#he's SWIMMING in that beanie

[korrororo]

light yagami, all bundled up like a kitten: i will murder you

[pucksandpower]

F1 Secret Santa 2023 Summary

Lance to Fernando: a captain hat for his new yacht and a bottle of wine

Yuki to Lance: a beanie (or toque in Canadian)

Zhou to Yuki: a Chinese cookbook and an apron

Charles to Zhou: a (second) Bottass calendar that he tried to return to Charles only for Charles to give it back to him again

Fernando to Charles: a padel racket

Nico to Pierre: a tripod 😉

Esteban to Nico: a 🥱 mug

George to Esteban: a Spider-Man travel mug, carrying case, and neck pillow

Kevin to George: a Santa Hoptimist (Danish figurine)

Logan to Kevin: a “shhh … I’m watching racing with daddy” onesie and a book about the best road trips in the USA

Lando to Logan: a Miami Heat mini hoop and basketball

Pierre to Lando: the actual gift (a headcover with Lando’s face on it) didn’t arrive in time so an “OnlyPutts” golf marker as a placeholder

Oscar to Alex: customized golf balls

Daniel to Oscar: a koala t-shirt and Christmas candies (is it still Secret Santa if your Secret Santa is impatient and spoils that he is your Secret Santa before you can even open your gift?)

Checo to Daniel: limited edition tequila

Alex to Checo: a Williams teddy bear and kids clothing plus Alex Albon Athletics sneakers

Max to Valterri: “A Simply Lovely Look at the Butt in Art” (a book of those photos of Valterri overlaid on existing pieces of art)

Carlos to Max: a vintage arcade mini

Valterri to Carlos: chilli pepper swim briefs and chilli hot sauce

[withleeknow]

seasons of you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post word count: 0.7k note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

minho falls in love with you four times a year.

minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.

minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.

minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.

minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.

but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, how are you? Hope everything's peachy. I've been waiting for your requests to be open since probably December. I figured, maybe I could leave you my thoughts and you'll decide what to do with them. Is that fine? 😅 You can throw it straight to the trash if you'd like.

So that now every F1 Team have a girl driver in F1 Academy, I thought maybe they want to promote the Academy more and includes it in DTS series. So the reader is a driver for Ferrari. They assign her to Carlos and they've to film a Training camp before the season. Carlos sort of being her PT. Plot twist: they HATE each other. But their combined fury can easily catch on fire and lead them to other type of sport, more sensual one. So it's like enemies but/to lovers sort of thing. A lot of arguing, angst but also a bunch of steamy sex

The Uphill Battle || CS55

Warnings: Smut, angst, name calling WC: 1.8k

Pre-season Training - Dolomites This had to be the worst PR disaster in the making. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to pair you up with Jr Sainz needed to fall right off this mountainside. To make matters worse, they had a TV crew following you around all day and you were fairly sure your suite was bugged like Big Brother.

“Hurry up, I want to make it back in time for dinner,” Carlos growled as he stopped to look back at you. 

You narrowed your eyes, not that he could see them beneath the snow goggles, and sarcastically replied, “Oh no, baby boy can’t go to bed without his supper.”

He stabbed his sticks into the snow and pulled his googles up over his beanie. “You think I want to be out here babysitting a spoiled little brat? I am crawling just so you don’t get left behind and lost up here. Pick. Up. The. Pace.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you pushed harder, your calves protesting the hardship you were putting them through to prove a point. You overtook the Spaniard and made sure to only just miss his foot from the piercing pike on your ski stick. “Keep up, Junior.”

You were both panting by the time you arrived back at the luxury accommodation in the resort town at the base of the mountain. You were starving but you were also damp with sweat beneath the layers of cashmere and feather-stuffed coats so you went straight to the private pool. You figured after the whining Carlos had done about his dinner you wouldn’t be disturbed in the heated outdoor pool, but you were wrong.

Carlos curled a brow at the trail of clothes that led from the twin penthouse suites to the rooftop pool they shared, each layer getting thinner until it ended with a sports bra and panties. Snow littered the ground and he shivered in his bathrobe as he watched you float on the surface of the steaming water with your eyes closed. You looked relaxed, peaceful. It was a look he rarely saw on your face and it immediately washed away when you opened your eyes and caught him watching.

“Dirty perv,” you hissed as you slipped back beneath the water up to your neck and covered your breasts. 

“I’m not the one going for a skinny dip. You’re just looking for attention.”

“I don’t have to look for attention, it comes looking for me,” you said as you eyed up the goosebumps on his legs below the robe. “I figured you were too busy stuffing your face.”

“The Netflix crew were in the dining hall,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so you are not nearly as comfortable in front of them as you act. Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t think that would be hard.”

“I hope your balls get frostbite.”

Carlos winced at the idea and took a step closer to the water's edge and the warmth it promised. 

“If you get in here with me we are going to have a problem,” you warned, swimming closer to defend your territory. “There’s no cameras around to keep you safe.”

Carlo snickered and dipped his foot in. “I’ve seen your training in the ring, I think I can handle it.”

“Brave words when you are all the way over there.”

Your blood could have heated the water to boiling point as he slipped his robe off and tossed it over the rail before taking another step in, then another. You watched the water disappear over his skin tight trunks and darken the happy trail before rising over his abs. The team at Ferrari at least assigned you someone who was taking their PT position seriously, you could see from his physique that he kept his own routine solid and you could learn a thing or two - if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Take a picture, malcriada,” he said with a wink when your eyes finally reached his face.

“Such a shame,” you murmured wistfully.

“What?”

You dragged your eyes back over his body before sighing. “That a body that fine has a personality like yours.”

A wave splashed over you as he dove into the water and you lost sight of him in the dark. You should have put the underwater lights on but hadn’t wanted to light the water up when you hadn’t bothered to even change into a bikini. 

A large hand grabbed your ankle and you barely had time to inhale a breath before you were pulled under. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he was gone again and you spluttered to the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. “Asshole!” 

“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed from the edge he was leisurely reclining against. 

“Come here and find out.”

He slipped beneath the water but this time you were prepared and met him halfway. Your bodies collided, twisting and turning trying to fathom some kind of dominance until your legs wrapped around his waist and he sank to the bottom with you on top. His hands found your thighs and dug into the soft skin until your lips parted with a sudden thought and the last of your air bubbled to the surface. 

“Not the attack I was expecting,” he taunted as he rose to the surface behind you. The water falling from his hair cooled as it dropped to your shoulder and his hand traced the curve of your neck. “Someone plays dirty.”

“I’m not playing.” Your voice wasn’t the cold detached sound you had hoped it would be, but a needy sigh. Your legs pressed together and you were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. 

“Is that another invitation? You almost won that time.”

You turned around with a glare to find his smirk growing as wide as his pupils as he looked down at your body. “It’s not a fair fight anyway. I am naked and vulnerable.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you as vulnerable, malcriada, not with that prickly attitude and sharp tongue. But, if it would make you feel better about losing again…” his hands brushed over his hips and pushed his trunks down his thighs before he tossed them out of the pool. “Happy now?”

“I’m certainly something,” you murmured before realising you spoke aloud. Anger flushed your body again at the distraction he caused and you shoved your hand across the surface, spraying him in the face with the water. His momentary surprise was only that, momentary, and he leapt into your personal space with his own attack.

You weren’t quite sure how it happened, or how it started. Maybe the tension that had been brimming all week finally reached its breaking point and it was a mutual decision. One moment you were writhing to escape from his attack, your hands trying to find purchase on his body as you wriggled in his arms, the next you were writhing for an entirely different reason. 

His chest brushed over your sensitive peaks and your nails scraped down his back. Your legs tightened around his waist and felt the large length pressed between your stomachs. Your heads broke the surface but the gasp had nothing to do with the need for air when his palms squeezed your ass to hold you still. 

