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greta-van-chaos · 2 years

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I Put a Spell On You

Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it besties)

Word Count | 1.5k words

Authors Note | I haven't written for Sammy in so long and I just NEED more Sam smut in my life.

Saturdays are you favorite, you and Sam always stay wrapped up all nice and warm in bed, relishing in the fact that neither of you have to work. Sam might have a show later in the evening but you always have the morning, no matter what.

Your body feels heavy with sleep and you're not quite ready to wake up yet but when you feel the tickle of Sam's long hair against your bare stomach and his mouth travelling down your sternum you force your eyes open. Lost beneath the covers you can see the outline of Sam's body under the blanket. He traces you skin with the tips of his fingers, clearly trying to wake you before venturing farther down your body.

"Good morning." You grumble, reaching beneath the duvet to sink your hands in Sammy's hair.

"Morning, sunshine." He adds a southern drawl to his voice as a joke but it makes your stomach churn with lust. Just the fact that he's between your legs has sent your body into overdrive, setting your skin on fire everywhere he touches.

"What are you doing down there?" You lift the edge of the blanket so you can look at him and his beautiful doe eyes stare back at you as he drags his tongue along your skin.

"I think you know." He focusing back on your body, placing open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Sam slowly inches farther down the bed, dragging his tongue from the bottom of your navel to the hem of your panties.

"Sam--" You arch your back into him, forcing his mouth to make contact with your clothed cunt.

"You want it?" He whispers, placing a demure kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties that's already become damp from your arousal.

"Please, Sammy."

His hair is soft under your touch and for a moment you just revel in that tiny detail. It's always the little things that you admire about Sam, his pink, pouty lips; his beautiful downturned eyes; how gentle his hands are despite how they may seem when he's playing bass or the keys. He's perfection. When he smiles against you and you can actually feel his lips tip up on your skin it sends a shiver through your body. Slowly, teasingly, he slides do your panties down your legs and blows a steady stream of air down your dripping cunt.

Somehow you find yourself arching into his touch again, whispering please, over and over again to him like some sort of mantra. Sam usually enjoys the foreplay more than the intimate acts themselves, always getting you riled up with copious amounts of teasing but today he gets straight to the point, tonguing at your clit with a steady pace. A breathless moan leaves your lips when he takes your clit into his mouth and adds just enough suction to have you squirming. One of your hands is buried in his hair, scratching along his scalp as an encouragement for him to continue his actions, while the other is white knuckling the navy blue sheets around you.

Sam spends a few minutes just toying with you, exclusively using his tongue to pleasure you. He keeps a decent pace, making sure to stay consistent and lead you on a direct path to your orgasm. Your body jolts when he brings two fingers up to collect some of you slick and that's when he pulls away from you, leaving you a panting mess under him.

"Look at me." He rasps, sliding his off hand to your ankle and hooking it over his shoulder.

You cast your gaze down and once he's got your attention he slides the fingers covered in your arousal into his mouth, sensually licking them and them dragging them back down to your entrance. You stomach clenches which causes a chain reaction, your thighs closing in around Sam's head when he puts his mouth back on you. Sam is the type to let you rough him up a little, not minding a little hair pulling or in this case his head being trapped between your thighs, he actually enjoys it. You thought is proved even more true when you can see him grind his hips into the mattress from under the blanket, it's slight but the movement in and of itself is obvious.

"Fuck, I love your pretty mouth Sammy."

And once again, he bucks his hips into the bed. This time it's far more obvious and the moan that leaves him hides nothing about what he's doing. His sounds reverberate through you, crawling up your spine and increasing your pleasure. Finally, Sam pushes his fingers into you, starting slow, still putting most of the work to his tongue. A whine bordering on a scream leaves you and you start to move yourself against him, pumping your hips up to meet his tongue and fingers.

You can't keep your eyes on him anymore, throwing your head back you squeeze your eyes shut. His slowly picking up speed in his fingers and you're thanking the bass gods right now for bringing the world such a talented man. As a loving gesture that's spattered with violent shakes of your body from the pleasure you're recieving, you run your fingers through Sam's soft tresses and caress his pinkened cheeks with your fingertips.

Sam still softly grinds himself into the plush mattress, giving in to his own needs as he slowly brings you closer to your orgasm. You thighs have begun to shake around him as he fucks you and you can feel yourself slowly edging closer to your release.

"I'm so close, Sammy--"

"Cum for me, cum all over my face."

His pleas are what tip you over the edge, his sultry voice doing just enough to make your entire body light with unbridled pleasure. You shake through your orgasm, clenching down on his fingers as you cum. His name passes your lips over and over again as you breathe it like a prayer and when you've come down enough for him to remove his fingers his kisses up your stomach and chest to your neck. You can't help but notice your wetness transferring from his lips to your damp skin.

"Fuck me, Sam, let me help you." Even after your release you're ready to go again, high on the idea of having him inside of you. You can feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and he grinds against you softly, a moan slipping past his lips and over your throat.

He wastes no time, pulling out his dick from the confines of his boxers and lining up with your entrance. He props himself up with a hand beside your head so he can kiss you while he fucks you. Always so sensual. Sam pushes in, slowly filling you a hilt and your stomach clenches deliciously at the feeling of him stretching you out.

"Fuck, you feel so good, so wet."

"Only for you baby." Not that he needs reminding, he as you wrapped around his finger and he doesn't even know it.

You bring your hands to the back of his neck and watches his face as he thrusts into you. His eyes are shut and his eyebrows are drawn together in concentration. Both of your mouths are hung open and the sounds of your collective breathing and pelvises meeting is filling the room. Every time Sam pushes into you he swirls his hips a bit and the first time he does it your hands shoot to his back so you can rake your nails over his shoulder blades.

"Harder." You whine, scratching your nails down to the small of his back to coax him into you a little rougher.

He takes your plea to heart, now beginning to ram into you just a little bit faster but that much harder. After one particularly sharp thrusts he hits a spot deep inside you that sends your body spiraling. You wrap your legs around his hips and assist him in fucking you and throw your head back to let your moans flow freely from your throat.

"Fuck-- I'm close!" The coil deep in your stomach grows even tighter, begging to snap.

Sam is clearly not far behind, his cheeks flushing pink, his thrusts growing erratic. You snake a hand down the skin of your stomach and circle your clit to aid in bringing you to your orgasm. Sam's pace continues to falter but he holds fast, making sure you reach your peak even though he's already been catering to your needs since you awoke.

"I'm gonna cum-- fuck." You can feel him spill himself inside of you and that's what pushes you over the edge, bathing you in the soft glow of euphoria that Sam never fails to bring to you.

When he pulls out you wince but the feeling quickly dissolves when he slots his lips against yours and rubs his thumb tenderly over you hip. "God, I love Saturdays."

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mhysa-leesi · 3 years

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𝕄𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕝𝕝-𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕟

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader ⭐.

Summary: “Steve Rogers deserves nothing less than an All-American Apple Pie Life, with his Miss America. And he’ll stop at nothing to have it.”

Word Count: 3,472

TW‼: Drugging, Kidnapping, Non-Con, Smut, Minor Stockholm Syndrome, Minor Misogynistic Themes, and 1940′s Housewife Themes. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

Steve Rogers is a hero who’s sacrificed so much for the greater good of the world. He’s been fighting his entire life, a constant cycle of getting knocked down, just to get back up and do it all again the next day. A constant blur of black and blue, of broken bones, and bloodied knuckles. Steve didn’t complain too often, he enjoyed waking up every morning and saving the world. He was grateful for the life he led, a life of justice and liberty. So, why did he feel so unfulfilled? Unaccomplished? Incomplete?

Steve would catch himself daydreaming during briefings, dreaming of his childhood. He dreamt about Coney Island, about the smell of popcorn, and the sticky feel of melting popsicles on his fingers. He was stuck in the past and he knew it, maybe he truly was “The Man Out of Time”. He’d journal his thoughts, sketching his memories in charcoal and faded colors. Mostly he’d sketch faces of his past, but there has only been one face as of late that lived within the thick pages. (Y/N). The newest Avenger, his Miss America.

He found himself fantasizing about her with every gentle curve of his pencil, imagining it was his hands running over her hips and not his graphite. The front of his jeans tightened as he shaded her breasts, and he wondered if they were as soft and supple as he made them look on paper. He captured her eyes, adding that sparkle and depth that seemed to become her. Her hair, the unruly hairs, and the ones always perfectly in place. He colored her skin, his heart skipping as he imagined running his lips over the skin of her thighs. Her star-spangled leotard left little to the imagination, so Steve found other things to imagine. The sound of her moans and whimpers, how she’d look as he took her apart one lick and thrust at a time, and how she’d look with him dripping from in-between her legs.

Steve groaned as he threw down his pencil, running his graphite-stained hands over his face in frustration before closing his sketchbook with a soft thump. He needed a distraction--and a cold shower…

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Today was Lila, Clint’s daughter’s birthday, and all of the Avengers were invited to the festivities. Steve sat next to Bucky, both of them donning bright pink party hats with the words “Happy Birthday” on them in glitter swirls. Bucky was telling Steve about a girl he had recently met at some café or something--truth be told Steve wasn’t listening to his best friend. His attention was elsewhere, across the room, to be exact.

You were in a green tonal dress that perfectly complemented your skin tone, with puff sleeves and floral print. Steve was entranced as he watched you bounce baby Nathaniel on your hip. And he watched as the baby babbled and yanked your hair, making you laugh and wince as you handed him back to his mother. He knew at that moment what he had been missing, what he had been deprived of--what he had deserved after all this time. A family, a white-picket fence… You.

It all suddenly made sense as if he had just completed a puzzle he’d been working on since he woke up from the ice. That was what he wanted--no… It was what he needed, what he deserved. All of his life he had made sacrifice after sacrifice, the world owed him this one thing, and he’d have it. No matter the cost.

You were perfect. A nice girl with a strong head on your shoulders and a good heart, who better to start a life with? There was no question, you’d be his wife, the mother of his children. You’d see it in time, but he couldn’t wait for you. He was a man out of time, after all…

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It had been almost a month since his revelation, but it was all due in good time. He had made the arrangements, he had been meticulous in his planning. He made sure to get every single detail right, his and your future depended on his perfection. The trap had been set, now he just needed to go hunting for his prey.

You were just coming back from training with Natasha, your skin sheen with sweat and kissed with soft purple bruises from sparring with the Widow. You were laughing at something she had said, giving Steve a small wave before making your way to the communal fridge. He patiently watched as you grabbed your water bottle, your name written in sharpie with stickers on the front. He fidgeted as you took three big gulps, smacking your lips as water dribbled down your chin and onto your chest.

Steve watched as you made your way to your bedroom, he smiled as he noticed a slight stumble in your steps. The drug took faster than he had expected. He waited until he heard the click of the closing door, but it never came. Like a silent shadow, he crept down the hall to the threshold of your room. You were splayed out on the edge of your bed, legs dangling, and your hair a mess.

He couldn’t help himself. He nudged your arm for a response and nothing; you were out cold. A dangerous smirk crossed his face as he knelt down above you, his shadow consuming you in every delicious way possible. He touched your cheek, tracing down to your jaw, and up to your lips. They were so soft, so plump, and oh, so kissable. He tasted you then, molding his lips to yours in a one-sided dance. Steve shivered as he explored your unconscious body, he groped, squeezed, and tasted your salty skin.

He stopped himself. He only had three hours to move you, six tops if his hunch about you skipping breakfast that morning was right. So, he picked up your unconscious body and began the next steps to his plan…

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When you awoke your limbs were stiff and mind foggy. You stretched away the stiffness and rolled onto your side, blindly reaching for your bottle of water. When your hand failed to meet your nightstand, you froze. What the hell? Confused, you reached out again; telling yourself you just misjudged the distance. But when your hand once again met an empty space, you sat up with a start. You looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. The walls were striped, the floor a godawful floral carpet, and the bed had a wooden frame and a blue blanket tucked into the corners. You blinked, thinking that this room would magically melt into your bedroom at the Tower, and when it remained the same, you blinked again for good measure. You stood on shaky legs and looked around the room once more, disbelief clouding your better judgment. The bedroom looked straight out of a 1940��s catalog.

When the lock on the bedroom door jiggled, you whirled around with your fists raised to meet your captor. You were prepared to see a HYDRA Agent or some other villain with a vendetta against you. What you weren’t prepared for was Steve Rogers. He stood dressed in his old military uniform, his hair neatly combed, and his face clean-shaven.

“Steve? What’s going on?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

What do I mean? “This,” you gesture wildly with your hands in disbelief, “Where are we?”

“Home,” he said calmly.

“Whose home?”

“Ours, honey,”

You narrowed your eyes at the man before you. This couldn’t be your Steve Rogers, this wasn’t your Captain or friend. This was… someone else. You took a tentative step forward, searching for an eerie glow to his blue eyes, for an explanation for his weird behavior. This had to be mind-control, some elaborate HYDRA plot to disarm the Avengers. This wasn’t Steve, right?

