt like she was marked by it, the act of sexual intercourse. She felt like she stilled smelled like his cum, most of which had ended up on her stomach, and had felt pleasantly dry and sticky all day after, even though she'd wiped most of it off. It was fully scrubbed off now, and her vagina felt normal again, and yet she could still feel it. She wondered if her father could sense it. She wanted to feel like it made her different, somehow.

At this point, her mother and her older brother Paul had already been at the camp for a week. Nina had needed to play her last games with the school volleyball team. When they pulled up to the office, which had a trailer behind it where Nina's mom and Uncle Evan slept, Nina's mom waved to them, already very tan, in shorts and bikini top. They parked and Nina got her bags and said hi to her mom and walked her bags down the loop, past the shower house and bathrooms to the only other permanent structure on the campground, a cabin where she'd be living with Paul and their cousin Cassie. There were four metal beds arranged around the room and one electric outlet which would always be charging someone's phone all summer long. The fourth bed was an all purpose storage structure. Snacks, makeup, a conspicuous little box where Cassie kept weed, and, this year, Nina clocked, condoms. Paul and Cassie were out. They were probably collecting fees from the current slate of campers -- one of their few jobs. Picking up trash, selling firewood, collecting fees, cleaning the bathrooms. That was the gig, and the three of them rotated tasks.

Nina changed into a bathing suit and walked back up the path to the front office. Her parents were MIA. For some reason, Nina didn't call out to get their attention. She had a sudden sense of what they were probably doing, and felt a weird curiosity about it. Quietly, she walked over to the trailer and peeked in the window, shielding herself from view around the corner of the structure.

Well, OK, now I have seen that, was her immediate thought. Her mother's bed was near the window. Nina knew that because at night when she'd go for walks she'd often spy her mother dangling a cigarette out the window. She'd "quit" smoking but smoked all summer in secret. Nina kind of thought it was cool.

Now, she was looking at her mom's ass, tanlines already evident, and her father's balls as her mom rode him. Nina was immediately shocked by the size of her father's cock, not so much the length, which she currently could not ascertain, but the girth. He was very thick, visibly stretching her out. It struck Nina as oddly romantic. She was still gripping him so hard after all those years of fucking. Nina looked away and slipped into the woods, crossing the campsite that way instead.

She headed in the direction of the beach, and ran into Cassie and her uncle Evan walking in that direction. Paul was out collecting, Cassie told her. Did she want to come with them to go swimming? Cassie was an only child, and her mother was dead. Nina found this fascinating. Her mother had killed herself when Cassie was 8 and Nina was 7. Nina barely remembered this. Evan had found her -- she'd hung herself in lingerie in the bathroom. Nina only knew about this because her mom had told her recently when she'd asked. Nina didn't understand why it had happened, and her mom told Nina it was because she'd been unable to have more children.

"So what?" Nina said. "I mean, she got Cassie."

"She grew up really religious," her mom had explained. "She felt her purpose on earth was to procreate. So when she lost that too early, she gave up on life.

"That's stupid," Nina said. Her mom had laughed. "I agree, but she was practically a kid."

"She was?" Evan was younger than her mom, but not by that much. "She was 25," her mom said. "Your uncle got her pregnant when she was still in high school. But don't tell Cassie that. I'm not sure she knows. They fudged the numbers a little afterward."

It didn't seem that scandalous to Nina. Her mom had had Paul when she was 20 years old, Nina when she was 22. That wasn't much older than 17.

In pictures, Cassie's mom always looked like a hippie to Nina. Long hair, sundresses, always barefoot. She looked out of place among their family, all dark-skinned, dark-haired Italian stock. These days Cassie sort of struck a balance between both worlds. Like Nina, she was slender and tall and had darker skin, big eyes and a small nose, but with long, wavy blonde hair in contrast to Nina's short dark bob. Nina was looking more and more like her mother every day, something that Evan pointed out as they reached the river and she and Cassie dove in. The water was fucking freezing. They both shrieked. Evan didn't get in. "Your mom and I shocked our systems enough doing that when we were young," he said. "I'd probably have a heart attack now."

"I think my clit froze off," Cassie said. It was a startlingly vulgar thing to say in front of her father. But he laughed even as Nina was scandalized. Nina got out first, and thus watched Cassie slowly emerge from the water. Her cousin was more beautiful than ever. Her breasts were bigger, hips wider, making her thigh gap even more pronounced. Her white bikini bottom clung to her body, and Nina could clearly see the outline of dark sculpted pubic hair. That was new. Nina had seen Cassie naked plenty of times last summer, and she'd been fully shaved like Nina still was. For some reason, Cassie's bush made Nina immediately aware of just how sexual active her cousin had certainly become.