“What are you doing?” you moaned as you clit pressed to his shaft and every little movement rode you over the rigid veins. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt the heat of your core on him. “I’m trying to not fuck you right now.”

“Right, because you hate me,” you laughed humorlessly as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but you both moaned at the feeling.

“No, because you hate me.”

It had been a while since you last had sex, that was the excuse you gave for being so needy and wanting to be filled right at that moment. “I can hate you and still want to fuck.”

Carlos stared into your eyes and saw the desire in them, felt the desire that had your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. “Fuck it,” he decided aloud. “I can hate you and still make you come.”

“Bold words.”

He didn’t give you a response, at least not in words. His strong hands lifted you higher and pulled you back down on his cock. Your teeth clamped around the muscle where his shoulder met his neck and he groaned at the pain and your muffled cry. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You’re too big,” you whispered as he slowly speared you down his shaft until you looked down your body expecting to see a bugle at your belly button. Easing you back up, he set a slow rhythm as your body adjusted to his size and walked you both to the edge of the pool.

“You can take it,” he promised as your legs untangled from around him and you found yourself facing the mountain you had climbed earlier. His hips snapped forward and buried himself back in you from behind and your cry echoed out into the night. “That’s it, make an avalanche, malcriada.”

You didn’t care that he called you brat. You didn’t care if you brought the mountain down on the whole town. You only cared about reaching your own high and you chased it with your hips, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke. Waves rippled out across the water and soon turned to splashes as your core tightened and those ripples began to make their way down your spine.

“I can feel you shaking,” he teased in your ear, his hand snaking over your hip to find your clit. “Let go, dulce, let me feel you come.”

Your eyes slammed shut as waves of pleasure rocked through you and his name tumbled from your lips, betraying yourself with the reverent tone it held. His pleasure grew at the sound and he slammed himself as deep as he could in your cunt, letting your tight walls milk him as he came. There should have been anger at the idea of being filled with his seed, but you took delight in the liquid warmth pooling inside you. You had made him come undone, it was a win of sorts in your mind.

Satisfied for the moment, you pushed his body back and walked up the steps, into the biting cold night. Carlos was still high from his release and he didn't realise until it was too late. You were already halfway to the suites when he noticed his robe was missing, a quick scan of the snow confirmed his trunks had found the same fate.

“Brat!” he called out as you disappeared inside.

“Asshole.”

Click here for part two.

[lilacgaby]

You don't understand how much I love the is he proposing or... and can you do hawks or shoto please?

is he proposing or has he been staring at bridal magazines often, asking your opinion on the floral, white dresses?

is he proposing or has he been taking your hand into his, and commenting on which gems he think would compliment your skin color?

is he proposing or has he been taking you to boutiques more frequently after your dates, asking you to try on dresses and buy all the ones that you like?

is he proposing or has he been questioning you more at home, his head in your lap as you watch tv, about what dates are your favorites?

is he proposing or has he been choosing cheesy romcoms that all end in wedding scenes, and jokingly re-enacting some lines with you?

is he proposing or did he send you off with fuyumi one day to go spoil yourselves? you two getting mani-pedis, your hair done, facials, waxings, and her asking some 'random' questions too? l

is he proposing or did he ask you to take the month off (he doesn't know why you work anyways)?

is he proposing or did he fly you two out to his summer home, spending week after week going on hikes, building sandcastles on the beach, swimming in exclusive jacuzzis, and dining on the coast?

is he proposing or did hand you a shell he 'found in the sand', though instead of a pearl it held a huge, sapphire stone with the first words from his planned vows embedded in the side of the ring?

you were momentarily rendered speechless as you looked to find shoto on one knee, looking up at you with a soft smile on his face. he recited perfectly memorized vows to you, speaking on how much he loved you, how he wished to be with you forever, and how beautiful he thought you are. he barely had a chance to ask before you slung your arms around his neck and hugged him, your laughs being the only sound besides the crashing waves. as you released him, your legs on top of his as he finally slipped the ring onto your fingers, you decided to take a walk on the moonlit beach to celebrate your first night as fiancés.

tags: @thrivingaintmything @hyunsuks-beanie @cupidsblonde

[marlynnofmany]

Drying Out

The wind on this alien planet was like I’d expected: not quite strong enough to put my balance at risk, but enough to make me glad I’d braided my hair back extra tight. Even with that precaution, little hair tendrils were whipping the sides of my face as I walked, and I didn’t have a hand free to brush them away. I was, as usual, carrying a box.

Mur could have carried it, but it would have been much harder for him, since he needed his tentacles to walk. Lucky bipedal me, with my free hands. I tried to focus on that as I squinted into the wind, scanning the nearly-deserted spaceport for our clients. I really should have brought goggles. Or at least a hat that wouldn’t get blown off.

A beanie would be perfect right now, I thought. Or even a scarf. I could be nice and fashionable with my swim goggles and a tie-dye bandanna. Why did I grab chapstick but nothing for my eyes?

I knew it was because Wio had only mentioned the drying properties of the local air when I’d asked. She was a Strongarm like Mur, and they admittedly had different priorities. No hair, for one.

“There they are,” Mur said over the wind. Not a thing got in his eyes.

I followed the direction of his blue-black tentacle, and spotted the little alcove that looked like an old fashioned bus stop. Three small whitish shapes huddled there that I’d thought were trash bags. Whoops. A bit of judicious squinting showed that they were another pair of tentacle folk and their bag of belongings, avoiding the worst of the wind.

Not a bad idea.

They unfurled as we got close enough for them to see the package and correctly deduce that we were here to deliver whatever they’d ordered. Miscellaneous stuff from an offworld store without its own delivery crew, I think. Not my business.

Mur greeted them warmly, taking point in the conversation while I stood there like the hired muscle with the box. The clients were very glad to see us, mostly because that meant less waiting in all this wind. The bus shelter didn’t do much to hold it back.

“Thank you for being prompt!” said the bigger of the two Strongarms as she signed the payment tablet. Her coloring was off-white with patches of yellow, which reminded me of a popcorn-flavored jellybean. The other popcorn squid was a little smaller, but had the same coloration. Probably related, but what did I know?

“Our pleasure,” Mur said as he took the tablet back and they pulled out a small hover platform to carry the package. “The less time spent in this desiccating wind, the better.”

They agreed heartily. I placed the box on the platform and helped the small client strap it in place while the big one explained that they had one more delivery to wait for.

“Unfortunately, that ship has been delayed,” she said. “Which would have been good to know before we got out here, but that’s the twist of the current for you.”

The smaller one piped up in a voice that sounded young. “I’ll say. I ran out of moisturizer with one arm to go — I would have dug up more from storage if I’d known we were going to be out here all day.”

The big one was visibly worried, already tugging at the small one’s tentacles. “Where aren’t you covered? How bad is it? Let me see!”

Mur made sympathetic noises while I mentally went over what I knew of Strongarm physiology. The previous courier ship I’d worked on had kept the air at a higher moisture level than the current one, largely for their benefit. Mur had told me about the lotion they all wore in dry air. I’d honestly forgotten about it.

And it appeared to be a big deal. The one yellow-white tentacle that the small Strongarm had been holding curled close looked dry and stiff even from where I was standing. She winced as she uncurled it. Her mother (yeah, I’m assuming) rushed to dig through the bag for a bottle of water, which she rubbed into place with visible worry.

The young one watched her fuss over it. “I’ll be fine; it’s just a little dry.”

“It’s a lot dry! Why didn’t you say something? And I didn’t bring any moisturizer either, because this was supposed to be a short trip. Oh, and this port doesn’t have a shop!”

Mur winced. “Yeah, this place is mostly Heatseekers and Mesmers, isn’t it? They probably wouldn’t even stock the good stuff.”