“Steve,” you said carefully, “this isn’t our home. We live at the Tower, remember? With Nat, Sam, and Bucky?”

Steve’s frown deepened as you continued to speak to him like an incompetent child, “No. This is our new home, (Y/N). I made it just for us.”

You nodded along as you slowly crept forward toward the door. He shyly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he continued speaking, confessing. When you were close enough, you bolted past him. But you weren’t faster than Steve Rogers. He caught you by the ponytail and threw you back into the bedroom on the floor, kicking the door shut behind him. You scrambled to your feet and into a defensive position as Steve made another grab for you. You twisted and threw a right hook to his jaw, the strength of your powered punch was enough to send him stumbling backward, but it wasn’t enough to win against him. The same serum that made him had made you, too. But you’d be a goddamn idiot to think that you were stronger than Steve Rogers.

You made another run for the exit, but you didn’t get very far as Steve caught you yet again by your ankle. You kicked, punched, scratched, and flailed as he overpowered you. The man straddled your wriggling form and placed his hands around your throat. Squeezing and squeezing until the oxygen caught in your throat and your limbs began to relax. Your arms and legs went lax as your vision began to dot and blacken. When you let out the last wisp of air from your lungs is when Steve released you. You wheezed and gasped like a fish out of the water as you struggled to breathe, to fill your lungs with oxygen once again. You massaged your throat and glared up at Steve who was straightening and dusting off his uniform.

“I’ll only tell you this once, (Y/N). If you disobey me, in any way shape, or form, you’ll be punished. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned, “Now, get cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready.”

He opened the closet and pulled out a baby blue dress with silver embroidered star details around the off-shoulder neckline, and set it on the bed before you. You sat on the floor, just silently glaring and snarling as he knelt down in front of you with a small velvet box and diamond ring in hand. He grabbed your left hand and went to place it on your ring finger, but before he could slide the diamond on your finger, you wrenched your hand away and cracked him across the cheek. The slap seemed to echo throughout the room as his jaw ticked in silent anger. Before you could react, Steve pulled his hand back and returned the slap. The impact sent your head whipping sharply to the side, and caused your eyes to water with prickling, unshed tears. Your cheek stung when you touched it.

“I told you, (Y/N),” he sighed, “You made me do that.”

“I didn’t make you do shit, Rogers,” you spit.

You flinched as he pointed an angry and threatening finger in your face, “Language.”

He left you then after reminding you of dinner. Alone in the bedroom, you scowled at the dress that seemed to mock you. You threw it onto the floor and stomped out of the room, fueled by anger and hatred.

You found him in the kitchen, knife in hand as he carved a glazed turkey. His smile dropped as he took in your dress-less form. You were still in your gym clothes from earlier. Steve’s nostrils flared as he set the knife down, he stared at the turkey before turning his gaze to you.

“You’re not wearing the dress,”

“No,” you said flatly.

“And why not?”

You scoffed at him, “Why do you think, Steve?”

He moved his head to the side as he grumbled something under his breath. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. You smirked triumphantly, you didn’t know why, but getting under his skin was satisfying. You weren’t going to make this easy for him, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing that damn dress.

As if he had read your mind, he looked back at you with an ominous smile. He rounded the counter and stood in front of you, his large frame so much bigger than yours. In any other scenario, it would’ve been intimidating--having your Captain looming over you so threateningly. But right now, at this moment, you couldn’t care less. You wanted to piss him off, to knock him down off his pedestal. You’d be damned if you bent to his sick will.

Your eyes darted behind Steve to the counter where the knife waited for you. Before he could track your movements, you made a dive for it. Rolling over the island as you quickly readied the knife. You slashed and stabbed at Steve, growling in frustration as he effortlessly blocked and dodged all of your attacks. In one quick and fluid movement, Steve grabbed and twisted your wrist; forcing you to drop the knife. Your heart breaking with the loud clatter as it hits the floor.

Steve dragged you to the table by the back of your neck and slammed your cheek down onto the wood. Empty wine glasses and plates clattered with the impact. You grunted and kicked out your legs blindly, settling for a shin kick--anything. Steve slammed your head against the table once more as you continued to fight against him. He did it again, and again, and again until your vision blurred and your blood splattered against the polished wood. You weakly clawed at the plates and silverware around you, desperately trying to cling onto something. When your fingers wrapped around on a fork, you didn’t hesitate. You stabbed Steve’s thigh and summoned all of your remaining strength to throw him into the wall.

You fell back as you panted for breath, arming yourself with another piece of random cutlery. You threw a steak knife, missing him by just an inch. Steve growled as he dragged you by your kicking legs, hauling you up, just to slam you down onto the table once more. He held your face down as he growled in your ear.

“You have a lot of fight in you, (Y/N). Breaking you is going to be so much fun, honey,”

Slam.

“I’ll beat that spark out of you, if you make me, (Y/N). So why don’t you just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

Steve took hold of your neck once more as he guided you up the stairs and into the bedroom. He shoved you down onto the bed, and you landed on your stomach with a bounce. Your head was throbbing with an uncomfortable fog that settled over your thoughts. You murmured weakly in protest as Steve began to undress you. You felt the blood from your head drip down to your ear and down your neck.

Panic set your heart in motion as you felt him tug your leggings down your legs. Your brain and body kicked into a desperate overdrive as you writhed beneath him. You tried to shove him away, you summoned all of your super strength and thrashed, but you were simply no match for him--you were utterly powerless and at his mercy. His hands explored your thighs, dipping between them and squeezing that soft, supple inner skin. You scrambled to your knees, inadvertently pressing and grinding your ass to his front. He groaned as he moved his hands to your hips, angling them up as he ground down onto you with a silent promise of what was to come.

His hand dipped down and he held his prize within his hand. He groped and you grunted as you clawed blindly at his forearms, grabbing his wrists as he yanked down your cotton panties past your knees. You screamed as he shoved his fingers inside you, forcing his knuckles past your folds. You kicked and cursed him, hoping your struggle would be enough for him to let you go. You screamed louder than you had ever screamed before, so loud your head ached and lungs burned. With an annoyed grunt, Steve wrapped his thick arm around your neck in a chokehold to shut you up. You babbled breathlessly as you slapped at his arm.

“Steve,” you choked, “Please…”

He gave you one last strong warning squeeze before letting you fall flat on your back, coughing and gasping for breath.

“All you had to do was be good for me, (Y/N). I told you, bad girls get punished,”

He withdrew as he undid his fly. You swallowed thickly, wincing as your throat burned from his assault. You grabbed at his wrists, but he just batted your weak hands away as he held you down with one hand. The other gripping his thick, swollen length. You saw the muscles of his stomach tighten as he parted your legs. His grip on the back of your knees was bruising as he held them apart, lining himself up to your entrance. You tried once more to shimmy away, but he had you where he wanted you; vulnerable and open to him. He bent over you, his eyes black with lust, as he invited himself inside of you. He pushed himself inside, agonizingly slow, inch by inch, just relishing in the grip of you. You were too dry, too unwelcoming, but it didn’t matter to him. You were perfect, warm, and tight. He moaned then, as he forced himself deeper into you, pushing and pushing until his pelvis touched yours.

“Steve, please,” you sobbed, “please, stop…”

He shushed your pleas as his face scrunched in pleasure with every shallow thrust. You gritted your teeth to keep yourself silent, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But he didn’t seem to notice as he tilted your hips up, finding his own slow, steady rhythm as he fucked into you. He cupped your face and forced his lips onto yours, his tongue swiping and exploring your mouth. You slapped at his head, but he never relented, never pulled back from his searing kiss. He moaned into your mouth as his hips skipped a beat. You took that opportunity, the falter of his hips, to bite down on his tongue. Then, did he finally relent.

He pulled away from you, his hips stilling inside of you. He carefully touched his tender tongue, scowling as he pulled away bloodied fingers. Steve drew back his hand and slapped you across the face. The smack of flesh striking flesh echoed throughout the room. You sneered at him and he frowned in disappointment before cracking you once more. You yelped as he held you down by your neck. Steve had found a new rhythm, and it was relentless. His tempo was fast, and he made sure to never miss a beat as he hammered into your abused cunt. He put pressure on your throat, but not enough to send you into a pool of cold unconsciousness. No… he wanted you awake for this, lucid, and remembering.

His groans and moans grew louder, duetting with the lewd notes of your squelching pussy and his skin slapping against yours. The repulsive symphony he had conducted finally reached its ungodly climax. You sobbed as you felt his warmth flood within you, as he shamelessly emptied himself deep inside of you. He sat back on his haunches, gently pulling himself from your wet grip. Your body instantly curled in on itself, shielding you from the man before you. The man you had once admired. You lay there, just shaking, whether it was from shock or anger, you didn’t know.

You felt as he dropped the baby blue dress with the silver embroidered stars next to you. You sniffled as you looked at the dress in defeat, silently dressing in the blue cotton. When you were dressed, Steve helped you to your feet, holding you against his chest as he gently swayed you. He caressed your head, embracing you gently as if he hadn’t just used your body, as if he was your sweet and loving husband, as if this was normal.

“Dinner is probably cold by now,” he sighed, “It’s okay, though. You can try again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” your voice was smaller now, weaker, afraid.

He hummed, “It’s a wife’s duty to cook and care for her husband, (Y/N). I think I’d like meatloaf for dinner, and apple pie for dessert. What do you think, honey?”

You hesitated, you wanted to spit at him, to curse, to smack, punch, and kick, but your body was frozen against his. When you didn’t reply, his grip on you tightened threateningly, making you flinch.

“Yes, that sounds good, Steve,” you whispered. He kissed your head as he gently swayed you, his warm release slowly dripping down your shaking legs.

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calummss · 3 years

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Time | Gilbert Blythe

masterlist

summary: time can fix a lot of things if you let it

words: 1.5K

requested by: anon

It’s been six months since Gilbert Blythe left. Six months without the boy you love so dearly. Six months without your friend. Gilbert had made short notice plans only days after his father’s funeral. When John Blythe died it felt like a never ending fog swept across Avonlea. You remember Mr. Blythe from your childhood. He was a very kind man that took good care of you, so when the news of his passing had arrived at your parent’s house you felt a heavy pit in your stomach. You were saddened by his death and couldn’t imagine what Gilbert was going through and sent him a pie the same day, knowing he would have a hard time preparing food for himself. It has been months since you attended the funeral and you remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Y/N dear, make sure to wear your black straw hat.’ your mother called up to your room.

You grabbed your hat and gently placed it on your head not wanting to mess up your curls. You took one last look in your mirror and hurried downstairs to see your father, mother and younger brother waiting for you. You quickly grabbed your shoes and tied them up.

‘I sure hope Gilbert’s okay,’ you spoke into the room feeling uneasy about the next couple of hours.

‘You’ll be able to see for yourself once we arrive.’ your mother said, adjusting your hat. She placed her hands and your shoulder and smiled.

‘Come one now, the carriage is waiting.’ your father announced and opened the door to reveal a coat of snow that painted the countryside. You stomped through the snow and sat yourself to the far left of the carriage as your mother, father and brother followed. The coachman lightly whipped the horse and you were on your way. When you arrived at the Blythe’s family burial site you saw the carriage that pulled Mr. Blythe’s casket towards the hole. You also saw Gilbert leading the line of people. You saw the pain in his eyes. His sparkly brown eyes were now dull, and glossed with his salty tears. His cheerful smile with those dimples you so loved, disappeared and weren’t to be seen. His posture was slouched and his head hanging from his shoulders on a thread. Your family and you respectfully walked up to the crowd that was gathered for a prayer in honour of his father. You saw Anne, Diana, Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Josie, all spread out throughout the crowd. You locked eyes with Anne and gave her a warm quick smile before turning away. When the service was over everyone gathered at the Gilbert House for some tea and conversation. You stood next to your mother, plate in your hands but you weren’t in the mood to eat. You set it aside and walked around the house to look for Gilbert. He probably needed someone to talk to. Once you searched around the house and almost gave up, you saw him outside in the front yard. You grabbed your coat, scarf and hat and rushed down the front steps.

‘Gilbert!’ you yelled after him.

Gilbert turned around with a surprised face, yet his eyes still carried his sadness within.

‘Are you leaving?’ you pushed your hands deeper into your pockets.

‘I can’t stand being in that house. Everyone wants to comfort me but I just want to be left alone.’ he confessed.

His hat draped over his forehead making it hard to make out his facial expression.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked him as he didn’t seem to stop walking.

‘I don’t know, the lake perhaps.’

‘May I join?’

He nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

After some time you arrived at the small lake in the forest you always went to after school in the summer. Everyone would meet up to bathe in the sun kissed water but everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. Today’s occasion was the opposite. You sat on a tree trunk and pulled your gloves from your pockets. Gilbert sat next to you and stared at the frozen water. He found comfort among the empty woods. You felt like giving him alone time and told him that you were going back to the house. That was the last time you saw Gilbert. Days after he packed his things and left on a ship. He left a note with a few details so that Avonlea wouldn’t erupt in fear of a murder or some sort.