Nina was surprised to watch Cassie walk toward her father making no effort to cover herself -- perhaps she was unaware how exposed she was? She looked at her uncle, looking at Cassie, and certainly saw his eyes go there, and flick back up, betraying nothing. It didn't upset him?

Nina flashed to an incident that spring at home, when she'd come downstairs in a skirt her father had deemed too short. Nina had playfully brushed him off, starting to use that old saying -- short enough to keep things interesting -- he'd cut her off. "You're wearing pink panties," he'd said sternly. "I know because I can see them."

"Aren't they cute?" she'd deflected again.

"You can't wear that," he'd said. "Take it off and and go change."

And he'd held out his hand, asking Nina to give him her skirt. So she did. She unfastened it, took it off, and went back to her room to put on a pair of jeans. No one else had been in the room. Nina was so surprised by the firmness and directness of her father. Her father had fleetingly seen her in underwear before, certainly, but today she felt his gaze very specifically, the heat of it on her skin.

Bizarrely, as she changed in her room, she found herself fantasizing that he'd kept his hand extended after the skirt, asking for more. She imagined herself removing her top and giving to him, and yet still his hand remained. She imagined herself carefully lowering her panties and handing them over to him as well, and then imagined him reaching for his belt, unfastening his pants. She'd stopped herself there, wondering what was wrong with her, wondering why she was soaking wet.

She'd quickly dressed and gone back downstairs and her father had approved. She'd never seen the skirt again.

[om-nom-snom]

[Domestic Chores]

Rika x Reader, Leon x Reader, Steven x Reader

Rika <3

Rika is very on top of household chores, despite her relaxed nature

We all have that one chore we hate having to do around the house, however, even esteemed members of the elite four

Rika hates washing the dishes

Honestly, she'd be happy to eat exclusively off paper plates

You bet that every time it's her turn to wash up she insists on you keeping her company

"You can't leave your ol' pal to suffer through this alone..."

"You're my girlfriend Rika, not my pal-"

Rika is not above picking you up and setting you down on the counter beside her

She tries to kiss you until you have push her away and remind her to clean

Absolutely puts on some quiet music and insists you tell her about your day

And, naturally, she blows soap bubbles at you if you get distracted or silent

Expect plenty of dishwash bubble fights with her around

If there's anything that makes washing up fun for Rika, it's having you around

Leon <3

Leon is a domestic king

Real husband material right there

Unfortunately, there's one chore he can't be trusted to do alone

Grocery shopping

After multiple failed attempts in the past, it became a mutual agreement that grocery shopping would be a joint outing

He tries to make it like a mini weekly date, though

Buys you both drinks beforehand, coffee or bubble tea are Leons go-to choices

As you go through the store Leon is often in charge of the shopping list

He does always keep a hand on the trolley as you steer it, and him, through the store

"Oh, we forgot onions, I'll run back and grab them! ...Stop giving me that look."

He has good intentions but as soon as he's out of your sight it'll be hours before you find him again

Exactly why he needs to either hold you or the trolley

Leon is also definitely the type to slip extra goodies into the shopping when you aren't looking, usually things he knows you like

Steven <3

Steven has never had any issues staying on top of chores, when he is home

Having a regular cleaner that comes in a couple times a month certainly helps with that

Though, something he insists on caring for himself are the houseplants

What started as an off hand joke Wallace made has now turned into a new hobby for Steven

He does include you in it too, from shopping to repotting to watering

After his extensive houseplant research he'll point out and id any plant he sees

"Look at that one! Most people would think it's a monstera but it's actually a pothos, did you know they can have fenestrated leaves too?"

He gets you both matching Pokémon watering cans too

Steven has a wailmer one and he got you a load one

Before he goes on trips he entrusts you with plants care, too

Steven asks how they are when you two call, and when he gets back you can expect a very sweet 'thank you' kiss from the champion

[allbark-no-bite]

This is Real Life || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the kook princess comes home from college with a new boyfriend and Rafe isn’t happy about it. unfortunately, he isn’t in the position to tell her what to do

warnings: 18+ smut, foul language, unprotected sex, slight mention of underage sex

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: this contains NO SPOILERS for season 3! y’all i have had this in the drafts for a year and couldn’t finish it. i was quickly motivated by the release of season three. i actually have some more OBX stuff on wattpad that i hope to transfer over if this gets some attention :)

It was feral really, their relationship. What else was to be expected of Ward Cameron's only son and the kook princess? But for the record, she preferred the term bastard. Born the illegitimate child of the second wealthiest man in the Outer Banks, she could go by whatever she wanted and people would still be besotted—albeit wary—by the name.