“Or any stuff,” the older client agreed. Another gust of wind spun in from a new direction, as if it was determined to make things worse. I licked dry lips while the client fretted.

I had an idea.

“Hey, I don’t know if this works, but do you want my chapstick?” I offered, pulling the tube from my pocket and removing the cap. I swiped some on the back of my hand to demonstrate. “It’s made to keep human lips from drying out, but it might work for you. Assuming you’re not allergic. It has like three ingredients, mostly wax.”

The big Strongarm was already reaching for it, spilling gratitude. She inspected it quickly, picking up the cap with another tentacle while she read the ingredients. “Beeswax, coconut oil… What is coconut? And almond?”

“Plants from my planet,” I said. “Seeds, kind of? Though the coconut is really big and kind of like a fruit with a shell. I don’t know what it really counts as. At any rate, it’s not toxic for me, though that doesn’t mean much.”

She turned it further. “There’s a species-safe diagram here, though it’s very small. I think that’s a dot in the Strongarm corner. Do you remember which is where?” She looked up at Mur.

“Lemme see.” He studied it for a moment while the wind gusted around us and the smaller Strongarm curled her tentacle under her. “Yes, that’s the right corner! Good news.”

“Excellent! Thank you!” The client snatched the tube and instructed the young one to hold out the vulnerable tentacle.

It took a while to cover the whole thing in chapstick, but the elder was determined, and the youngster was patient. Also more than a little embarrassed if I was reading the body language right, but I couldn’t blame her for that.

“Done!” the elder announced. “Did I miss anything? Are there any other spots that feel dry?”

“No, it’s fine.” The youngster pulled her tentacle back. “Feels weird.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with sympathy. “The wax is more noticeable than a good moisturizing lotion would be. But I hope it helps!”

The elder put the cap back on and moved to return it to me, but I told her she could keep it. They needed it more than I did. Plus it had tentacle-alien cooties all over it now, which I’d feel weird about using on my own mouth, but I didn’t say that.

“Honestly, it’s my least favorite flavor,” I said instead. “I got that one in a multipack. I’ll just get a better one later.”

She thanked me again and badgered the younger one into holding the tube, with instructions to reapply it the moment her skin started feeling dry again. The youngster insisted she was fine. The adult had clearly heard that before.

“Well,” Mur said. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you! May the wind torment you as little as possible.”

“We appreciate that,” the client said. “Do all humans carry these? I’ve seen human-run shops before, and never thought to look for moisturizing agent there.”

“Most of us probably don’t have chapstick on hand all the time, but it’s a good thing to have available. And humans do use skin moisturizer too! It’s probably not the same grade as the kind you’re used to, but if you’re in a tight spot in the future with a human-run store nearby, you can probably find something there.”

“That is very good to know,” she said. “Thank you again!”

We said our goodbyes and headed back out into the brunt of the wind. I could swear it was trying to unbraid my hair one strand at a time.

“Morbid curiosity,” Mur announced as we walked, “But what flavor do you prefer for lining your mouth with? Knowing humans, it’s probably gross.”

I had to smile. “I like the minty ones, which isn’t that weird. Or cherry. Though there was a cinnamon one I found once that I’d like to get again. It looked more like lipstick, which isn’t really what I’m going for, but it smelled good.”

“Hm,” Mur said. “And what was this one? Plant flavor?”

“It was mostly just beeswax. Not that great.”

“What kind of wax is ‘beez wax’?”

“Oh!” I lit up. “I told you about honey, right? The sweet stuff made by bugs?”

“Yeeeees,” he said with suspicion. “Your food additive that’s full of insect spit. Don’t tell me this is the same concept.”

“It’s what they make their hives with!” I told him. “I don’t think there’s as much spit involved. I looked it up once, and the wax seeps out of these pores on their sides, making little scales, then if enough of them flap their wings to raise the temperature to soften it, they can shape it into the little cells to lay eggs and store honey in. But not at the same time. And yeah, they probably do that with their mouths, so there might be some spit involved.”

Mur’s squid face was contorted into an expression of spectacular disgust. “And you put that on your mouth,” he said.

“Yup!” I brushed hair back from my face. “Probably good the client only asked about the other ingredients.”

Mur walked faster. “I hope they don’t find out until we are far out of range.”

“It’s not that gross!”

“You said that about honey too.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[1800titz]

HI BESTIES. This is the first part of Shibari man/Shibari Asshole/Rigger!Harry x Rope bunny!Reader ((the one I teased here))

The one where Harry runs shibari classes and you think he should smile more

WC: 2.4K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series; the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠) 

When you were a little kid, your brother had an ant farm. 

An acrylic formicarium that’d started out as two boxes with a set of tubes. Over time, it morphed into a staggering, caged cityscape of twisting, pellucid hoses and burrows that spanned the entire length of the desk in his bedroom. 

You'd watch them scatter the tunnels as a little girl, lugging cracker crumbs and bits of fruit off your sticky fingers, weaving along the chutes connecting the boroughs of their curated city.

Your brother did what any nasty, older brother would do— those harvester ants were the torment of your childhood. You'd bicker, and he’d threaten to spill them into your bed when you were sleeping. Told you that the colony would eat her toes, that you'd wake up to wiggle nothing but grisly, little, ichor-soaked stumps.  

The gory intimidation tactic never really did much.

You'd still press your nose to the screen barring the insects and smudge your fingerprints over, fascinated as they congregated to the wet cotton ball in the depths of their home. 

You think it's a little like that now, wandering the swarming alcoves in the underbelly of New York. You're a little harvester ant (all exoskeleton to sheathe the pulpy anguish of a long day— ball it inside, keeping your face even and your mouth in a line), plodding through a network of crystalline, vinyl tubing. Swimming against the swathing current of the colony seeping past you in their beanies and their coats, deadpanned on their dog-eat-dog pursuit of errands. 

During the evening rush hour, it’s teeming under the city that never sleeps. It’s a stunning exhibit, maybe, for a tourist whose hometown flickers every porch light off by nine and has one tributary of a road that seeps away from the community, but it doesn’t help the headache thrumming behind your temples. Instead, it kindles the narked throb in your limbs until it feels like an itch in your bloodstream.

The day’s chewed you up with its sharp, ivory incisors and spit you out. Left something tired and empty. The dregs are grounds of a mucky ire, ready to be shed under the scalding spew of a showerhead. 

You mingle through the horde, slinking the gaps you can manage to squeeze past. Your nose burns. Anti-seize lubricant. Cherry cleaners and old concrete. Musk and brake dust. Ground up, heated steel from the wheels burning — metal on metal. Grease. It smells like asphalt and strife. 

The car is packed. A lumbering throng that weaves and scatters, either casting indignant looks over their shoulders when they’re nudged as you politely shoulder your way through, or soul-sucked into their phones altogether, scrolling in detachment. 

There’s one tawny seat, empty and tucked against the back wall. You inch for it on aching ankles, burning knees; the bits of a long day left sewn into your joints. It gnaws into your marrow, and nothing sounds better than hot water on naked skin. You twist—

Marimba blares from you bag. Someone casts an irrationally exasperated side-eye over their shoulder. You straighten out, and rummage through the contents. Find a battered lanyard. A spare stick of deodorant. A hair tie coated in lint and a sparse handful of change—

Drink water. You thumb the alarm off. 

When you sit back, it’s rigid. Firm and uneven. Warm, like a breathing furnace. It takes you all of a split second to recognize that you've managed to perch on a splayed thigh, clad in denim that’s shredded at the knees, rather than the grooved, ochre plastic of a hovering seat.  

You had thought there was little emotion you could have summoned beyond something drained and miffed. The day surprises you, yet, in its dying breaths. Like a mortified buoy, embarrassment bobs from the cesspool when you startle up and twist.