During the first three months you would leave letters at Gilbert’s house in case he came back unannounced; just like he left, but you stopped soon after, after you realised that he wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed when a loud thud awoke you. Your eyes were squinted due to the sun rays shining on your face. You got out of bed and started to get ready. Anne would be arriving any minute now. You always walked to school together. It was safer and more fun. When you rushed out of the door you saw Anne waiting on your doorsteps with an extra bottle of milk. You walked to school and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of the doors. Noticing the rest of the girl you walked up to them to ask what was going on.

‘Ruby!’ you called out and saw her spin around with a big smile on her face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Gilbert!’ she cheered loudly.

Your eyes went wide as you stared back at Anne. She had the same look painted across her face.

‘What do you mean ‘Gilbert’?

‘My uncle who works at The White Sands Hotel said that Gilbert passed through the place. Supposedly he was working on a ship!’ Ruby’s face was gleaming with joy. ‘He was covered in coal ashes.’

‘Is, Is Gilbert here? At school?’ you asked intriguingly.

‘I haven’t been inside but I don’t believe so. He’s probably at home.’ Diana chimed in.

You had to see him. You just had to. Knowing he was back and not knowing if he’d part again you ran back towards the forest. You made your way through the foggy woods and ran up to Gilbert’s house. You went up to the door and knocked on the door like your life depended on it. A few seconds later a man, whom you’ve never seen before opened the door.

‘Hello, who are you.’ he said in a strong accent.

‘Is Gilbert here?’

‘Yes, he is.’ the man smiled at you before he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Gilbert! There’s a girl wanting to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just come in.’ you smiled before slipping through the door.

‘Y/N?’ Gilbert sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are you doing here?’ mimicked him.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Gilbert seemed happier than the last time you saw him. His teary eyes were now filled with joy. He seemed...okay, and you didn’t want to take that away from him but he couldn’t just show up and pretend like nothing happened.

‘Why did you leave?’

Gilbert’s back stiffened and shifted onto his other leg. He looked down at the floor not making eye contact with you.

‘Can you at least look at me.’ a hint of disappointment and annoyance coating your words.

‘I needed to get away from here.’

‘You left without a goodbye and you left without telling anyone. Do you know what it feels like? To see your friend leave you behind?’ you raised your voice. ‘You could’ve at least told me. I didn’t know when you were coming back. I thought you left me!’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but I wasn’t in a good headspace and needed distance from this god forsaken town.’ he stormed past you. The man that had answered the door was long gone. Only the presence of the two of you filled the cold house.

‘Distance from me?’

‘I never said that.’ his irritated voice erupted from the back of the pantry.

‘Sounds like it to me!’ you yelled back, angrily stomping after him.

‘Why are you picking a fight with me, Y/N.?’

‘A fight?’ you stared at him in disbelief. ‘Picking a fight with you? I came over because Ruby was swooning over your return and I came here to make sure it was true. To-see-if -my-friend-who-left-me-without-a-trace-of his-existence-came-back!’ you snapped in one breath.

You had enough and quite frankly didn’t know what to do anymore. The person you loved so dearly had hurt you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Gilbert sat down at his wooden table and stared at you for a few seconds before talking.

‘What can I do?’ he said.

‘What can you do? I don’t know, what can you?’

‘Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t want this friendship to end over this.’

‘You think I want this? I’m just upset that you left me if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Please tell me what I can do.’ he pleaded out.

He stood up and took your hands into his. His brown eyes stared into your as your breath hitched.

‘I-I don’t know.’ you confess as you slid your hands out of his and turned your back towards him. ‘Nothing can fix this except time.’

You walked towards the door looking back at Gilbert once more.

‘Time can fix a lot of things if you let it.’

#awae #awae imagine #anne with an e #anne of green gables #anne shirley cuthbert #period drama #anne x gilbert #gilbert blythe #gilbert blythe imagine #gilbert blythe imagines #gilbert blythe blurb #gilbert blythe blurbs #gilbert blythe headcanon #gilbert blythe headcanons #gilbert blythe angst #gilbert blythe fluff #gilbert blythe x you #gilbert blythe x reader #gilbert blythe x y/n

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 || niki lauda x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: niki takes only very calculated risks, except when you’re around to show him how to have a bit more fun.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: about 3k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: smut (semi-public sex, rough-ish sex, road head, very slight dubcon but really just mild hesitance), a touch of degradation (but it comes from a place of love I promise), spanking (briefly), established relationship, niki being massively introverted and slightly rude (but like, same)

[gif is mine, which explains why it looks so bad]

“How long do we have to stay here?” Niki mumbled into your ear, making you roll your eyes.

“We’ve only just arrived,” you reminded him. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it’s a beautiful property, and I want you to meet my friends.”

“I know, I’m not trying to suggest we leave too quickly, I just want to know how much dull conversation I’m in for.”

You shoved his shoulder, only as hard as you thought you could without disturbing the flute of champagne in his hand. “I hope nobody hears you talking that way.”

Before he could respond, the owner of the aforementioned beautiful property stepped up and extended his hand to Niki warmly. “You must be the elusive Nikolaus we’ve heard so much about!”

“Just Niki is fine, thank you,” he returned with a firm shake and a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The small talk went on that way for a while, with Niki just barely managing to come across as socially acceptable and thankfully staying away from too much racing talk (even when other guests tried to egg him on for more details about it).

That was one of the many interesting things about your boyfriend: it wasn’t that he lacked any social intelligence, in fact he had more than most crowds he was in put together, it was just that he didn’t really seem to mind if people saw him as a bit cold or standoffish. He could be incredibly charming, after all he had charmed you quite easily, but he preferred to be brutally honest. All was well so long as honesty and politeness didn’t interfere.

After a few conversations where you clung to his arm and laughed at all his jokes, you could see him becoming visibly tired of it all; he ran his fingers through his sandy-blonde curls more often, he began to toy with the button of his blazer, all signs of subtle irritation that only you would pick up on. It made you realize you should find a way to excuse the two of you for a moment, to give him a break.

“Say, Niki, would you like to take a walk in the vineyard?” you offered, hoping your friends would pick up on the signal not to invite themselves along.

“Yes, schatz, that would be lovely,” he nodded, and as the two of you quickly waved goodbye to those you had been conversing with, he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“What do you think of them?” you prompted when you were far enough away from everyone else that you knew he wouldn’t be heard.

“They have a lot of questions,” he mumbled exhaustedly, making you laugh.

“They want to get to know you better! I’ve been subjecting them to hours of going on and on about you, no wonder they’re excited to finally hear it straight from the man himself,” you explained.

“I imagine they’re rather disappointed,” he smirked.

“Niki, of course they’re not!” you gasped. “In fact, I bet they’re pleasantly surprised considering I told them so many awful things about you.”

He laughed lightly, looking down at the ground, and you walked around in front of him to grab the lapel of his blazer and pull him closer. As he leaned in for a kiss, you kept leaning back with a smirk, making him chase you. It didn’t last long, of course, his patience running thin until he grabbed your face and crashed his lips against yours. You melted into it, moaning softly when his tongue traced over your lips and finally slipped into your mouth.

It was you chasing him when he pulled back, already totally lost in him and ready to ditch the party just to kiss him for an hour.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that,” he decided, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and lips that were a bit pinker than usual as well as fallen slack.

“You shouldn’t kiss me so good after I tease you like that, and I’ll have no reason to,” you countered.

When you turned around you realized you were approaching the driveway where you’d parked in the first place, and Niki immediately stepped up to the car. “Let’s take a drive,” he suggested, but it didn’t quite feel like a suggestion when he was already opening your door for you and ushering you in.

“Wh— really?” you questioned, but you were already in your seat and he had shut the door behind you, circling the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. “Where are we going to go?” you asked when he got behind the wheel and turned the key.

“Just around, we’ll be back soon,” he shrugged, and you decided not to question it anymore; clearly, this was his best way to clear his head, and you were just happy he wanted you to come with him.

He took the car out of the driveway and started a journey down the road; you looked out the window at the scenery rolling by, and realized this was probably as good a way as any to show him the vineyard like you promised. But, when you looked back at him where he was stoically staring out, steering through the twists and turns of the countryside road like it was second nature, you decided it was a better view than the scenery outside.

When you reached up to turn on the radio, he quickly smacked your hand— lightly, but enough to make you frown. “Hey!” you defended, returning your hand to your lap.

“I prefer not to have music on when I drive,” he explained. “It distracts me.”

You snorted out a laugh. “You’re one of the best drivers alive, I figured you can manage a few distractions.”

“I can,” he countered, and you were a bit surprised that he didn’t challenge the qualifier of one of the best drivers alive. “I just mean that the sound of the car is more entertaining to me than music.”

That answer sounded a lot more like the Niki you knew, and you smiled as you laid back against the passenger seat. “You have a funny idea of entertainment, Niki,” you informed him.

“I know,” he nodded.

Glancing over at him, admiring his profile as he stared down at the road ahead, your lip caught in your teeth as you had a really, really bad idea. “So you can drive with distractions?”

“If I need to,” he shrugged.

“Then maybe we can both get some entertainment,” you purred, sitting up and starting to lean closer to him.

“Schatz, what are you doing?” he stammered slightly, watching you with wide eyes as you reached to his belt, opening it quickly and already unzipping his fly.

“Shh, focus on the road Niki,” you winked, pulling his cock from his trousers and grinning at the way he gasped slightly. It wasn’t quite hard yet, but it was growing quickly in your grasp, and a few kitten licks over the tip certainly helped him along.

“F-fuck,” he whispered above you, and you fought your smile as you wrapped your lips around him. “Fuck.”

You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head, moaning a bit just from the taste of a drop of precum forming at his slit and smearing on your tongue.

“Wait, this— this is dangerous,” he breathed, and you kept stroking while you pulled off to reply.

“Shouldn’t be if you drive steady.”

“I can do that,” he nodded. “I think…”

You got back to it before he could start worrying again. The poor guy was always thinking, constantly assessing and analyzing everything, and it honestly sounded fucking exhausting. Sometimes you thought sucking him off was the only way to really get him out of his head, and considering the way his body relaxed under your touch and he let out a soft sigh, this was one of those times.

“Baby,” he moaned lowly as your lips met the base of his cock, and although you were certainly partial to the petnames in his native tongue, you really didn’t mind the way he called you ‘baby’ either. It made you want to keep him buried in your throat forever, but sadly you could only go so long without breathing.

So, instead, you just found a pattern you were happy with of sucking the head and stroking the rest.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed, reaching down with one hand to hold the back of your head, guiding your movements.

You had to be careful not to block the gear shift when you were bent over like this, which was a bit uncomfortable but ultimately so worth it when he shifted gears quickly while you were still bobbing your head over his length. Now you understood why he liked to hear the car… because now you could feel the car, feel the engine’s thrum as it reverberated through the steel and over your body. It was actually a bit erotic, now that you thought about it; but then again, everything seems erotic when you’re as turned on as you were in the moment, your body crying out for more than it would have a chance to get any time soon.

He shifted gears again, taking the car around a tight turn, and you held onto his thighs tightly to keep from moving too much. Thankfully he kept his promise to drive steady and it was pretty easy to keep your pace, even to speed it up as you hoped he would come down your throat without ever stopping the car or even slowing down.

The way he hissed in a sharp breath and grabbed your hair, accidentally pulling it (which you certainly didn't mind), made you think it wasn't so far off.

"God, you're a devil with that tongue, schatz," he groaned. "Your mouth is so fucking sweet, you'll make me come."

You hoped your little hum around him made it clear that that was exactly what you wanted.

"You'll swallow it all, yes?" he pressed. "You're not going to let any mess get on my beautiful leather seats, are you?"

You hummed again, sucking harder, and he moaned a bit louder.

"Fuck, j-just like that," he sighed. "Don't— ah— don't stop, schatz, I'm close."

As if you would stop when all you could think about was the taste of him, how badly you wanted it to coat your tongue. Already you could feel his cock starting to flex against your tongue and you doubled your efforts to bring him to the edge. Normally you didn’t get a chance to hear his little moans and sighs because you were too busy making your own, so with your mouth full you could appreciate the sounds he made just for you.

It was only a stuttered gasp that signaled his release, just before ropes of warm come started to hit the back of your throat. You narrowly avoided gagging from the way his hand pushed you down and held you there, but you moaned around him at the taste. Your channel was throbbing, clearly annoyed that he was coming anywhere else.

Niki whispered your name, nearly choked on it, and let go as the pulses began to die down and he let out a long, sharp breath. But you weren’t quite done; you kept moving for a few moments, slowly, making sure to have every drop in your mouth before you finally pulled off and swallowed; you noticed a spare drop of come rolling down his shaft and stuck your tongue out to lick it up in a quick swipe while he noticeably tensed beneath you.