She was exactly the type of drug Rafe Cameron couldn't resist time and time again. Better than anything Barry could ever try to sell him. One taste and now he gets an itch for her worse than cocaine. Midsummers made this temptation all the more unbearable. Liable to her father's heavy name, she'd be inclined for the occasion to put on some kind of obscenely form fitting dress that left little to the imagination and Rafe intoxicated by the sight all night.

It's a toxic green color, and by toxic he means the dark teal accents her sun kissed skin and dark hair perfectly. She'd dyed it black two summers ago before leaving for college, and it had yet to return to its natural fair brown. He's sure she did it just to spite him. Rafe had always preferred blondes. But damn did it look good on her.  Shamelessly, his eyes drink her in as she flashes a pearly smile at the bartender taking her order.

Unfortunately, he also then catches sight of the guy standing next to her. He's a tall, brute of a man with large shoulders, a perfect nose, and sickening puppy dog like eyes. From the looks of him, he's undoubtedly one too many years her senior. Despite that, it's obvious that he's not the one in charge. Rafe watches as the older man hovers around her. He's confident in the way he carries himself, but Rafe can see how he moves around her with an air of caution, like he knows she's going to bite him if he gets too close. This observation leads him to his next point; the guy is not her type and Rafe knows it.

She met Armand nearly a year ago through a friend of a friend. He had returned to university from Europe to continue his studies with the leisure that his comfortable home life in a wealthy, two parent household provided him. While the six year age gap certainly raised eyebrows —specifically those of friends of her father's— it's not the reason she was uninterested in him.

Armand was the product of fine European breeding and the maturity that came with age. He spoke astutely and with confidence. He also had an unlimited amount of patience. And while it was nice to be indulged by his attentiveness every so often, it became quite boring if she was being honest. Armand was the type of guy one would bring home to meet their family, a quality that she had very little interest in.

Her eyes catch Rafe's from across the country club bar, and she immediately looks away. Instead she sweetly asks Armie, as she calls him, to get her another glass of champagne — her current one had gone warm. She pretends that she doesn't see him sidling up to her until he's standing right behind her.

Rafe has to hide his smile, licking his lips to wet them. After all these years, he's quite used to the games she plays. She makes him wait a few more seconds before she turns around, her exposed back pressing against the bar as she faces him. Her eyes first travel slowly down his body, coming about as close as one can to undressing a person without actually touching them, and only then returning to his face.

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

They both know what she means is 'what are you doing in my face' and not 'what are you doing at Midsummers'.

Catching the message that she's not in the mood for any sort of shit answer he could give her about his required attendance at Midsummers, Rafe shrugs casually, rolling his expensive suit clad shoulders. His thumb drags across the smooth plane of his jawline, moving downwards and catching along his bottom lip.

"Heard you looked good in a sundress," he suggests, still trying to maintain an air of nonchalant indifference. He wants to know if her golden skin still tastes how he remembers it.

She rolls her eyes as a lazy, taunting smirk appears on his face. Before she can reply, Rafe saunters closer, practically eliminating the distance between them and blocking her against the bar. His face is close enough to her cheek that she can feel his hot breath as he wets his lips.

"Heard you looked good undressed."

Her expression remains unchanged, not bothered by his forwardness. "Would you let my brother hear those words come out your mouth?" She eyes him knowingly, feigning concern. "Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face again."

The word 'brother' is synonymous to a warning to Rafe and immediately he glances sideways. Around them, residents of Figure Eight chatter and happily sip champagne. No one is paying the pair at the bar any mind. It is likely that no one has noticed them yet. Usually just the sight of the pair together is enough to draw a couple of stares.

When Malcolm Coors doesn't materialize from the crowd, Rafe's sharp blue eyes settle back on her. “Real funny," he sneers.

She has no shame in admitting she gets a little kick out of Rafe's fear of her brother. The two boys had graduated together a year before her, and she still remembers the pair of them being intentionally separated despite alphabetical order as they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas. Malcolm had been sporting a broken nose at the time and Rafe his own nasty looking black eye.