There’s a man in your seat. 

He looks oddly comfortable, almost as if he’d been there all along. As if you had just conjured a mirage of an empty seat. The only acknowledgement he gives you, blinking up from the phone cradled in his enormous, right hand, is a stoically disgruntled glance from behind the squared, pitch-framed lenses resting on the bridge of his nose. 

“Um. Excuse me—” you blink. Your brows crease, “I was sitting there.” 

He spares you a glance. There’s gems in his sockets. Emeralds. Dewy and dulled from the same, shitty day of skyscraper-morphed incisors gnawing. He looks away, and they coruscate in the near blinding glare of his LED, cast in a faint echo over his glasses.

“No, you weren’t.”

You blink again. He doesn’t even spare you a glance as he denies it. You're forced to stare at the part in his hair; the way a burnt umber curl sweeps over his temple. He scrolls over his screen, instead, with a neatly saffron-lacquered thumb. 

You swallow a flattering epithet that (his obvious disinterest) nearly wrests from your mouth. A flimsy facsimile of a smile sculpts over. Appalled. Nearly seeping into the beginnings of borderline deranged as your threadbare composure gets toyed at by a prick with a clandestine pair of scissors. Almost, almost, almost. 

“Well. I was going to.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmurs, brows kinked, “because this seat is taken.”

A little noise clambers from the back of your throat. You swallow it down and scoff. “Are you serious?” 

“Deadly.” 

It’s dry, derisive, disinterested. The three D’s that are going to get his glasses plucked off and tossed to the floor to be crushed under someone’s heel. 

“Unbelievable.”

His eyes— mossy, reminiscent of the woods— sweep up. He’s quiet. Stony. For the first time, you really get a good look, and decide, instantly, that if he weren’t such an apparent dickhead, maybe his specs and his voguish jumper would make him look sophisticated. Handsome, with his even slope of a nose, full, pink lips, and the dusting of stubble along his cheeks and jawline. 

There’s a sharp contrast to him, like inverted colors. Patchwork of sutures that don’t fit. It’s off, his cozy sweater and his soft hair. He looks like a warm, barbed hug. 

Prickly— saguaro, in a Marc Jacobs pullover, with stinging spines sticking through the stitching. 

“What’s the matter with you?” It’s softer that you'd intended. 

You quiver— everything, all over. Your bottom lip wobbles, your mandible sets, your fingers wring at the strap of your tote. They twitch and stretch at your side with this provoked, goopy slurry of cortisol and adrenaline. It permeates your pericardium. Snakes the tubing with an incensed warmth— embers kindled.

“Do you realize how rude that is?” 

Asphalt and strife. Someone to your side glances over their shoulder and then turns back. The stranger blinks up at you from his phone with soft features chiseled apathetic. Vetiver and musk. 

“M’not sure what you mean.” 

“Are you joking? You stole my seat, dude,” you wave out with your hand. 

He blinks again. 

“I don’t think it ever belonged to you, to be fair—“ then, “Is your name on it?” 

It’s a childish retort to spall your argument into flinders. Your eyes narrow into anticipatory slits. 

“No—“

“Then I suppose it’s not your seat, is it?” he responds sharply— chiaroscuro to the lax, impassive shape that molds his face, “S’first come, first serve …dude.”

A stranger grazes your shoulder blade in passing— something you've become accustomed to. People finding walkways in strait gaps on a train that’s packed like a can of sardines. 

“Oh my God. You are such an asshole— I could be pregnant.” 

He raises his eyebrows. His eyes trail. A slow once-over, wry and disbelieving. Sage and owlish. A stray curl stemming from the forefront of his crown meddles to coil over his forehead. The corner of his otherwise indurated mouth twitches.

“Are you pregnant?” 

No.

“Yes,” you glower. 

It slinks from the back of your throat, unbidden— this lie. Rides up the back up of your tongue and slips through the cracks of your teeth. It’s curdled and twisted, miasmic pulp in tar— who the fuck lies about being pregnant for a subway seat?

You're never going to see him again. 

You're never, ever going to see him again. 

You cup your hand over the underside of your tummy. Sell it, now that you have to. All soft flesh under the button of your jeggings, shrouded under the boxy shaping of your fleece turtleneck— where a baby (that definitely doesn’t exist, last you checked), the size of a citrus limon, would curl up. You tuck your palm over the phantom at your underbelly. 

You've had a shitty day, and now you've been backed into a corner, offering the universe shitty manifestations with your hands cupped out. 

The seat stealer ogles. Meanders from your strategic hand placement to your ireful scowl. Back. His mouth purses. 

“So, it’s not that you could be,” he clarifies, slowly, “It’s that you are.”

Languid. Unrushed, like an overflowing, murky lake lapping at a berm. Someone brushes the back of your arm. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you lying?” 

You scoff. He’s fully transfixed on you now, the glow from his smartphone dimmed on its pending shut-off timer. 

“Are you kidding? Who—“ you hike your tote up, “lies about being pregnant for a subway seat?” 

He purses his lips again, ruddy pillows bordering the sharp chasm of his mouth where the tools to dissect her claims are stowed. Bobs his head. 

“How far along are you, then?” 

You grit out, teeth bared, “Thirteen weeks—“

And a stranger prods past with enough force to nudge you forward. Enough for your shin to brush against the bespectacled stranger's own. Enough to step into his space, nearly between his parted thighs. He frowns. 

He does another slow sweep with his gaze. Furrowed brows, glimmering viridian dancing from behind limped lenses. Gleaning pieces like cattail and twine for a nest. Deciding; are they worthy? A grip over your underbelly, the little frown on your lips that mirrors his own, the way you suddenly crowd his atoms. He’s unconvinced, almost. Apathetic. 

You fully expect him to tell you to fuck off, but then he nudges with his stubbly chin. You shuffle back as much as you can with about three, broad strangers at all sides. 

He bleeds out into you, for a moment, all heat, when he clambers up and steps in to make your cycle — this game of musical chairs to the tune of white noise, flitting on a screeching rail through a tunnel— smoother. He’s broad. Tapered. Thick in the shoulders, a carnegiea of a man towering when he nearly presses his firm chest to you, wrapped in french terry. He’s much softer to the touch than the spikes bristling from his mien implicate. Woodsy and clean, like smoke, and cedarwood, and soap. It flushes the miasmic undertone of grease the subway always has. 

He cocks his head. Sit down. 

“Congratulations,” he tells you when you slot into the nook, splaying your tote over your lap. 

He’s kept your seat warm. 

Whether the statement is in reference to your unborn pseudo-baby or your victory, you're unsure. 

-

-

-

-

KNOTS resembles a yoga studio, with its clean, tall walls, its french oak flooring, and its bone-white bulbs, linearly tiled into the ceiling. It smells like an amalgam of grapefruit cleaning products and spritzes of an air freshener that vaguely echoes the lapping sea. 

Salt, an airy ozone, muguet. Something pretentious that doesn’t fit into the city. 

If it weren’t for the myriad of ropes, lubricants, and toy cleaners stacking the shelving units by the front, you would have felt as if you were here to attend a pilates class. Cycling, maybe. Something sweaty and less …abrasive.

You're late for your seven-to-nine open level, beginner’s course— two soporific hours of staring at rope and tying knots that you'll never get back.

(Slaphappy and fecklessly inept at knot-tying are two traits that don’t work well to take up shibari as a hobby.

“Please— she’s been begging for months and none of those online tutorials make any fucking sense.” 

“So— why don’t you take her with you?” 

“Because I want it to be a surprise,” Niall had opposed. Puffed his chest, “I wanna surprise her. Like a proper ropes guy, you know. And she’s so flexible, too, I could tie her in loads of positions—“

You'd raised your hand. “Spare me.” 

