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imagination-of-a-thirsty-weeb · 5 years ago

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Thigh Highs || Bokuto + Kuroo + Daichi x Reader

Artwork is not mine! Unfortunately, I do not know who the artist is but if you do please let me know so I can properly credit them!

Prompt: In which Daichi decides to strengthen the bonds between teams through sharing his girlfriend.

Pairing: Bokuto x Kuroo x Daichi x Reader

Word Count: 7.232k

Warning: Dp, oral, sweat kink, anal play, overstimulation

“Fuck, she’s got on those thigh highs,” Kuroo chuckles, passing the ball to the still wondering Bokuto. Kuroo takes a deep sigh, and nods in the direction he had seen you in for his less attentive friend. Bokuto turns and suddenly his throat is dry. He had turned just in time to watch you pulling at the thigh highs, the material far too tight for the supple skin of your thighs.

“Shit,” Bokuto is very fond of thigh highs, especially when you’re wearing them. Your thighs are too meaty and you know it, the thigh highs stretching pathetically over your thighs, the hems digging into the skin just right. He remembers those thigh highs, or another variation of them. His fingers clasped at the material, using it to fuck you back onto his cock. He found himself watching the way your thighs shook with his movements for a good portion of the time. He couldn’t tear them away, they jiggled with every little movement, those damned thigh highs the perfect little cherry on top. “Shit,” he repeats, wiping his brow with his free hand.

“Daichi probably told her to wear em to throw us off,” Kuroo’s eyes flit toward the team stumbling in behind you, quickly finding his culprit. “Look at him, he knows what he’s doing,” Kuroo snickers and ducks under the net, meeting Karasuno’s captain with a sly smirk. “You think you’re slick Sawamura?” Kuroo links a brow, the rest of the team saying their greetings as they pass by, eager to drop the heavy bags they held. “Putting my kitten in those damn thigh highs? Are you trying to ruin me?” As if on cue both men turn to look at you, finding you bubbling, excitedly jumping in your seat as you spoke about getting to watch the practice matches.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Bokuto joins, wrapping an arm around the suddenly swarmed Daichi. “Playing dirty, huh?” Bokuto scolds, wagging style finger at the still dazed Daichi. Daichi’s head had been swarming all day, he had to focus on these matches and not the way you felt wrapped around his cock this morning. Or the way you let him follow you into the shower to rip two orgasms from your body with the detachable shower head. Then proceed to fuck you until you were a mess on his cock, tears flowing, hiccups passing beautifully through those kiss riddled lips.

“Oh?” Kuroo notices the way Daichi’s eyes have to divert from you almost the second he sees you, his body tensing up. “She wore those of her own volition?” Kuroo turns back to you, clicking his tongue. There’s a million ways of fucking you until next Sunday running through his mind and he’s finding it hard to imagine lasting through all of the practice matches. “Naughty little kitten,” Kuroo purrs, feeling his cock twitch in his uniform shorts. “We just gotta get through these matches right?” Kuroo’s eyes are dark but there’s a spark of hope in them, there’s no way Karasuno’s captain would take his tasty treat home without letting him have a taste. “Then you’ll let her make a mess on my cock?” Kuroo’s tone is almost teasing, a hint of degradation in there. “All while you watch?” That was just because he’s an asshole.

“Come on man!” Bokuto hits his friend in the back of the head, half the mind to force him into a bow. “He’s sorry!” Bokuto nudges Kuroo, muttering something about Daichi being so nice and not wanting to have Daichi take away their little toy. “But you’ll let us right? Let us fuck her?” Bokuto does nothing to hide the shimmering in his eyes, his tongue darting to wet his chapped lips. “Cause man, those thigh highs are doing something to me-“ A call from Akaashi stops Bokuto mid-sentence and Kuroo and Daichi are glad. As enjoyable as it was to watch the way you’d crumble around Bokuto’s cock, they didn’t want to take about it. “I’ll see ya later!” Bokuto departs with a wink, receiving a scolding for sneaking off when they were supposed to be practicing.

“She’s fucking with you just as much as she’s fucking with me, isn’t she?” Kuroo can see the way Daichi dryly swallows, fighting to keep his eyes from moving over to you. “I know those damned thighs highs are fucking with ya! You want to bend her over and stuff her full of your cock on the spot don’t ya?” Kuroo may or may not be talking about himself at the moment, though the nervous chuckle Daichi lets out tells him all he needs to know. “Hmm, I’ll see ya after the games.” Kuroo backs away with a shit-eating grin on his lips. He turns back to look at you one last time to find you waving your arms at Bokuto, mirroring the motions of the owlish boy. You’re smiling so wide, finding Kuroo’s eyes to wave at him as well. “Hey kitten!” He yells the pet name and the way your eyes widen, smile faltering has him twitching in his shorts. He chuckles, turning as he leaves you to stir in your juices.

“I almost feel like losing on purpose,” Bokuto mumbles to himself, passing Kuroo to take his position on the opposite side of the court. Yeah, Kuroo knew the feeling. He looked at Bokuto, a grimace on the boy’s face. He’s probably hard as hell, Kuroo wanted to laugh and tease him about it but he couldn’t bring himself to. Kuroo found himself adjusting his shorts one last time before crouching down, getting ready for the start of the game.

“Daichi,” you whimper against his lips, feeling his fingers pulling at the material of your thigh highs. He releases them with snaps against your thighs, the sound of the material digging into your thighs sounding across the room. They blend beautifully with the breathy moans you release, Daichi’s fingers moving to your heat, stroking you through the thin material of your panties. “Please,” You’re a mess and you know it, if someone were to walk in on you like this, begging for the simplest touch they’d have a field day with you. “Please,” you whine once more, grinding your hips into his touch, gasping when he hits your bundle of nerves just right.

“That feel nice baby?” Daichi’s a panting mess, heavy breaths hitting your cheek. He’s hard as a rock in his shorts but he knows what coming, he knows they’ll waste little time shoving you full of their cock and so he takes it upon himself to properly prep you. His fingers are nimble as they slip your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Getting started without us?” There’s a low whistle from behind the two of you, and Daichi turns to find Kuroo and Bokuto walking into the locker-room. Their brows were drenched with sweat, the salty liquid rolling over their smooth skin. You let out a small whimper, tongue twitching to lick at the beads of sweat that disappeared beneath the collar of their jerseys. It was Kuroo, there he stood with that damned smirk adorning his features. He held your panties between his fingers, holding his eyes on yours as he brings them to his nose, taking a big whiff. Your hips buck against Daichi’s hip, breath hitching in your throat at the short moment of relief you receive from the movement.

“Hey Princess!” Bokuto bounds into the room, ready to tear you from Daichi’s grasp. “I missed ya!” He’s still slightly out of breath, panting a little from his last match. It’s him that draws your attention from Kuroo, forcing your eyes in his direction. He’s so beautiful, as he always was, but even more so now. His hair, usually spiked fell to frame his face, you loved that sight. Those golden orbs shining bright, even under the dim lights of the locker-room. “Daichi don’t be selfish! Let us see her!” Kuroo’s a little surprised Bokuto even references him. He knows the thoughts that cloud and swirl in that small brain of his friends, a lot on the naughtier side. Daichi huffs but moves the the side, keeping a hand on your inner thigh. “Oh princess,” Bokuto grunts, sounding almost pained. “I nearly creamed my pants on that damned court thinking about being buried between those thighs,” Maybe Daichi was wrong, his eyes watching Bokuto slink up to the both of you, dropping to his knees without hesitation.

“I thought we’d agree I’d get first Bo?” The nickname has Bokuto’s ears perking up, his eyes flitting towards Kuroo. Kuroo kinks a brow but the look on Bokuto’s face says it all, he wasn’t moving. Well, not until you were coming undone on his tongue. “I see,” Bokuto had lost all his sense of mind when Daichi had exposed you to the two of them, your leg now hiked up against his thigh. “Look at him kitten,” Both you and Daichi look down at Bokuto, his bright orbs staring at the heat between your thighs.

“He’s fucked out,” Daichi finishes Kuroo’s thought, chuckling a little at the sight before him. “You keep up that eagerness you might just take my girl from me,” Daichi’s joking, of course, but the possibility of Bokuto getting to have you all to himself has him tensing. His eyes are dark now, flitting toward your face. You? All to him? He’d never share you with the other two, that he was sure of.

“Princess,” Bokuto’s fingers grip at your thighs, pulling your foot still on the floor over his shoulder. “If I did have ya all to myself, I’d eat this pretty little pussy for hours on end,” He’s drooling, just a little but he can feel the liquid dribble down his chin. “Princess,” he groans, nudging his nose against your inner thigh. You whimper, thighs trembling when you can feel the air of him inhaling your scent against your skin. “You’d let me right?” He growls, blunt nails digging into the supple flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. “I mean look at ya now, so desperate for me and right in front of your cap’n?” His lips curl into a sadistic grin, a look you aren’t used to seeing on his face. Bokuto’s eyes flit toward Daichi, holding his gaze as he whispers his next words against your skin. “I want you to fuck yourself on my tongue princess, show your cap’n how much of a desperate bitch you are.” Bokuto’s teeth nip at your inner thigh, your hips bucking into his face with a low whimper.

Daichi growls, Bokuto giving him a small smirk before ripping his eyes away from Daichi’s hardening stare. Daichi knew sharing you would have it’s consequences but he didn’t expect them to be so possessive. The way Bokuto gripped at your thighs like it was only the two of you, his fingers there to remind you. Kuroo needing to remind the two of them of his presence as he attached his lips to your skin. Daichi snarled, his cock only twitching at their actions.

“You’re such a damn hog,” Kuroo steps closer to the three of you, leaving Daichi to hold you open to the two of them. “I guess I’ll find some other way to entertain myself,” Kuroo’s hands are at the collar of your shirt, ripping it right down the middle. “Clothes can be so pesky!” You want to roll your eyes, make your usual smartass comment but you find yourself stopping, the show of his power stirring your insides. “Would you look at that?” Kuroo’s eyes light up like a child’s on Christmas, “No bra?” In your defense you were wearing an oversized shirt and it was a bit warm outside. “You were so ready kitten,” Kuroo runs his thumbs over your tightening buds, leaning over to take the pert bud into his mouth. He reels at how responsive you are, back arching into his touch.

“You’re being so well taken care of baby,” Daichi whispers in your ear, placing a few kisses against the shell of your ear. “I know you can be such a good girl but you’ve been so bad today,” Daichi growls, pulling at the thigh highs, the reference in his statement. “Wearing these? Such a tease,” Daichi looks down at Bokuto, watching the way his tongue sneaks past his lips to delve into the heat between your thighs. “Look at Bokuto? Look at how he’s so needy, so desperate for just a taste of that slutty little cunt.” Bokuto’s tongue flicks over your clit, eyes locking on yours before he takes the aching bud past his lips.

“Ah-fuck Boku!” Your hips rut against his mouth, trying to match his pace by the movement of your hips. “Fuck, Bo-“ you were so sensitive, especially as Kuroo let his teeth graze over your bud. “Shit,” one of your hands pushes through Bokuto’s sweaty locks, pulling him closer. The other pushes through the hair at the back of Daichi’s neck, allowing Kuroo to have his fun kissing along the span of your chest. Daichi catches onto what you want and his lips meet yours in a feverish kiss. His tongue slips past your lips as you whimper into the kiss, tongue weakly fighting against his. Daichi’s tongue moves gracefully against his, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He’s holding you open for Bokuto whether he realizes it or not, allowing the man between your thighs to lash out against your clit.

Bokuto’s tongue is relentless in its actions, aiding in your pleasure as he suckled on the throbbing bud. The hot muscle flicks against your clit, his hands gripping harder at your thighs as he can feel them shake around his head. “Kuroo,” Is really the only warning you receive before Bokuto’s pushing your hips up and shoving his tongue into your entrance. Kuroo’s fingers drop to your clit, rubbing tight circles right under its hood. Your lips quiver as Daichi pulls away, letting your soft moans slip into the locker-room air.

“You gonna come baby?” Daichi’s free hand moves over your chest, pinching and pulling at your pert buds. “You like Bokuto fucking you with his tongue?” Daichi pauses, chuckling lowly at the sight he’s greeted with. One of your hands pushed through Bokuto’s hair, the other gripping Kuroo’s wrist like your life depended on it, hips moving against the both of them. You look timid, almost unsure of the way you fuck yourself against the two of them, eyes fluttering closed every few seconds as you get lost in the pleasure of their hands scurrying over your body. “You close baby?”

You want to respond, give him a coherent answer but the second you try to open your mouth to say anything, Kuroo’s lips are on yours. “Kitten,” Kuroo mewls into the kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. He pulls back just a little, making a show out of the way you mindlessly follow him. “I know Kitten,” Kuroo presses a few chaste kisses against your lips in a quick succession before bending so he was face level with your core. “This pretty little cunt is so needy,” he whispers, more to himself, nudging Bokuto to the side to attach his lips to your clit.

“Fuck!” You were teetering on the edge, the stimulation too much. Your body torn between the feeling of Bokuto stuffing you full of his tongue, tip pressing against that spongy patch of nerves. Bokuto almost seems to be begging for your release, the way his eyes roll into the back of his head, moans vibrating your core. And Kuroo’s tongue gently massaging your clit as your body shook above the two of them. Daichi’s fingers never stop pulling at your tits, even if they are sore and overworked, begging for a break. Your body is trembling, shaking as you twist and turn in their grasps, the only thing keeping you in place being their hands. “Fuck!” You moan out a string of their names, feeling your juices gushing out around Bokuto’s tongue. The sight you’re met with when your eyes loll open is enough to send you into a second release. Bokuto’s fingers grip almost desperately at your thighs, pulling you as close as possible to his face. His tongue never stops, you can only imagine how much it’s cramping, massaging your walls as he and Kuroo’s tongue work you through your second ending. “Please!” You push at Kuroo’s head first, Daichi being the one to pull him away as your whimpers and whines from being overstimulated only served to further turn Kuroo on. Bokuto’s next, pulling away of his own volition. Bokuto’s tongue hasn’t received the memo just yet, still running over your quaking core with excited and sloppy movements. “Boku!” Your fingers tangle themselves in his gray locks and you pull him away from your core, his eyes wide when they meet yours. He looks almost like a kicked puppy, tongue lapping at his lips.

“I’m sorry princess,” His voice is dripping with arousal, almost slurred as he speaks. “You just taste so damn good,” his teeth nip at the skin of your inner thigh, all three men noting the way you jump at the action. “Even more sensitive than when we started?” Bokuto stands to his feet, a dizzy spell hitting him as his brain clouds with his lust. The only coherent thought he has contains bending you over the nearest bench and making the two others watch as you make a mess on his cock. “What are we going to do with you princess?” Bokuto moves to pick you up, hands on the undersides of your thighs only to be stopped by Kuroo.

“You’ve got to share Bokuto,” Daichi reminds him, the three of you laughing when Bokuto’s face falls. Daichi isn’t upset with Bokuto’s actions or words, he always got like this, so possessive. Daichi often worried that it was truly Bokuto’s goal to sweep you right off your feet, though, the both of you knew Bokuto would never do anything like that. Bokuto huffs, moving to the side to allow Kuroo to resume his previous position. “Good boy,” Daichi always did this, showered the three of you in praise when it was deserved. Bokuto loved it a little more than Kuroo, his cheeks heating up at the two words. “Baby?” Daichi’s nose nudges at your cheek, forcing your gaze to Bokuto’s. “Tell him,” Kuroo’s running low on patience, though he’s a little envious of the next words that slip past your lips.

“I want you to fuck me so bad Boku,” your hand reaches out to caress his cheek, eyes shaking as they trail over his body. Your eyes drop to the bulge in his shorts and the wanton moan you let out is everything, head thrown back as your pussy gushes at the thought of him bending you in half and fucking you into the mess you were. “But Kuroo and Daichi have been waiting so patiently,” You pull Bokuto in closer, lips a hair a way from his. “So you let them have their turn and I’ll let you fuck me in any position you want,” Bokuto’s eyes shimmer at this, any position? All to himself? “You just have to be a good boy, alright?” You run the tip of your tongue over the curve of his lips, eyes boring into his skin.

Bokuto finds himself knodding but as he watches Kuroo carry you over to the bench, being sandwiched between the two men, he realizes he may not be able to wait. “Fuck baby, you made such a mess,” Daichi’s pulling at your skirt, undoing the button in the side to get rid of the material. “You gonna let me and Kuroo stuff these tight little holes with our cocks?” Daichi’s hands grip at your ass, pulling you open for him. Kuroo’s pulling you into his lap, forcing Daichi to follow the two of you. Kuroo’s lips kiss at the corner of your mouth, pulling your attention to him as he pushed his bulge against your bare heat.

“Fuck kitten,” he drawls out the words, eyes boring into yours. “I can’t wait to fill this greedy little cunt.” He gives you a sharp thrust to reiterate his statement. “You want that kitten? You want your pussy full of cock? You want Daichi to ruin that pretty little ass?” Kuroo delivers a hard hit to your ass cheek, Daichi watching it jiggle in his grasp. “Answer me kitten,”

“Y-yes,” your throat feels so raw, scratchy as you speak. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, short pants leaving your lips as you try to keep up with both men’s actions. “Please!” You cry, throwing your arms around Kuroo’s shoulders, pressing your chest against his. It’s hot in this damned locker-room, and you can barely breath overwhelmed by the senses of the two men pressing against you.

“It’s okay baby,” Daichi presses wet kisses against your heated skin, smiling softly when you relax at the feeling of his lips against your skin. “You’ve been such a good girl,” Daichi praises, presses more kisses against your shoulders as his finger runs over your puckered hole. “You deserve to be full and fucked like the good slut you are,” You can hear him spitting, the warm liquid hitting your puckered hole and rolling down to your core. “Fuck baby,” Daichi grunts, watching your hole clench around nothing, eager to be filled. “I can’t wait to fuck this greedy little hole,” Daichi growls, scooting back so he could lean forward a little. His hands push at your body until you’re bent over, core planted firmly against Kuroo’s twitching bulge.

“Fuck! You keep moving her like that I don’t think I’ll be able to wait-“ Kuroo warns Daichi but his hands find their way to your ass, holding you open for the Karasuno captain as he ran his tongue over your puckered hole. You shudder above him, hips pushing against Kuroo and back against his mouth. “Patience,” Kuroo growls, teeth nipping at your jutted out lip as his hand connects to your ass a few times. Each hit is harder than the last, the stinging doing nothing but aiding in the ache of your core. Daichi’s tongue laps at your hole, hands on your hips to keep you in place as he does what he does best, get you ready for his cock.

“Daichi!” You roll your hips back against his mouth, forgetting the way you were deliciously rolling over the tip of Kuroo’s cock. “Please-“ you’re a mess, begging, pleading for his tongue to fill your ass. Your hands ball Kuroo’s jersey in fists, pulling at the fabric as Daichi finally gives you what you want. Daichi’s tongue slides into the tight hole, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way you clench around him. “Just like that-“ Daichi stiffens his tongue and settles for allowing you to fuck yourself back into him. Your head lays in Kuroo’s shoulder, body weak as you do your best to keep the two men before you happy with your actions.

“Princess,” Bokuto coos from across the locker-room, having found a seat on the bench parallel to you and the other two. His eyes are wide, drinking in your every move. His hand moves languidly over his cock through his shorts, he’s waiting. “I know you’re not getting tired on me already, Princess,” he gives himself a sharp tug, linking his brow as he almost challenges you. “I’m so hard,” Bokuto whines, rolling his head for the dramatics. His head drops as his eyes link with yours once more. “You told me I’d get to fuck you in any position but that’s not fun if you pass out.” Bokuto’s tugging on his cock a little faster and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to pull it out. “Come on princess, you haven’t forgotten about me have you?”