She smiles, enjoying his irritation. While she would like to bask in the fact that it looks like he's still licking his wounds after the past couple years, they need to get to the point before Malcolm does find them.

Rafe nods his chin over towards the unsuspecting back of her European rendezvous as he chatters amiably with the bartender. Rafe wants to swing a golf club through his perfect teeth. "How do you know this guy?"

She shrugs, playing at indifference. "Your inconsistency introduced us."

They haven't talked since before she blocked his number, which was over a year ago. The interaction wasn't exactly civil either. He specifically remembers screaming through the phone at some ungodly hour of the night and ending the call when she finally hung up on him by hurling his phone against the wall. Thankfully his parents had overheard the conversation and already assumed what all the noise was.

Biting back the urge to argue that he's not the one playing the hot and cold game, he persists "A bit old for you, don't you think?"

Her eyes don't follow Rafe's, which she knows are staring daggers at Armand. "You missed me," she points out.

Rafe sucks his tongue across the front of his teeth as an act of stalling, his expression becoming fed up and annoyed. Getting answers out of her has always been like pulling teeth. She doesn't want to play nice? Fine.

"Daddy doesn't have some billionaire's trust fund baby lined up for you?"

Her black lined eyes narrow. He levels his cool gaze with her. Oh he went there.

"Unlike you, my father has no say in my personal life." She's never referred to the man who sired her as anything other than her 'father'. It's the socially acceptable way of saying 'he's a bastard and I hate him'. "Besides, old money doesn't entice me, Cameron."

"Yeah?" he scoffs. Rafe leans in, murmuring softly into her ear. "That's not what you said what I was inside of you."

Her face flashes hot, and it's the first chip in her armor he has seen all night.

"I was seventeen. A minor, Rafe. You could go to jail for that," she snaps.

He smiles, cocking his head in a manner that says he isn't all that worried about his chances of going to jail. "You always act like I took advantage of you. Sweetheart, even if you hadn't begged me to screw you, we both know there's nothing you could have done to stop me."

It's her turn to scoff. "Am I suppose to thank you? You don't get an award for not being a fucking predator." She spits out the last part, and it causes a few heads to turn in their direction.

Among those heads, Rafe notices the blonde one of Malcolm; aka his sign that he needs to excuse himself. "Bitch," he mutters as he shoves past her.

She catches his arm before he can get too far. "Bathroom. Ten minutes.”

It is actually a grand total of twenty minutes before she finds Rafe in the small guest bathroom. Armie had remained glue to her side for another fifteen minutes and even after she managed to escape him, she was stopped by multiple friends of her father’s, asking how college was going and whatnot.

Nevertheless, Rafe waits for her. Each minute after ten, he promised himself he wouldn’t wait another, but the truth is he would have waited all night.

“Fuck. I’ve been thinking about this dress all damn night,” Rafe groans, grabbing a handful of her green velvet covered ass. His other hand is around her chin, guiding her mouth so that he can kiss her against the wall. Their mouths collide so bruisingly that for a moment he considers if he’s just broken his nose. Rafe doesn’t dwell on the possibility for too long because he’s been achingly hard for over twenty minute now and he won’t make it one more without coming in his pants. There’s only one place he’s coming tonight and it’s inside of her.

“I knew you were always a perv, Cameron,” she huffs out as he pulls away from the kiss to unbuckle his slacks and pull down his boxers. The length of him springs out against his stomach. Just looking at the size of him makes her legs shake. Much to her disappointment, he’s forcing her around, hips pressed against the counter before she can ogle at the sight of him for long.

Rafe slips into her as though it were a well practiced move and not something he hasn’t done in over a year. He still knows his way around her body.

She nearly yelps in surprise at the sudden intrusion. “Jesus—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, breathing hard. Just the feeling of her around him is enough to make him spill right now and he’s trying to hold on a while longer. Stomach burning with the effort of not coming, he bucks, just once to satiate himself, into her. The feeling is overwhelming.

Not pleased with his sudden lack of performance, she consciously clenches around him. “Are you going to fuck me or what because I’m sure Armie—”

Rafe cuts her off by drilling his hips back into her once more, this time much more forcefully, and her pelvis hits the counter. That is going to bruise. Rafe grabs a fist full of her dark hair. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name. I don’t want to hear it again. You hear me?”