Niall’s always been a glass half-full. Crystalline, effervescent. A bright color.

You couldn’t bear to ruffle his plume when, two autumns ago, he spent a Wednesday afternoon standing outside a women’s handicapped stall in an auto shop for pure, courageous moral support as you took an actual pregnancy test— not even by his doing, and he still was a very good sport. Even if he’s absolute shit at knots beyond tying his own shoes.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he struggled with twine and a palomar, it wasn’t going to matter how bendy his girlfriend was.)

You're fourteen minutes late. Eight-hundred-forty seconds and change for every two steps, by the time you find the right door in the balmy corridor of boundless doorways. The portly, alder ingress squeals on its hinges when you shuffle, as quietly as you can manage, into what vaguely resembles a dance studio. 

The attendees look the part, too, perched over their yoga mats in contemporary dancer garb, turning their chins over their shoulders at the disturbance. Dress casual and comfortable. There’s only about eight of them, and they coil in a piqued coterie ahead of the instructor, who has about six varying ropes, diverse in their tint and structure, and then he peers up—

It’s him. Saguaro, with the frames and the eyes like beds of flinty malachite. 

He’s holding a furled, plaited cord, the head of the class, and he pauses, blinking up. Briefly. He clears his throat—

”—Jute, on the other hand, has great knot stability. You can see here, the braided texture— that makes it less slippery.”

Compunction crinkles the valley of skin between your eyebrows as you trudge in alongside Niall— he’s much more amicable about it, mouthing apologies and raising his hand in friendly hello’s that don’t receive much beyond awkwardly indifferent glances. You sink to your knees toward the back, which isn’t all that far from the front, all things considered. It’s a small class. The wood burrows into your tailbone— were the yoga mats a complementary piece? Were you supposed to bring a yoga mat?

“It’s great for floor bondage, but it’s water sensitive. So if you want to work it into suspension, don’t wash it too often. Otherwise, you’re losing carrying capacity.”

The city of New York is a metaphorical hayrick. It’s a paradox, since the big apple is the furthest thing from watery mud, fir-constructed barns, and scythes sweeping through crops. 

Theoretically, though, you should have never seen this man again. 

He should have become swept into the mound of straw— got lost in it. Mortification strums at your muscles, tensing every sinew. It scars deep— scrapes at your cartilage. If you'd known this needle would prick your thumb again, maybe you wouldn’t have waged war for the seat on the subway. 

And yet, here he is.

[wowcatboys]

Can you do the head canons set for Yone and Sett like you did for Kayn??? Thank you !!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL SETT / READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW (Light sexuality, nothing explicit.) ♡ Hi my dear! Wasn't sure if you meant the relationship ones or kiss ones—Yone is getting both in upcoming separate posts, and I've already done Sett kisses here ! Hope you enjoy these :D

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

SETT

Sett's most sensitive spot is his ears. They're dreamy soft, like velvet but thicker, and oh-so-warm. When you play with them he goes weak in the knees, tilting his head towards your gentle hands and letting out a low groan. He adores when you play with them. If he plops his head in your lap and looks up at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, chances are an ear-rub is what he's begging for.

After Sett smashes out a great lifting session, he usually sends you a mirror selfie. He just wants to tell you he had a great workout, and he loves when you encourage him, so it's mostly innocent. But come on...he's shining with sweat, his muscles look fucking huge, and he's got that flushed-cheek, out of breath smile. How are you not supposed to ogle him a little bit? If you accuse him of trying to turn you on with his gym selfies he goes 'no wayyyyyy'. The next picture he says—one of him winking at you, with the hem of his shirt pulled tight between his sharp teeth and his glorious abs on display—says otherwise.

Sett's social media pages consist of basically two things: gymbro shit and cute animal videos. He spams you with the latter. Expect lots of pictures of housecats cuddling ("us", he captions) and videos of dogs doing tricks ("do u think we could teach earnest that??" Probably not, you tell him, but you find him on the kitchen floor the next morning trying to get the poor dog to do a flip anyway).

Sett is all for pet-names, and rarely calls you by your given name. He  goes with the classic "babe" a lot. Sometimes he likes to spice it up by sprinkling in nicknames like "hot stuff" or "sweets". If he's being cheeky, he'll give you a teasing smirk and call you his "favorite groupie".

Sett loves staying active (obviously) and he's always down to try something new. If you're for hurting date ideas, take him rollerskating, rock climbing, or swimming. And, if you're really brave? Ask him and the rest of the Heartsteel guys to go paint-balling with you. Bless his heart, he will try so hard to protect you and hyper-carry your team but his aim just isn't that good. (Predictably, Sett ends up covered in paint-splashes. He's nothing if not a good meat shield.)

For your first Christmas together, Sett's mom knits you a beanie to match his. "Oh, you two are adorable," she beams as her son excitedly tugs the warm hat over your ears. Once you've earned the beanie, trust that you've got Mama's approval on lock.

Anyone that wrongs you is on Sett's shit-list for life. He's a hothead and he knows how to hold a fucking grudge. If you complain about your boss or come to him teary-eyed because a friend blew off plans, he's fuming. "That fucking asshole," he snarls. Of course, he sets aside his fury to comfort you. Just know that a lifelong beef has been started and he's going to scowl every time you bring that person's name up again.

After a hard workout, Sett loves to tease you by pulling you in for a sweaty bear-hug. Don't worry, though—he's always down to hit the showers with you right after.

Sett knows his way around the human body—he's got a near medical knowledge of muscle groups, nerves, and effective stretches just from his time in the gym. What does this mean for you, though? The best fucking massages in the entire universe. The moment you complain about a kink in your neck or a sore back Sett's cracking his knuckles. "Okay, hot stuff," he says, placing his gentle hands on your tight muscles. "Where exactly does it hurt?" Of course, you don't need to be in pain to get a massage—Sett's eager to touch you any chance he can get. Pout a little and ask if he can pretty please rub your neck, and his hands are on you before you can finish your sentence.

Since he's a cuddle-bug and serial napper, plan on spending a fair amount of time snuggled up in Sett's bed. He keeps sweatpants in his closet for you so you can be comfy during cuddle-seshes. Honestly, though, he prefers if you skip the pants altogether and chill out in your underwear and one of his old t-shirts. He tends to take a fabric scissors to any of his shirts with sleeves—your favorite sleep shirt, though? He mercifully leaves that one alone.

Sett's a massive show-off. Anytime you're on your tippy-toes trying to reach the top shelf or you're struggling with the pickle jar, Sett swoops in with an "Oh, lemme get that for ya!" And if he's flexing extra hard opening the jar or stretching his arms so that just the teeeeeeeniest bit of his shirt slips up, exposing his six-pack...well. You might as well enjoy the show, right?

Even though he wears lifting gloves, Sett's hands get chapped and calloused, anyway. He constantly steals your lotion. If you catch him swiping it out of your bag his ears go back and he offers you a sheepish, "sorry, hon...", but does he stop?  No chance. He pops the top and slathers it on his hands, anyway. "Whaaaaaat?" he whines as you stare him down. "If I'm all rough and whatever you'll stop holding hands with me."

You and Sett have a frankly obscene amount of plushies. There's an endless sea of plush on your bed, plus a good handful on his, but he just. keeps. buying. more. You'd complain, since it makes finding a comfy position to sleep a battle sometimes, but come on... how can you say no to a sugarcone furyhorn? Fucking impossible.

Sett's favorite way to pull you closer is by your belt loops. He hooks his fingers through and gives your hips a light tug, loving the surprised squeak you give when you bump into his massive frame.

Sett has a metal water bottle with him at all times (gotta stay hydrated)! Even though he rolls his eyes when you paste cute stickers on it, you notice that he never peels them off.