Whether Bokuto meant to distract you or not, it worked. Daichi slid two fingers into your tight hole, scissoring them as Bokuto kept you engaged in conversation. “Fuck baby,” Daichi grunts as you clench around his fingers, sucking them deeper. “I’m gonna add a third,” his lips continue to press heated kisses to your skin, tearing your attention away from Bokuto at the mention of a third finger. “Don’t look at me like that baby,” Daichi finds himself chuckling, easing a third finger in with his other two. “I gotta fuck this hole open for my cock,” he speaks softly, almost as if his words serve as a gentle reminder. You whimper at his words, brows furrowing as you focus on meeting the movement of his hand. “That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Daichi gathers the spit in his mouth and lets it drip onto your stuffed hole. “Hmm, you’re such a good fucking slut,” Daichi’s teeth nibble on your ear, “Always so eager to take cock in any one of your holes,” he spits those words, his statement almost like a slap in the face. “It’s okay though baby, I don’t mind sharing,”

“Would you and could you, hurry the fuck up?” Kuroo’s shorts are now uncomfortably tight and even kissing at your most sensitive skin wasn’t distracting him from how hard he was. “I’m dying up here man!” Kuroo wasn’t usually the whining type, well not in scenarios like this. You could tell the evening was getting to him, especially with the way his cock throbbed against your heat as he watched you fuck yourself onto Daichi’s fingers. “Kitten?” Kuroo’s eyes are swirling with lust, a beautiful dark, warm honey color filling his once bright orbs. “You’re ready right?” His lips press feverish kisses against your collarbones, nipping softly here and there. “I need you so bad kitten,” Kuroo’s arms wrap around your torso, head falling to your chest. “I need to feel you so bad,”

“She’s ready,” Daichi usually ignores the eagerness if the other two, knowing it was up to him to keep things on track when lust would cloud their heads. Daichi pulls his fingers from you, slowly, letting you mewl at the loss of feeling full. “You’ve been so good baby,” Daichi’s hands grab at your thighs, pulling you off of Kuroo. Kuroo uses this chance to free himself from his uniform shorts, shifting slightly as he struggles to get them off. You let out a soft giggle, watching as he almost falls off the bench. “Careful!” Daichi chuckles, his own hands pushing his shorts down until they bunched around his thighs. “Y/N?” Daichi’s breath tickles your cheek, head stopping you as you try to turn to face him. “I want you to tell me if it’s too much alright?” Daichi’s cock slips between your thighs, a harsh gasp leaving your lips as his hard shaft makes contact with your core. “I just want to make sure I’m slick enough,” Daichi’s hands devise a death grip on your hips, pulling you against him. Your lips split over his shaft, slit dripping your arousal on his cock. “Fuck baby,” The tip of his cock catches on your entrance, teasing the both of you. “Hmm, you ready?” Daichi’s tone is an octave deeper, his composure slowly slipping at the feeling of your heat over his cock.

“About damn time,” his question was directed at Kuroo who was now twitching in anticipation of what was to come. “Come here kitten,” Kuroo pulls you into his lap, leaving Daichi to chase the two of you once more. “I’m going to stuff this needy little cunt kitten,” One of Kuroo’s hands is placed on your hip, the other gripping the base of his cock. “Hmm, are you ready for me kitten?” You’re literally dripping at this point, your arousal covering your thighs, your puffy pussy lips, you looked a mess you were sure. Kuroo runs the meaty tip of his cock over your quaking slit before stopping at your entrance. “How long has it been?” You don’t know if he wants an answer or not but he doesn’t wait for one, slamming you down into his lap, cock filling you to the hilt with the one movement. “Shit kitten!”

“K-Kuroo!” You can only whisper his name, the word falling from your lips in a broken cry. “Feels so good,” His cock is so big, so thick, rubbing against your walls in all the right ways. You have very littler energy left but use what you do have to grind yourself into Kuroo’s lap, reeling at the way he desperately clutches onto your hips, willing you to stop, to give him a second. “Daichi?” You look over your shoulder to find your boyfriend fisting his cock to the sight of your pussy filled with another man’s cock. “Daichi!” You whine, shaking your ass at him, needing to be filled to your limits.

Daichi doesn’t say anything, his fingers gripping at your chin to keep your eyes on his as he places the tip of his cock at your puckered hole. “Do it-“ It’s Bokuto, ready to get this show on the road, over and done with, tomato, tomato, he wanted his turn and he was growing impatient. “Fuck her like she deserves,” Bokuto’s taken his shorts off at this point, his spit stained palm running over his shaft, giving him little satisfaction as he watches the way Kuroo’s buried in your pussy. He grunts, squeezing the head of his cock as he imagines your pussy enveloping his shaft, his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy, fucking you into oblivion.

“Oh I plan on it,” Daichi’s slow as he pushes in, stopping every time you wince or grimace. You’re tensing around him and his kisses are doing little to ease the pain. “I’m going to push in all the way, alright?” You give him a small nod, eyes dripping to where the two of you connect, watching his slick shaft disappear as his hips surged forward. “Shit!” You’re gripping him like you never want him anywhere but filling your ass, so warm, so tight. “Baby, baby,” He’s trying to give you a warning, to tell you to calm down before he’s unable to control himself but you’re beyond euphoria.

“Fuck me-“ It’s the only thing you can think of at the moment, the only thing you want, the only thing you need. You’re mind is clouded with lust, almost blank as you accept your position to be used by the two men filling your holes. Your skin is hot, the feeling of Kuroo and Daichi’s jerseys against your skin serving as some sort of relief. You can only focus on the feeling between your thighs, the feeling of being pushed and pulled, split open as two cocks moved in and out of you at a blurred pace. You’re sure you’re screaming by this point, fingers clawing at Kuroo’s shoulders as the two men use you at their will, nothing more than a fuck toy, nothing more than a hole.

Bokuto has to stop touching himself, cock bobbing as he pushes his orgasm back down. “Fuck Princess,” he hates backing down so easily, but who was he to deny such a beautiful request falling from your lips? He’d be a good boy for you any day, wait day and night behind the promise of having you in any position, all to himself. “You like that?” He knows you’re too far gone to even comprehend his question but the way your tongue lolls out, drool dribbling down your chin tells him you’re enjoying yourself. “I can’t wait to stuff you full of my cock princess,” the thick vein that wraps around his shaft twitches at his words, he was a little more eager than he was letting on. “You want that princess? To be properly fucked?” Bokuto couldn’t help himself, he often got like this when it wasn’t his turn to play.

“I think I’m doing a pretty good job,” Kuroo grins, taking Bokuto’s words as a challenge. His hands push at Daichi, replacing the former’s hands on your waist. Kuroo uses the force of Daichi’s thrust, his hands on your hips, and the force of his own thrust to bury himself inside you. This seems to be what you needed as you find yourself convulsing between the two of them, limbs spasming as pleasure washes through the limbs. You’re light headed, both pussy and ass sore against the continued actions of Kuroo and Daichi, each eagerly chasing their own release. “Wouldn’t you say so?” The question is directed to you but all you can see is nod, staring at Kuroo through a blurred vision. Tears well in your eyes, a few threatening to spill as Kuroo continued to fuck into your sensitive core, walls fluttering around his cock as you fight off a fourth orgasm.

It’s too much, you want to cry out, but you know Daichi’ll stop and you don’t want to ruin the moment. Especially when it felt so good, “I’m going to fill this pussy kitten,” Kuroo whispers against your cheek, tongue lapping at the tear that slides over the smooth skin. “You crying baby?” His tone is mock, nearly condescending. “Is my cock that good kitten?” You nearly want to smack him, to call him all kinds of names but the way Daichi’s fingers flutter over your clit sends you into a fourth orgasm of the evening.

Your hips slam down against the two of them, filling yourself with them as you come for the fourth time that night. Your body is on fire, heat stemming from your belly and filling each of your limbs. Your head feels like it’s filled with lead, swaying until it drops against Kuroo’s shoulder. You’re crying, the tears freely flowing down your cheeks, dampening Kuroo’s jersey. “Kitten,” it’s the only warning you receive before Kuroo’s twitching against your walls, painting them with his seed. “Fuck kitten,” he presses a few wet kisses against your heated skin, letting you bask in your post/orgasmic state as he tried to do. Daichi is the one to ruin his plans, pulling you off of Kuroo to have you to himself.

“Hmm, baby, you’ve been a such a good girl,” that has to be like the tenth time he’s said that, not that you’re complaining, you could listen to him call you a good girl all day. “Letting Kuroo come inside that greedy cunt,” that was it, that’s what had set him off. Daichi couldn’t help himself, watching the mess you had become due to the two others. You were his, whether he decided to share or not meant nothing. Especially not the way he folded himself over you, hips pushing against your ass with great desperation. You can feel every ridge, every bump of his shaft, rubbing deliciously against your walls. Daichi almost seems lost, his main goal to empty himself in your ass. You can tell, he has nothing else on his mind besides his release, even as he kisses you and repeatedly tells you what a good girl you are. Your nails dig into the skin of Kuroo’s thighs, grounding yourself as Daichi fucked into you like no tomorrow. “Gonna fill this ass,” he grunts, nails scratching at your skin, pulling your apart from him. His thrust as unforgiving, burying his cock further into you with each movement. “You want that baby? To be filled with cum in both holes?” Daichi’s hips falter before stalling, his head falling into your neck as he lets out a string of curses. You can feel his seed filling your ass, your eyes widening at how much he had to offer. Daichi offers a few more pathetic thrusts, fucking his seed into you before he has the nerve to pull away. This was usually the part where’d he take you into his arms and give you a million kisses, whispering praises as he delivered each one against your skin.

“Fucking finally,” Bokuto doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to wait another second, imagining how awkward it’d be to plant himself in the mix. He picks you up from between the two now completely spent men and brings you back to the bench he had been seated on. “Princess?” He sits so you’re in his lap, he needed to make sure of a few things before he proceeded. “Are you alright?” You almost want to answer no, each of your limbs feeling as if they weigh a ton as you struggle to hook them around his shoulders, opting for a nod instead. “Are you sure?” Bokuto’s fingers are on your hips but they’re twitching to be elsewhere. “Y/N, where are you?” He needed to make sure you were alright and when you give him the answer he’s looking for, he’s flipping you over. He pushes you so your cheek is pressed against the bench, ass high in the air. “You ready princess?” He’s more than eager, running the thick head of his cock along your slit, collecting juices as he waits for an answer.

“Y-yes,” you’re breathless, lungs begging to be filled properly as you inhale and exhale overly shaky breaths. Your body is moving on it’s own, pushing back against Bokuto, looking for more, biting off more than you could chew. Bokuto hums in appreciation, placing himself at your sopping entrance.

“You’re leaking back here princess,” Bokuto’s thumb comes up to stop the mess that Daichi made as your hole pushes it out. “A fucking mess,” Bokuto chuckles, pushing his thumb into your puckered hole. You aren’t expecting the sensation, gasping as you feel him wriggling it around. “You’re so damn fun to play with,” his hips are slamming against your ass, his hand leaving your hip to steady the both of you with a tight grip on your thigh highs. This is what he’s been waiting for, ever since he turned in the gym to watch you pull at them. “Daichi doesn’t know what a good girl he’s got,” Bokuto nearly comes as soon as your walls wrap around him, clamping down on his cock, begging for his load. Sweat quickly builds at his hairline, dripping down his temple as he pushes you halfway up the bench with each thrust, only bringing you back with the hand twisted in the material of your thigh highs. “So ready to take cock no matter how tired she is,” Bokuto stops his moving entirely, eyes moving down to where you swallowed his cock, watching as he slowly brought you back to his hips. “So eager to please,” you were so tight, and so wet, Kuroo’s load adding to the slickness between your thighs. “I’m going to fill this greedy little cunt princess,” Bokuto growls, almost possessively as he picks up his pace again. His hips are merciless as he pushes his cock past your tight entrance, craving the way your walls flutter against him.

“Boku!” You cry out his name, hands gripping at the bench as you can do nothing but lay there and take all he has to offer. “Please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point, for him to let up, for him to go faster, for more, for less. You can only feel his hands on your body, one gripping at your thigh highs to pull you back to meet his thrusts, the other everywhere. He’s pulling at your sensitive buds, pinching them just to hear you squeal. His fingers dance across your shoulders before settling across the back of your neck, pinning you in place for him. This position seems to do the trick, his cock twitching as he watches you. You’re laid out for him, ass obediently in the air as you take his punishment, his pent up frustration.

“Let’s be honest princess,” Bokuto pulls you up so that you’re back is flush against his chest, his hand leaving your neck to trail down your stomach, settling between your thighs. “Only I can fuck you like this,” His fingers are quick as they flick over your clit, your swollen and abused bud. He was right to a certain degree, whether he got you at the end or the start of these hook-ups, you were always a mess around his cock by the end of his turn. “Isn’t that right?” He’s stopped his thrusting, massaging your rough patch of nerves with the tip of his cock as he grounds his hips against your ass. “Princess, tell your cap’n.” Bokuto whispers the next words in your ear and brings his other hand up to cup your chin, forcing you to look in the direction of Daichi and Kuroo. They’re hard again, looking at the scene before them like a predator watches its prey. “Tell him or I’ll stop-“ Bokuto delivers a quick slap to your clit, his chest vibrating against your back when he chuckles at the poor attempt to close you legs. “Tell. Him.” Each word is reiterated with another slap to your clit before he’s rubbing the sore bud once more.

“Daichi,” your eyes are filled with tears, almost appearing starry as the light in the locker-room catches them just right. “Only Bokuto can fuck me right,” you’re reward with your words with another release, Bokuto still rubbing the tip of his cock against your sensitive insides. “Bokuto!” You don’t even pretend to feel bad about the words you had been forced to speak, everyone knowing they were right to a certain degree, especially in times like this.

“Just like that princess,” your thighs shake as you’re forced to ride out your release stuffed full of cock, the pressure right against your most sensitive spot. Bokuto’s fingers don’t stop, his eyes gleaming as he watches you come undone around his cock. Your juices gush out around his shaft, soaking his thighs and abdomen. “Fuck princess,” Bokuto groans in your ear, his fingers only stilling over your clit as his own orgasm washes over him. “So tight. So warm.” He whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel him breathing in your scent, arms wrapping almost lovingly around your torso as he pumps you full of his seed. “Hmm,” he doesn’t want to pull out but he can’t stay like that, especially not when he can hear the excited voices buzzing in the hall.

“Look at you baby,” Daichi’s pulled his shorts back up, moving from the bench to come to your aid. He pulls you from Bokuto’s grip and into his lap, holding you as if you’d break. “You were so good,” he presses a few kisses to your cheeks, wiping at the tears that had managed to escape. “So good,” he motions something behind you, and you hear some shuffling before a shirt’s being slipped over your head and your skirt’s being pulled back up around your waist. “Baby?” Daichi looks from Kuroo to Bokuto before his eyes find yours once more, “Bokuto and Kuroo were thinking about coming back to the hotel room with us tonight, would you like that?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#bokuto #daichi #kuroo #bokuto smut #daichi smut #kuroo smut #karasuno #nekoma #fukorodani #anime #anime smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #400*

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anon-rebel-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

#pro lukamari #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #ao3 #fluff #love confessions #mlb #late night calls #late night #texting #calling #facetime

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thirstystarkey · 5 years ago

Text

Pure Love & Affection 🦋 JJ Maybank

Smutty prompt for jj: slow and passionate sex because though i am a whore i also have feelings 😔👊🏻 (requested by: @kiarascarreras )

JJ was known all around the island for being a intense guy, only a few dared to confront him let alone actually fight him, he had a hard shell only a few could crack but Y/N came out of nowhere into his life like a hurricane, being the new girl in the island automatically drawned JJ to her, at first for something only physically but once he actually got to know her something inside him change. Something twitch whiting his soul, Y/N made JJ feel thing he never got to feel, made him feel love for the first time, made him feel true and pure happiness but the most important part of it was that Y/N gave JJ the chance to be soft.

“Hey! What’s on your head lover boy?” Y/N asks JJ, playfully stealing his red cap from his head as she sits next to him on the dock.

“You.” He answers bluntly looking at her. “I was just thinking about you.” JJ repeats looking out into the river lighted by the moonlight.

“What do I own the pleasure?” Y/N mocked him slightly nesting into his shoulder.

“I missed you.” He whispered into her ear as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m right here baby.” Y/N reassured looking up to his eyes.

JJ nodded his head, coming down to kiss her. Slowly taking his time with her strawberry chapstick scented lips, he licked Y/N’s lower lip in the attempt to win dominance over the kiss, which she was fast to give in, almost melting in his arms. Y/N held tightly into his forearm as his hands started to roam around her waist trying to pull her into his lap but she remembered that their friends were just a feet away drinking around with other local pogues around a fire.

“We can’t..” Y/N moaned into JJ’s lips.

“I can’t wait anymore, I need you now baby.” He confessed in a low whine that sent shivers down her spine directed to her core.

“But what if they catch us?” She asked, already on his lap, both legs around his hips.

“You just gotta kiss me and be quiet like the good girl you always are princess.” JJ said drawing circle figures around her hips, under her dress and above the line where her panties hit.

“You drive me inside.” She whispered sultry into his neck, nibbling at his skin like he liked.

“I fucking love you so much, I can’t never get enough of you.” JJ declared while he dragged his fingers through the soft flesh of her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she needed him, which made her let out a rather loud moan once he finally touched her clothed clit. “Shh, shhh, be quiet.” His words usually came out more dominant and agressive, but this time he sounded sweet and his finger worked some magic on her.

“Fuck JJ.” Y/N spoke barely making a sound as she hid her head in his neck. Only their shadows could be seen of someone paid enough attention. “I love you with all my soul.” She said through kisses on his tanned skin.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, I swear.” JJ confessed while he got a clean look at her eyes, seeing her facial expression twitch once he pulled her panties to the side, lowkey getting cocky over his influence on her body.

Y/N mouth hang open, she wanted to say something but as soon as she felt his fingers moving inside her the only sounds that came out of her pretty mouth were muffled cries, while maintaining eye contact with JJ. His ocean eyes burned on her skin from how intense that was his gaze, it made her feel so loved and seen every time he looked at her.

She knew she was on a thin line, almost coming undone on top of him, so Y/N collapsed down bringing her forehead next to his, their noses brushing against each other and their lips almost touching.

“JJ” Y/N moaned lowly against his lips with eyes closed. “I’m so close.” She warned.

“I know baby, I can feel it.” He cooed her, pushing her hair behind with his free hand before coming down to hold her hip in place again. “Let it go for me, pretty girl.” JJ order lovingly as he felt her velvety walls clench around his fingers, he kissed her immediately for he knew she couldn’t stay quiet.

He rubbed her clit carefully while she rode her high out, before removing his fingers from her. They were glistening in the moonlight with her juices and he was quick to bring them over his mouth and taste them, teasing her with the filthy sight, before he tapped her lower finger with the same fingers and made her suck on them.

“You look so pretty.” He said almost whining. “Always so good to me baby.” JJ praised her, like he would always do.

They stayed in that position for a moment, delighting themselves with each other, telling sweet nothing under the moonlight while their drunk friends partied a couple feet away from the couple. Y/N could feel how hard he was beneath her and it was driving her insane, she craved him, she wanted to feel him. Y/N needed him so made that grinding her hips against him against enough.

“Please baby.” She begged in a broken voice.