He spared a glance at you as you sat up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and you didn’t miss the shocked, yet exhausted, look on his face. "Satisfied?" you asked with a proud grin.

"Not quite," he answered in a growl, pulling the car to the side of the road and parking it quickly. "Get out and bend over the hood."

"Niki, what if someone—?"

"I think I made myself clear, get out and bend over the hood, schatz."

The petname had a lot more venom to it when he said it like that, with a cold sneer on his lips, and that likely should’ve deterred you but it only stoked the flame of need burning in your gut, and you nodded meekly before opening your door and getting out of the car. He followed you as you bent over, placing his body behind your as he pulled your dress up and your panties down.

Right away he swiped two fingers through your folds and you shuddered. "Dripping wet," he observed with a smirk. "Do you like having my cock in your mouth that much?"

You nodded, trying to rock your hips for more friction.

"This pussy must have been so lonely,” he realized. “Want me to fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you breathed, but even you didn’t expect him to shove into you in one stroke, right away, spearing you right to the brim as you choked on a gasp. And he was moving right away, too, giving you no time to adjust to the girth of him. "Fuck, Niki!" you whined, earning you a hard spank to your ass.

You should’ve known he’d get back at you for those few minutes where you wielded power over him. Well, actually, you sort of had known, which was part of why you did it in the first place.

For a man who had just come already, he fucked you with a lot more desperation than you were expecting, fast and rough and dirty. But you realized it was more for your benefit than his; damn him, he always knew exactly what you needed and gave it to you effortlessly, operating your body with the same intuitive precision he drove his cars with.

And if we're continuing with the car metaphors, then reaching around to rub your clit while he fucked you was like kicking you into high gear.

"Ohhhh my god," you crooned, arching your back and trying to push back against his thrusts.

"It feels good?" he asked, like it wasn't obvious.

"Feels so fucking good, Niki, please please please don't stop," you begged. Because you wouldn't put it past him to stop all of a sudden— to slam on the e-brake and not move again until you squirmed and cried and pleaded your little heart out. But even he wouldn't be so cruel now, and he kept fucking you as he pinched your clit hard.

"That's what I thought," he nodded, leaning down to wrap his body over yours and speak into your ear. "You're moaning like a little whore, you know."

"M'your whore," you gasped. "Yours, fuck, it's all for you."

He stood back up straight with a grin and held your hips as he started to really pound into you, your walls beginning to pulse rhythmically as you felt him rubbing over every sensitive spot inside you. His cock was so deep that it felt like you struggled to breathe slightly each time he shoved all the way inside.

It was a bit out of character for him, much more aggressive than he would normally be, but you didn't pull over expecting to make love on the car. No, this was fucking, through and through, and you were already going to hit your high so much sooner than you could've anticipated: pressure was building inside you faster than you knew what to do with, and your clit was literally throbbing with only his balls slapping against it to provide any relief.

"Oh god, Niki, baby, I'm… I'm gonna come," you panted.

"Do it, then," he instructed roughly. "Come around my cock, schatz, and scream nice and loud for me since nobody's around to hear you."

Your knees buckled when it hit you, thankfully you had the car and his tight grip to keep you upright. “Fuck, Niki,” you sobbed, and he laughed proudly before spitting out his demand:

“Louder.”

“Niki!” you yelped, and apparently you had finally said it loud enough, because he was suddenly groaning and spilling inside you, holding your hips tight enough to bruise to keep you still as he thrusted erratically.

You hummed happily and let your head fall onto the warm hood of the car, body going limp as he finally stilled and let out a slow sigh. He was careful as he pulled out, but you were still so sensitive that it made your toes curl inside your shoes just a bit.

Even though he was quick to pull your panties back up, a drop of his come still managed to leak out of your hole and drip down your thigh. With no intent to let it go to waste, Niki swiped it up with the tip of his finger and brought it to your lips for you to lick off; you were still a bit groggy in the afterglow but happily obliged, suckling the digit with a little simultaneous moan and sigh.

“We should be getting back to the party soon,” Niki mumbled, helping you stand upright and straightening your dress for you.

“Do I look alright?” you asked, opening the passenger door and flipping down the visor to try to use the small mirror inside.

“You look gorgeous,” he smiled.

“I mean more if I look like I didn’t just leave a garden party to get railed by my boyfriend on the side of the road only to then return like nothing happened,” you explained.

“Oh… yeah, no, you do look a bit like that’s exactly what you’ve done,” he nodded. “Do you really think they’ll notice?”

“Well, I guess we just have to hope they don’t,” you decided as you attempted to fix your lipstick as best as possible. “And if they do… then we'll hope we don’t end up reading some unsavory gossip about Ferrari’s newest driver in the papers tomorrow.”

He laughed as he got back in the driver’s seat, starting the car while you hopped in (a bit too fast; you winced when you sat down and realized you were still slightly sore and probably would be for the rest of the day). “Trust me, schatz, in this industry, fucking your girlfriend only qualifies as unsavory gossip when you already have a wife at home. And even then, you can get away with it a few times.”

“Right,” you snorted as you rolled your eyes, “I forget sometimes that you’re considered a goody two-shoes for a racer.”

“I hope you didn’t agree to be my girlfriend in search of wild adventures with the bad boy type,” he smirked.

“We just fucked on the car right on the side of the road, Niki,” you reminded him, “believe it or not that’s pretty wild for most of us.”

“For me as well,” he agreed. “It’s you that makes me so bold... sometimes I can hardly believe the things I do because you’re near.”

You smiled happily to yourself, relaxing back against the seat with a deep breath. Just when you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the engine with him, you were surprised when you heard him turn the radio on.

You, you make loving fun

It’s all I wanna do…

You chuckled. “I like this song,” you announced, reaching to turn it up slightly, though it was still mainly background music as you watched the hillside roll by.

He surprised you again by reaching out and resting his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin. But his eyes were still on the road, even when you looked over at him, and you recognized the driveway where you’d started down the end of the way.

“Back to reality, eh?” you sighed.

“For now,” he decided. “I should make you meet other drivers and pit crew as revenge for all these social engagements you take me too.”

“Niki, that would require you to socialise with other drivers and pit crew, too,” you noted.

He shuddered. “You should be safe for now, then.”

#niki lauda x reader #and thats it thats all my tags #cause aint nobody gonna read this

691 notes · View notes

breakyeol · 3 years

Text

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

#baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #byun baekhyun #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fic #exo scenarios #exo oneshot #exo imagines #kpop smut

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domesticloki · 3 years

Text

Thirsty Thursday

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Description: You are trying to have a teams-conference from home. Your husband Loki however, has other plans.

Word count: 1150

Warnings: smut, teasing, teen content, implication of adult situations

A/N: After the fall of the TVA a Variant of Loki managed to survive Thanos’ attack on the Statesman. After the events of Infinity War, he met you, and finally got his happily ever after. This is a story of that ever after.

You were ready for your teams conference. Taking a sip of your coffee, you placed it on the floor next to your desk. You had learned this the hard way,- after spilling it on not one, but two laptops - because early mornings, your innate clumsiness and a cup of coffee made for a terrible combination.

You heard Loki whistling in the kitchen. He had returned from driving the kids, and was undoubtedly readying his breakfast by now. He had taken the morning off and wasn’t due for the office until noon. You tried to focus on the melody. It sounded so familiar but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You glanced at the time. The meeting would start in 12 minutes and you were browsing through your papers, double checking that you had everything you needed, when the whistling grew closer and Loki appeared in the doorway.

“How long was your meeting again?” he whispered and you flung around in your chair.

“About an ho….ur… what?” There he was, your husband, casually leaning in, peeking through the doorway, stark naked and sporting the cheekiest grin imaginable.

“Loki, what is… what are you doing?”

“Oh this, I… I spilled something, no big deal,” he said, casually brushing his hands against his chiseled chest.With a sly look he traced one of them down his abs to finally rest on his hips, being sure to draw your eyes downwards with the movement. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you had to admit it was working.

Flustered, you peeled your eyes from his naked form back to your papers, and to the clock that so unrelentingly ticked closer to the start of your meeting. You cleared your throat and began:

“Well, I put the laundry away yesterday so you should have a fresh suit in the upstairs closet, the dry cleaner was able to get the bolognese stain from the coller, but you really should take off your jacket before you start to… “ Loki had stepped to you and leaned over, swirling your chair to face him. His face was so very close and his musky scent filled your nostrils. He moistened his lips with his tongue. “Feed… the… “ You were having a hard time concentrating and your eyes were drawn to his lush lips. He didn’t let you finish your sentence.

Leaning in for the kiss he pinned you against the chair and hungrily pulled your lower lip between his. Parting his own lips, his tongue darted out, moistening your lips in the process and finding your tongue, barely brushing against it, before again letting it slide back into his own mouth and his lips continued the movement, sending shivers down your spine. His lips parted from yours but he stayed, hovering over you, his face so incredibly close to yours.

“Right… I mean,” you cleared your throat. “I have this… I have to... “ You could barely hold a thought.

“Of course you do,” Loki whispered and moved to kiss your neck despite having acknowledged your urgent work matter. You moaned and closed your eyes, enthralled by the sensation of his wet kisses along your neck. You pressed against the chair, feeling your resolve weakening by the second.

Suddenly you were returned to reality by the familiar sound of a teams call. You instantly moved to push Loki away, but in your effort to dodge his amourous engagement, you rolled your chair and backed straight into the coffee cup that spilled, flowing and staining the study floor.

“Shit… I… Loki, please,” you drew your chair forward and Loki unwillingly stood up and looked at the clumsy mess.

“I’ll take care of that, don’t worry.” You were trying to frantically find a piece of tissue, a shirt, anything to throw on the floor to soak up the coffee.

“Just answer your call, don’t worry,” he stated and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you breathed while grabbing your headset and pressing the call open with your mouse. You were visibly flustered as you answered and tried to put on a professional face, while checking your image through the camera. Your background was set as the official corporate background, masking the mess around your study that was not limited to the liquid on the floor next to you.

“Hi, yes, I am here,” you answered as your boss went on to check that everyone was connected.

Loki had returned to the room, keeping his distance as he walked, to keep himself just out of the frame. The background detected slight movement, but you were happy to see that his naked form had not popped up on the screen. He bent down next to you with the set of towels and started to mop up the coffee. You tried to focus on what was being said, but suffice it to say his naked form was somewhat distracting. You found your gaze falling on his incredibly muscular shoulders and your lips parted…

Suddenly the sound of your name drew you back to the conference call. “Sorry, what was that?” you said breathlessly and cleared your throat. Your co-worker continued to expand on the question as you tried your best to hold your attention on her.

Loki realized your flustered state and grinned. He had finished with his clean up of the floor and decided to address the tiny spec of coffee that had spilled on your leg. You were wearing your office clothes, sans stockings, and Loki started dabbing your leg, moving the rag enticingly slowly upwards to your knee. He decided to finish his cleaning by running wet soft kisses starting from your knee upwards onto your inner thigh, slightly lifting your skirt to gain access. You were positive there was no coffee there.

“Yes,” clearing your throat “I have those figure-...-es right…” clearing your throat again “here, excuse me, I seem to ha-aave something in my,” coughing “throat, so sorry about that.”

Facing the camera and smiling what was most likely a very creepy Stepford wives smile, you pushed Loki away. Had you been able to do it, you would have shot him a look that could kill. From the corner of your eye you saw him smiling mischievously as he mouthed: “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He stood up and started to walk away, and then your face shot red with embarrassment as you saw, very clearly, your husband's bare bottom flash on your screen for a fraction of a second, before it disappeared into the background. Your heart was thumping out of your chest, looking at the tiny videos on your screen, looking at your boss and co-workers and clients to try to figure out if they had seen Loki’s muscular backside in all its naked glory.

“Yes, go on,” your boss said hurriedly. Obviously he hadn’t. Most everyone seemed busy checking the slides presented and had not noticed. But then you saw your co-worker Linda biting down on their lips, obviously trying not to smirk. Oh she was going to have a field day with this.

“Yes, “ Linda continued, “explain the big asset question and please, if you could, give ample details.” The laugh almost escaped you, but you managed to disguise it as a cough, once again collecting yourself and apologising yet again to your boss, co-workers and the clients.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, but you knew better than to check the text from Loki, which would undoubtedly be a display of some of his naked body parts. The Scorpions started playing upstairs and your face flushed with anticipation. You heard Loki singing along to the chorus.

Tease me Please me No one needs to know...

This was going to be a loooooong meating.

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki domestic #loki tease #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

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nanamikentoslutt · 3 years

Text

"My brat to break" Levi X FemReader

THIS IS 18+

Warnings; dom levi, rough facefucking, choking, slight name calling, some slight "forced" towards the end

Synopsis: You'd been teasing your captain one too many times today and he wasn't going to let you get away with it.

Word count: 3.7k

“Come in and close the door.”