[yawujin]

Heyyy I havent seen you write any danganronpa stuff recently so if you fell out of interest its alr I was just wondering if you could please write danganronpa v3 boys x reader at the beach HEAVY on korekiyo haven't seen much fan stuff for him and it saddens me.

anyway pls&thx have a good day :)

hey anonnn, you're right i haven't written for dangan in a bit...thing is; i have a hard time writing for things i'm not currently hyperfixating on (bad trait to have i know) there are a ton of requests for dangan hcs/x reader in my inbox rn so i'll try to get more of those done ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) hope you enjoy this in the meantime!!

request | v3 boys x reader 🏖 beach edition

type | headcanon format , reader insert , light hearted , you pronouns used

shuichi saihara ♡

easily gets sunburned so he prefers to stay under a beach umbrella most of the time

asks you for help with applying sunscreen all over his exposed skin

brought water bottles for everyone (my thoughtful kinggg <3)

lowkey would want to play volleyball w everyone else but think he'd be too awkward whilst playing

would most likely invite you to sit under an umbrella with him near the shore and listen to the sound of the waves with you

rantaro amami ♡

walks along the pier with you

buys you whatever you want at the concession stands there

"this beach is beautiful, you should see the ones i've traveled really far to see, too. they're amazing!" he exclaims

rantaro shows you a plethora of pictures he's taken of beaches all around the globe

would most likely collect a little bit of the sand from the beach just to keep a piece of it with him for memory's sake.

k1b0/kiibo ♡

he is awaaaaay from the water

he stands up on the rocks , looking out to the ocean (he would like to admire it without getting wet)

he's 100% a nerd so he gives you some fun facts about sharks , fish , etc

when you come back from swimming, he tells you how cool you looked

he totally wishes he could go and swim w you :(

korekiyo shinguji ♡

he enjoys the atmosphere , and your company ofc

you two walk on the pier talking about what to get for lunch

ngl it feels like a date when you are sitting across from kiyo, eating your food

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, after a moment of quiet

"yeah! the beach is pretty nice." you reply

"i meant you, dear." he tells you

wink

kaito momota ♡

he's the one that set up the volleyball net

trying to encourage his sidekick to play volleyball with him

after getting rejected 5 times within a minute, he asks you

"i won't go easy on ya!"

kaito got a little too cocky for someone who kept on getting foul balls

gonta gokuhara ♡

quietly observing the hermit crabs on the beach

he marvels at the slugs crawling up the rocks

he's lowkey in bug heaven rn

you tell kokichi to stfu when he tells gonta that his hair looks similar to seaweed

"does gonta's hair really resemble seaweed?" he frowns

you comb your fingers through his hair and reassure him that his hair looks just fine :)

ryoma hoshi ♡

spends most of his time away from the crowd or in a shop on the pier

"beaches really aren't my type of scene"

you walk about a mile or two with him on the endless sands of the beach

you hadn't expected him to break the long silence until he said:

"glad you're here to keep me company."

he's pulling his beanie down to shade his eyes from the sun (and to hide his cute embarrassment)

kokichi ouma ♡

"let's both run into the water in three...two...one!"

except he stayed behind and let you do it all alone, much to your embarrassment (and annoyance)

he makes it up to you by buying you an ice cream

"awww don't be so mad! after we're done we can go swim together! promise!"

surprisingly, he keeps his promise and you two have a good time

you splash each other with ocean water playfully and engage in a small game of water tag

⋆ ˚｡⋆ my ao3

[seababehh]

at the end of the day. || chris sturniolo x f!best friend!reader

Hi ya’ll!! I’m back. I finally got time to write - and I definitely am writing about chris this time. Because damn; this man could really suffocate me and I’d say thank you.

This is based off the song End of The Day by One Direction because let’s be honest, that song is a banger and is currently stuck in my brain.

-

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x F!Best Friend Reader

Requested: Yes (send me more i love these ideas.)

Warnings: Angst, fluff all the good stuff. Chris being a jealous asshat, doesn’t know how to communicate. A lot of swearing and arguing! Crying! I made this heartachey because I felt like it. Sorry guys. but don’t worry, there’s some good stuff at the end, let me know if you want me to make it a part 2 with some smut. Best Friendsss to lovers Core!

——

I had awoken with sleep crusted eyes, my mouth dry and the light outside had proven it to be late afternoon. My eyelids themselves were puffy from lack of sleep, and I groaned as I dragged a hand over my face. It was the day I was supposed to hang out with my best friends -Matt, Nick and Chris. They had just gotten back from tour, and we decided today was the day we celebrated Chris for winning the tour and the boys other accomplishments.

I rubbed my eyes, rolling over the side of my bed and grabbing my phone. I replied to a few messages - letting them go through and making my way to the bathroom. Something felt different about today, my body couldn’t decide if it was a good different or bad different. I shook my head - wondering into the shower. I turned the tap on, letting the hot water run and steam up the room.

While under the hot stream of water, I had let my thoughts run as fast as the droplets against my skin. As usual, every individual thought that entered my brain had always landed back to Chris. My sweet boy, he was honestly my world, my best friend, my everything. That’s what they were supposed to be when you were in love with someone right?

Wrong, because it was only me who had this thoughts. This horrible feeling crept up from my chest, knowing I’m only hurting myself by being hopelessly in love with someone who would never love me back.The feeling pained, like an extreme pressure was put on my chest and I was about to combust. I sighed, holding my hands up against my chest and leaned against the wall as my hair began to stick to my body.

—

“(Y/n)!” I heard the familiar voice scream as I walked up the driveway to the Sturniolo Household. Chris had whipped open the door, immediately running over to me with his arms wide and open. I looked at his fluffy hair bouncing under his beanie, the blue eyes that just made me want to scream and that wide grin that was so infectious it started to make mine widen. That familiar ugly feeling of heartbreak had crawled back into my chest, but I squashed it down as I opened up my arms for a welcoming hug.

Chris had picked up up by the waist, spinning me around as I held onto his shoulders for dear life. I shoved my have in between his neck and shoulders and somehow my arm as my legs began to swim out behind me. “Chris!” I mumbled into the skin, the vibration of my voice obviously sending a tickling sensation down his neck, causing him to loose balance. My eyes widened as we toppled to the grass beside us, a loud laugh leaving both our mouths as we looked at each other. We landed on our backs, breathless but happy. “I missed you.” He said, looking at me with those blue eyes, a pinkie reaching to touch mine as we laid on the grass. This is always what it was, the sweet comments, the flirty looks, the soft touches. Sometimes I had a hope that maybe something was reciprocated.

We danced on that line many times - everyone always assuming that we were just supposed to be together. I had a glimmer of hope appear, looking at his gorgeous face. His smile never left as he huffed against the floor. That horrible feeling came back, and before I could hurt myself anymore I looked up at the sky before jumping up and offering him my hand. “C’mon pretty boy, don’t get all sappy on me now.”

Deny, avoid, leave it. He’s not yours. Those are the words that repeated through my head

He smiled at me with a slight tinge on his cheeks, placing his hand in mind and shoving me slightly, racing to the door.

-

We were all in the study slash office room of the house where we were all hanging out. Matt had sat on the chairs with Nick, shouting and screaming at the game they were playing while Chris and I were watching tiktok’s off my phone on the couch. I had sat next to him, leaning into his side with my legs folded over his and his arm behind me on the couch.

I started laughing at one of the videos that had come up on my for you page, looking up to see if Chris had watched it. He smiled down at me, and it almost made me winded. I hadn’t realized we were so close, and I tried to get my breathing back to normal. He had played with the ends of my hair as we watched, my face burning from the closeness.