“Tell me what you want.” He knew, but still he loved to hear those words come out of her pretty mouth. “I’ll do anything you want me to pretty baby.” He kissed under her chin, running his hands down her bended legs.

“F-fuck me.” Y/N tried her best to stay quiet even though she wanted to scream.

“I wanna make love to you sugar.” JJ look at her, with a sweet expression and a passionate smile. She swore to herself she melted beneath him.

“Make me yours please, I need you so bad.” Y/N said once she heared JJ undoing his belt, she moved slightly to give him space to pull his clothes down a bit.

“Think you got one more in you still, for me pretty girl?” He asked, moving her closer again to him holding her dress over her waist. His hot cock touching her stomach. He wanted to know if she wasn’t too sensitive from her previous orgasm.

She was fast to say yes before he could push himself inside her as she sank on him, slowly for they weren’t in a rush. His hand was wrapped around her mouth on the attempt to keep her moans silent but JJ soon decided to let go and kiss her.

“You always feel so good around me.” He praised her, kissing Y/N swollen lips. “Taking me so well, pretty girl. My good girl.”

“I love you JJ Maybank, I love you.” Y/N said from the bottom of her heart and both of their hips grinded against each other and she felt his cock brushed against all the right places inside her, while she grabbed his face with both her hands.

“Fuck baby, I love you too.” He said, feeling so loved. It was rare. Only happened with her.

“Can I cum, please?” Y/N begged softly and sultry against his lips once he moved one hand between them and began to draw figures on her over sensitive clit.

“Fuck, cum princess. Cum on my cock. Please.” He was so lost in the moment, feeling her so tight on him and so vulnerable in front of him was too much to handle. He could cum by only looking at her at best. Y/N was his soulmate and he didn’t believe in those things.

Her mouth was open but nothing but silent, trapped, moans came out as she came undone on him. Closing her eyes in the process. Her whole body began to shake and JJ made sure to held her close to his body while he caressed her and kissed her. They were so close that for a moment they felt like one person only. He came not long after she did, feeling how tight she was around him always drove him insane.

“Oh my god, holy shit. Fuck.” JJ mumble with his forehead pressed against hers, both sweaty.

Y/N just giggled being to tired to from a coherent sentence. He pulled out, only to hear a discomfort whimper from Y/N due to the sudden feeling of emptiness.

“I wish we could stay like this forever love.” Her voice came passionate and softly. JJ laid back with her, as they watched the river flow calmly along with the serenity of the night and all her sounds, from the crickets and the laughter from the party. It felt like they were on another dimensio, a world of their own only.

“Me too baby.” He kissed the top of her head, bringing her closer (even if it was possible to bring her more close to him.) to his body as he played with a few strings of her hair, curling with around his index finger. “I love you Y/N, I’m completely in love with you pretty girl.”

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #rudy pankow #jj #rudy #jj smut #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank au #requested

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samcrobae · 5 years ago

Text

HEIRESS

Characters: EZ Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex

You make your way into the clubhouse and see Chucky behind the bar. “Hey Chucky!” “Buenos dias senorita” Chucky replies, “templo. They should be out soon.”

“Cool thanks. I will wait here.”

“Need anything? Something to drink?” You turn to see a man in a white T-shirt, muscles practically bulging out of the fabric walk toward you. “Uhhh no, I’m good. Sorry, who are you?” He smiled a crooked smirk, “I’m EZ.. Ezekiel. Reyes.”

“Hm. Im Y/N” You grinned back. Just then the door opens and the boys come walking out. Angel approaches you first “wassup Y/N see you met my little brother EZ.” You get off your chair and head for the table across from you “see you later EZ Ezekiel Reyes”. Coco saunters over to Angel and EZ, Angel raises an eyebrow. “Easy prospect. You don’t want her or the trouble that follows.”

“Why what’s her deal?” EZ asked. Angel wraps his arm around EZ, slapping him hard on his shoulder. “That, baby brother, is Bishop’s only daughter.” EZ closed his eyes and let out a sigh “shit”.

Bishop shouts over “Angel! You think your old man could get an order together for us On the quicks for tonight? I’m thinking cook out at my house”. Angel calls out to bishop “yeah! No problem, let me call him.”

—————————

The music is blaring and drinks are flowing. Bishop on the grill while the club lets loose, drinking and enjoying the night. You were talking with some friends when you spot him. God why is he so sexy? You thought to yourself. “Hey.” He steps beside you, offering you a beer and you take it. “Hey EZ, I’m glad you made it out.”

Bishop spots you from across the yard and notices you and EZ engaged in conversation while you laughed and played with your hair drawing closer and closer to EZ. He watches as you laugh at something he says and then place your hand on his arm. He motions to Angel “Angel, Coco, break that shit up.” Coco snickers as he and Angel make their way over. “Hey Boy Scout my beers a little warm eh?” Coco says. Rolling his eyes EZ goes to grab more beer and Angel follows. “What the fuck bro, you got a death wish man? I told you stay away from her. She’s off limits” “we didn’t do nothing man, just talking.” EZ replies. Angel let’s out a chuckle “yeah well don’t looo at her , talk to her, think about her. And please, whatever you do. Don’t fuck her”.

——————————-

You were in the kitchen cleaning up at the counter when you glance up to see EZ standing in the doorway. “Hey you.” You smiled at him. He walks over to you and turns you around. “What are you doing Ezekiel?” “I been thinking all day about getting you alone.” He places his hands on your waist and you rest your hands on his forearms. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your neck. You close your eyes and let out a drawn out breath as his kiss on your neck sends a shiver down your spine. He comes up and looks at you and you him. “If you’re gonna kiss me Ezekiel, I think now is the time.”

He laughs and leans in and places a gentle kiss on your lips, one hand cupping your cheek and the other making its way up your shirt. You wrap your hands around his kutte and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you let him in. His hands now roaming madly under your shirt. You pull away, breaking the kiss, “Hey, let’s get out of here. Your place ?” He looks over into the living room to see Bishop and the guys all deep in conversation. “Yeah, you take your car. I’ll text you the address.” “K, don’t let my dad see you follow me out prospect.” You give him a quick kiss and head out.

“Excuse me, you uhh mind if I head out? My old man called, needs some help at the shop.” Bishop makes eye contact with EZ. “Yeah get outta here go.” EZ thanks Bishop and heads out. Angel watching him leave all the while. Pulling into the driveway EZ spots your car a few houses down. You make your way to him and he cuts the engine and gets off his bike. You make your way inside and as soon as the door shuts EZ pulls you into him, arms around your waist, your hands on his biceps.

“Just a disclaimer, if your dad finds out we’re here, I’m a dead man. We don’t have to.” EZ rests his forehead on yours. “Well then I guess we better make sure he doesn’t find out”. You retort. He crashes his lips into yours and you meet his kiss. His hands hungrily roaming your body. You pull at his kutte pushing it off his shoulders and he removes it, placing it on the couch. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, watching your hair fall down your shoulders. He lifts you into his arms, your arms around his neck and he carries you into his room. He gently lays you down on bed and hovers over you kissing your cheek, the corner of your mouth, lips, making his way down your neck. Your body was on fire, his lips on your skin felt like electricity. You let out a moan and pull at the bottom of his shirt, “off. Now.”

He gets up and removes his shirt, your eyes falling to admire his toned body. “Come here prospect.” He gets back on the bed and you run your hands up and down his abs, his hands working on the button of your cut off shorts while sucking harshly at your neck and collar bone. His mouth makes it way down to the top of your breasts, where he leaves quick kisses and pulls your bra down. He slowly rolls his tongue over your nipple, the other between his fingertips as he pinches at the other. “Ezekiel... take off your pants”. You could feel your panties were soaked, eager to have him inside you. Getting off the bed he removes his pants and you can see how hard he is under his boxers. He quickly reaches over and pulls your shorts, along with your panties down and to the floor.

He spreads your legs apart, exposing yourself to him, and you suddenly feel completely vulnerable. “Jesus fuckin christ.. you’re gonna be the death of me.” He removes his boxers, and your eyes go straight to his cock. He’s rock hard and he gets back on the bed, and runs a finger down your slit. Your eyes close and you let out a soft whimper at his touch. “You like that?” He whispers in your ear. You nod your head in response but it wasn’t good enough. He shoves a finger inside you and you let out a gasp. “I can’t hear you.” “Yes...” you breathe out. He removes his finger and brings it to his lips, licking your juices off.

You can’t take anymore. You need to feel him inside you now. You sat up and pushed him onto his back. Straddling his lap, you take his cock and run it over your pussy before slowly sinking onto him. You throw your head back and let out a moan as he lets out a breath. “Shit EZ.. you feel so good inside me..” you start to rock your hips into his, finding a rhythm as he hands move to your hips to guide you. “Fuck Y/N. Keep going...” he brings his hips up to meet yours with every thrust and you both pick up the pace. Your hands are you in your hair as you push your chest out and he pulls you down and takes a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck EZ... fuck... yeah like that...” your moans fill the air and after a few more thrusts you can start to feel his become sloppy.. “I’m gonna cum Y/N...shit..”

“Cum for me EZ, fill my pussy up..please...” you feel a tightness in your belly and your breath is unsteady “Ezekiel.... I’m cumming .... fuuuuuck...” you both find your release at the same time. He holds himself still as he felt your walls clench around him , his hands on your back. Your head falls forward and rests on his, both trying to catch your breath. You place a kiss to his lips and come up from on top of him. Laying in his bed under the sheets you find yourselves drifting off into a deep sleep, his arm over your side.

—————————————

Your eyes flutter open as the sun peeks through the curtains.. you search for your phone but can’t find it. You must have left it in the living room last night. You look over at EZ, peacefully asleep. You roll into him, planting kisses along his shoulder. He slowly wakes up and looks at you and smiles. “Hey.” “Hey, we fell asleep...what time is it?” He turns to grab his phone and checks the time “8:30” he replies. “Okay, I gotta pee. Where’s the bathroom?” “Down the hall, last door on the right.” You get out of bed and EZ leans over grabbing a fistful of your ass. You grab his T-shirt off the side of the bed and throw it on as you walk out.

You pass up the kitchen and see Angel in the kitchen, carton of orange juice in his hand and his eyes go wide when he sees you. “What the fuck, bro! Y/N what the hell! You’re gonna get him killed.” EZ comes out of the room. “Angel please don’t tell my dad I’m here.” He looks at the two of you. “Man little bro. Well what are you gna tell him when he asks you where you got like 30 hickies from?” Your eyes go wide and your hands grab your neck. You were so lost in how good his lips felt against your skin you hadn’t realized how hard he was sucking. “Shit!” You run to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

—————————————-

#ez reyes smut #ez reyes #mayans imagine #mayans mc #mayans fanfic

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yangholic · 6 years ago

Text

Hear No Evil | pt. 2

Summary: Two sets of tenants— both living and deceased living together under one roof? Sounds like the plot of a romcom. Mysterious occurrences baffle the married couple as they try to enjoy their summer vacation in their new home, the cause of the disturbances being two dysfunctional ghosts in a love-hate relationship. So what disasters will they newly wedded couple face when one of the ghosts is not only a murderer but a creepy pervert?

Pairing: Chemist!Yoongi x Fem!Reader and Ghost!Taehyung x Ghost!Reader

a/n: be sure to read part one here!

word count: 4.5k

trigger warning: mentions of grief and guilt, smut smut smut smut (dirty talking), BDSM, ddlg, intentional pollution, dysfunctional relationships, cursing/profanity, and crackheadery

It took a few days for you and Yoongi to properly settle into your summer home. Every now and then, things would be misplaced, only for you to later find them in the dishwasher, or behind a pillow. Sometimes, Yoongi would complain about his office being a little too cold for his liking, despite the thermostat never going below a comfortable temperature.

But most of all, the two of you hated that every time you were in the mood, something had to go wrong. Interruptions ranged from the fire alarm going off — despite no presence of smoke whatsoever— to every single bottle of lube mysteriously finding their ways into the trash can. On one hand, you didn’t necessarily mind the constant teasing between the two of you, but Yoongi, on the other hand, was almost at his wit’s end. He needed something, anything, to relieve him of his ache; you.

Yoongi hastily crossed the apartment until he found you relaxing near the living room window. The lamp that hung on the wall gave off a small illumination in the large room, striking the side of your face as you lay there, resting. The night was dark and quiet except for the soft padder of the rain outside, gently tapping on the windows.

Bending his knees, he softly shook you awake earning an adorable pout and cute view of you rubbing your eyes.

“Aww, I’m sorry baby. Were you tired?”

“Mmm…No...” You murmured, reaching your arms for him to hold you. “Not really…”

Yoongi gently threaded his arms underneath your thighs, hoisting you up to carry you bridal style. You leaned your head on his chest, throwing your arms around his neck as he brought you up the steps.

As he placed you carefully on the bed, he turned on both lamps on each side of the bed before joining you. You fluttered your eyes open, before smiling and giggling as his lips attacked your neck. You reciprocated the gesture, placing delicate kisses on his cheeks and lips. Like sweet vanilla, Yoongi devoured your lips entirely, tasting every crevice of your mouth.

“Is it okay if we do it tonight?” He whispered, tugging at the hem of your shirt, signaling what he was suggesting. Your eyes widened for a second, before smiling warmly at him, your fingers coming up to interweave with his hair. You gave him a nod of approval before happily sighing which seemed to melt his normally cold heart. “Y/n, can I tie you up again?”

You gulped at first, remembering the first time he had proposed this idea, yet, remembering how at-ease you felt with how his arms skillfully worked and tied everything together. It was an indescribable experience; tight ropes clinging onto your skin as Yoongi pleasured you. Nevertheless, you nodded to him, ushering him over to the dresser as he rummaged through it.

As you laid there, you listened to the calming patter of the rain and it was if your ears picked up a sweet hum, the calming effect of the rain helping you get into a proper mindset. Yoongi sat you up, your legs bent underneath you. Gentle kisses trailed inside your right thigh, followed by the gentle tug of jute rope, causing your breath to hitch. He threaded the rope around your leg, securing your thigh to your calf with a classic lark’s head knot. Yoongi repeated the motion to your left thigh, and once both legs were firmly secured, he looped the ends of the jute rope into makeshift cuffs, sliding them around your wrists until it fit snugly. Although your legs and hands were immobilized, you instantly felt the comforting, warming sensation that bondage provided. You had been tied up for less than ten minutes and you were already teetering into a state of euphoria, your thighs rubbing together in anticipation.

A breathy whine left your lips, and Yoongi halted his movements momentarily, his hands reaching for the emergency surgical scissors. “Is it too tight, kitten?” You shook your head, to which Yoongi tutted at your blatant disrespect. “Use your words.”

“I’m okay,” you replied meekly. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow expectantly, and you corrected yourself. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

A devilish smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he admired the haziness in your eyes. You were pliant under his touch as he carefully bent you over, your torso awkwardly hinging over your bound legs, although it was not uncomfortable in the slightest. “Remember your safeword, kitten?”

Your response was partially muffled due to being face down in the bed. “Yes, Daddy. It’s mochi,” you replied obediently. Yoongi hummed, apparently content with your eager response.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed as he dragged his hand across your ass before landing a harsh strike on the flesh. You keened in response, mumbling incoherently into the sheets as another slap landed on your behind. Yoongi gave you no time to recuperate as he spanked you thrice more, each one nearing you closer to tears. “You love this, don’t you, kitten? You love letting Daddy play with you, huh?”

You knew Yoongi always demanded a verbal response, but all you could muster was a weak not, words seeming to escape you entirely. One more spank, albeit this one a bit more forgiving, connected with your bottom, and Yoongi inhaled sharply at the blooming splotches of pink he’d left behind. “God, your ass is fucking perfection.”

The overwhelming snug sensation of the jute rope, paired with the abuse you ass had received, left you a sniffling mess. The sensory overload rendered you speechless, your mouth only able to muster something between a whimper and a moan. “Pleeeease, Daddy. I c-can’t anymore.”

Yoongi huffed, breath fanning his bangs slightly. “Anything for my little kitten,” he said, before slipping two fingers inside of you. At first, his strokes were languid, with his thumb lazily circling your clit. Yoongi wanted to draw out the experience as much as possible so that your high would feel even more euphoric.

Soon, just his touch wasn’t enough, and you began to squirm under Yoongi’s experienced fingers. He couldn’t see your pout, but he could sense you were nearing a bratty stage by the way you impatiently rolled your hips. “Quit being a brat,” Yoongi snapped, turning you on your side in the process. Despite your legs being bound, he angled himself so that you were splayed under him.

"Beautiful." He muttered, dragging his fingers through your hair. "Ready?"

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Oh God, ” you gawked, staring at the pair on the bed, both in awe and disgusted at their obscenely pornographic ritual. “Could they be any freakier?”

Taehyung sat on one of the chairs by the dresser, his legs crossed leisurely as he watched the duo in rapt attention. “I think it’s art,” he muttered, studying them while tapping the bottom of his chin in contemplation, his creative instinct apparently triggered.

“Just look at the way she’s sittin’ pretty for him!” Taehyung’s eyes widened, staring at how high Yoongi stretched his wife’s leg. “His technique is pretty impressive, truly a man who knows his craft. I gotta sketch this.” he murmured, making for his sketchbook, before remembering that Yoongi had burned it along with the rest of his supplies. He slouched dejectedly in his seat, a forlorn look etched on his face as he realized he had no way to channel his creative energy. You poked your tongue out at him smugly before leaving the room to find somewhere quiet to spend the rest of your evening.

A good forty-five minutes had passed, and Taehyung’s absence baffled you. Usually, he was glued to your hip, always hovering around you like an annoying gnat. His lack of presence meant he was probably still watching the new tenants as they had sex, causing you to groan. He was selfish, petty, a murderer, and now a voyeuristic pervert. And you only had to be stuck with him for all of eternity.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yoongi huffed as he released his grip on your hips, dropping you onto your stomach as you met the plush bed. With his forehead sweaty and his hair matted, he brushed a hand through, the droplets landing onto the floor. You let out a whimper, your legs still shaking from your first high that night as you felt wet kisses on the back of your neck.

“Don’t get tired on me now, kitten.” Yoongi purred. “Daddy still has a lot in him.”

As you took a look behind you, you could barely keep a steady gaze as you met his eyes. Your ass still stood straight up in the air with wet juices, flowing down your bound legs. With half-lidded eyes, you invited Yoongi into the crook of your neck despite your hands being bound together. There was something serene about being completely powerless as Yoongi littered your skin was bites and love marks. He kneaded your ass again, before running a hand over to soothe his marks.

“Yoongi…” You whined, feeling his veiny fingers trail down your skin. He smirked watching as your body shuddered when his hand grazed a particularly chafed spot. “Hurry…”

“Already, kitten? Daddy doesn’t like impatient girls.”

“But, D-Daddy~” You whined, rubbing your thighs together with hastiness.

A harsh slap met your ass as you jumped, flinching and your body tingling. You backed down, continuing to rub your legs together in a needy manner but lowering your jutted ass from him. Yoongi smiled at your bratty behavior before undoing the ropes and tossing them onto the floor.

With the gentleness of a feather, Yoongi massaged your wrists, thighs and calves, making sure the previously-bound areas received adequate aftercare. Once he was satisfied, Yoongi slipped back into his dominant character, his lips tracing the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, does my kitten want Daddy to ruin her? Would you like that?”

You nodded your head vigorously to which Yoongi just smiled. He grabbed you, unceremoniously flipping you over until you laid flat on your back. You yelped in response as he quickly maneuvered you in one fell swoop before giving you a sly grin. He brought his hands up to the back of your thighs stroking your soft skin as he stared straight into your eyes. Using his hands, he spread your legs wide, licking his lips in pure lustful anticipation. You blushed, turning your head the other way to avoid his direct eye contact and to hide your embarrassment from his predatory gaze. Yoongi leaned forward, locking his hand onto your jaw as he smirked.