You heard from the other side of your captain’s room. Levi’s voice was more stern than usual and his bitter tone ran a shiver down your spine, this couldn’t be good. After a month of secret meetings alone with the captain you two had started somewhat of an affair, behind the scouts backs of course. But today you’d maybe taken it a step too far, blatantly teasing him on the field, bending over in front of him, even eye fucking him in the mess hall. This was the type of behaviour Levi didn’t take lightly and you knew as soon as he’d requested your presence you were in big trouble.

Walking through the door and closing it as instructed you gave your captain a firm salute and a brazen smile to show your fictitious gesture, hoping to lighten up the mood before Levi had at you. But your lame attempt hadn’t worked. Levi was sitting behind his desk, eyes now glaring at you with disdain. “Drop the act you little brat.” His eyebrows scrunched inwards and mouth slightly frowned, his entire face was looking at you with pure anger. You had seen Levi get angry at other scouts for being careless plenty of times and you knew that face like the back of your hand but you didn’t recognise this one and your chest was beginning to tighten.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Levi?”

However scared you were there was something inside you that wanted to push him even further to see how far he’d go. Would he actually hurt you? Someone he’s been sleeping with in secret? This is Levi Ackerman we’re talking about, it’s very possible you’ve misread the entire situation and you are just his plaything.

“I said drop the act. Go face the wall.”

Levi shifted his eyes over to the corner of the room and back at you, signalling where to go, his head then dropped back down to his paperwork.

“I’m sorry… what? You called me in here to face the wall?”

Your questions had interrupted Levi’s paperwork, he froze still with his pen in hand. Without looking up Levi just repeats. “Go face the wall.”

You’re in utter disbelief, this was your punishment? Is he serious? You knew you’d taken it too far today but now he was going to make you face the wall like a schoolgirl.

“Levi, I’m not a child, i-”

Cutting you off he pauses his writing from his paperwork, however this time he looks you dead in the eyes. “I won’t ask again, y/n.”

His steel eyes piercing into your face made your lower half go slightly numb, the fear that was slowly creeping away soon came back. You’d now remembered just who Levi was. Whether or not you felt you had a bond with him he was still your Captain and still one of the coldest people you knew, disobeying him was a stupid idea.

So you did as he said and moved over to the wall, facing directly at it maybe an arms length away you stand still until you hear “No, closer. All the way. I want your nose touching the wall.” Levi spat. Being the brat you are you’d usually have something witty to say, but you just inched closer to the wall, obeying Levi’s command in hopes this little performance would be over sooner. Too afraid to look behind you you could hear Levi still at his desk, signing papers and stacking them one by one. Nothing but the sound of levi’s work filled the room and your patience was wearing thin. You considered you could talk your way out of whatever Levi had planned, slowly turning your head to turn to look at him you open your mouth but before words can come out Levi already clocked your movement and is staring daggers at you.

“Face back to the wall. And hold your hands behind your back.”

The tone in his voice had shifted to something now very dark. You couldn’t understand why but the way his voice loomed over you even from the other side of the room made you rub your thighs together slowly. A warm sensation beginning to grow in your underwear all just over Levi’s instructions. Feeling grateful you were now facing the wall and not him you had just assumed you’d be here until he was done with work and then the punishment would be over.

The sound of Levi’s pen scribbling had stopped. He slowly got up from his chair and walked up behind you. Each footstep taking it’s time on the wooden floorboards beneath you both. With each step your heart started beating a little faster, you didn’t dare look behind in fear of what the Captain would do.

Levi was now a fingers length away from you, he slowly ghosted ever so slightly over your neck. He immediately recognised your sped up breathing pattern and caught the side of your eye to give you a small, low chuckle. Only mocking how easily it took to scare you, and how quickly he could sense it too.

“Where did that brat from earlier go?”

Levi wasn’t touching you yet you’d accumulated a small patch of wetness between the slick of your little cunt that was causing your insides to fire up. You turned your head to the side to face Levi’s

“I’m sorry for earlier, captain, please forgive me.”

You little shit. You knew just how much Levi loved being called captain. You call him it every day infront of everyone but calling him that when you’re both alone drives him crazy but unfortunately for you he’s not quite foolish enough to let your sly attempts at mercy persuade him.

Running his fingers down the arch of your back he delicately grazes his calloused hands over the curve of your clothed ass, his face has now slightly softened but his eyes are still burning into your face. One look at you and he knew what kind of state you were in.

Levi thinks about your almost endearing attempt at calling him captain in hopes for some kind of plea but gazing down at your backside he forgets any kind of deal.

He methodically and without any hesitation removed each and every one of your straps connected to your uniform, lifting up your arms which were still placed behind your back to help him unbuckle everything he needed to and placing everything neatly on the chair next to him. The colour of your cheeks now a rosy glow, you feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“Levi, please, I was only kidding today. It won't happen again, you’ve made your point. I’m sorry.”

Levi doesn’t seem to register your whines. He continues removing the belt on your trousers. Now loose they begin to sag down slowly past your hips, falling down to the bottom of your thighs revealing your cotton panties.Your hands now desperately fumbling to pull them back up, the humiliation of having Levi see the wet patch between your legs leaves you hopelessly begging for another deal.

“Please, Sir, I apologise for my insubordination earlier and it won't happen again, ever.”

Levi stepped back to watch you try and pull your trousers up for a short moment, his eyes darting from your face back down to your ass cheeks. Folding his arms he gives an almost unnoticeable grin, “Sir now is it?”. He just shook his head in amazement at your once again. pitiful attempt at some kind of plea. His nonchalonce to your begging only made you finally come to the realisation he wasn’t listening.

Turning to Levi with your back now against the wall he places one hand flat on the wall next to your head and the other he traces his index finger in a slow, swirling motion around your collarbones, making way down to your clothed breasts.

“You know I hate desperate little runts like you, y/n. Messing with me all day… now we’re alone you get all sheepish.”

His eyes followed the finger used to drive you over the edge, rubbing around your clothed nipple. Eyes wide on him you started to rub your thighs together slow enough he wouldn’t notice, but he did, because he notices every little detail your body gives off. Now cupping your breast he leans into your neck,

“Fucking cocktease.”

Squeezing tight you let out a moan, now desperate for his touch. The other evenings with Levi hadn’t gone like this before, this was the first time you’d landed yourself in trouble and this new feeling of humiliation made you question your sanity, why were you so fucking wet?

Squeezing your thighs together Levi pulls himself back and looks you up and down.

“Enough of that, remove your clothes.”

You paused for a brief moment, you wasn’t sure if Levi was instructing you to get naked for sex or something else and the idea frightened you, but Levi’s anger terrified you more.

You removed the remainder of your clothes, dropping them in front of you and pushing them aside with your foot. You held your hands together in front of your exposed cunt while keeping your eyes glued to the floor. Levi went across the room and brought back a chair, dragging it across the floorboards. He placed it in front of you and sat down, legs crossed and arms folded. He was now looking up at your glowing face. He paused for a moment, taking in every inch of your body, watching you tremble with just his eyes on you. Your breasts were slightly squeezed together where you were desperately holding on to your nether region for fear of letting on just how fucked up you were.

“Sir… no, Captain… no, no, Levi, I mean- Please tell me what you want?”

The corner of Levi’s mouth turned slightly upwards, hiding just how hot he was getting seeing you so coy he quickly returned to his more authoritative stare. Moving his crossed legs slightly on the chair to adjust his now growing member.

“You’re going to remove your hands and hold them behind your back. Like I said originally, brat.”

Your head bowed, you moved your eyes up to meet his and let whatever you were feeling take over. There was no use begging or whining.

“OK…”

Levi cocked his head and raised and eyebrow, voice slightly louder than before,

“OK, what..?”

“OK, sir.”

Not wanting to anger him anymore you stood up straight and did as he said. Your captain was not a patient man but when it came to watching you go bright red under his gaze, he could leave you hanging for as long as he pleased.

Now staring at your exposed cunt Levi's eyes turned glossy for a moment from being unable to blink, getting transfixed over your glistening folds, watching a small dribble run to the tip of your thigh. Clenching into nothing you were working yourself up even more, being so humiliated made you so desperate for levi to fuck you. Now watching him see just how wet you are you were hoping for some kind of release.

Still sitting he reached an arm out behind your thigh and pulled you closer to him, now eye level with your navel. He took two fingers and slowly felt the opening of your wetness, running down in between your folds. He pulls back and glances at his now coated fingers.

“Tch. Disgusting.” Levi mocked, his tone defying his true feelings for your body.

He comes back and this time uses both hands to spread you open slightly and inspect you almost clinically. He notices how you’re still tensing your pussy onto nothing but your walls, working up the warmth and only becoming more soaked. With one hand keeping you spread, he slowly moves two fingers on his other hand in circular motions over your clit, letting out a whine you start to move your hips onto his fingers desperate for more friction.

“Stop moving.” He instructed, your body tensing up, the hair touching the back of your neck now getting stuck to your skin where you’ve worked yourself up into a small sweat. You did as he said and halted.

Rubbing over your bundle of nerves he stands up, face to face with you, and cautiously puts a hand around your throat. Applying some light pressure you start to moan into his face, his lips brush against your warm cheek

“Is this what you wanted?”

His voice makes your knees go weak as his breath rains through your ear. He licks the side of your neck and tightens the grip on your throat.

“Yes, yes this is what i-”

Shoving his two fingers inside your sloppy cunt he starts finger fucking you, keeping you in place with his strong grip held tightly around your neck.

“I asked you a question cadet.”

Not giving in he speeds up. Inserting a third finger and stretching out your eager hole.

“Yes Sir, this is what I wanted.”

Giving everything you have to keep your eyes focused on your captain you start to feel a warm sensation rise to your head, your cunt clenching over his fingers mercilessly slamming into you. Getting harder to breathe, Levi feels your impending orgasm and uses his grip around his throat to slam you into the wall, his three fingers fucking you so hard you hardly notice you’re unable to breathe properly. The sound of his knuckles slapping against your folds is overtaken by your desperate moans and pleas to cum. Feeling the coil in your stomach your body starts to shake,

“Yes, yes, please, I’m going to cu-”

Without hesitation Levi pulls his fingers out of you and removes his hand from your neck, stepping back.

Jerking your body from the release you gulp in the air, panting and hunching over. The sick fuck refused to let you cum, he’d brought you all the way to the edge and left you there.

Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket he wipes away the cum you’d spilled onto his hands, meticulously getting everything off and placing it back. He puts both hands in his pockets and gives a small, devious smile your way.

“Levi, what the fuck was that?”

Your heated face from earlier now getting hot with rage, your anger leaving you completely dissatisfied, you grasp and his shirt, looking up at him begging for more. Flinging your arms around his neck and pulling your body onto his clothed torso you moan in his ear, you’re so needy and cock hungry.

“Please, please, you know what I want, you know exactly what I want, I'll be good.” You cry out, frantically smothering his neck with sloppy kisses, running your fingers through his hair.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and gives out a moody hum, as if contemplating your desperate whines. Even Levi couldn’t help himself with you, seeing you so pathetic was making his cock twitch in his pants and he needed some release himself.

“Alright brat, calm down. Be good and you’ll get what you want.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Levi grabs your hair at the back of your head and forces you down on your knees, unbuttoning his trousers he releases his thick cock, still not fully hard but stiff enough for it to bounce up a little. Your mouth starts to water just at the sight of it, making you thrust your hips into the air for some kind of release. Gaping your mouth and sticking your tongue out you look up at him like a hungry dog at its owner. But the strength he held on your hair was forcing you back just by the tip.

Pulling on his strength you slowly brought yourself just close enough so your tongue could touch the tip, lapping up the salty precum that was dribbling out of his pink head.

“Is this what you wanted?”

His fistful of your hair using your head to tease you, moving it back and forth from his cock. He loves watching you get so weak and whiny for him, his face now turning into a more cocky expression. Eyes wide on him, begging for it, he slams his cock into your mouth, not holding back he uses his other hand to take grip of your hair, fucking your face so fast you barely have time to breathe. He keeps a motion of in and out, in and out for as long as he can before he sees your eyes light up, and your hands flail up to his thighs, indicating you need air. He lets you take a few deep breaths before he’s back to skullfucking you.

Your drool pooling down the base of his cock and dribbling down to your chest, you let out muffled noises that make Levi pull his head back and give out a deep grunt.Your wet mouth has brought him close but he isn’t finished with you.

He pulls out and looks down at your cute, sloppy face. Smiling up at him you swallow all the spit in your mouth and open wide for him to enter again, ready for him to continue using you as his little slut.

Levi loved how wild his cock made you, looking down at you with pure amazement in his face he loves how ready you are for him at all times, being able to take his full length and happily forfeiting your own breathing just for a drop of his cum.

He lets go of your hair and orders you to bend over the desk, which you of course oblige to. Hastily moving your body from the ground your excitement makes you almost fall over. Getting into your usual position on the desk, Levi removes his clothes, his cock still rock hard however he takes the time to place his clothes in a folded placement on the chair.

“You’re a fucking runt, you know that?”