I scrolled, an edit of Chris had come up, and without thinking I automatically liked it. “Did you just like the edit of me?” He whispered in my ear, making me shriek in surprise. I almost threw my phone, “I have no idea what you are talking about!” I laughed, trying to block his view from the phone. He struggled over me and quickly took my phone from my grasp. I screamed, climbing back over him to reach for my phone. I had eventually laid myself flat on my stomach across Chris’s lap, and I felt the blush worsen. His hand rested casually on my lower back; dangerously close to my ass. He casually dipped his hand onto the skin under my hoodie and started tracing circles with his fingers. I put my face in my hands and groaned, knowing now that he was comfortable - he was not going to let me move.

-

Eventually - after a few hours of lounging around the living room with the triplets, Nick had the idea that we should go out and actually celebrate. There was an influencer party that we had all been invited too - the only problem being I was in a Fresh Love hoodie and some leggings. “Nick, I don’t know about you but i’m not going like this.” I laughed. I was squeezed between Matt and Chris; my legs over Chris’s and a pillow lodged between Matt and I. Matt smiled over at me, “But dressing like a hobo is the new in, don’t you know?” I rolled my eyes, slapping his arm as we all laughed.

“Why don’t you guys get ready, i’ll go home quick and change and then you guys can fetch me since you coming past me anyway?” I stood up from the couch, Chris quickly following with a friendly pinch on the bottom of my thigh as he stood up.

I blushed at the contact. I waved by to his two clones and Chris followed me out the door. I climbed into the drivers seat of my car, leaving the door open as he decided to invade my space. He stood against the door, crouching down to talk to me properly. “What are you planning on wearing tonight ma?” He smiled, a ghost of a smirk on his face. He reached up and pushed my hair out my face and behind my ear, causing my skin to flush. “You’ll see later - now shoo! I need to go.” I pushed him away and he laughed, leaning down and kissing my cheek before closing my door for me.

I almost wanted to break out and scream - it’s me! I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were 16! Can you fucking see me dying right now! As I watched him stand and look at my car driving away.

-

I stood in front of the mirror at the corner of the bedroom, adjusting my outfit as it clings to my body. I had black leather pants on, and a dark burgundy lace halter neck as a top. I had my white platform converse tied with cute bows on my feet and my hair was cascading down my back.

I felt cute, and I also knew I felt good enough to get drunk tonight. My thoughts, once again, had reverted back to Chris. I wondered what was he wearing tonight, no doubt he’d look as good as always. I applied the last of my lipgloss on, before hearing hooting outside. I heard the holler of Nicks voice before I even got to my door. I laughed, locking with my keys and heading over to the backseat of the minivan.

“Hey guys,” I said with a smile, climbing in. Nick immediately hugged my from my side, making me laugh and complain about my hair. Matt had smiled at me from the rear view mirror and Chris had turned almost 180 degrees in his seat to make some noise. I smiled, ignoring the guilty feeling of loving the boy and letting it stay at the house as we drove away.

—

By 11, the party was probably at its peak. There were people everywhere, and for it being such a fancy apartment, the feeling was undeniable. Nick and I had chased a few shots, while Matt had stalked off and started talking to a few others of our friends. Nick and I had made our way to the kitchen, his hands stuffed in a bag of AirPopped popcorn while I had sat on the kitchen counter. My palms gripped the edge, while my legs swung out under me, my gaze zoned in on Chris. He had a pretty girl next to him - the body language far too intimate for it to be merely platonic. He leaned against the wall, but the little woman’s body had turned to face him completely.

Once again, that ugly feeling was back as I watched them - not ashamed at the stare. No, I wasn’t ashamed, because I’m almost 99% sure he knew what he was doing. He knew we played that game, he knew it. His blue gaze flickered to mine- and instead of looking away he gave me a smug smirk. I felt that little piece of heart in my chest crack. I forced myself to look away.

“Girl, I thought you were getting Mr World Wide Drunk with me tonight - not Lana Del Ray drunk.” Nick complained from my side as he saw the sour look on my face. I pointed at him with the almost empty red cup in my hand. “You-.” I chugged the rest of my drink, slamming it down on the marble kitchen counter next to me. “- are so fucking right! I need a new drink and then let’s go dance.” I hopped down from the counter, reaching over and creating a new concoction to force down my throat. Nick cheered, “Make me one too!”

After about 2 more drinks, Nick and I had made it to the dance floor. The song End of The Day by One Direction had come on- and I started screaming the lyrics. Sure, they were slurred - however I had seen Chris in my field of view on the dance floor; the girl with a tiny hot pink dress following him like a lost puppy. Nick had grabbed my hand - screaming the lyrics with me.

“All I know at the end of the day, is you love who you love, there ain’t no other way!”

As I was shouting the lyrics with the rest of the crowd, I locked in on Chris. It almost felt like time had stopped; and the background was blurring with all the people around me. The look on his face was indifferent. This was one thing that I loved and hated about the man, he was everywhere. That I could always rely on, but at the same time I couldn’t escape him. He was watching me, and suddenly the world started spinning a little too much. When I realized it was another man who had pulled me into his arms to dance, I smiled. He greeted me politely, and even had polite hand movements as he pulled me in to dance. He was actually kind of cute. I turned my head back and looked at Chris, whose face changed from a look of awe, to visible irritation with his arm now wrapped around the random girls shoulders. I rolled my eyes, now moving to place my hands on the new man’s shoulders, he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t Chris.

The feeling in my chest was now simmering, an angry feeling this time. How can he have the fucking audacity to be irritated when he was doing the same fucking thing? I needed to stop being pushed over by his little antics. I looked up at the man dancing, and turned around as his hands followed my hips and their movements. I blamed it on the alcohol that made me feel so many things at once. Maybe I should’ve taken it as a distraction. That horrible feeling coming back, once again. I didn’t know weather to be angry, or finally happy that I’m getting attention from someone that wasn’t the brunette boy I was in love with.

He had smirked down at me, but I closed my eyes and leant my head against his shoulder as we continued to the rhythm. I felt his breath on the side of my neck, but before I could feel his lips, there was an audible crunch and suddenly, I was being ripped away from the moment. My eyes snapped open, watching Chris stand there with a bloody hand and the man I was dancing with had an even worse nose, and he was on the floor. The crowd around me gasped, watching with interest at the commotion.

I was beyond furious. My eyes snapped to Chris’ gaze, who was now heaving and slowly turned to me. If looked could kill - he would simply have died 12 times. He tried to come up to me, but I placed my hand up and walked through the crowd. He called my name multiple times, but with each cry from his mouth just made me want to move my legs a little faster.

I finally made it outside to the parking lot - Chris still hot on my heels. He reached for my elbow, but I whipped around. Angry and confusion flashing through me, as hard and rough as waves against a rocks during a storm. It consumed me at this point; everything coming out and finally coming to the surface. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I screamed at him, the fury that raged through me had my shaking as I pushed a finger against his chest.

His eyes widened - he had never seen me like this before; but I had finally had enough. “What do you think you’re doing Christopher?” I poked again, “What is this? You fucking go off with someone but as soon as I do it, it’s a fucking problem?” I shouted again. His blue eyes just stared at me. Wow, for once Chris Sturniolo didn’t have anything to say. “That was pathetic! Who are you to have the fucking audacity to punch someone I was dancing with, again? Because let’s admit it; it’s not the fucking first time!” I raised my hands in frustration and the slapped against my thighs as I dropped them.

The warmth from my was rising, my skin flushing from the emotions running from me. Tears started to prickle in my eyes. “I’m so fucking tired of it Chris.” I finally whispered, as my anger grew into sadness. I was so disappointed with myself, knowing I should be pissed. “(Y/N)- please. He was about to kiss your neck-.” He tried to explain himself, but I felt that rage again.