“Do you remember to keep eye-contact with Daddy?” You gave a weak nod, earning a tickle under your chin before his hand came up to your throat, lightly exerting pressure. With his other hand, Yoongi inserted his cock, watching as your face contorted into a mix of emotions from the sudden intrusion. You gasped, latching onto the blankets on both sides of the bed. He slowly pushed in, watching as your supple walls engulfed him completely. You let out a long whine, your legs coming together to ease the initial burn and stretch from his reasonable girth.

“You’re doing so well, kitten. Daddy’s proud of you,” he said, rewarding the column of your neck with a more constricting squeeze.

Yoongi readjusted his grip on your legs before slowly pumping his cock in and out, watching in delight as you dutifully focused on his face. After several minutes of easing back into you, you let out a desperate whine.

“Nnnn, D-Daddy…?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“C-Can you go faster, please?”

Yoongi smiled at you, his cheeks sticking out as his gums were displayed for a brief second. “Of course, baby,” he said, momentarily slipping from his persona due to your sheer display of blissed-out innocence.

Yoongi reached down, pressing a gentle kiss which you met as he increased his pace, watching as you panted and whined, pushing at his chest in sudden discomfort. He rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, watching the joining of your bodies where you ended and he began. Your fingertips came up to Yoongi’s back, leaving faint scratches as he continuously thrust into you, earning delicious whines and pants from the two of you. With intense determination, Yoongi thrust harshly on one stroke, receiving a loud whine that echoed throughout the room.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed at your over-eager vocalness, you brought a hand down and clamped it over your mouth. At the sound of your muffled cries, his head snapped from your pussy and up to your face.

His hands came up, releasing his hold on your legs. As he pried at your mouth, embarrassing tears filled your eyes, eliciting a look of concern from Yoongi, which you quickly assuaged with a quick nod, signaling him you knew the safeword when you truly needed to use it.

“I want to hear it. All of your sounds. Do you understand?” Yoongi’s hands returned to your hips, hoisting you up before snapping his hips and beginning a punishing pace with an intensity that rocked your body.

“A-ah! Yoongi!” You faltered, flushing a deep shade of pink. Yoongi continued to pound into you as you struggled to reply back. “I said: Do. You. Understand?” He seethed, laying you back down and coming up to your neck to leave more bite marks.

“Y-Des, D-Daddy.” You replied obediently, flinching as his teeth grazed your skin.

From the thumping of your chest to the ringing of your ears, you could barely process Yoongi’s hundreds of compliments and praises. The only feeling was Yoongi dragging his cock out and suddenly pushing it back through your soaked walls.

You whined again, earning a harsh jerk of his hips as he kissed your chest and caressed your breasts. You shuffled slightly as Yoongi continued to move, filling you completely. Yoongi dug his fingertips into your delicate skin, his erratic breathing indicating he was nearing his end. He ruthlessly connected his hips in an intense rhythm, hot breath trailing over your skin as his movements became less fluid.

“D-Daddy,” you gasped, your body unable to take any more stimulation. “Daddy!” You screamed, unsuccessfully attempting to find purchase from the blanket beneath you. “A-ah! I c-can’t! N-no more...please please please!” The intensity of such your climax was insurmountable, the buildup of unchecked hormones nearly maddening you to tears.

“K-kitten…Be a g-good girl and hold out for Daddy a b-bit longer.” Yoongi stuttered, biting his bottom lip as he chased the building of his own release. There was a chance that he’d be interrupted once again, but Yoongi would be damned if he actually stopped.

Yoongi took your leg, throwing it over his shoulders for a better angle, sinking deep until he hit the perfect spot that made your throat compress tightly as you cried out. You buckled your hips shamelessly, moving with Yoongi in rhythm to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing your own climax. The bed shook as Yoongi lost control, mind strictly focused on reaching his high. Your head fell onto the side as Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp sensation ripping through him as he spilled his hot release inside of your soft walls.

With only heavy panting and gasping, Yoongi slipped out before falling next to, his arms coming you to wrap you in his embrace. His hand came to the back of your head as he stroked you soothingly, listening to your breathing even out and feeling your heart steady back to normal. You nudged yourself into Yoongi’s warm arms, your hands coming up to his chest for support. Your legs intertwined with each other as you basked in each other’s sweat and smell of sex.

There were too many times where Yoongi imagined this scene with you, and as he stared down at you, his eyes softened as you quietly breathed in and out. His eyes widened as the moonlight seeped into the bedroom, glowing on your dewy skin. His movements halted for a second as he gulped, feeling his heart fill up with warmth, wishing he could freeze and capture this moment. This feeling was greater than anything he could have created in his imagination. No daydream could outmatch this feeling and the fact that you were wrapped in his arms. Your dedication and trust in him only made his heart swell in love for you. Grabbing onto the blankets, he threw it over the two of you before securing you once again in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes until the two of you fell into a deep sleep.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You slunk back into the room, thankful that the couple had ended their session and were now cuddled into one another. Taehyung was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at the serene sight. The pair reminded you of you and—

“She’s way too loud,” he stated, earning a pointed glare from you. Nevertheless, Taehyung continued, “I don’t know how this fella handles her yapping and crying. It sounds like this bit is trying way too hard.”

“Can you shut up, Tae,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. The nickname caused the artist to perk up, a devious smile curling at his lips. “I like the sound of that, baby. How about you say it again while I have my dick in your—”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why not,” he pouted, trying his best to soften your cold, undead heart. “I know for a fact that you prefer expressing your climax with the cutest facial expressions,” Taehyung added, scrunching his nose in endearment.

Before you could smack the shit-eating grin off of the artists face, the woman in bed started fussing around. She stretched her arms out towards the dark-haired man, who drowsily pulled her closer to him, the two of them exchanging lazy butterfly kisses before drifting back off to sleep. The familiar, intimate domesticity of the couple painfully reminded you of the life you once shared with your husband, and it didn’t help quell the pain in your heart whenever you thought of him. Where was he? How was he doing? Did he miss you like you missed him? Would you ever see him again?

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss everything about Namjoon.

Your heartache was so unbearable that before you knew it, hot tears had unknowingly rolled down your cheeks and off your chin, creating a small puddle on the floor. A slight sniffle caught Taehyung’s attention and he was quick to join your side, his hands poised in anticipation. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed.

Taehyung flinched, his expression softening into one of worry. “But you’re crying.”

“I know,” you replied assuredly, “because I’m sad.”

“Why?”

Your voice cracked, raw sadness squeezing your chest almost insufferably. “Because I miss him.” You paused, “My husband.” Taehyung grunted, at a complete loss for words. It had been almost a year, and your mind was still on a person who was not him. What more could he do? His next question was detached, cold. “Why do you even miss that sap?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water. “Excuse me? Wha�� How could you say that?!”

Taehyung shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets, “I don’t see why you think he’s the cat’s meow or anything. He wasn’t anyone remarkable, he wasn’t special.”

Hearing Taehyung badmouth your husband— the husband who had been involuntarily incarcerated— caused a surge of anger to shoot through you. Your hands balled into fists as you reeled back your dominant hand to launch a punch which, surprisingly, connected with the side of Taehyung’s face. He looked taken aback that you could even commit such a violent act; after all, Taehyung saw you as nothing more than his delicate, coy muse.

“Don’t ever talk about Namjoon like that,” you snapped, your breath ragged with raw emotion. Taehyung palmed the side of his face, his eyes wide with shock.

“Namjoon meant everything to me, I loved him so much. But you- You fucked it all up. And for what? So I could be trapped here with you?”

Taehyung tried to respond, but you continued on your tirade. “I hate you. I hate you so much. In fact, I will never stop hating you, Taehyung.”

The artist whimpered pitifully, his heart sinking so incredibly low that he felt an inkling of remorse. All he had wanted was to show you his own kind of love— no matter how possessive or unhealthy it might have been.

“I’m sorry.”

What Taehyung said was so out of character that it was enough to momentarily stop your thoughts of Namjoon. You blinked, not sure if you had correctly heard Taehyung’s apology.

“No, you’re not,” you said bitterly, a new batch of tears streaming down your face. At least ghosts couldn’t get headaches from crying.

“I mean it,” Taehyung insisted, his eyes locked with yours, showing a profound amount of sincerity. “I really am sorry.” Your bottom lip quivered at his honesty, “Tae…”

The ghost’s hand trembled as he reached out to hold you, and for the first time, you accepted his touch. You cried into his unyielding chest as you unloaded all your emotions.

“I hate you so much.”

“I know.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

All Taehyung could do was repeat his apology like a mantra, begging to his deity for forgiveness. He felt pain, remorse— the same weighty sorrow that you had endured without your husband— and accepted it, fully.

After your cries had subsided into sporadic hiccups, Taehyung smoothed the hair out of your face, giving you a lopsided, boxy smile. “I know you probably still hate me, but do you know what might cheer you up?” You cocked your head expectantly, waiting for his answer.

Taehyung’s eyes crinkled as his grin reached the other side of his face.

“Pulling a few pranks.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Ughh…” Yoongi groaned as he groggily sat up, his blankets falling from his bare chest. He looked over as your sleeping figure and smiled. With your hair a complete mess over the white pillows and your soft skin shimmering against the morning sun, his heart skipped a beat. He scooched forward, bringing his lips down to his your forehead. “Good morning, y/n.”

You moaned, rustling the blankets as you turned to face him, nudging your head into his chest. With your eyes still closed and stubborn to face the morning sun, you hung onto Yoongi. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you, feeling your soft skin against his own. He pulled you up, the blankets falling from your body and exposing you to the cold morning air.

“Nnn, don’t…” You complained, grabbing hold of the white blankets.

Yoongi giggled, patting the top of your head as you obediently let him stroke your hair.

“How are you feeling? Sore?” He mocked, earning a click of your tongue.

“Shuddup…I feel fine. Hurry up and shower. I’m so tired…”

Yoongi stretched his arms up, letting out a satisfying groan before slipping out of bed. He entered the bathroom, shifting one leg into the hot water in the shower before submerging his entire body under the constant stream. He sighed, watching as water droplets flowed down his stuck strands of hair. He took several seconds of thinking, spacing out before he snapped out of his memories. From his wedding, how you were dressed for his honor, how he was the one to hold your hand during the ceremony, how that kiss seemed so different from the hundreds you had shared.

Yoongi harshly gripped the handle, turning the water off as he exited its warmth, attack by the chilly air on his skin. As he stepped out, steam filled the entire bathroom, fogging up the glass. Yoongi dried himself off with his bathroom towel, walking over to the bathroom mirror. He squinted, rubbing his eyes as if he was seeing things. Did someone leave a message on the fogged up mirror?

‘You’re so loud in bed.’

The condensation that had built up on the mirror displayed that written message. Yoongi stared at the message for a minute, puzzled why you would even write that. He sighed, figuring that you spitefully wrote it because he was known to be an overly-vocal lover. Yoongi rolled his tongue inside of his mouth before scribbling a response of his own on the foggy mirror:

‘No u.’

He brought his towel to his head, vigorously drying his hair off in annoyance before slipping into a comfortable pair of black shorts and a t-shirt. As he opened the bathroom door, hot steam cascaded in into the bedroom before disappearing and fading out.

You still laid in bed, the blanket covering your naked figure, your consciousness lingered in a deep sleep, indicated by your calm breathing and closed eyes. Yoongi walked over to the vanity, combing his hair as he stared at the reflection from the mirror of the bed. He took small steps over, shaking your shoulder in an effort to wake you up.

“Y/n… y/n…”

You groaned, shifting over as your groggily stared up at Yoongi, placing your head on one of his thighs.

“Y/n, it’s not very nice to make fun of me like that, y’know…”

“Huh?” You questioned, your head perking up at the depth of his voice, a sort of sadness and disappointment lacing each word. “Did I do something…?”

“The mirror.” He stated bluntly, assuming you would fess up to your crime.

“The mirror?” You stared up at him confusion, your eyes scrunching and darting from right to left as you processed your brain for any memory involving a mirror. “You mean the dresser mirror?”

“No…” Yoongi huffed, crossing his arms. “The bathroom mirror. You wrote a little message there for me after I finished my shower?” Lost and confused from abruptly being woken up, you stared at him before shrugging it off, muttering incoherently about ‘being too tired to start pranks in the morning’. You tugged the blankets once again, cheerily saying ‘good night’ as you drifted back to sleep. Yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at you as your head hit the pillow and body eased back into a calming slumber.

“Are you ignoring me?”

He was met with silence.

“Are you ignoring me?!” He repeated, only this time a bit louder.

“Jeez... I’m tired, Yoongi. I didn’t do it, okay?” You countered, your voice laced with agitation as the only thing you wanted to do was to go back to sleep and recover from last night’s events.

“That doesn’t make sense, y/n! There’s just you and me. Stop playing dumb, it had to be you.”

“Well, it wasn’t. Good night.” You snapped, burying your head into the pillows, leaving Yoongi with a planted seed of annoyance.

An hour later, Yoongi came bursting through the door of the bedroom, only for you to jump as you sat in front of the vanity, awake and dressed, your brush halting in the middle of combing your messed up bedhead. Yoongi rushed over, placing both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Where the hell did you put my masks?”

“Excuse me,” you glared, visibly offended at his accusation. “I didn’t touch them.”

Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh, as you took notice of his stiff and anxious body language, from the way his back hunched over to his nervous fingers. His breathing was uneven and unusually rough and quick-paced. You stood up from your seat, remembering the time Yoongi had opened up to you, sharing that those masks were one of the only things that gave him comfort.

“Please...Please!” He grit out in frustration. “Just give them back! I need them! NOW!” He cried out desperately, his hands shaking your body in an effort to release his anxiety.

“I don’t have them!” You complained defensively. “I just woke up ten minutes ago. I didn’t touch them.”

“Cut the bullshit, y/n. I can take you playing dumb with the mirror, but not this. You know what those masks mean to me… You know! I trusted you when I told you that!”

“Are you really doubting me? Yoongi, use your head! I wouldn’t do something like that and you know it!” You protested, pushing him off and away from you. Storming out of the room, you entered the cluttered office space, opening and slamming drawers in an effort to find those masks.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It was like watching you and Namjoon argue all over again—only this time, you were experiencing it from an outsider's perspective. Yoongi and his wife bickered back and forth as they scoured the house looking for the surgical masks, while both vehemently maintained their innocence. Although it was mainly the husband who was acting argumentative, his wife was dismissing his concerns. It wasn’t until Yoongi condescendingly questioned his wife’s honesty that you realized the gravity of the situation.

With a hand propped on your hip, you motioned towards the arguing couple, whose frustration was increasing by the second, “See, Taehyung, this is why you don’t do things like that.” The artist shot you a pointed glare, his jaw tensing at your accusation.

“Don’t act like a hypocrite, sweetheart. You were the one who told me to write on the mirror.” Defensively crossing your arms across your chest, you huffed in annoyance, an action which Taehyung found incredibly endearing. “I didn’t tell you to hide their stuff…”

Tae closed the distance between the two of you, his thumb curling under your chin. Your pulse skyrocketed, fearful that the annoying ghost would attempt to kiss you yet again. Thankfully, he redirected your attention up towards the ceiling, familiar swatches of black cloth catching your attention. “Hey isn’t that—”

“Yoongi, you’re a moron. Your masks are up there,” the woman said dryly, pointing towards a beam high on the ceiling. The man in question wordlessly fetched a ladder, grunting at the heaviness of the structure. Once he’d successfully retrieved his masks, Yoongi immediately put one on, feeling an immense amount of comfort at having a barrier around his mouth.

Yoongi awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight between both feet. “I wonder how those got there,” he murmured, voice muffled by the black cloth.

She rolled her eyes, face devoid of any emotion. “Yeah, after I wrote something on the bathroom mirror, I totally lugged that heavy ladder to hide your stupid masks. For a scientist who loves getting the facts, you sure do make a lot of assumptions.” You, Taehyung and Yoongi flinched at the woman’s bitter words, feeling utterly intimidated.

Yoongi took a few steps back before instantly turning around and darting from you to his office, leaving you alone in the middle of the hallway. Taehyung leaned into you, snickering at Yoongi’s flustered reaction,“That broad sure is one hell of a badger.”

A few minutes later, Yoongi came back scrambling out from the office, his phone in his hand as he breathed out heavily. He almost attacked his wife with the phone as he lunged it at her face, frightening her as she took a few steps back.

“Mm sorry…” He mumbled, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at the floor with a burning embarrassment. “Does this forgive me?” His wife stared at the bright screen, her eyes squinting as she tried to decipher the small print of the Delta Airlines app.

“France?” She asked in disbelief and confusion. “Why?”

Yoongi shrugged, fumbling with his phone as he tried to slide it back into his pocket. “I know you wanted to see go to Le Meurice par Alain Ducasse,” he smirked, leaving you slack-jawed at his boastful demeanor.

You stood there baffled as you watched his wife accept his apology, with a trip to France as an added bonus. “The actual hell—” You muttered, your mouth falling open as Taehyung’s arms shot into the air with elation. “Sweetcheeks, they’re leaving! Isn’t that great?!”

“Oh, so great, I’m practically screaming in anticipation.” You replied, your tone dripping in sarcasm. As the couple packed their bags, Taehyung’s eyes locked onto the bottom drawer of the dresser, his mind instantly recalling the location where Yoongi had left the jute rope. “Hey baby, maybe they left their ropes behind. Let’s practice while they’re gone.”

Tae giggled excitedly as he rummaged through the drawer, only to let out a soft whine when he found the contents were nothing more than spare linens. You ignored Taehyung—who was currently begging you to order rope from eBay— and silently bid the tenants goodbye. Sure, they were hornier than a couple of teenagers, definitely mentally unhinged, but they genuinely seemed happy together.

“It would’ve been nice to meet them if I were alive,” you whispered, waving goodbye assuming you knew went unnoticed. The woman turned around, her gaze piercing straight through you, and for a split second, you swore she could sense your presence. But after she detected nothing in the vicinity, she merely shrugged and turned around, Yoongi reaching for his wife's hand, their fingers interlocking as they smiled up at each other. Your stomach dropped as the whole scene played a painful resemblance to the times you shared with Namjoon, hand aching to be held in someone else’s.

Taehyung’s cautious fingers entwined with yours, giving your palm a gentle squeeze. It was innocent, reassuring; instantly soothing away all your distress.

Perhaps the afterlife wasn’t so bad after all.

#yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #bts angst #bts crack #bts fanfiction #suga x reader #v x reader

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loridrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (Part 9)

This is a lemon. We gotta use the citrus scale again.

Dogma and the reader make up for lost time. Reupload because it got taken down ny tumblr. Thanks tumblr.

Over time, (y/n) wounds healed. Slowly, but with Dogma's tentative care, the treatment from Kix, and time, the infection was kept at bay and her once open, bleeding flesh, was now new and pink, though still a little tender to the touch. Not only did her wounds heal, but their relationship grew. They forgot about their petty disputes and quarreling from when they barely knew eachother's names and realized they got along better than they ever expected. Most of their days, they just sat around and talked, holding endless conversations. Today, their conversation lead down a more serious, tender path.

"So." (Y/n) started, not completely sure if she wanted to ask what was on her mind. She was happy with the rather romantic connection they shared, and she didn't want to ruin it with a clear answer, but she had to know. "If we were let out today, would you still like me?"