Levis ghosts behind you and whispers in your ear, the words making your entire body melt. His wet cock lightly brushing your ass cheek. Using his hand to guide himself inside your pulsating cunt his teases the tip, followed by him calmly entering his full length inside you, stretching your walls to accommodate him. Levi loved being rough but he always knew to take it slow on the first few thrusts with you.

You let out a loud moan, pushing back into him to signal you were ok, your dripping cunt was so greedy for him.

“Fuck.. that feels so good. Fuck, fuck, fuck..”

Your voice breathy and low, causing Levi to snake his hand around your body, squeezing your breast in his hand and using the other on your hip to position you just right on his cock. He pulls the entire length out and slams into you with no reluctance, thrusting in and out of your longing hole and pinching and twisting your erect nipple. His grip on your hip tightening as his movement in you was speeding up, sweat forming on his brow as he was working himself up into you, using your body as his own fucktoy.

Your cries were filling his office, getting louder and louder, the occasional sensation of his soft balls slapping on your clit was building the knot in your stomach, feeling a warm sensation you clench around his cock and gasp in the air, your walls pulsating on his member you arch your back up on to him and let him continue you fucking out your orgasm.

Your head drops back onto his neck, the hand that was used to toy with your nipple delicately finds its way gently around your neck, Levi looks at you and pulls you in for a deep and sloppy kiss, still keeping his pace your eyes look to his in pure bliss giving him a toothy grin, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted and he knew it, Levi couldn’t hide his smile from you much longer and went to ravage the groove of your neck,

“You little shit.”

He gave you what you wanted but he wasn’t done with you just yet, and he wasn’t letting you leave without a cunt full of cum. He quit the cute shit and forced you back down on the table, your cheek now slammed on the wood of the desk, his hand on your face keeping you there. His cock aching inside you he used your dripping hole for his own pleasure, ignoring your staggered whines when he went too deep. Get much rougher with you your cunt couldn’t take anymore, unable to move your head up from the desk or even your body from off of him you were forced to stay in place and let him finish

“Ugh.. Sir, please cum inside me.”

A tear forming out the corner of your eye from the overwhelming pain your guts were receiving fell down the side of your face. Levi now approaching his orgasm kept himself deep inside you, his whole body tensing and his hand tightening the grip on your poor face.

“Shit…”

His hot seed unravelled itself inside you, painting your insides. He stayed inside you for a brief moment while his cock started to soften and he could catch his breath, his hand slowly releasing pressure on your face.

In no time at all he was putting his clothes back on, buttoning up his shirt while you were fumbling on the ground finding your clothes, so tired you’d forgotten where everything was.

Giving each other space to clothe yourselves you sat on the chair, still slightly out of breath you let your head fall back, a quiet laugh starting to crawl out of your mouth.

“I always get what I want, Captain.”

Levi was always going to give you what you wanted, although he was humanities strongest he still couldn’t control himself around you. Composing himself and wiping down his shirt he walked towards you, your brazzen smile beaming into his face. Pulling himself down to you, hand on the back of your chair, nose to nose his cold grey eyes scanning you,

“I always knew you were a little brat. Some brats just need some discipline.”

“And I suppose you’ll be the one to do the disciplining, huh captain?”

Your cocky face and snide remarks made Levi look at you like a challenge. He’d broken many brats in his time and he was happy to break you.

#aot #attack on titan #levi x reader #y/n #levi x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #aot smut #levi smut #levi lemon #snk #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x y/n #smutty levi

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fishstyx · 3 years

Text

“put the maid outfit on.”

featuring. sub!nagito komaeda x fem!reader

wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration (pegging), orgasm denial/edging, praise kink, mild (mild!) toxic masculinity

synopsis. peg nagito 2021 + everyone’s favorite e-boy trend.

“You really think I look good in this..?”

Your jaw slackens as Nagito materializes in the doorway, fingers fiddling with the hem of his skirt. His shoulders hunch over and his legs bend at the knee, but if he’s trying to make himself smaller, it does little to obscure your view. The costume fits him so well, corset detailing and silk satin bows lining his midriff, white ruffle trim splayed out against his wrists and thighs. Flouncy frills flare from his shoulders, jet puffed sleeves rounding out his sharper edges and broader sides. A pink flush creeps across his cheeks when you fail to respond, teeth locking his bottom lip in place like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything more.

“I think you look great in it!”

You clasp your hands together in an attempt to ward off your trance and he cracks a smile in spite of himself, relief washing over his features—but your next words have him standing stick straight. “It makes me feel like I should dress you up more often.”

Suddenly his brows are threaded with vexation, Mary Janes clacking across the floorboards as he makes his way towards you.

“Please don’t joke about that. Even I take some pride in my manhood,” he pouts, somewhat unconvincingly. “But as long as you’re holding to your end of the deal—“

“And whatever deal could you be talking about?” you ask ever so sweetly, lashes batting away all too knowingly. He stiffens at your feigned ignorance, legs knocking together when you tilt your head pointedly.

“...You know what deal.”

Nagito averts his gaze, though unable to escape your own, hands clutching at the lacy material as he sucks in a sharp breath. “The deal we made… where I put this outfit on…” You wait patiently, silent stare urging him to finish the sentence. “...and you pound my unworthy hole into oblivion.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I going to pound you with?”

However fake your play-pretend innocence, the curiosity in your eyes is very much real, blazing with the vehement desire to hear him say it aloud. The remaining shred of his so-called dignity is slashed to pieces, the hopefulness in your voice too compelling to defy.

“My favorite toy. Please, mess me up with it.” Nagito eyes you nervously, expecting rejection or derision or snide, heart fluttering when he gets only an warm smile in return. “The dildo that I can’t live without. I want it—I need it so bad it hurts,” he continues in a near whisper, but it’s good enough for you. You pull him in immediately, your chin nestling itself in the crook of his neck as your lips come to rest at the shell of his ear.

“Such a good boy, using your words so properly.” He shudders against you as you trace the fabric where it lies snug against his waist, mesmerized by the words of encouragement that spill from your lips.

“I’m gonna make you see stars.”

Nagito practically bursts with anticipation as you snake your fingers up his skirt, unmoving from the spot where you pushed him onto the bed. With bated breath he lets you kiss up his inner thighs—lets you because normally he wants to do all the work, wants to be your little joyride fuck toy, wants you squirming under his touch. It’s all he can do just to watch, cock already twitching from how good it feels, how utterly starved he’s been of hands besides his own between his legs.

You push at his thighs, pressing them far apart for easy access, chaste kisses becoming damp squeezes as you traverse up the length. A silent smirk tugs at your lips as he throws his head back, the tent beneath his apron growing taller by the second. You palm it instinctively, rubbing circles through the fabric and inviting blood to his sensitive member.

But it’s more of a distraction than anything else, your other hand uncapping the bottle of lube with skill, lathering itself up with ease. Nagito pays it no mind, instead drinking in how you fondle him with eerie similarity to the most despicable of his favorite fantasies. So when a lone finger begins to circle at his entrance, he reels with an unexpected jolt, back arched like a cat. You waste no time in sinking a digit inside, sinful groans following one after another.

And then you’re pumping him with two fingers, swirling them in tandem and scissoring them apart a knuckle deep, then another. He’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the maddening urge to move on his own, to just take the reins and ram you inside of him. He’s already coursing with the need for something more substantial, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to take additional girth.

“Used to me already?” you ask, more statement than question. Nagito hesitates before nodding, sheepishness written into the slow bob of his head. “You’ve been playing with this lonely hole behind my back, haven’t you?” But he can’t bring himself to confirm or deny it, the way he peers back at you answer enough.

You reach for the harness in turn, untangling the heaps of straps right before him, his dildo of choice following soon after. You snap the towering thing into place with a satisfying click, swaying your hips as you guide the thigh straps to their final resting place. The fit is snug, belt of the strap just about digging into your flesh—but not quite—and you turn your back to add the finishing touches.

You’re dripping with lube when you face him again, glossy slick accentuating every vein, every bulge that graces your makeshift cock. You chuckle at the way his legs are spread already, the way he’s waiting on you with a look that says take me now, hold me down and fuck me silly.

But he’s ahead of himself as usual, and it’s inevitable that he chokes back a whimper when you disappear inside of him. He gives the prospect of pain no heed, silently pleading for you to move, and you click your tongue in distaste.

“Breathe,” you command, waiting for him to loosen. Green eyes shift expectantly from the strap-on to your own, an exasperated whine starting to form at his lips, but he knows his place and does as you say.

Nagito complies with the rise and fall of his chest, evidenced by the soft sway of a centerpiece bow. His muscles begin to relax even as you’re splitting him in two, and you angle your hips up in preparation. The tip of your silicone cock has barely brushed against his sensitive gland, yet it already has him quivering, hungry for more.

It’s in the middle of a deep breath when you finally deem him ready, doubling back before bucking into that same spot that has his jaw dropping and his eyes squeezing shut. A shaky exhale stutters from his wide-open mouth and he melts into a panting mess as you find your pace.

“Good boy. Such a good boy, making all that noise for me,” you repeat, chant-like words a melody to his ears.

“Y-you really think so?” he struggles to get out, little mewls escaping him even as he speaks. “Even when I’m… being so… selfish?”

“Shh, don’t say things like that. I feel it too, baby boy,” you’re quick to say—and you’re not lying, far from it in fact. The hilt of the dildo rocks against your clit each time your hips meet, the pulsating pressure tempting you to plunge even deeper. And with the face that he’s making, all reddened cheeks and parted lips, how could you not?

You’re snapping into him now, reveling in the challenge posed by the sheer length of his choice toy. It’s hard work with the way he clamps around you, but the tingle it shoots up your spine and the squelch it sends to your ears are well worth the effort. The marvelous stretch draws a throaty “f-fuuuuck” out of him, the god-sent sensation making him throb all the more.

But with every plunge you take, you’re met with the bounce of his pretty pink cockhead, a rebounding reminder of what you’ve left unattended. His neglected shaft looms in stark contrast to his black and white garb, breath hitching when you finally decide to wrap around it. Your movements are painfully slow to begin with, building up the pressure before picking up in speed, and he keens his dissatisfaction until you’re jerking him off to the same brutal rhythm of your rolling hips.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he cries, locks of hair cascading past his pleated headband as you press into a spot so sweet he thinks he just might come undone; but you have other plans in mind. Your movements slow before coming to a lurching halt, the absence of stimulation quick to dampen the mood.

“Good boys cum when they’re told to,” you say, but the explanation does little to appease him. A look of disappointment leaps to his face, his lips pursed in dismay—or perhaps it’s betrayal.

He looks so disheveled like this, staring at your open palm like maybe his wordless begging can coax you back into stroking him. Hazy eyes glaze over, tufts of hair spilling every which way as he sits himself up, but you aren’t done with him yet.

It’s simple to redirect his movement, his weak limbs no match for your own as you turn him over so he’s kneeling on the bed. He tries to look back but you push him down by the neck, hiking his skirt up as you position yourself behind him. His ass is raised in the air without so much as being told, and you align with his fluttering hole before breaking him in again.

You were right to make him wait; he’s shaking in excitement now, tense with amplified arousal as his knees buckle underneath you. Bottoming out is so much easier like this, your pistons devoured whole and spat back out with each and every thrust. You draw back slowly only to bury yourself once more, repeating the motion until his moaning runs incoherent, completely wracked with shivering pleasure. You can’t tell if he’s humping the mattress, grinding against you, or both, but he’s reaching his climax again and the both of you know it.

“Can I finish now? Pretty please?” Nagito asks, so strained and so breathily that you nearly miss it. “Please, it hurts so good, please please please, I’m head over heels for your cock!”

The thought of stopping again is too cruel for you to give even a moment’s consideration, so you pin his wrist against his back and collect a fistful of hair in your hand before leaning in to award him with the magic words:

“Go ahead, then. Cum for me.”

You slam into him as he rides through the peak of his bliss, squirming in wretched ecstasy as he collapses under his own weight. You can only imagine what kind of expression he’s making with his head face-first in the bedsheets, the kinds of shapes his mouth is forming when you pull his hair back like this. Violent spasms render Nagito otherwise immobile, unable to move of his own accord. He’s going completely slack, quivers shorting until you wonder if he passed out from the aftershock.

It comes as a surprise when you notice him barely holding on, eyelids threatening to shut close when you pull him into your arms. He looks like a cheap whore in that kitschy uniform of his, thick white cum smeared all over the black fabric. Beads of drool streak his chin but he’s too fucked-out to notice, let alone care.

“You did so well for me,” you whisper as Nagito nuzzles into your chest, drowsy and spent. I don’t deserve this at all, he thinks, a dull echo reverberating in the back of his mind.

“I’m so proud of you,” you coo as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. Proud of what? My greediness? My utter uselessness?