Eyes locked with his in the mirror, she nods quickly, desperate to let him have his way with her. “Fuck. Yeah, Rafe. Please just fuck me.”

Without wasting anymore time adjusting to the feel of her, Rafe begins thrusting his hips rhythmically at a ridiculous pace. The hot heat of her seems to suck him back in each time and he wonders if she’s like this for him. Armand. By the way she’s panting, moaning against the counter, he would say no.

As weird of a thing that it is to say, there are people who are good at sex, and then there are people who are great at sex. Rafe is one of those people. She’s never been with another guy who fucks her like Rafe does. It’s raw and filthy and animalistic.

Just when she think he’s as deep as he can be, he shuffles a bit, readjusting himself to get a better angle and hit a spot inside of her that tears a cry from her throat.

“Oh fuck— Please, Rafe. That’s it. That’s enough. I can’t—” When she starts begging for him to stop is when he knows she’s close. She’s always been too prideful to tell him when she’s close and it pisses him off to no end. He slows his pounding to get in a few more drawn out thrusts. The head of him catches inside of her and she cries at the sensation.

“There you go, there you go,” he groans, finding the breath to encourage her to finish as he struggles to control himself. “Feel me? Atta girl, you’re right there. Right there, baby.”

Crying out a moan, her head falls back as she orgasms, her walls fluttering in protest around him. The shock last for several long seconds throughout her entire body, and she contemplates if she’s ever going to be satisfied by another orgasm ever again. Even after, the electric buzzing sensation remains, and she remembers that Rafe is still throbbing inside of her.

Without warning, he thrusts into her a couple more times before finding his own orgasm. With his nose pressed into her hair, mouth right next to her ear, Rafe moans as he releases inside of her, and he hears her breath hitch at the sound. As if he needed proof of the fiery ball that had been pent up in his stomach all evening, he spills and spills and spill inside of her. It leaves him trembling by the time he’s done.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” she repeats, humoring him. He almost laughs but he doesn’t think he had the energy left for it.

Slowly moving again, the noise that his dick makes fucking into her, his cum dripping out is obscene, but he wants to savor the hot mess of her around him for as long as he can.

Smugly, he catches her gaze in the mirror, watching himself move in and out of her. The mascara under her eyes is smudged, making her searing gaze all that much darker. Rafe thinks she always looks perfect no matter what. He does have a bias towards ‘freshly fucked’ though.

As much as he would like to remain pressed against her —and in her— he knows she’ll only tolerate him for so long. So with a final sigh, he presses a prolonged and affectionate kiss to her hair and pulls out of her. As she fixes her dress, he tucks his still-leaking dick back into his boxers, pulls up his pants and watches her walk out the bathroom without a word. Rafe waits a respectful few minutes after her to make his exit.

Feeling truly fucked out, no pun intended, he heads over to the bar, where he spots her with her boyfriend, his arm wrapped low around her waist as he kisses her cheek. He needs a fucking drink, he thinks. And then, probably something stronger.

—

There are very few things that can rouse her from the dead sleep that she gets in her childhood bedroom. Coming home to the plush baby blue comforter that covers her perfectly made bed is like downing a handful of melatonin gummies after sleeping on a crummy twin mattress for nine months. Despite this usually holding true, Armie is the only one dead asleep beside her.

'I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name.'  The memory keeps replaying in her head. The perfect infliction of his voice down to the scent of him as he leaned in is marred into her memory. He still wears the same cologne.

Without warning, her phone on the bedside table blares to life, ringing loudly, and the bright screen illuminates the mostly dark bedroom. Scrambling to shut it off before the commotion wakes Armie up, her immediate response is to swipe the answer button.

"Hello?" she asks, her voice hushed, into the phone.

"I need you, (y/n)."

Rafe's voice transfers crystal clear through the receiver, like he's not even trying to be quiet.

"Rafe?" Cupping her hand over the speaker and pressing the device closer to her ear, her eyebrows furrow as she hurriedly swings her legs over the side of the bed and quickly tiptoes out into the hall."Rafe?" she asks, this time louder now that Armie can't hear her. "Are you fucking cra—"

"I—I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I— fuck, (y/n). I just—" He's rambling, his smooth as honey voice much thicker than usual and notably less precise. He sniffs, loudly.

She sighs as he tries to collect himself over the line, mumbling and stuttering. "Why do you only call me when you're high, Cameron? I mean, seriously?" This is not the first time he's phoned her in the middle of the night, high out of his mind.

Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she checks the clock on the wall. It's well past 3 am. There's a slim chance she will even get any sleep at this point.

"Listen, (y/n). I–I just—"

"No, you listen," she snaps, cutting him off. "You'd better be at your house when I get there or else. Got it?"

She can hear him swallow over the phone and something crashes to the floor. "Yeah— I— yeah, I will. I will."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

It helps that the Cameron's live only a few houses down. In reality, no one lives very far from anyone in the Outer Banks. Figure Eight is only a bike ride away from the Cut.

With the majority of the Cameron household likely asleep, and not caring to wake up Ward, she walks in without knocking. She'd never knocked before and wasn't about to make a habit of it now. Creeping slowly through the entryway, her sneakers echo loudly on the pristine tile floor. She knows this house like the back of her hand and therefore has no difficulty in navigating it in the dark. Around her, the house is still.

"Ra—" A hand clamps around her mouth from behind, effectively cutting of her startled shriek. Shoving his heavy body off of her, she whirls around to face him. "What are you doing?" she whispers loudly, shoving his hands away.

"I didn't want to scare you," Rafe defends, his blue eyes shining even in the darkness.

Shoving him once more in the chest, hard for good measure, she moves past him into the kitchen and flips the light on. Now that she can actually see, she steps back to take him in.

His pupils are blown, leaving very little of the blue of his eyes distinguishable. The suit jacket from earlier in the evening is gone, but everything else, from his dress shoes to the the white button up shirt underneath remain. Half of the top buttons of his shirt are open, revealing the golden skin of his chest. Nervously, he rubs at the back of his neck, where the short crop of his buzz cut fades.

"(y/n), I—," Rafe begins, stepping towards her.

"Shut up, Rafe."

His head fogged with the determination to get her to just listen to him, he ignores her instruction. "C'mon, baby. I just—"

"Shut up, Rafe," she repeats, sterner this time. She knows his head is not in the right place at the moment, and he needs to get it together if they're going to have this conversation.

"I need—"

"I said shut up!"

Finally something must reach the inside of that thick skull of his and Rafe immediately clamps his jaw shut. Now silent other than his heavy breathing, his big doe eyes watch her attentively.

She stares at him for a moment, using the quiet to gather her thoughts. Seeing him like this tears her up a little inside and it’s hard to find the right words to say to him. Sure, she treats him like shit most of the time, but that’s because it’s like second nature to the two of them. Fucking is the only thing they’re both good at.

She knows somewhere behind his drug induced haze, he’s really just a scared little kid. Most people take one look at Rafe and assume he’s just another screw up, destined to end up mooching off the Cameron family inheritance for the rest of his life. But she knows deep down that he has it in him to be better.

“You gotta stop, Rafe.” That’s the most honest and genuine sentence she’s spoken to him in a year. “This is not some prodigal son fairytale where you just get to walk away from it all when you decide to get your shit together. This is real life.” Her voice has risen towards the end and his already glossy eyes look wet.

Rafe can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in his life, especially in front of someone else. His emotions tend to teeter from slightly cocksure to overwhelming rage without much of a grey area. But right now his throat feels tight and his eyes burn and he’s coming pretty damn close. And maybe it’s from the coke he snorted earlier but even that’s starting to wear off. He knows because his head isn’t swimming anymore and his eyeballs don’t feel like they’re rolling around in their sockets.

Fighting the swell of emotion that is threatening to erupt out of his chest, he looks up, tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek, suddenly not wanting to look in her eyes. Rafe finally nods, sniffing hard while he gathers himself. “I know,” he whispers, the noise barley even audible.

Still nodding to himself, he settles his gaze back on her. “And I know you think that this is the cocaine talking, but I promise you it’s not. I mean it when I say I need you.” Timidly, he paces towards her from across the kitchen. “I—I need your help. I need you. I—”

While he continues to ramble, she hushes him as he rests his chin in the crook of her neck. One hand cups the back of his head while the other rubs his shoulder through the soft cotton of his shirt. “Okay. You’re okay,” she murmurs into his ear, still holding onto him as he sinks to his knees on the kitchen floor. He’s tall enough that his head meets the middle of her stomach even on the floor.

Rafe can’t recall the last time anyone has held him so carefully before. But he does know that it feels wildly more intimate than any sort of sex they’ve ever had. Drowsy with relief and crashing from his high, he almost asks her if she loves him. It would be so easy to breathe the words, but instead he closes his eyes and lets her hold him a while longer.