"Yes. Of course I would." He said kissing her forehead. They sat on the edge of the bed. (Y/n) took the pillow she was holding and set it back at the head next to her.

"Really?" She asked.

"I've had my fair share of crushes and quick, 'I like you while I'm stationed here' romances, but this feels different. It feels like love." He responded, planting a firm yet sweet kiss on her lips making her giggle.

"I love you." She said, kissing him back again.

He leaned into her kiss, capturing and recapturing her lips. Her tongue flicked across his teeth and he chuckled quietly to himself.

He grabbed her face and got a little rough, slipping his tongue in her mouth. She fought back, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving her body towards his in an attempt to get on his lap. He was too strong and pushed her down on the bed. She laughed, trying to get up as he leaned over her. He removed his body from hers, making her think she was victorious until he climbed further into the bed, straddling her as she tried to get up. He pushed her back down, his lips on hers, enjoying her warmth and the softness of her skin before coming up to take a breath. The both of them, slightly out of breath, locked eyes with eachother.

"Is it bad that I really want to fuck you right now?" He whispered.

"I was kind of hoping that that's where this is going." She said, laughing a little nervously, pulling his head down to meet her lips again.

He hummed a deep laugh as he ran his hands slowly up and down her body, his kisses moving from her lips to her neck. He grabbed the hem of her dull, blue pinafore and slipped it off her body, followed by her tshirt then his henley. Kisses moved further down her body, down to her stomach until he reached the band of her underwear which he pulled off once it got in his way.

He looked up at her, making eye contact with a hint of a smile as he palmed her soft mound between her legs. He moved closer to her body, so he could lean forward and kiss her as he played with her. He dipped a finger inside, and felt the rush of her gasp against his lips as he added another. He massaged her slowly, horribly slow and used the heel of his hand to stimulate her clit, making her roll her hips into his grasp, begging for more.

"Hmm. You like that?" He asked, quickening his pace with his fingers. She arched her back biting her lip, only for the moment to be ruined by the sudden loss of Dogma's touch. She whimpered as she watched him slip off his pants, his cock stretching the fabric of his shorts before he pulled them off as well.

"Please don't stop." She cried as he slid one of his fingers into his mouth, cleaning it off.

"I'm just getting started, baby." He growled, popping the other one into her own mouth.

She sucked her juices from him then he grabbed her legs, positioning them around his waist.

He grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip up and down her slit before sliding it inside of her. She let out a cry and threw he head back, wishing she had told him it was her first time so he would be more gentle. Over time they had grown so close, he must have sensed her thoughts.

"Have you done this before?" He asked, stopping. She shook her head no. "Just relax. It'll be great."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her body allowing him to enter her completely.

"Tell me when." He said, bringing a hand down to gently rub her clit as she got used to his size. Her core ached as her body tried to stretch around him. Slowly, the pain went away.

"Ok." She said. He removed his hand, leaning over her, bracing himself on his forearms. The closeness and warmth from their bodies kept away the coldness of the cell. He slowly and methodically bucked his hips into hers. Butterflies filled their stomachs and electricity pulsed through both their bodies.

(Y/n) moaned and turned her head to the side to bury her face in the pillow. He had given her time to get used to him, but the new sensations were still a lot to take in. He filled her up and stretched her out in the most pleasurable way. Each thrust felt better and better and with the pain now gone she was on cloud nine.

His heavy breaths and groans in her ear paired with his warm scent he somehow managed to sustain despite the passing months made her never want to leave him. Not that she had a choice, but if they were given freedom the next morning she'd stay in bed, curl up on his chest and fall back asleep.

"Fuck, you feel so good, (y/n)." His ragged speech brought her out of her trance as her eyes snapped to his. He pushed his body off hers sitting back on his heels and he grabbed her hips to pull her closer. He resumed the rocking and pounding of his hips into hers, bringing his hand down to massage her pussy.

She bit her lip to keep from screaming, letting out a whimper instead and dug her fingers into the mattress. Her mouth drifted open and she made eye contact with him as he fucked her, the both of them drawing closer and closer to climax. His pace quickened, both his hips and his hand moving in harmony with one another sending shockwaves through (y/n)'s body.

"F-fuck, Dogma. I'm...I'm gonna cum." She panted. She cried and moaned as she reached orgasm, her body trembling as it flowed through her. As she came down from her high, Dogma reached his own orgasm, pulled out of her and came all over her body. He rocked back on his heels, smiling at the form of her body, covered in his seed. She smiled and let out a little giggle as he bent down to kiss her.

As he got up and headed for the refresher, he tossed her a cloth to clean up.

"Join me when you're ready." He said, disappearing from the room. She wiped herself up and tossed the dirty rag and sheet from the bed in front of the door to be taken away next time they were given new supplies. She laid out both of their clothes on the bench and jumped in the shower with him.

(Y/n) was drying her hair off with a towel in the refresher when she heard Dogma call for her help from outside. He had already gotten dressed and was tugging at the frame of his bed.

"What are you doing?" She asked laughing. He laughed as well.

"Sex was hard enough on a single bed. Sleeping isn't going to be much easier." She laughed at his shamelessness.

"Ok lemme get dressed first." She said grabbing her underwear and tshirt from the bench. She slipped them on and helped Dogma by pushing the opposite side of the bed. They managed to rotate it so the headboard was against the wall opposite to the bench. They switched to (y/n)'s bed and successfully made one large bed in the middle of the room.

"There we go." Dogma said plopping onto the bed, stretching out his arms for her to join him. It was getting cold at night so he piled all of their blankets on top of one another.

She climbed under the covers that were already warm from his body heat. She snuggled up close to him and he wrapped his arms around her and have her a kiss on the top of her head.

#dogma #clone trooper dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma #the clone wars headcanons #the clone wars imagine #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #imprisoned #imprisoned part 9

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imagine-lovebug · 6 years ago

Note

Hey for that kiss prompt thing could you do a 39 with Peter? Thank you and you're an amazing writer 🕷

Aww, thanks lovebug! I’m glad u like my stuff ❤️ Also, idk why it takes me so fucking long to write these. I’m so sorry.

#39. Spin The Bottle kiss

Word Count: 1.7k+

_____

Peter knew he wasn’t invited because they wanted him there; if they did, he wouldn’t have been invited last minute in gym class because of Ned’s empty promise of Spider-Man’s appearance. If he was wanted there, he wouldn’t have been greeted by a crowd, led by Flash, chanting ‘Penis Parker’ until he was able to fight his way through the hoards of people to the kitchen. If he was wanted there, Liz wouldn’t have grimaced and avoided greeting him when they made eye contact at the kitchen counter. She just grabbed one of the lukewarm cans of Bud Light and stalked off to find some of her real friends to talk to.

Peter had never had alcohol in his life, save for the one time Tony made him try a sip of his whiskey; his face had screwed up and he stuck his tongue out, gagging at the harshness of the bitter drink as it slid down his throat. Tony just laughed and patted him on his back, “You’ll get there eventually kid,” he had said, “and you better not tell your aunt about this, or I’ll be in major trouble.” So now, as he stood in Liz’s kitchen, seeing nothing but beer and varying bottles of liquor, he felt stuck. Classmates perused the selection around him, grabbing miscellaneous cans and pouring unknown liquids into red solo cups. Many chose to fill theirs with a mysterious concoction from a giant mixing bowl.

“Eyyyy, Peter,” Ned draped a thick arm over Peter’s shoulders, “you gotta try the punch, dude. It’s crazy strong.”

“I don’t know, man,” he worried.

“Nah, dude, it’s fine. Try mine,” he offered insistently, shoving the cup into the boy’s face, “try it. Just have a sip. Taste it.” Peter took the cup into his hands hesitantly and raised it to his lips, the scent of it invading his nostrils. It smelled like an existential crisis; the drink had no idea what it was or what brought it to existence— regret in liquid form. The taste, however, was nowhere near as bad. It reminded him of the time he emptied an entire packet of sour skittles into his mouth; overwhelmingly sweet and fruity but also tangy and stung his mouth a bit. He poured himself a cup and followed Ned into the lounge.

The populars milled around in small clusters on the carpet, all the girls giggling and leaning all over each other as Flash tried to gain everyone’s attention.

“Yo,” he exclaimed into his microphone, “we gotta play some Spin the Bottle. There’s not enough action in here.”

“We’re fine, Flash,” Liz responded, her filled in eyebrows furrowed, “You’re just salty you’re not getting any.” Her friends all snickered at her comment but voiced their disagreement, nonetheless. “Actually, girlie,” Peter leaned to try to see over the shoulder of one of the football players, but his attempt was futile. He didn’t need to see, however, to know that it was you whose angelic voice had spoken out against Liz. “I don’t know who made that jungle juice, but it’s strong as fuck tonight and Spin the Bottle sounds kinda fun right now. ” Hums of agreement came from his classmates. And with that, the shuffle commenced.

Peter had never seen his classmates move so in sync before: groups of spectators moved to huddle on and around the couches in Liz’s living room, a circle of participants arranged themselves on the crumb-ridden carpet in a gender-alternating order; people without spaces lined the closest wall to the action. The few boyfriends in the room had pulled their girlfriends close in a protective manner. Girls were strewn over each other’s laps, others sat on the floor against their friend’s knees. Flash worked on turning the music down, allowing the quiet conversations that were once drowned out from the sound to emerge. Peter stood a few feet from the kitchen doorway, amazed at how you had so much power over his peers that you could alter the entire atmosphere of the room with a simple statement. What he hadn’t noticed was that since everyone, including Ned, had found their new residence in the room, Peter stood out like a sore thumb.

“Yo, Penis Parker” Flash called for his attention, “you sitting down or what?” He looked around desperately for a spare space to stand, searching the crowd for his best friend; Ned was locked in place, however, sat on the couch furthest from him with people surrounding him, some seated to his sides, others perched on the arms or pleated back of the sofa.

“Come on, Parker,” you ordered sweetly, “we need another boy between Cindy and Sara anyway. Join us.”

“That’s my spot,” Flash argued dejectedly, but stopped once he noticed the many glares that were shot his way. Instead of fighting it like his mind was telling him to, Peter stumbled his way over to the two girls, a tight smile of discomfort crossing his lips as he lowered himself to sit crosslegged. The red solo cup felt heavy in his hand and, without a second thought, he raised it to his lips to gulp down as much of it as he could. The effect was almost immediate and the taste of skittles flooded his system, the rainbow coating his brain making him feel a rush he’d only ever felt while soaring between skyscrapers as his alter-ego.

Sixteen of them were settled on the plush area rug of the living room, and Peter allowed himself to scan each of the participants as the rounds went on. They were all pretty, boys and girls alike, and they were all part of the popular crowd— save for him, of course. His eyes dragged over each of the girls, taking in their low-cut tops and flowing hair, the tipsy smiles and hooded eyes plastered onto each of their faces. He saw Liz. If you had asked him two hours prior, he would’ve said she looked amazing— she still did —but after their not so pleasant interaction in the kitchen, he didn’t particularly like her anymore, and he definitely didn’t want to kiss her.

And then his eyes fell to you. He always thought you were pretty, ever since you met in second grade. You were nice, unlike the majority of your friends, and actually talked to him in school. You gave him your notes in chem when he was ‘sick’ for the week, aka when he was in Germany with Mr. Stark, and you’ve let him copy your homework countless times when he’d forgotten to do the assignment after parol. The wide smile that graced your face, tongue protruding slightly from between your teeth, made a burst of warmth flood his chest and the corners of his lips turned up. He couldn’t help it, your smiles have always been infectious to him. And he kept looking at you, even as you turned to him with an expectant look on your face, your lips mouthing something.

“Peter,” you repeated, waving a hand out to gain his attention. He shook himself from his daze, looking around the circle to find everyone staring at him, anticipatory looks on their faces. Oh shit. “It’s your turn, Parker,” said Sara from his right.

“Right, right, right,” he mumbled, “course, yeah.” The empty beer bottle laid on its side in the centre of the circle on a magazine ‘for optimal spinning,’ as Flash had explained. Peter let out a shaky breath as he leaned up onto his knees to grasp the glass in his hand. This is it, he thought, I’m committed now. Whoever this lands on will be my first kiss. He didn’t move. His hand didn’t leave the bottle. He just stayed there, propped on his knees, hovering over it with wide eyes and a worried look on his face.

“Hey,” you said gently, pulling his attention from the bottle to your eyes, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Groans of disapproval radiated around the room.

“So I had to kiss my fucking ex but he doesn’t even have to spin,” he heard a boy say to his right, “fucking unbelievable.”

“Harry,” you cautioned, your voice much harsher than when you were talking to Peter, “back the fuck off, yeah?” The jock just rolled his eyes and sat back in his place silently.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll do it,” Peter blurted out, trying desperately to diffuse the tension that had emerged in the room. With closed eyes, he took a deep breath and let it spin. Truth be told, he had twisted it a bit too hard, his super strength emerging with his anxiety, and he watched it with wide eyes as it spun and spun and spun until it slowed down, and then slowed to a stop.

“Hey,” you whispered, and his eyes traced the neck of the bottle up to you, “You sure you want to do this?” God yes, he thought, I’ve wanted to do this since the second grade. ”Uh, yeah, yeah this is fine.” The room stood still as you shuffled forward towards him, your ripped jeans sliding easily across the shaggy grey rug. With Peter sat back on his heels and you raised up on your knees, your towered over the boy. His nerves radiated from him in waves and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he made himself raise up onto his knees to match your stance. With a burst of courage, he pulled one hand up to cup your jawline softly letting his thumb trace along your cheek and his other fingers spread across the side of your neck.

“You gonna kiss me or what?” you whispered softly, a teasing yet delicate smile crossing your lips. The corners of his lips turned up to match yours, like always, before he sighed jokingly, “you can’t rush me!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” your twinkly laugh invaded his ears and he swore in that moment he hadn’t heard something so beautiful, “take your time.”

“Okay, this is cute and shit,” Flash interrupted, “but can you guys hurry the fuck up so we can keep playing?” Peter rolled his eyes, making yet another giggle erupt from your lips, drawing his eyes to them.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, almost too quietly for you to hear let alone anyone else. And with a slight nod from you, he leaned in. It wasn’t perfect— the slight clashing of noses, him forgetting to breathe beforehand, and the slight battle of trying not to grin —but it was close enough to perfect for him to want to do it again and again and again. Luckily for him, you did too.

Taglist : @ptersparkers // @lousimusician // @stephie-senpai // @flirtypeter // @stuckonspidey // @lostparker // @dej-okay // @somethingtoavenge // @shadowsingeraxolotl // @demonsintheair // @parkeroffline // @thegirlwiththeimpala // @btsgot7crackheads

If you wanna join my taglist, just msg me!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine

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fyeahbecachloe · 6 years ago

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the one where beca doesn’t like dogs (3/?)

Beca/Chloe Rating: T Word Count: 1967 Summary:What looked like an emaciated wolf was currently lying on her floor glaring at her. Eyes wide, Beca stood there frozen afraid it would attack her.

Beca doesn’t like dogs but she’s dating a veterinarian so she’s pretty much screwed.

READ ON AO3

True to her word, Chloe did take full responsibility of MJ over the next few weeks. She took him to work every day and brought him back when she was finished. Depending on their schedules, sometimes Beca was home before them and sometimes she came home late to the two of them cuddling on the couch. On the weekends, Chloe would take him to the park or play with him outside. Beca barely had to worry about him.

Except for his fur. Huskies, Beca found out, shed. A lot. Now that MJ’s fur has almost fully grown back and he gained back his weight, he was shedding like crazy. Beca would find tufts of fur EVERYWHERE. She had taken to lint rolling herself every day before leaving work. Chloe, of course, promised she’d sweep and vacuum the house on a daily basis which Beca protested to right away

“You’re my girlfriend, not my maid I can clean up after the giant fur ball. That’s why god invented swiffers.”

It amazed Beca how much fur can accumulate in just one day. MJ looked at her curiously every time she brought out the vacuum. She had thought, like most dogs, he would be scared of it but he just followed her around while she ran it over the few carpeted areas they had in the house. MJ was very curious about the detachable hose.

“Yes, dude, I’m getting rid of all of your fur,” Beca told him as she used the hose extension to vacuum the couch. She playfully aimed it at him and to her surprise; he rolled onto his back presenting his belly. Beca looked around to see if she could get Chloe’s attention from the other room but she was nowhere to be found. “What?” she asked the dog but he just stared at her, upside down, with his tongue sticking out. Beca looked down at the vacuum extension and then started going over his belly with it and pretty much vacuuming him. MJ’s tail started wagging like crazy.

“You’re such a fucking weirdo.” Beca was laughing as she continued to vacuum his belly.

“Are you vacuuming the dog?” Chloe’s amused voice came from the other side of the room.

Beca smiled. “Yeah, sometimes you just gotta go to the source.”

“I’m taking tomorrow off. I’m exhausted,” Chloe announced after she finished getting ready for bed. She climbed in next to Beca who had her laptop with her working on some last minute things. MJ was already in his own bed on the floor next to theirs. Beca had given up on the whole “no dogs in the bedroom” rule because it seemed like it was the only thing Chloe said that he refused to follow. It was fighting a losing battle. The only real time they kicked him out was during sex because having a dog in the same room you were having sex in was very very weird.

Beca looked up from work as Chloe cuddled up next to her rubbing their bare legs together. “Perfect timing since I will be working from home tomorrow.” She saved the file she working on and then shut the laptop close. She set it aside on her table and moved closer to Chloe, very aware of the leg that was now moving between hers.

“Yay, I get to spend the whole day bugging you while you work,” Chloe said as she lazily traced her fingers against Beca’s back, lifting her shirt to feel skin. Beca shivered.

“Babe, you’re about to start something you can’t finish.”

Chloe gasped in faux offense. “Who says I won’t finish? Or you won’t?” She grinned and moved her thigh up, pressing against Beca’s center.

Beca sucked in a breath and grabbed a hold of Chloe’s hips to stop the beginnings of a grind. “Chloe, you’re two seconds from falling asleep. Don’t pretend you haven’t fallen asleep in the middle of sex.”

Chloe laughed and removed her leg but pulled Beca closer. “For your information, Beca Mitchell, I fell asleep shortly after sex. Not during. Stop ruining my reputation and spreading false rumors.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to Beca’s lips and reached over to turn off the lamp. “But yes, I am sleepy, so stop talking, you’re keeping me up.”

“You’re so annoying.” Beca turned around and let Chloe spoon her from behind. She took Chloe’s hand and put it under shirt and over her stomach.

“Do you need a belly rub, too, Bec?”

“Shut up, oh my god. Go to sleep, you’re keeping the dog up.” And on cue, MJ made an annoyed grunt. “See? Go to sleep, dog!”

Chloe started drawing circles around Beca’s belly button and smiled against her shoulder when she felt the muscles twitch under her finger. “He has a name, you know? How would you feel if I called you ‘woman’ all the time?”

Beca snorted. “You call me that every time I do something you find annoying.” Of course it was always in jest.

“How hard is it to refill the Brita pitcher?”

“Go to sleep, Chloe.”

“You forgot to refill the pitcher again, didn’t you?”

“I’m leaving you.”

Chloe kissed her shoulder. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

Beca started her days a lot later when she was working from home. She was awoken up in the most wonderful of ways with Chloe’s head between her legs and bringing her to an orgasm in her waking moments. She was just catching her breath when Chloe replaced her mouth with two fingers and made her come again while smirking at her.

“That’s for being so goddamn annoying last night,” Chloe winked before going to the bathroom.

Beca laughed and looked down to find where Chloe put her shorts and underwear. “Babe, where are my clothes?” The shower turned on.