But he’s too exhausted to fight your praises, self-doubt dwindling away to nothing as you hum your approval. He snuggles against your palm without even realizing it, subconscious of his mind chasing after contact with your bare skin. In his docile state, you can’t help but to hold him close, intimate proximity sating the needs of which he’s too adamant to admit aloud.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, your adrenaline dies down, too. You feel as though you’re a husk of yourself, curling up beside him and letting the fatigue tide you over. As much as you’d love to watch your symbol of hope fall asleep, your eyelids feel so, so heavy now, and you expend the last of your energy on little kitten kisses that trail up his temple and dot down his nose. Your collective consciousness fades away until all that’s left is the syncing of your breath, a singular flow of air where you lay wrapped around one another.

He’ll never admit just how good it felt to be pampered this way, but you’ll never regret taking care of him.

#nagito x reader #nagito smut #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa oneshot #nagito imagines #danganronpa smut #tw. penetration.#🍣.food #fishstyx.dr

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aio-rya · 3 years

Text

Octavinelle Spicy Headcanons

「Requested by: Anon」

「A/N: since it was not specified what kind of 'spicy' were we getting, I'll make it a general spice~」

WARNING: NSFW content ahead. Suggestive/demi-explicit content under the cut, minor aged users, stay away from this~ You've been warned.

Azul 🐙

・He's usually shy about any matter that could involve his body. Even with you, his partner, he is, mainly by the fact he's not completely knowledgeable about humans body and its pleasures —in spite of it, he will never refuse whenever you wanted him to touch you, specially when you sat on his lap and placed his hands over your skin, taking them all over your legs, up and down until he let himself flow with you.

・Azul is a busy man, he often forgets he has a girlfriend, that is the main reason why he is fascinated when you assault him from behind with kisses on his neck or his cheeks. Or when you turn his chair around without any advice and fill his face with kisses. Specially his beauty mark. For him, when you appreciate such tiny details, is one of the greatest forms of love.

・His weak point are praises. When you praise him at work is wonderful, but praising him at bed is the most amazing you could ever try. Even if he is a little bit ashamed later, at the moment he will enjoy himself as if he were in heaven, driving you to the edge on the process. Since he is always tender, being in control with you at such circumstances is something exciting, specially by the fact of not being very often.

・When he is tired, he usually sits with you on the couch of the VIP Room and locks it, he doesn't want anybody interrupting because you are the only person able to make him relax. You embrace him in your arms, placing his head on your breasts, sometimes humming for him so he slowly gets sleepy over them. In fact, this has, once in a while, an arousing effect on him and you end up having an unexpected "happy ending"...

・Oh, for real. You must never bite him. Is not like you were to hurt him anyway, but Azul's childhood was not a nice time to remember, involved on such memories are Jade and Floyd of course, but not as nicer as you know them. They were kids, they were playful and one of those days, Floyd bite one of his tentacles —Tako-chan stained the Tweels on black ink and he still has not got over it. He's been having a bit of help, from you of course, so be patient.

・Though it is unexpected to see him having the initiative to behave a bit naughty, it's not impossible. Azul himself would be defined as elegance, that's why his teases are soft but provocative; specially when he moves closer from behind and massages your shoulders, slowly moving to your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts, playing with the buttons on your shirt...

・He discovered you were specially sensitive when he touched your stomach, your sides or your waist. A way, sort of a sign he makes to you when he's on the mood or he wants you to pay attention and pamper him for a while is caressing, pressing, tapping or just tracing small lines at a very slow pace on those specifical parts of your body. It is his unspoken way to plead for your love.

Jade 🐬

・He is the most versatile of the trio. Outside, he is a gentleman, so tender, sweet and caring; but deep inside himself, he is mischievous, he loves teasing, playing with you and actually, being in control. You could be his prey and he could be your hunter as much as he could be your knight and you could be his delicate princess.

・Up to this point, you may be wondering how did it ended up like it? Jade asked you to taught him about humans, what they do like, what they do not like and you came to explain how they reproduced. The key word was "comfort", though sexual tension was already visible between you; he asked you for help to explore his body, you said yes, confession came and here you are. In love with each other.

・He has a thing with teasing, it's hard to explain. Jade is, most of the time, changing you and himself into teases —he loves surprising you, when you're in the most unexpected places; sometimes, he will sneak his hand under a table, caressing the inner part of your thighs, or when he's holding your waist, his hand will sneak once more inside your shirt. If he feels more... Cheeky, in a good sense, he will lean forward and press small kisses on your neck, right under your ears.

・The younger Tweel is thoughtful, you revive often some unexpected details at classrooms or cafeteria or even at your own dorm; flowers, a cupcake, some sweets, some cookies, seashells, fungus preserved in resin... They always came with a note, some of them sweet and clever poetry, some others... Well, you might have an idea of what would be awaiting for you at night. It could be an invitation for you to visit him, or it could be just an advice for you to prepare.

・I wouldn't let aftercare pass just like it, would I? I could but I won't, since Jade's priority is you, of course. He loves your face while you sleep, he will wake up a bit earlier than you just to appreciate your peacefully visage. Then breakfast, your clothes, when everything is ready, he will awake you, feed you, take you to the bathtub and then, let you dress up.

・Let's talk about his dark side —he understands it's inevitable to spend more time with your classmates and friends like Ace, Deuce, Jack... than with him, taking into consideration he works with Azul at the Lounge. Though, there are times when he claims for your attention due to jealousy; that's when he makes the impossible to reassure you that you are his... Some biting marks on your skin may do.

・Different to Floyd, he will not make a show in front of any other people, no. He's going to deal with you and your couple matters indoors; unfortunately for you, he knows your weak points, specially your pleasure points or where to tickle you. In the end, you will painfully enjoy it.

Floyd 🦈

・"Koebi-chaaaaan~ I am booreeed~ Please, gimme looove~". Yes, that's mainly how Floyd is, straight to the point. When he does this, most of the time he will end up laying over you, whether you be sitting somewhere, laying somewhere, walking or just standing there. And, sometimes, his hands may land on places considered... Inappropriate in public.

・Floyd loves squeezing. Squeezing people to gather information for Azul, squeezing ingredients to prepare his delicious and well-known Takoyaki... Squeezing you between his arms; whether he could squeeze you in a hug or put his body over yours to do it, he prefers squeezing your waist with his hands when he hugs you from behind, or teasing you by squeezing your hips with his fingers... Or your thighs when you lay down with him~ oh! Floyd just love squeezing...

・Even though you have a... Little big height difference, he loves being pampered by you. Sitting on your lap, laying down his head too, when you let him put his head on your breasts or your neck. He just wants you to give him love, all the love you have, given only to him —sometimes he can be a bit rough with other people who gets nearby, but sometimes he can be sweet enough to get you a sugar overload.

・Though Floyd is the one into biting, he will not do it unless you ask him to do so, and even when you want him to do it, he will not be rough. He can mess with you, he can play around but he will never, and he himself has reassured so to yourself, bite you strong enough to drag blood out of your skin. He's into leaving some hickeys though.

・Very, very visible hickeys. There are certain days a month when you have to wear the collar of your shirt fully buttoned because, once a month and a half, Floyd feels into the need of leaving you some love reminders for you to think about him —the first time you realised was because of Crewel pointing at the little red mark on your collarbone.

・Sometimes, he lifts you up when you're down. Many people can think that, at first glance, Floyd is not a romantic person but they're wrong. He's the type who will cook for you, look for your favourite book and bring your favourite music; scare everyone the hell away from you and give you your space and tools to relax —that includes some massage which may end in you two sharing the bed.

・When he has been long time away from you, the first thing he will do is taking you away, to the first comfortable place he remembers and lock you both there. He just wants to touch you, he's needy~

#ツイステ #ツイステッドフンダラーンド #twst #twisted wonderland #オクタヴィネル寮 #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul #twst azul #floyd leech #twisted wonderland floyd #twst floyd #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #twst jade

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi ) & val ( @shoutodoki ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut

1K notes · View notes

pars-ley · 3 years

Text

One night

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Summary: When you meet a previous one night stand on a speed dating night, how can you possibly resist another go with the guy who turns you on beyond belief.

Genre: Strangers to lovers au / Speed dating au / One night stand au / Smut / Drabble

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Oral f and m receiving / Rimming / Anal fingering / Bathroom sex / Protected sex / Sex from behind / Nipple play /Jimin with nipple piercings / Explicit language / Spitting / Swallowed oral cumshot / Mentions of sex toys

Word count:1.8k

Notes: This is a request for @a-violet-suga-kookie sorry it took me so long! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to @yutasgalaxy for helping me photoshop the pic for my banner.

Beta: Thank you to @eatjeanjin your enthusiasm and suggestions helped a lot

You walk begrudgingly into the room following behind your friend, tables for two all spaced apart and a big timer at one end.

She smiles nervously at you and you return an encouraging thumbs up. As soon as her back is to you your eyes roll at the thought of what you are about to do. Speed dating is one of your worst nightmares, but in order to show support to your newly single and emotionally vulnerable friend, you put that aside.

"Welcome, please take a seat at a table and get comfortable. I shall bring in the other participants and we can start." announces the female host, with a smile large enough it looks almost painful.

You sit down at an adjacent table to your friend and give her a reassuring wink, before the door opens and the timer has begun.

Mundane questions and boring responses are leaving you wishing you stayed at home in your pyjama’s and a date with your vibrator. At least you would be guaranteed satisfaction.

Suddenly, striking blonde hair catches your eye a couple of tables down and as you glance over he's already looking at you.

His full lips curve into a delicious one sided smile before returning his attention to his date.

Park Jimin. Your thighs press together automatically, recalling the night you spent with him. Every perfect detail of it and him, sails seductively behind your eyes. The one night stand that was never meant to happen but did and blew your mind.

It feels like time stops, while you wait for another agonising two rounds for him to reach your table.

"Well, well, well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He says, as he sits down in such a commanding fashion you can't help but find your bottom lip tucked painfully between your teeth.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you."

His pupils expand at your words as his eyes trace over your outfit, pausing briefly at your cleavage. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here for moral support for a friend." You tilt your head to your right and he glances at her. "You?"

"Would you believe me if I said the same? Dark hair, tattoo sleeve and big doe eyes." You look behind him and see who he means, recalling your conversation with him to have been the least boring here.

"What are the chances?" You laugh.

He watches you for a moment, a smile playing at the edges of his perfect mouth.

"You never left me your number." He interjects your thoughts.

"You never gave me yours." You quip.

"You didn't give me a chance." He raises an eyebrow at you. A simple move that he manages to make devastatingly sexy. "I woke up and you had vanished without a trace. All I had was your name and the taste of your pussy on my lips and you can't imagine how much that can drive a man crazy."

Hearing him say something so filthy so casually had your cunt throbbing violently with desire, a pool of liquid-want starting in your underwear.

"I would have liked to call you and see you again." He presses.

"I'm here now." You reply, leaning onto the table; your breasts swelling even more with the movement.

His hand on your thigh under the table surprises you but your heart responds instantly pounding wildly with need. "Meet me in the big toilet as soon as the break starts," the pleading in his voice is too hard to resist, not that you were planning on it anyway.

He got up swiftly and just like the wind, he was gone. You receive a few looks from neighbouring tables, your friend being one of them, but you just shrug and smile innocently.

The much awaited break time was finally announced and you can't scramble off of your chair fast enough, out of the door before anyone else is even away from their tables. But disappointment pangs when you read the "OUT OF ORDER" note taped on the toilet door. Frantically glancing around, you decide to chance knocking. Much to your delight, the door opens and you are pulled in briskly by the hand.

The door is closed and locked as you're backed against it.

"God, do you have any idea how often I've thought about you?" He whispers, so close his breath fans across your face, pulling you in. His eyes burning with a need so fierce you're winded from the impact.

"Probably about as often as I've thought about you." Your fingers already fumbling with the button on his jeans.

His mouth crashes against yours, tongue eagerly dancing with yours as you become a mass of grappling hands and frantic kisses. He pulls away leaving you gasping for air but wanting more of his soft lips on yours. He pushes up your leather skirt and yanks your underwear down, pulling it off each ankle as he sinks onto his knees.

He throws one leg over his shoulder and looks up at you.

"Trust me?"

You nod and he wastes no time doing the same to the other leg, taking all of your weight as he plunges his mouth straight onto your needy pussy.

The sinful sound that vibrates through him as he tastes you has you moaning in response.

You're thrown down memory lane instantly, the way his lips and tongue explore every crevice, how he sucks just enough on your clit drawing his name from your lips like a spell. Even his tight grip on your buttocks keeping you firmly in place, makes you rabid with lust. You start grinding against him, unable to control your body. He moans against you, making you quiver signalling that familiar tight pull coming closer. But before you can let go, your feet are returned to the ground - legs wobbling underneath you - and he's turning you, your face pressing hard against the door. You feel his warm, wet tongue glide along your arsehole, the sensation nearly shooting you through the roof but he holds you firmly in place, spreading your cheeks harshly as he does.

Your toes curl as his fingers wrap around you and he begins massaging your clit. Your heavy breaths creating a pattern of condensation across the door.