“You don’t need clothes when you’re about to shower with me!” Beca quickly ran to the bathroom while discarding her last item of clothing. Chloe was already in the spacious shower and she stepped in and was immediately pulled into a kiss under the hot spray.

“Wait,” Beca said pulling back. “Where’s the dog?”

Chloe’s eyes grew comically wide. “Are you seriously thinking about MJ when I’m about to give you your third orgasm before 9 o’clock?” Beca opened her mouth to retort but realized she got nothing. “He’s in the yard, Bec.” Her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“Oh, right, duh.” She nodded and gestured for Chloe to continue.

Chloe grinned and backed Beca into the shower wall and then sank to her knees. “Hmm,” she mused and lifted Beca’s leg so it was over her shoulder. Beca gripped onto the railing that she may or may not had installed customized for situations like these. She wasn’t keen on finding “sustained fall in shower while having sex” on any hospital discharge papers. Chloe made sure Beca had a proper grip. “I’m trying to figure out when I turned you into a pillow princess. I mean, 3 to 0 really isn’t fair.”

Beca’s snarky retort died on her tongue because Chloe’s was on her clit. God, her girlfriend was annoying.

After her very blissful morning, (which she did reciprocate, she was not a pillow princess, thank you very much) Beca was in her in home studio working on one of her many ongoing projects. She preferred working from home because it was more relaxing and her creative juices flowed more. And working in her pajamas was a bonus. Double bonus when Chloe was home with her and her distractions were a welcome.

Beca was approaching 3 hours of nonstop working while Chloe caught up on all her TV shows she didn’t have the time to watch. She didn’t even realize it was nearly lunch time until she saw Chloe in her peripheral leaning against the door of her studio. Beca pulled the headphones down from her ears.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

“Well, I was going to make us lunch and then opened our fridge and pantry and realized we haven’t gone grocery shopping in forever.” Chloe walked into the studio and stood behind Beca’s chair and was already massaging the knots in her neck. Beca let out an appreciative moan. “I’m going to make a grocery store run to pick up essentials for lunch and dinner tonight. Will you be okay with MJ for a couple of hours?” Hearing his name, Beca heard the pitter patter sounds of MJ’s paws against the hardwood floor as he trotted into her studio. A space he knows he’s not allowed in but he sat down next to her chair anyways.

Beca narrowed her eyes at him but he just gave her the same look back. “Yeah, I’m sure I can handle Cujo for a couple of hours. Go get us some sustenance, please.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair and gave Chloe a goofy upside smile.

Chloe leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Okay, be good.” She leaned down and kissed MJ’s head too before leaving the studio.

Beca frowned as she watched Chloe walk down the hall. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”

“Both!”

MJ barked the same time Beca yelled “Rude!” He followed her to the back door before looking out the front window as Chloe’s car pulled out of the driveway. MJ let out a little whine as the car disappeared down the street. “Dude, she’ll be back. I think you’re becoming a little codependent.” He grunted at her before returning to his tennis ball.

Beca got back into a stride for a good 30 minutes when she felt a weight in her lap. She looked down and saw MJ had placed his head on her lap and looked up at her with what could only be described as puppy eyes.

“What’s up, dude?” She unconsciously scratched the back of his ears the way she’s seen Chloe done a hundred times before. His tail gave a half hearted wag. Beca resumed work and she continued to pet his head but MJ let out a high pitched whine and was still giving her the same look.

“What?” Beca furrowed her eyebrows, not quite sure what to do. “Chloe will be back in a little bit, I promise.” But MJ just made a grumbling noise, sat down, and stared at her. He whined again and then barked. “Dude, what? I don’t speak dog.” MJ almost looked annoyed before he got up again and this time tugged on the bottom of Beca’s pajama pants with his teeth. He looked at her again and then headed for the door and sat down.

“Do you want me to follow you?” MJ’s tail started to wag when Beca finally got up and he turned around to walk towards the living room with Beca following him. He led them to the couch and then laid down by it.

“Okay now what?” Beca asked him and then he began to paw under the couch. “Is there something under there?” Beca knelt down and looked under the couch and laughed. MJ had pushed his tennis ball under the couch and couldn’t reach it. She had to lay completely on her stomach to retrieve it and MJ copied her actions. When she got back up, Beca handed the rescued tennis ball for him to take.

“You must be the dumbest smart dog ever.” MJ barked appreciatively and took the ball from her. “You want to play fetch with that outside?” But MJ was already waiting by the French doors that led to the backyard. “I’ll take that as yes.” Beca took the ball from him before opening the door and he ran outside.

“Okay, MJ, go fetch!” And Beca threw the ball across the yard, smiling.

#bechloe #beca x chloe #my fics

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years ago

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 43: An Internship of Fire and Ice

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

While she hadn’t received as many offers as, say, Toshi or Katsumi, Izumi had had enough that she could have had her pick of Heroes to intern under. Her grandfather’s former sidekick Burnin’ had been the highest ranked of them and the ice-wielding Thriller-Chiller had not been far behind her. They or others she had received offers from would all have been fine mentors. But while all of them would have had something to offer in turns of wielding fire or ice, none of them would have been precisely what she needed.

Unlike many Emitter Quirks, which loosely obeyed the laws of physics in terms of at least requiring personal energy to function, Izumi’s Quirk functioned very differently. She did not “make ice”, but instead absorbed heat, which she could turn into fire, had to turn into fire eventually. Her training from her father and at U.A. had helped her strike the balance she needed in these abilities and her regulator rig helped as well, but she still needed further practice in making certain she did not exhaust herself or ruin her body in using her Quirk.

She needed someone who understood that. Someone whose Quirk came with drawbacks of its own, that had to be circumvented and navigated around.

That had brought her to the GrapeBolt Agency, the agency co-owned by her Uncle Denki and Minoru Mineta. Neither of them were ranked above One Hundred in the Hero Charts, with Uncle Denki being Number One Hundred Twenty and Grape Juice being ranked One Hundred Nineteen. Given the number of Heroes currently active, those were still highly respectable numbers, but not exactly star makers. Grape Juice was notable, however, for being the fifth most popular Hero with children under eight, after Uncle Izuku, Lemillion, Aunt Tsu, and his wife, Rodeo.

“So anyway,” Uncle Denki said, waving a hand expansively, “this is the break room. Got a fridge, microwave, everything. Even a toaster oven. But we usually get take out for lunch, if we’re not out on patrol.”

The Agency was a small one, all things considered, but still moderately successful. Outside of Uncle Denki and Mister Mineta, it only employed a pair of sidekicks and a couple of secretaries. Mister Mineta himself handled the books, as Uncle Denki was very bad with managing money.

“You’ve really got to stop ending the tour here, Denki,” Mister Mineta said. “Why even have a tour? Not like we have that many rooms.”

Uncle Denki just laughed and grinned. “Not every day my favorite “niece” comes out for her first Internship! Gotta do something special for it!”

Izumi bowed her head slightly. “I am thankful for the opportunity, Uncle Denki.”

He gave her another grin. “You’re gonna be a star, kid, trust me on that one. We just gotta set you up for success.”

There was a small TV suspended from the ceiling in the breakroom, and it was turned to a local station, where a news bulletin broke in.

“We interrupt this episode of “Mount Lady In the Morning” for a special news report. We’re receiving reports from Yaveen City where the Villain Terri-Bull is engaged in a standoff with local police, following a bank robbery. Fortunately, the Number Seven Hero Rodeo is on the scene to engage.”

Next to Uncle Denki, Mister Minta’s face lit up with a proud smile. “Go get him, honey,” he said quietly.

***

“Okay, I’ve got an idea about what I want you to try,” Uncle Denki said. His Agency was small enough that it did not have its own training room, but fortunately, many municipalities offered government run facilities smaller agencies could use. He’d taken her to one such place while Mister Mineta took the sidekicks out on patrol.

The room was wide and long, but otherwise empty. He’d requested that all targets and obstacles be turned off for the time being.

“So,” Uncle Denki went on, “my problem is that I can’t put out too much energy and I can’t take in too much energy without wrecking my brain. Chihiro’s got the same problem. I taught her what I could, and she’s a lot better than me at it, but her limit’s a lot lower too.”

Izumi nodded. Her friend rarely damaged herself in quite the same way Uncle Denki did and when she did, the results rarely lasted as long. But it was still a risky she took when she employed her Quirk. Chihiro was interning with her mother, who was working with her on ways to use her Quirk that did let her put her electrical energy to other uses.

“But you’re a little different,” Uncle Denki went on. “Basically, you’re moving energy from one spot to another. Heat out, heat in, heat out again.”

She nodded again. This was nothing she did not already know, but it was good to go over the facts. Uncle Denki was obviously having what Aunt Kyoka called a “good day,” because he was making a lot of sense.

“And you’ve got the regulator rig Yaomomo and Mei designed for you, that stores some of that heat so you don’t have to worry about holding onto it. But I think that’s part of what we need to look at.”

He waved hand in front of her. “Okay, so you’re gonna make some ice for me. Maybe a cube or something? Unless you’re into ice sculpting. By all means. You do you.”

Another nod and she pointed a hand towards the ground, drawing the heat into her body, leaving behind a perfect thirty centimeter by thirty centimeter cube of ice, solid all the way through. She could feel a warmth spreading through her, the heat she’d absorbed the make the ice. It didn’t hurt, not yet, but she could feel it underneath her skin, growing warmer the longer she held onto it. Without her regulator rig to pull it out, she would need to dispel it on her own before it forced its own way out.

“Okay,” Uncle Denki said. “So you’re holding onto a lot of energy right now. Just like me when I absorb a big jolt. But instead of letting it all out at once, or even letting a little out from a fixed point, I want you to concentrate. Focus on all that heat.”

She closed her eyes, mentally picturing the heat inside her, a warm, orange-red glow suffusing her entire form. It flickered and pulsed with her heartbeat, growing steadily stronger and brighter.

“Now,” he continued, “I want you to slowly… slowly… slowly… release all that heat, all through your body. Picture it just slowly flowing out of you.”

Her eyes still closed, Izumu focused further on the heat, picturing it passing through her body to the outside. In her mind, the colors representing the heat flowed, layer by layer, until they were outside her body. And she could feel it leaving her, but there was no flicker of flame, just a feeling of warmth, like standing in the bright sun.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the rush of heat was gone. Izumi’s eyes snapped open.

Uncle Denki gave her a thumbs up and a big grin, though he looked a bit flushed. His hair no longer stood up at odd angles and was damp and plastered to his head. “Not bad, kid,” said. He checked the thermometer he held in his hand. “Though you raised the temperature in here by a good five and a half degrees putting that all out.”

Izumi realized she was sweating significantly, which was not something she normally did. She also felt a tiredness deep down to her core, her breathing coming in long, slow gulps of air. It was only with a concentrated effort that she remained on her feet. “I am sorry,” she said, feeling her knees starting to give out.

Fortunately, Uncle Denki was on the ball, quickly moving to her side and letting her lean on him. “Hey, no apologizing. If I had a yen for every time my Quirk backfired, I’d have… a lot of yen. Maybe not as much as Kyoka’s last album sales, but still a lot.”

She shook her head, clarity slowly returning to her thoughts as the moment of weakness passed. “I may have been successful… but I doubt I could do that in the field. It took far too much out of me.”

“Hey,” Uncle Denki said. “You listen to me. You’re not going to get everything right the first time. You did something different today… And you keep trying it, you’re gonna get better. I just know it.”

It was a nice thought, at least, though Uncle Denki had always been incredibly optimistic. But in this case he was also right. She’d done something different with her Quirk, managed its needs without unleashing terrible flames. If she could learn to diffuse her heat like that when she needed to, then she could increase her utility many times over.

It was one more step towards being a Hero.

***

Foot patrol was an interesting experience. Bother of her parents did it, albeit on what she understood to be an irregular basis. Nearly all Heroes patrolled to some extent or another, some more than others. For some, that might be flying over the area around their Agency. Others, like Cellophane, might swing from building to building. Others would walk the streets and interact with the citizenry. Uncle Izku, she knew, made an effort to interact with people on the street whenever possible, despite the demands of his position as the Number One Hero.

Her father, she knew, like herself, had great difficulty interacting with people. The internet was full of “Shoto Interview Follies” (Though that was a significantly smaller number than the “Chargebolt Screw-ups”, which she considered to be a bit mean spirited.). His Agency had, at Mother’s insistence, a large and highly dedicated PR department. Though she personally saw little wrong with the answers he gave.

Uncle Denki, though, was firmly in the category of interacting with the people. And he was good at it, speaking easily with everyone he met. She envied that. She had her friends—Katsumi, Shinji, Toshi and the rest—but words did not always come easily to her, and her skills in reading people were practically nonexistent.

“Stop him! He’s got my purse!”

Izumi followed the sound of the voice and saw a young man, probably only two or three years older than her, racing down the street, a woman’s purse in his hands. He seemed to be… riding on a trash can lid? The lid was glowing faintly, letting him float a few inches off the ground, yet propelling him with at least as much speed as a skateboard (Chihiro had been obsessed with them for a few months, before a regrettable leg break.). Some kind of magnetism, perhaps? Or low-level telekinesis?

Regardless, he was a criminal and in need of stopping. And since he was using his Quirk in pursuit of his criminal endeavors, he was already taking a step towards becoming a Villain. That his Quirk was not directly harmful would likely lessen the charges, but it would not go well for him regardless.

“May I?” she asked.

Uncle Denki shrugged, though she could see faint sparks dancing around his skin, likely just in case she proved incapable. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Izumi nodded and pointed, raising her hand up as she conjured ice. In an instant, a wall of ice sprung up directly in his path, too late for him to turn. He slammed into it, hard, bounced off, and well to the ground.

“…Or knock him out, that works too,” Uncle Denki said.

Izumi checked the regulator band around her right wrist, the lights still blinking a soft green. Nothing to worry about for now. But she could still feel that heat, and she concentrated, pushing it out, this time picturing it more like a cloud of steam from a kettle. She directed it, and it was enough to cause the ice she’d called to melt.

It hadn’t felt nearly as bad this time either.

“Getting better,” Uncle Denki said, giving her a thumbs up.

Maye she was at that.

***

Uncle Denki had insisted that Izumi come home with him, rather than bunking at the Agency. He had explained that if he did not, Aunt Kyoka would kill him, at which point, being left to raise their three children alone, she would have to bring him back to life, just so she could kill him again. Izumi was reasonably sure he was exaggerating, but Aunt Kyoka’s temper was quite legendary.

Regardless, she enjoyed their home, which was next to Katsumi and Toshi’s, and also Chihiro’s younger siblings: younger brother Reo and younger sister Hikari. Chihiro was a dear friend, but it was clear that Reo most took after their mother in the intelligence and common sense department, though Hikari had somehow nearly convinced Uncle Denki that eating dessert first was now the classy thing to do, before Aunt Kyoka intervened with an admonishment not to take advantage of his idiocy. Uncle Denki had only put up a token protest that he was not an idiot.

Lying in the guest bed, she noticed a text from Katsumi on her phone.

Katsumi: You up?

For a little while longer.

Katsumi: Today was rough, Izz.

Please, tell me about it.

Katsumi: I was out on a rescue with Aunt Ochaco. Saw a guy die. Right in front of me. Couldn’t do a damn thing. He was already dying by the time I got there.

I am sorry. I cannot imagine what that must have been like. Are you all right?

Katsumi: Yes.

Katsumi: No.

Katsumi: Yes.

Katsumi: I don’t know.

Do you wish to talk about it?

Katsumi: Iz, when have I ever wanted to talk about my feelings?

Katsumi: Don’t answer that.

Katsumi: I mean, I know there’s nothing I could have done. But I still feel like shit for it.

I am sure that you did all that you could. I would never expect anything less of you.

And I am sure you will try all the harder to save whoever you can.

You are strong, capable, and determined. But you must also sometimes be prepared for the worst.

Katsumi: Damn right I will.

Katsumi: Thanks, Izzy. Guess I just needed to talk. Talked to Dad and Papa and Aunt Ochaco said some of the same stuff.

Katsumi: You always were the only one who could talk sense into me. Even Toshi can’t do that.

I wish I could offer more comfort. But I am here if you need me.

Katsumi: Thanks, Izzy. Your Internship going okay?

I stopped a purse snatcher today.

Katsumi: Good job!

She may not have been the best with words, but it seemed like she was good with words when it counted.

Perhaps that was enough.

***

“Dammit, Denki!” Mister Mineta yelled, looking up from his desk in the smallish office the two Heroes shared. “I told you, you can’t business expense anything you impulse buy when you shock your brains out! It’s not deductible, even if you shock yourself in the line of duty!”

Uncle Denki looked up from his own paperwork. “Are you sure? Because that’s pretty much the only time I do it these days,”

“You forgot to carry the one,” Izumi said, looking over his shoulder. Paperwork was not exciting, but it was a necessary part of the Hero work, so her internship included some exposure to that as well.

“Did I?” Uncle Denki wailed, slapping a hand against the side of his head. “Dammit…”

“And I see several other mistakes on previous lines.”

He let out a frustrated groan. “…You want a job as my personal paperwork checker, Izumi?”

“You couldn’t pay her enough,” Mister Mineta said.

Her eyes fell on another piece of paperwork on Uncle Denki’s desk, one which carried with it the logo from her Uncle Izuku’s agency. Given the mountain of unsorted or poorly organized paperwork that covered nearly every square inch of the desk, it was a surprise she could find anything at all. Perhaps she only would this one because it was next to the only island of cleanliness of the desk, a picture of Aunt Denki, Aunt Kyoka, and their children. Plague Case File – Important, the paper read.

The name… struck a familiar cord with her, back through years and years of memories. Something her parents had said once, long ago, when they thought she couldn’t hear. It was buried, without context, but she recognized it instantly. But what was it? And why was it important now? It was just a word.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the document.

“What’s what?” Uncle Denki asked, his eyes tracking her fingers. “Oh. Oh! That! That’s… that’s… Nothing! Nothing! Definitely not an update about the search for a missing Villain who nearly killed you when you were a kid!”

“Really?” Mister Mineta shouted, standing up from his desk, which due to his height, was shorter than average. “She’s been here two days and you go and blow it!”

He came around and pointed a yellow-gloved finger at Uncle Denki. “What was the one thing, the one thing we were specifically asked not to do?”

A guilty look washed over Uncle Denki’s face. “Tell Izumi about Plague.”

Mister Mineta pounded a fist into the palm of his other hand. “And what did you do?”

“Told her about Plague.”

“Yaoyorozu is going to kill us.”

***

Uncle Denki and Mister Mineta had asked her to step outside while they had a discussion. Considering that the yelling had started as soon as she’d closed the door to their office behind her, she suspected it would be a very loud one. So she’d set herself in one of the plush chairs in the small waiting room outside the office, where their beleaguered looking secretary just shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” the dog-headed woman who’d been introduced to her as Ms. Wan said. “There’s hardly a day that goes by where those two don’t fight about something. It usually doesn’t last long.”

“Thank you,” Izumi replied, giving her a polite nod. Ms. Wan returned her attention to her computer.

The sounds coming from inside the office were muffled but still loud. Most of the yelling seemed to be Mister Mineta, with Uncle Denki offering apologies, though it sounded a bit like they had placed a phone call as well.

She pulled her own phone from her pocket and called up a search engine on the browser. Entering the word “Plague” brought her a significant number of results, none of which were helpful, since it was not an uncommon word.

There were a few links to news articles referring to the recent Quirk Virus outbreak in hyperbolic terms, but she quickly discounted those. Whatever the Virus was, there had been no outbreaks in a few weeks now. While she did not doubt that whoever was behind it was still out there, it did not seem to be the threat it once was.

Annoyed at herself for not having thought her search choice through, she instead searched on “Plague-Villain.”

That, at least, brought her a great number of results, many of them news articles. She scanned the dates, all of them were at least a decade or more old. She would have been around four or five years old then.

It was, she realized, about the same time as she had first fallen ill.

***

Izumi’s searching had turned up a number of different things. The first was the picture of a sickly man, glowing slightly green, the skin on his face stretched thin like a skull, with just wisps of white hair remaining. But there were also several important facts.

One, Plague was a Villain who had threatened nearly all of Japan over a decade ago with his Quirk to generate diseases, alongside another pair of Villains called Manticore and Bloodstorm. He’d personally been responsible for several different outbreaks, some of which had claimed multiple lives. Including one which compromised the immune system, caused muscular weakness, difficulty breathing, and problems with Quirks.

Two, he had claimed that he and many others had been imprisoned by the government for having “dangerous” Quirks, Quirks that were threats to everyday society and people.

Three, following a conflict with Deku, he had voluntarily surrendered himself to custody, even going so far as to offer cures for those still infected by his plagues.

Four, and this was probably unrelated, her grandfather had retired at the same time, confessing to his crimes against his family, and choosing voluntary retirement in exchange for leniency.

Five, though Plague’s claims were never substantiated, a number of people who had thought to be dead or missing reentered society within a few months of him turning himself in. It was also around this time that some of the more restrictive laws around Quirk use began to be relaxed.

All of it painted an… incomplete picture. There was too much here she didn’t know. But she could draw some conclusions already. Had she been one of Plague’s victims? It would have explained why Uncle Denki had said he’d nearly killed her. The symptoms of some of the diseases matched much of her own lingering issues with stamina and prolonged physical activity, as well as properly regulating the outputs of Quirk. The pills she took three time a day included an immune system booster, a complex vitamin, a nausea suppressant, and an oral steroid. These too, seemed like the perfect counters to the lingering effects of one of these diseases.

No, there was no doubt about it. She had been a victim.

A foggy memory returned to her, half distorted by fever and time. Her mother, watching over her in a hospital bed. Uncle Izuku, rushing in, a piece of paper in his hand. Mother, looking it over, stating that she could make it.

Izumi had little doubt that she would never have been as physically formidable as Katsumi. She had inherited a good deal of her constitution from her grandmother, Rei. But she had always blamed her illness and much of the subsequent frailty on the whims of a fate, the same random chances that let to cancer or other terrible diseases.

It seemed now, however, that there was a face to this.

There was someone to blame. Someone who was now loose on the world again.

And she did not know how to feel about that.

#my hero academia #their hero academia #my writing #fan fic #fan fiction #izumi todoroki

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swordslinger95 · 7 years ago

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Even more headcannons

New Octo headcannons!

Since my last one did so well, I’m gonna try my hand at it again. Oh, and I decided on a name for my personal Octo: Octavia Padre! What do you all think? Not bad? Bad? MLP? Anyway, here are the headcannons I made up on the spot. I’ll try to get either a fanfic written or draw something, one or the other, gotta keep those creative juices flowing after all.

Out of all the tests that in the Metro, Girl Power was easily the hardest for 8 to complete. Aside from being extremely hard for normal reasons, the sanitized Octolings were extremely scary for 8. It was only until she “steeled” herself was she able to complete it. (She still has nightmares.)

After being inspired by another comic, 8 had an immense drive to complete all the tests in the Metro, partially because it was a way to get the “Thangs” but also because, well, by doing them, she proving to nobody but herself that she was “strong” and “capable.” She believed that because, from the bottom of her heart, that she would be alone at the end. A belief enforced by the fact that Cap’n Cuttlefish didn’t seem to like Octos, while Marina and Pearl just seemed to be voices over the internet. It took a scream feast from Pearl, comforting words from Marina, a pat on the back from Padre, and a hand on the shoulder from the Cap’n, and a hell of a lot of crying to convince 8 that she wasn’t, nor was she ever going to be, alone.

On that note, the reason it took so long for 8 to get to Inkopolis is, aside from the Metro, is because her trip there was less than smooth. SHe didn’t leave at the same time as Marina, and she wasn’t the first one to try to leave. Hence, heightened security.

Part of the reason why it took so long for 8 to join turf wars and splatfests was because, well, there’s a high chance of a relapse occurring, and she might slip into a desperation mode. You know how some video games have a berserk mode where your strength and speed are doubled? It’s like that, only, instead of anger and hate, it’s fear and desperation that spurs 8 forward whenever she’s in a tight spot. In essence, it’s less, “rah die!” and more “Oh cod oh cod gotta push forward at all costs!”

On the topic of games, 8 is unable to play Pool, or Billiards if you prefer, at all. We all know why….

Surprisingly, 8 is a bit of an unintentional flirt. She winks at inklings, walks in a...suggestive manner, and, well, you can see the Octoling win or lose poses in the game. Not to mention, her preferred wardrobe choices all happen to be black leather that show off a fair bit of skin. Unintentional in the sense that A) she has no idea what flirting is and just doing what feels natural to her. B) No one has really worked up the guts to say it flat out.

On the topic of Inklings, there’s only one that really stands out in 8’s mind, and that is Agent 3, that is due to fear. Let’s just say that Inner Agent 3 did a good job of mentally scarring her, thus making it hard to interact with the actual Agent 3, who is actually a decent, if reserved, person.

Finally, she actually has a job job instead of just splatfests. And that is...working as a actress, of all things. Mostly because movies need people to play Octolings, and well...let’s just say most Inklings aren’t all that great at putting two and two together.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #octoling #octo expansion #headcannons

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fourteenacross · 7 years ago

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2017 Fic Year in Review

2017 in fic! I still have to get used to this looking so different to how it looked from like, 2007 to 2015. I also did a lot of like...weird not!quite!fic things? Which I’m counting in my word count, just because I did put thought into them? But I’m not sure if I should? I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve had two glasses of champagne and a glass of red wine, so WHATEVER. Hamilton: Ghosthunters full-length fic Birthday Shots (2069) Commercialism, Merit Badges, and Liquid Courage (8179) Communicable (24382) Well Deserved Recognition (3738) Truth or Dare, Jungle Juice, and a Linen Closet (8532) Q&A Saturday - June 6, 2015 (1120) everyone must breathe until their dying breath (116,690*)

Ghosthunters ficlets: Mattie and Alex texting (1708) John and Francis at boarding school (794) Washington after the air grows cold around me and you (423) August 14 (573) Molly and the haunted chair (1159) Laf's sad Christmas (1656) John on the phone with his dad (1543) John's PoV on Alex's birthday body shots (1606) Alex and John's tattoo (2326) John at the beginning of but i won't go far away (1032) John draws Alex (1888) John is reckless (2036) John explains his tattoo (1307) John and Alex eat poptarts in bed (1924) Jo and Mattie, Jo realizes she's in love (715) John's birthday and turtles (1275)

Ghosthunters apocrypha: John's in the hospital (840) The Schuyler-Hamilton-Laurenses get a dog (332) July 12 (1634) August 27 (1535) November 24 (4020)

Three sentence ficlets: Herc and breakfast (129) Angelica leaving for London (canon fic) (133) John falling in love (102) Alex and art (119) Ghosthunters + tetanus shots (161) Eliza, first day of summer (113) Laf meeting George and Martha for the first time (180) John, first kiss with a boy (165) Burr, drunk and alone (172) John and Francis, getting together (164)

Ghosthunters Not!Fic: John and Mattie, fake dating (2563)

Non-Ghosthunters Hamilton fic: John and Alex share a bed on a roadtrip (2396) Supplemental not!fic to the above (2497) Alex and John on the dance floor with a surprise slow song (2038) Alex and John, almost drowning (3076) Supplement to the above (2335)

Not!Fic: John and his ghost boyfriend (4555) John and Alex, "summer in the city" roommates for a summer internship AU (1491) John and Alex, "may we meet again" teen besties meet again as adults and fall in love AU (2347) Hamilton noir AU, "we get the job done" (1522) Alex and John, "the world turned upside down" BFFs -> lovers AU (6161) Fem4Ham, "helpless" soulmate AU (6613)

Gravity Falls: Mabel, first crush on a girl (118)

Great Comet Not!Fic: Sonya, No One is Alone (756)

MCU: Sam and Steve and trick-or-treaters (467)

Grand Total Fandoms: 4 Total Full Length Fic: 7 Total Ficlets: 46 Grand Total Stories: 53 Grand Total Word Count: 235,409*

* I'm including all the words of the ghosthunters summer story that I’ve written so far, even the ones that haven’t been posted.

Overall Thoughts: Man, this list looks so long, but it’s still so far off the mark that I had intended to hit.

This was a hard year, creatively. It was for everyone, I think, but after having a really great upswing in 2016 when my meds had leveled out, it felt particularly dire to me, even though I knew I wasn’t alone. It’s hard to absorb that sometimes, you know?

I’m disappointed I didn’t finish this summer story before the end of the year. I was making very good time this summer and cranked out like 60k words on a really good schedule. I took a break for DragonCon and the associated scrambling and packing, and then never got back on the horse. It’s one of those things where I can’t tell if it was self-discipline or brain stuff or exhaustion, but I’m mad at myself all the same, cause I’m like that. I’ve still got another 30k to write and I’m going to try to get back on a schedule and stick to it to push out these last couple scenes, but I still keep kicking myself about the whole thing.

A lot of it comes back to something I was talking about in last year’s round up, which is not having, essentially, @pearlo in this fandom. I spent like, five years sending Erica a constant stream of fic ideas and dialogue snippets and talking out every fic idea and texting her in the middle of the night with AUs and all sorts of other shit and it’s a hard transition to not having that built in. It was how I worked out a lot of issues and also expressed a lot of joy. It feels a little like screaming into a void on here, at times, and while you’re all lovely and I appreciate all your encouragement and feedback, talking about your own work all the time occasionally makes one feel like an egomaniac. So...that’s a thing.

On to more positive things! I really liked doing those sort of not!fic things--it got some of my creative juices flowing when I was blocked on ghosthunters and scratched the itch of starting a zillion stories that I had great ideas for but no time to actually follow to the finish line. Doing ficlet memes and stuff, too, felt really good, taking requests and such. Holding in-person writing dates was super helpful, and having @lisapizza around to occasionally badger into hanging out with me so I could talk about this shit.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? I definitely expected to finish more, but numberwise and contentwise. I probably shouldn’t be surprised that I got much less done than I intended, given how weird the whole year has been, but I’m still kind of bummed. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Hmmmmm....I don’t know that there’s anything that I wouldn’t have predicted? Everything is pretty on par with what I’ve been doing for the past couple years? What's your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? I loved a lot of the stories I wrote this year, because I'm super obsessed with myself. [[< -- I think I've kept that sentence in for the past few years because it remains true]] It’s hard to name anything other than everyone must breathe until their dying breath. I’ve been working on it for two years, on and off, and it was one of the first bits of character building I did as I started to create the verse. There are a lot of wonderful little character moments in it and a lot of parts I really just genuinely enjoyed writing.

Communicable was also something I was working on for a while, and there are so many lovely quiet moments. @the-everqueen actually pulled out my favorite bit of that story for commentary--that whole night they spend together at the Washingtons’ and John’s conversation with Martha the next morning were a joy to write.

Outside of the ghosthunters, the #fem4ham soulmate AU has eaten my brain and soul, and the ficlet about John and Alex sharing a bed really made me wish I had a million extra hours in the day to write about that universe’s John and his struggles. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Not any huge ones? I think my biggest “risk” is the same mistake I make over and over again--feeling pressured to give people an ETA on the next story and then....totally missing that deadline. I’ve gotta stop doing that, for serious. My best story of this year: Definitely everyone must breathe until their dying breath. There are a LOT of moving parts on that thing that are still only slowly unfurling. I wish I had finished the whole thing in 2017 /o\ My most popular story of this year: Okay, see, chaptered stories totally throw off AO3 stats. Hit counts, kudos count, comment count...all of that is inflated by repeatedly pushing those fics to the top of the tags and having people come back for each chapter and all of that. Also, timing? The stuff that was up in January obviously has more hits than the stuff that only just came up in December.

That being said, I think everyone must breathe is probably my most popular fic, but who really knows? Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I wouldn’t say any of the full-length fics are under-appreciated, but I’m so obsessed with the #fem4ham that I sometimes forget that it has less than thirty notes and no one but @lisapizza (and @charmingpplincardigans, based on her comments today at brunch) really cared about it when I posted it XD

Most fun story to write: I wrote Birthday Shots in one sitting and it was the kind of doofy, dialogue-based stuff that’s always pretty fun to play around with. I also liked the ghosthunters apocrypha with John being loopy on anesthesia, which I wrote entirely on the plane to Heroes. John’s ghost boyfriend not!fic was also the first of those that I did and it was pretty fun! Story with the single sexiest moment: Deffo the sex in the woods in VII of everyone must breathe until their dying breath. Story with the single sweetest moment: Hm. There’s a lot of sweet, that’s kind of my whole deal. I think maybe the first house-sitting scene or the train ride after seeing Ned in everyone must breathe until their dying breath. Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: Nothing really. Nothing cracky for me this year. Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: The sharing a bed story and its backstory supplement were probably the things that had characterizations most different from the ghosthunters. It was a very different world to pick apart as I was thinking those through. Hardest story to write: Seeing as how I’m STILL WRITING everyone must breathe until their dying breath it is DEFINITELY THAT ONE Biggest Disappointment: Just that I didn't finish more, I think. Biggest Surprise: That dumb bedsharing ficlet has over a hundred notes on tumblr. What the hell. I mean, I’m glad, but also surprised! Otherwise, I’m honestly just surprised you guys have stuck with me this long and been so incredibly patient 💜 Most Unintentionally Telling Story: Everything with Molly in everyone must breathe until their dying breath, for reasons that I’m foolishly hoping end up being moot, but realistically suspect are not going to come to fruition. Plans for the next year: Goals for 2018! 300,000 words! Getting through two more anchor stories! Writing a non-ghosthunters Ham!fic! Work on my dumb novel! Maybe try some nonfiction stuff! I don’t know, just try to be more flexible and kinder to myself, but also get things done? God, who knows, the world is on fire.

#2017 #writing is hard #stuff about me

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eddiekasp · 7 years ago

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Must Be a Better Word- Ch13

Love. There must be A better word. -Adam Gillon.

I’m so sorry it’s been a while!! Have some angst!

Eddie sat in Richie’s bed, legs tangled in the still warm sheets while he propped his knees up, a copy of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" rested easily on his legs like a stand. Not a foot away, Richie stood with his bare feet on the floor, searching for something in the drawers of his desk. This was never an easy feat, as although the drawers have generally become cleaner since the two started dating, within days they would become rearranged and would require another clean up soon after.

Eddie stared at the boy, waiting for him to come back into bed so he could continue reading. This was their habit, to read all of their school books together, with Eddie’s soft voice narrating the story and Richie’s head resting on Eddie’s lap or shoulder or just on the pillow next to him, eyes softly closing after some minutes. Even though they had different English teachers, the curriculum for the Sophomore class remained the same, and this made it easy for Richie to relax while Eddie read to him.

Now, Richie was looking for a highlighter for Eddie. Richie didn’t need much note taking (or even, really, much paying attention) to get good grades in school. Eddie, however, wasn’t let off that easy, and had to scribble in the margins and mark important parts to study for their reading quizzes. Richie would get annoyed since it disrupted the flow of the book and Eddie’s voice, but Eddie told him to fuck off because not all of them were born smart AND lucky.

Richie hopped gracelessly back into bed, drawing a small laugh out of Eddie before he was handed a highlighter. He quickly marked the notes and continued on reading. Richie insisted that he always read the dialogue for Billy Bibbit, since he was nearly a carbon copy of their own Billy and Richie could impersonate Bill’s stutter the best.

“‘Nuh! Nuh!’ His mouth was working. He shook his head, begging her. ‘You d-don't n-n-need!’” Richie narrated, as Eddie continued onto the next line, accurately portraying Nurse Ratchet.

"’Billy Billy Billy," she said. "Your mother and I are old friends.”’ Eddie continued. Richie interrupted one of the most important parts of the book, laughing. Eddie’s hands, which were tightened around the book in his fear for Billy Bibbit, loosened as he looked to Richie, annoyed. “What is it?”

“It’s just… this kid is a total hybrid of you and Big Bill! Poor kid has a stutter AND mommy issues!” Richie laughed again.

“Will you shut the fuck up? With how much you talk about my mom, it seems like it’s you with mommy issues.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

As if she heard her name called, Richie’s mother interrupted the two boys perfectly on cue. She pounded on the door loudly, without rhythm. Eddie bet that Richie’s stomach dropped at the precise moment his own did. Richie called back, asking what she wanted, without moving from his place on the bed to open the door.

Eddie knew, loosely, about Richie’s alcoholic mother, but Richie had never allowed Eddie to talk to her when he knew she was drinking. Other times, Eddie was always surprised that she had that side to her, as she’d tried to be kind and open to her son’s friends. But Richie assured Eddie that that was fake as fuck, and that she was probably the shittiest person he had the luck of knowing.

Eddie’s hands tensed again around the book as Richie’s mom took the liberty of pushing the doorknob and opening the door. She looked disheveled to say the least. Her hair was placed in a messy bun at the top of her head, pieces of thin hair streaming down the sides of her face like a leaky faucet, and her shirt was wet in two places. She reeked.

Eddie had pressed Richie to tell him what was going on with him and why he’d been so down recently, much to Richie’s refusal. Instantly, Eddie understood what Richie had been dealing with daily.

Richie glared at his mother, her shadow from the doorway casting a gloom onto the floor as her eyes lazily fluttered open and close. Eddie glanced at the boy next to him, seeing his cheeks had turned a bright shade of red. Eddie wondered if it was because Richie was angry, or just embarrassed. It was probably an intense feeling of both. Richie felt Eddie’s eyes on him but didn’t dare glance to him.

“What? Do you need to tell me something?” Richie said firmly. He wasn’t afraid of his mother how Eddie was, but rather just felt such intense shame that he wondered if it was wrong to wish he’d never have to see her again.

“I just… wanted to say that you’re being loud. And you’re hurting my um, my head.” She slurred out before pausing. “I didn’t know Eddie was here.”

“Yup. We’ll be quiet. Please… go away.” her son spoke uncharacteristically stern and serious, a voice he only put on when dealing with the women who acted like a 5 year old. If 5 year olds ever had drinking problems.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, “but… uh, Richie… but you gotta go downstairs and um, clean up. I’m gonna lay down.” She stepped away from the door but left it hanging limply open. Richie sat without moving for a minute, eyes cast downwards as he picked the hem of his shirt and tried to blink tears away.

After some time he got up swiftly, unfurling his long legs from under the sheets and nearly jogging downstairs to clean up whatever mess his mother had left. He had swung the door with his hand as he exited, hoping to shut the door as a sign for Eddie to stay, but he didn’t push as hard as he thought he did and the door only swung back without shutting. Eddie hopped off the bed himself, nearly bounding through the (still slightly open) door nearly as quickly as Richie did.

His bare toes padded down the stairs rhythmically, and he held the railing as his feet flew miles ahead of him, worried he’d fall. When he finally reached the bottom of the staircase, he walked slowly into the open kitchen where Richie stood, head down, observing a couple of nearly empty glasses left in the sink.