And then his grip on you is gone and you feel unsteady as he stands and pulls his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

When you see the glint of the foil wrapper, excitement blooms in your already tight core; coiled and ready to spring. Ripping it open with his teeth, he pushes down his boxers and glides the condom onto his generous erection.

He wastes no time in pressing you back up against the door and sliding into you, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pauses there for a moment and you feel something hot on your arsehole that quickly turns cold as the air hits it and you realise he's spat on you. The thought has you clenching around his rock hard cock.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" He says breathlessly. "Do you like this?" He asks as he slowly pushes a finger inside your rear.

"Ohh, yes." You moan.

He starts rocking his hips and finger in a simultaneous rhythm. Feeling so full and deliciously stretched had you dripping off of him. Your nails, clinging onto the door frame, embedding and no doubt leaving little crescents in the wood.

You feel the build up take hold to a point you can't return from as you tighten around him.

"Oh yes, baby, let me feel you cum around this cock." He whispers in your ear as you unravel. Spasming uncontrollably and calling his name from behind his fingers now caged around your mouth, the action just heightening all the sensations you feel.

As your orgasm subsides, your legs trembling, he pulls out leaving you feeling empty. You turn to face him and his mouth is on you instantly.

"You're so fucking sexy." He says against your lips.

Your fingers find his shirt, undoing the buttons and pushing it off his shoulders. The glint of something in the light catches your attention, as you hold him at arm's length and admire the sight before you.

"They're new." You say, genuine surprise in your voice.

He looks down at his pierced nipples and back up to you with the cockiest smirk. "You like ‘em?"

You shake your head, "I love them."

He grins at you pulling you in for another kiss as you can't resist pinching and rolling one of them between your fingers.

He jolts but moans against you and bucks his hips, his dick pressing desperately against you, aching to be touched.

Your lips go straight for the silver bar, sucking it hastily into your mouth. The sound of it hitting against your teeth and the feel of the cold metal inside your mouth, all of it spurring you on.

"Go and sit down."

You order, the light of lust although briefly sated had not died down.

He puts the lid on the toilet seat down and does as you say.

On your knees, you gently slide the condom off and delve onto him with the same urgency he showed you. When he gasps and his hand goes straight to your hair, you can feel his wildness beneath you. Hips bucking up matching your rhythm as you take him in until he's hitting the back of your throat with every suck.

"Look at me." He whispers and as soon as your eyes hit his, he becomes a shaking mess.

"Oh fuck. Yes, yes, that's it." He strains before his hot, salty orgasm releases into your mouth. You swallow as he grinds into you, holding your hair off your face and watching every movement you make.

He helps you up once he's done and you both tidy yourselves up.

"So, see anyone you like out there?" He asks as he does up his shirt.

You shake your head and scoff. "No. What about you?" You hate the small, sick feeling in your stomach at the possible answer. He's just some guy you've fucked twice, that's all.

"No, I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

When his gaze meet yours in the mirror it's sweet and gentle, a complete contrast to before.

"Listen," he turns to face you. "I know that one night stands are not ideal to start with but I'd really like to take you out to dinner?"

There's a hesitancy in his voice that intrigues you, a very vulnerable side to the confident man you're used to seeing.

"What about after this?" You reply.

His eyes light up. "Yeah, sounds great."

You smile awkwardly at each other and he kisses you on the cheek as if 5 minutes ago he didn't have his lips smothered on your arsehole.

184 notes · View notes

seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He’s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she’s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin au #ndilyd #nobody does it like you do #cw: minor character death

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spellfist-3d · 4 years

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Guide to that elusive “PS1-pixelated-lowpoly”(but not really)

With the videogame playing population growing up we've finally broke from pixel-art nostalgia into the broadly called "low-poly" nostalgia. On closer look this broad categorization gets further described as “PS1 pixelated textures low-poly”, which is a bit better, but still is a really broad and a pretty wrong description of this style that’s so dear to a plenty of game-playing and game making individuals these days. I’ll try to dive into some of the technicalities and examples of this style in the attempt to find it’s characteristics and some actual technical requirements to meet this style.

Let’s start with the obvious, calling it PS1 low-poly is wrong, mostly because the same games were release on Nintendo 64, Dreamcast and PC. More so, games released later can be put into the same category, plenty of NDS or PSP games fit into the same style and adhere to the same economy principles. The only real surface level thing unifying these games is the game size, that is, the games came on CDs. The advent of a DVD format really changed up how the games look, so the graphical style we’re talking about here is called CD-3D in smaller circles.

First let’s look at the games that fit the criteria would give you some information to describe the style, textures are obviously small enough to have visible pixelation (hidden by texture filtering) and models are obviously low-poly (that is around or less than 500 triangles for a character), but let’s see what doesn’t seem so obvious. Here’s Spyro and Crash, fan favorites

Both games check both points we’ve noted before, but what’s not obvious to an untrained eye is that these games both extensively use Vertex Color, the thing you’ll notice more and more in other games we’ll talk about. Vertex Color is absolutely simple, each vertex of a mesh can be assigned a RGBA value and they’re then linearly blended with other vertex colors. Notice how in Spyro the yellow and purple light is placed on places where texture is repeated, following that you can eyeball where the wireframe is and then you’ll see that the vertex color is used to simulate lighting. Crash himself is filled with Vertex Color, it’s a cheap way to avoid using textures, while having some control over the color of the thing, instead of it being a solid chunk. If you search-engine around you can also find some really fascinating notes on the development of the original Crash and the tricks they’ve pulled! The more ingenious way to use Vertex Color is to take a look at Spyro skyboxes:

Notice how the clouds are diamond-like in shape and are linearly gradiented to the next point in the wireframe.

Vertex color was used extensively and fell off with the increasing complexity of the meshes, delegated mostly to technical masking of stuff like foliage, it’s still a powerful tool for lower triangle counts.

Textures

Now, let’s talk about the textures. Pixelated textures look nice and crisp these days, at the age of 1080p being the norm, turning texture filtering really makes the games look crisp and feel right

Quake 1 is a perfect example of CD-3D style, often undeservingly forgot in discussions about this style.

But this makes us forget that the textures were often authored with texture filtering in mind. Careful step gradienting to make textures seem smoother after being filtered is a craft in itself.

Texture filtering is not bad in itself, some games look better without it these days, because of the display resolutions, but it’s still a valid tool to apply, it can help push low-res texture a bit higher and produce a softening effect make those 4 pixels into a round circle or improve a visual effect.

Of course, some games took a deliberate approach of avoiding smudged look, like Megaman Legends, for example.

Via a very deliberate texture economy and unwrapping the developers were able to produce very crisp and pixel perfect textures (slightly warped by the infamous PS1 rendering), that look absolutely astounding when you render the game in a modern resolution. Pixel-aware UV Unwrapping, is being used in most games that are considered the pinnacle of CD-3D style, this technique is so powerful, that it was used to great effect in PS2 era games, PSP games and even modern games like Guilty Gear (for a different effect though). Let’s take a closer look,

As you can see, our character is unwrapped in square pieces in such a way that a straight line on a texture will produce a straight line on a model. While Vagrant Story is an absolutely perfect in execution of this technique, it’s also used in a same way in Megaman Legends

While I couldn’t find a reliable tool that works with modern 3D modeling software to allow pixel perfect alignment, just using a UV Checker will produce great results. This method also requires some thought put into your topology before unwrapping, but it’s strong point is that you can make changes into your unwrapping and geometry easily, making little tugs won’t break the whole thing.

As you can also note, Vagrant Story textures are authored in a single atlas, while Metal Gear Solid separates this atlas into smaller chunks like this:

Allowing for easier unwrapping, since you can unwrap into the full UV space and then change the size of the texture to scale your results. The other important thing is that you probably want your characters in a T-pose when you’re unwrapping, since this allows for easier use of normal based unwrapping, considering your model would be authored with 4 to 8 sides for limbs and torso it could be box unwrapped and then tweaked for optimal results.

Silent Hill 1 used the same technique, and is also regarded as one of the best looking PS1 games.

While this is the best practice for this kind of look, it’s absolutely not required, Quake 1 used a really loose flat unwrap:

But it’s still looks bloody amazing in the end.

While the topic of using UV Unwrapping for crisper result is endless I’d also love to bring your attention to a certain Jet Set game

It also uses the same technique as Megaman Legends, but it tops it off with some cel-shading, producing crisp, stylish and iconic look.

Here’s some technicalities: Character textures are usually 256x256 for main characters, 128x128 for other characters, character usually have ~100-120 colors per full atlas. MGS breaks down the atlas into chunks so each chunks is usually 8 colors. So when authoring textures, make us of Indexed Color image mode or Save for Web.

Now let’s move from character textures to

World textures

Universally regarded as best looking CD-3D games share the same trait, not only the characters look amazing, but the environments too. Despite hard limitations, the environments look very much affected by lighting. A lot of the times this is achieved with this one simple trick that was only improved with modern technology. That is, a lot of the lighting is baked into the textures

While this limits you on the amount of lighting scenarios or makes you produce more same-ish assets this certainly elevates the look. While nowadays baked lighting is not something that exciting, it’s also being done on a separate “layer”, so there’s no need to make a separate texture for every lighting scenario, however the resolution of a lightmap should not be higher than your texture, to not produce a cheap and uncanny effect. You still want to bake some fake lighting into your texture, which contradicts the rules of PBR, but since you’re not using normal maps, rules of PBR should not apply in the same way.

The other important tool to use, is the one we’ve talked about, that is, Vertex Color. Vagrant Story uses to great effect, while it’s environment textures don’t have lights baked, they use vertex color extensively to create a variety of moods and lighting scenarios.

Using best texturing practice, Vertex Color and making sure your lightmaps are matching resolution to your textures will produce the best results.

Now let’s talk why I don’t advise using a lot of normal maps for this style. The simple answer, it’s somewhat difficult to produce a normal map that will work with an unfiltered look, but it’s somewhat manageable to do it if you’re using texture filtering. The issue arises when you try make your normal maps unfiltered, this will make your result either a mess or a bunch of visual noise. If you’re trying to make sharp pixel-perfect textures and then will try to make normal maps to match you’ll get very harsh results. The only way I can see it working somewhat nice is to make a normal map that’s less detailed and then use it texture filtered to give some volume to your objects, while not trying to chase pixel details.

The suggested method is to do a rough sculpt -> bake it down -> use ambient occlusion and other masks to author a texture map with more details. Then use a detailed texture and less detailed normal map for optimal result.

As a closing thought, let’s talk about the

Meshes

A lot of the time you can visually trace the wireframe of things, this makes it easy to pin the style as “low-poly”, but how lowpoly it really is?

Characters in Vagrant story average 500 triangles per character. Characters in MGS go from ~450 for minor characters to ~650 for major characters. So 500-600 triangles is a solid baseline for a main character in a third person game.

This limit brings out some great restriction for every aspiring 3D artist. You have to know your limb deformation techniques (search-engine “Limb Topology” and browse around the polycount wiki to find some great examples and deformation ready examples), but as you might’ve noticed, some games decided to not wrestle with skinning and deformation and straight up detached the limbs or even made their characters out of chunks. This is perfectly noticebla if you compare the OG Grim Fandango and the remaster, where they botched the shading and you can see the bits in all of their glory.

Another easy example is Metal Gear Solid. Characters arms are separate from their torse, but this is covered with other geometry or they’re of the same color and shaded closely.

This way of doing it was used in a number of other games and allows for unlimited range of motion, while not looking weird.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of adding more triangles and loops, but if you’ll follow the rule of “if it doesn’t add to the silhouette, you don’t need it”, you’ll keep to the style. Zoom out often and if an edge doesn’t add anything from the distance and is not critical to the deformation in a character, you really don’t need it.

These principles are so solid they’ve been alive for decades, in fact, one of the best looking PSP games “Peace Walker” sticks to these principles very closely, for example this soldier is just around 1500 triangles

Spilling out of the “low-poly” territory it’s still made with the same economy principles used in CD-3D style, making use of every bit of texture and every triangle available.

Here’s another game of Metal Gear variety, Metal Gear Solid 2 is a direct heir to the design philosophy of MGS1, perfectly pixel-aligned unwraps allow for crisp detailing:

Another honorable mention goes to Animal Crossing on Nintendo 64

Animal Crossing combines meshes and sprites masterfully, uses pixel-aligned UV unwraps and makes up their own trick when creating landscape.

By unwrapping the repeating texture on each triangle of a hexagon they create these smooth patches of sand without the need for big or unique textures. It’s only 64x64 and 9 colors, but the mileage you can get out of it is insane!

And this honestly sums up the CD-3D style perfectly, it’s the style governed by economy. There’s no need for insane textures for sharp lines, and millions of colors for smooth gradients. Now of course all of these are not rules, but recommendations, you can certainly bend the rules and improve on some aspects. Before we go, here’s some more pictures to get you inspired.

#playstation #psx games #psx #nintendo 64 #low poly #3d #retro aesthetic #pixelated #gamedev #dreamcast #cd3d #retro

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