Eddie recoiled, trying to hold back a gag, as he covered his face with his hand in attempts to ward off the smell of Richie’s kitchen. A mix of vodka and vomit, and something sickly sweet-- maybe cranberry juice. Eddie’s first response was to step back, but then he saw Richie’s hand, shaking slightly, reach for the dish sponge and turn the faucet on.

Eddie walked to Richie’s side near the sink, taking another dish sponge to assist him in cleaning the dishes. There really weren’t too many cups in the sink, maybe six or so, so it didn’t take them too long to clean up. Eddie sat Richie down at the counter as he wiped it down with a bottle of bright blue Windex and a paper towel. The clean scent of the spray masked the pungent odor that wafted through the house a bit, which both of them were thankful for. After Eddie finished cleaning up, he went to the sink to wash his hands quickly with the dish soap and sat down next to Richie.

Eddie’s eyes were huge, fearful, worried. He tried to get Richie to look up and him, grabbing one of his shivering hands. Richie noted how he instantly felt safer, at least Eddie wasn’t angry. Not yet, at least.

Richie looked up at Eddie’s face, and Eddie attempted to give a smile but only succeeded in upturning one corner of his mouth a millimeter. Richie’s expression softened before he briskly pulled his hand out of Eddie’s hold and hopped off his seat.

“I think you need to go, Eddie.” Richie said curtly, walking towards his front door in a sign for Eddie to follow suit. Eddie hopped off the seat and stood, unmoving, shocked that Richie was… actually kicking him out.

Eddie was so surprised, he didn’t even know what to say. He knew how horrible Richie felt, but didn’t that mean he should be here for him?

“You don’t wanna come with?” he said after a moment, almost desperately, “we can go to my house or the arc-”

“No, I want you to leave. Can you just… please go now.” Richie spoke in a near whisper, trying harder than ever to keep his hot, angry tears from dripping out of his eyes and onto his cheeks. He hoped his glasses would do him the favor of hiding him nearly crying.

Eddie furrowed his brow and sighed, walking straight past Richie and out the door. When he stepped out onto Richie’s front step he turned around to say something, but was met with the quite slam of the door instead. He remained for a minute, before turning on his heels and beginning to walk home. Richie had drove him over after school, so this was his only way home.

When Eddie finally opened his front door, his cheeks burned pink from the cold wind, as did his hands, although less so, as they were spared by the pockets of Richie’s warm sweatshirt.

That night, Eddie called Richie’s phone at the same time he always does. It rang twice before going to voicemail.

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foreverlovingdaryldixon · 8 years ago

Note

Hey! Could you write a Daryl x reader where Daryl is in love with her, but she doesn't know and everything is so awkward at the beginning, and he is afraid she doesn't love him because the reader is sweet and nice with everybody 😊

A/N: Okay! So something a little bit different to what I usually do but I’ve been wanting to give this a go for a while now. Behold…my first Daryl x Reader prompt. Not everyone’s cup of tea I know but I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff and stuff.

“D’ya think he’s ever going to tell her?” Tara asked watching the exchange between the close pair.

Denise shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head as they watched Daryl and Y/N share what looked like to be a joke. Daryl ducking his head in that shy way he does around her, Y/N’s hand coming out to squeeze his arm lightly before walking away, flashing a bright grin to Spencer as she walks past him.

Daryl didn’t miss the smile Spencer threw back, wanting to kick the ground in frustration at the thought of even having a chance with someone like her.

She was nice to everyone, like a ray of sunshine and this shit hole they called a world, far too good for the likes of him.

And yet, every single time he drew a smile out of Y/N, he felt like maybe, just maybe, she might feel something similar as he did for her.

But who was he kidding himself? She was just being friendly, that’s all there was to it.

“Hey Daryl!” Y/N called out, jogging lightly towards him across the street.

“Y/N,” Daryl greeted, “what’s up?”

“Do you wanna come around for dinner tonight?”

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and nodded, they often had dinner together with the others.

“Denise and Tara comin’?” he asked casually.

“Well, no. They said they were busy, although they wouldn’t tell me doing what. They said we could still have a meal together though? If you’re up for it of course.”

Daryl almost tripped over his words, “yeah, sure, course, sounds good, I’ll, um, I’ll be there.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, oblivious to the stuttering mess he’d just turned into.

“Okay, I’ll see you at seven,” she said, backing away slowly towards her house.

“Seven,” Daryl confirmed, his mouth sticking when he tried to produce any more words.

**“You.”

Tara’s head whipped up from the gun she was cleaning, a shit eating grin spread across her face.

“Daryl,” she greeted smugly, “I wondered how long it’d take you to come after me.”

“Ya planned it this way didn’t ya?” he almost growled, pacing back and forth across her porch restlessly.

Tara acted dumb, her eyes widening dramatically, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Dixon.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he grunted, swivelling on his heel to face her, “ya know exactly what y’all were doin’.”

Tara stood up, patting him lightly on the chest before looking him straight in the eye. “And you can thank me later.”

“Ain’t gon’ thank ya for nothin’ cause ain’t nothin’ gon’ happen.” His accent was thick, getting thicker with each passing second of frustration that came off him in waves.

“You need to tell her how you feel, me and Denise have given you said opportunity to do so. Don’t mess it up either, Y/N is a mean cook and we’re totally bowing out just so you can get some tonight.”

Daryl was in full force now, face growing red at Tara’s words. “She ain’t never gon’ feel the same! And even if she did I ain’t gonna be gettin’ none of nothin’, got respect for her don’t I?!”

“Easy redneck,” Tara teased, hands coming up passively. “Just…see what happens, you’re just having dinner…with a friend, see how the mood strikes you both. Ya never know, may just surprise yourselves.”

“You like it?”

Y/N eyes were lit up, waiting for Daryl’s approval as he tried to gracefully sip the steaming soup off his spoon.

He smacked his lips together, taunting her as he swallowed, rolling his tongue around his mouth a little bit longer as if to taste more of the flavour whilst Y/N sat staring at him like a present on Christmas day.

“Well?” she prompted when he took a moment too long.

Daryl caved then, smirking as he scooped another spoonful, nodding in appreciation. “It’s good,” he felt a warmth flow through him as Y/N grinned, “it’s real damn good.”

They ate from then on in relative silence, Daryl drinking down his glass of wine as if it was juice, trying to calm his nerves at the intimate situation they found themselves in.

Y/N had tried to make the evening nice, lighting a few candles, opening a stashed away bottle of red wine, seating them across from one another at her small round kitchen table.

As she began to clear their empty bowls away Y/N got an idea, one she doubted he would go for but something she wanted to find out for herself.

“You feel like staying a while?” she asked coyly as she leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Help me finish off that bottle of wine?”

Daryl was repeating in his head like a mantra that it didn’t mean anything, she was just trying to be friendly goddammit. But that part of him, that subconscious part that was screaming in his head that she meant more than just wine wouldn’t be silenced.

“S’pose it wouldn’t hurt.” The words were out of his mouth before the rational part of his brain could protest otherwise.

“Great,” Y/N beamed, taking their glasses through to the living room, setting them on the coffee table in between the couch and the roaring fire, filling them both up a hefty glass.

“Ya tryna get me drunk?” Daryl teased as he slouched back on the couch, keeping a small gap between them.

“You complaining?” Y/N quipped back with a dangerous look in her eye, taking a long sip of her drink before bubbling into laughter.

Daryl snorted, almost downing his own drink in the hope the alcohol would provide him with some liquid courage. Tara was right, he could go on like this forever, who knew how long either of them had, it would be his biggest regret.

The bottle of wine was empty far too quick, Y/N’s eyes hooded, her body relaxed and flaccid, her hand resting comfortably on his thigh as they spoke.

Daryl felt like he was on a sensory overload, his ears trying intently to listen to what Y/N was saying but his mind was stuck on the way her fingers were playing with the hole in his jeans, his eyes drawn to her wine stained lips, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.

“Daryl.”

The soft sound of his name from her beautiful lips caught his attention, his eyes snapping back up to hers.

It’s like she could read his mind, her lips parting, eyes widening ever so slightly in what looked to be realisation.

Fuck it. It was now or never.

“Wanna try somethin’.” His voice was so hoarse he wasn’t even sure it was him speaking. “Ya want me ta stop all ya gotta do is say, alright?”

Y/N gave a small nod, heart fluttering as Daryl breached the small gap between them, his hot breath fanning across her lips.

Nerves caused her to close her eyes, heart soaring as his warm mouth finally covered her own.

Daryl was waiting for her draw back, her moment of realisation that this is really not what she wants. But that moment never came.

Instead her head tilted, keeping their mouths locked together as she opened up to him, kissing him deep and slow.

His hands struggled to find somewhere to rest, skimming up and down her sides, not sure what was deemed appropriate. Daryl was relieved when Y/N grasped his hands in her own, clasping them securely around her hips.

Her own hands found purchase at his neck holding him close to her as his tongue dared out to swipe across her lower lip.

Daryl was right, she did taste as good as she looked, groaning in satisfaction before the reality of the situation came crashing down around him and he abruptly pulled away.

“Daryl-” Y/N protested.

“m’sorry,” he apologised immediately, “didn’t mean ta jump ya that way.”

“Didn’t think you ever would,” Y/N said shyly, biting at her lower lip and looking down.

Daryl processed her words, trying to decipher them before responding. “Ya sayin’ ya wanted me ta?”

“I mean,” Y/N started, pushing her hair back off her face, a visible flush going from her cheeks right down to her chest, “I hoped you would, but I never thought…”

“Yer kiddin’ me right?” Daryl deadpanned. “Ya have no idea…shit, no goddamn idea how long I’ve wanted ta do that.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. “And this isn’t just the wine talking?”

“Nah,” he said determinedly, “fuck, Y/N, I ain’t never felt like this for no one before.”

Y/N grinned then, arms wrapping slowly around his neck so he couldn’t escape. “Are you saying you love me Daryl Dixon?”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing but shit if he was going to deny it any more.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

Send me a Daryl x Reader or Negan x Reader prompt!

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd #twd imagine #fan fic #daryl imagine #daryl dixon x reader #The Walking Dead

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dippedanddripped · 6 years ago

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Getting fired from a job in his early 30s prepared Paul Gaudio, the global creative director at adidas since 2015, for his current role. “It's not so much that it happened, it's what happens next,” he says. “I was on a path, and at the time, it seemed very linear. Now all of a sudden I was forced to sidestep, which was a good thing…. If that hadn't happened, there's no way I'm in this job today.”

He’d leaned into consulting after being let go, digging deeper into design, but also zooming out and realizing his strengths in branding and strategy. It was like he'd tapped into an energy he had growing up in Western Pennsylvania, a time when he’d had the freedom to explore his many strengths without restrictions. As a kid and teen, he grew up playing sports, making things at his grandfather’s furniture store, and fanning over punk and rap.

There were no rules for what he could be interested in or do, an attitude that he’s translated into his work at adidas, where through bringing sports and culture together, he’s brought new relevance and excitement to the brand, particularly in the eyes of young people. When we met to chat in early August, it was at an adidas event that embodied that sweet spot between the two worlds — New York’s adidas P.O.D. System event, a workshop-marketplace that allowed hands-on creative experiences in the scope of sport.

What does an average day look like for you?

PAUL GAUDIO: It starts at about 6 a.m. Germany is where most of the action happens. Their being nine hours ahead of us, I’m inevitably spending the first couple hours every day on the phone, walking around, sometimes making lunch for kids, trying to get dressed and out the door. If I get into the office, it can be anywhere between 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. depending on calls, and early if I'm on video conferences. Sometimes I'll be in at 5:30 p.m. The afternoon is usually time for me to meet with people and work. I get a surprising amount of thinking time and working time.

I like to write. To me, words are probably the tool I use today more than anything. I rely heavily on words, and I like words. When you're younger, you do what you mean. You sit down, design something and say, "This is what I mean, see?" At this stage, I'm trying to explain larger concepts, ideas, create a framework more or less, for people to operate within. That framework is context for us, for the brand.

Going into this role, what stands out as the most formative experience that prepared you for what you do on a day-to-day basis?

I guess the most seminal moment was getting fired. At some point, some people get fired. There could be 100 reasons why it happens, and it's not so much that it happened, it’s what happens next [that matters most]. For me, that moment was pretty traumatic, painful, sort of scary. [I was] 34 years old, it was a big derailment. You have to own the reasons you got fired. Some of them may be mine, some of them may have not been mine, or things that I agree with. But you gotta own all those anyway, wear them around for a while and get comfortable with it, 'cause it happened and it's real. People ask you about it too, quite often. You've got to be able to answer those questions. I think going through that process and learning a bit more about myself, strengths and weaknesses, and finding different paths. I was on a path and at the time, it seemed very linear. Now all of a sudden I was forced to sidestep, which was a good thing. In the end, it's probably what I wanted to do anyhow.

That's why it was so positive for me. I got into different aspects of design and creativity, and I got more into strategy and branding. It helped round out who I am and my experiences from being somebody that designs things. To somebody who now shapes ideas, and articulates what a brand can be, or a strategy. That was a huge opportunity in the end and probably is the reason why I'm sitting here now. If that hadn't happened, there's no way I'm in this job today.

You grew up in Western Pennsylvania. What was that like?

I don't have much to complain about. It was not the best time for the era, considering the industry was collapsing around us. Luckily, my father was a doctor, so we were not personally touched by it, but everyone — jobs, friends, everything around me was crumbling. The city was crumbling. Steel mills were shutting down just down the street, friends parents were losing jobs. It was not an ideal time. That definitely has a big impact on your experience growing up. You start to see the city around you, which I was always very proud of, I still have a great fondness for Pittsburgh. But it was a tough time.

From my standpoint it was kind of like, "Well, I probably need to get out of here." In my head I couldn't imagine there was going to be a lot of opportunity [in Pittsburgh]. I think that also sort of always kept me looking outward. I was, as a kid, like many who grew up in places like Pittsburgh, were fascinated by California or New York. I became pretty fixated on those cultures, whether it was punk rock coming out of New York, or London. Surf culture, skate culture in Los Angeles, because it just looked so good. I had magazines — we didn't have the internet, of course — cars, skateboards, BMX bikes, surfing. I would ride my skateboard around Pennsylvania and pretend that I was somewhere in Santa Monica.

“I was drawing, building things, and I realized, ’Hey, you can shape your own reality.’”

I know you also played football, and I’ve read in interviews that you’d build various items in your grandfather's furniture store and have worked in car dealerships. How did all those different interests come together to inform your interest in design?

I was drawing, building things, and I realized, "Hey, you can shape your own reality." That's what I did for fun. Whether it was in my basement or a friend’s garage or my grandfather's shop. Working on old cars and motorcycles, it's just something I realized pretty early that was way more fun than not having it, or starting at it in a catalog. You had to work for everything. Even going into downtown Pittsburgh, it opened up worlds that weren't open to me growing up outside of the city, like music and vintage shops and old clothing stores and antiques. It was a big discovery to go into the city, let alone to go to New York or L.A., where, in my mind, the real shit was happening.

What was the music that drew you in at the time?

I had very eclectic taste. If I think junior high school, we were really into funk. When punk rock arrived, it was around the same time. My head was spinning like, "Oh my God, I don't know what I'm angry about but that feels so good." What I love about it was that it was stripped back, simple, elemental, real, raw, and honest. At least it felt that way to me. It was so different from everything else that I had heard. I immediately responded to that. Part of it was the superficial aspects of it. The attitude, the fashion, the clothes, and hair, all that. I was a kid, right? I was really always heavily influenced by music, and then the culture, and fashion around it.

Shortly after, the advent of rap music came. It hit me, just as hard as when punk rock came. To me, it was just punk rock, only now it's different. Now it's maybe more local, or more American, it was better because it somehow scratched the itch back to the me loving Funkadelic, and that sort of stuff. It was simple. I went to this place called the Islam Grotto with my sister. It was like a break dance show/rap battle. It was just a place with cardboard on the floor and DJ's rapping. It's like a race car. You strip all the junk off of it, and there's just the good stuff left. That's the part that works.

Those are probably the biggest influences. It influenced my tastes in fashion, my perspectives on the world. It definitely pulled me in different directions as a kid. One day I would be in a punk rock mood and want to dress like a punk. Then the next day I would listen to rap music. Now I listen to anything and everything. I'm probably back on rap music again, mainly 'cause I’ve got teenage kids and I got sucked back into it pretty hard. I like it better today than I did 10, 20 years ago.

Did you see an intersection in music and sport growing up? How does that come full circle for you at adidas?

It's maybe more prominent today than it used to be. When I was a kid we used music in locker rooms. It was more to create a vibe, excitement, energy. Athletes back then weren't the influencers. The world's weren't as connected. You had a jock and you had a musician, or something. They probably didn't hangout much, whereas today of course they do and they influence one another in a way that's kind of inseparable. To me, that's critical for what we do.

You can't think of sport without thinking about music, without thinking about fashion. You can't think of sport without thinking of the culture that surrounds it. When we sort of go to work every day, we try to embrace the fact that it is a mishmash, and not as clean cut as it used to be. We make shoes for athletes. That's adidas. But, what's an athlete today? Just the fusion, and knowing that a kid today in Iowa, he knows Balenciaga. Why? Because, he listened to somebody rap about it, right? Those connections, and the internet, and all of those things have enabled this fusion.

As a person who is immersed in creative and design 24/7 at work and in your spare time, how do you stay refreshed and energetic in the field and keep new ideas or creative juices flowing?

I'm kind of two different things at once. In one way I'm definitely kind of a social, cultural sponge, observer, collector of stuff like that. I would be lying if I didn't tell you that I spent a lot of time on the internet and social media. As part of our job, we have to spend time out in different communities, talking to consumers, talking to kids. Being connected to culture and consumers keeps me constantly challenged. You look at things where your personal reaction to something is, "Nah, I would never." But then you have to push yourself past that and say, "Well, why is that?" I love that process. I've always been that person.

The other side is that I love to just switch off and shutdown the brain. I can be incredibly lazy at times. I don't mean lazy like a procrastinator but there are times where I will just come in and shutdown, and do absolutely nothing for long periods of time, and not feel bad about it. I think you need the downtime, to recharge, quiet in your brain. For me, working on old cars and motorcycles helps give you that focus. You get lost in the kind of inner workings, mechanisms, problems, and possible solutions. I love getting lost in stuff. For me, [that’s] riding motorcycles, racing motorcycles, racing cars. You are forced into a moment, into the moment.

I’ve read that your inspirations are “creators, makers, doers.” Who is a creator, marker, or doer that inspires you?

When I hear those words, I think of Ray and Charles Eames. They're among my list of design heroes. Maybe them more so because they were just so industrious. They did everything, made everything. They made it their life, they lived in a [home they built]. Everything they did was like, "Let's make it.” They embraced the craft behind it, there were things that were soulful and real. Beautiful objects but still kind of mass-produced, industrial design. It's one thing to talk about it and be theoretical and high-minded. It's another thing to just get in the shop and make it. People like that, that actually get in there and do the work, are the ones that are most inspiring to me.

In 2018 what do you look for in a creative or a designer?

I think I personally value people that have a broad background [and] are able to take a broader view. I think people that have diverse experiences in their lives, personal and professional, have more perspective to offer, to draw from, as opposed to, say, real, hardcore experts. I tend to like people that are more agile, generalists that know enough about a lot to be dangerous. Because as creatives, the more things we can apply the process to, the better. I've always tried to take that more meandering path in my career and it's made me stronger, more confident in myself and the decisions I've made, the things I can do. I look for people that, at the least, have some sort of diverse perspective, diverse background, diverse experiences that they can present. Diversity is just generally a key to creativity.

#adidas #paul gaudio #sneaker blog #sneaker community #sneaker heads

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