“And so Chris? What about it? I have been fucking in love with you for four years! Four Years Chris, we’ve been dancing this fucking line for so long, and I just have to keep quiet and deal with it when you get with other girls and dealing with your jealousy but fuck sakes - when are you going to come to your fucking senses and realize that it’s not just about you!” I rambled; pushing his shoulder.

“I can only take so much, you either want me or you don’t!”He looked at me, his blue eyes softened as he saw the fat tears fall down my cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you, and all the looks, and teasing and flirting and all this time I can’t do anything about it because you’re my best friend-.” I sobbed, but was quickly cut off with him placing his hands on my cheeks. “God, you’re stupid. I’m stupid, we’re both stupid.” He said, looking at me.

I got visibly upset, “Excuse me?” I said, sniffing. He placed one hand over my mouth. “Before you get all ridiculous, you’re stupid because it took you this long to realize I’m in love with you too. And i’m stupid because it took me a screaming match to tell you that i’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” He whispered, placing his forehead on mine.

My hands wrapped around his hoodie covered wrists. I pulled his hands away from my face, “You fucking asshole!” I screamed, but a playful smile had begun to take over my face, pushing him away further and further as a giggle started to leave my mouth.

“What? What now?” He smiled, pulling his arms to his body to protect himself from my soft hits and pushes. “You ruined that guys fucking nose for nothing! As well as my makeup might I add!” I crossed my arms.

Chris had rolled his eyes, before dodging one more hit and grabbing my face once again. Except, this time he had placed his lips on mine. He started to move his lips against mine; and a whole relief just flowed after me. I felt his tongue move against my lip, receiving entrance into my mouth. I let out a little whimper as he walked my back, and I was now pressed against the pillar of the car park.

“He fucking deserved it.” He mumbled against my lips, feeling his body pressed against mine; and his hands now rested on my hips. I ran my fingers into his hair, pulling slightly. Chris let out a pathetic whine, causing him to flush. He pulled away from my and looked down at me. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do pretty boy.” I scanned his face. His lip rolled under his teeth, and he nodded pathetically with a hint of pink dusted on his cheeks.

[lilithknoxville]

Could u do a Johnny smut where her nipples are pierced and he gets turned on by it???

Barbells and Bitemarks (Johnny Knoxville x Fem! Reader) (18+!)

Summary: “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.

“Do I gotta spell it out for you, doll?” Johnny’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked, “I’m into girls with piercin’s, and I’m much more into them when they’re on your gorgeous ass.”

Content Warnings: Graphic Smut, 18+, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Johnny is a massive whore here, Oral (Fem Receiving), Mild Dacryphilia, Semi Public Sex, Daddy Kink

Word Count: 4,285

AN: MY FIRST EVER ASK EEEEEEEEE!!!!! I literally wanna kiss this anon on the mouth for giving me this idea /j. Thank you so much for requesting something from me, and my inbox is ABSOLUTELY still open for more requests. I may have forty documents open of smuts but I will absolutely drop them for a request. This is high key the most fun I’ve had writing a story in a while :3 again no beta reader we die like men. Also I’m posting this at 4:00 in the morning so MANNNNNNN I’m tired. Prolly gonna pass out after this LOL. Okay here we gooooooooo! ✨

You huffed out a sigh, resting your head back against the wall you were leaned up against. Jeff’s voice droned on and on, giving information and safety on a stunt that you weren’t thrilled about being a part of. So you had tried to tune Jeff out as much as possible, but his loud and booming voice wasn’t letting you zone out. You kicked a leg over your other one, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. You looked over, seeing Johnny leaned over on the opposite wall from you. You smiled slightly, and an easy smile graced his lips as well. He pushed himself off of the wall, coming over to where you were standing. He dipped his head down, his voice hushed in your ear.

“Well ain’t you the vision of bein’ enthused?” Johnny asked, his lips quirked up in a smile. You snorted out a laugh as you looked up at him.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about being up on your shoulders, Knox. I’m fuckin’ terrified of heights, and you’re not exactly short.” You smiled at him, and he shook his head, laughing.

“I promise I ain’t gonna drop you, doll.” He gave a smile that had your stomach doing somersaults, and you growled uneasily.

“I’m holding you to that.” You wrinkled your nose, a smile on your lips, and he clapped a hand on your shoulder. Jeff’s booming voice caught your attention and you cast your gaze back towards where Jeff was standing.

“Hey lovebirds, you two wanna join our conversation?” Jeff called, and the amount of hoots and hollers from the rest of the cast had you pulling your beanie down to cover your face, “Anyways - Johnny, Bam, Ryan, and (Y/N), you guys are gonna be next up for shooting. We’re going to go ahead with Steve-O, Dave, and Ehren’s stunt.” Jeff looked down at his clipboard, nodding to cement what he had just said, “But stay on deck, I’m thinking this one’ll take about an hour. Go ahead and get changed into different clothes, and be on standby. Your guys’ stunt involves mud, and we’ve still got a whole day of shooting.” Jeff clapped his hands and you were all sent on your separate ways. You headed to the trailer they had set up specifically for you, Johnny on your heels like a lost puppy. Your feelings for Johnny were… confusing, to say the least. On one hand, he was your absolute best friend in the whole wide world; You were nothing but comfortable around him. You both laughed until you cried, leaned on the other for support, and you loved each other fiercely. On the other, you were beyond in love with him. Any laugh he gave at your jokes, any smile cast your way, and anytime he touched you (albeit all of them were innocent) lit you up from the inside out.

You entered the trailer, propping the door open with your foot as you waited for Johnny. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he stepped into your trailer.

“You gotta follow me everywhere I go like a lovesick puppy?” You teased, watching as Johnny flopped down on the small couch set up in the trailer.

“Hey, I’m makin’ sure no one fucks with you, doll. You know how these boys are.” Johnny shrugged, resting one of his arms on the back of the couch. You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorframe with your hands behind your back. You kicked one leg over the other, rolling your eyes hard at Johnny’s comment.

“And you act like I’m not scared to beat anyone’s ass.” You snorted out a laugh, pushing off of the wall and going to the small wardrobe that was set up for you. You looked through the clothes, humming. Each outfit was marked with a name of a stunt, and you got to the one for this stunt. It was a sheer, white tank top with jean shorts. You held it up, looking at the outfit with scrutinizing eyes.

“Really?” Johnny barked out a laugh, shaking his head, “I mean - Sex sells, but if we’re sticking our only female cast member in somethin’ like this…” He chuckled again, letting out a puff of air from his nose. There was something unreadable in his eyes, and as you stared at him, trying to figure it out, he looked away, avoiding your eyes, “I dunno what they’re thinkin’.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You tore your eyes away from him, rolling them hard. You heaved out a sigh, giving the outfit one last scrutinous glare, “But I don’t think I really have that much of a choice.” You hung the hanger on the back of a chair, your hands coming to your hoodie’s hem. You pulled your hoodie off over your head, but you failed to realize you had grabbed the bottom of your shirt as well. Immediately, you were standing in a sheer, lace bralette in front of Johnny.

Time seemed to freeze as his eyes raked over you - how the bralette pushed your boobs together, the black lace against your skin, and the two barbells pushed through each of your nipples. You yelped and covered your chest with your arm, your face flushing a bright red.

“Shit! I’m fucking sorry!” You cried, moving your arm from over your chest to try and get your shirt out of the hoodie. Your hands trembled as frantic apologies tumbled from your lips, when suddenly Johnny’s hands were covering yours.

You looked up to see him standing in front of you, his face the same shade of red as yours. His face was calm, however, and a smile ghosted over his lips.

“Doll, you ain’t gotta freak out.” His voice was quiet, a murmur, as he helped you pull the shirt out of the hoodie, “But when were you gonna tell me you’ve got piercings?” He asked, a wolfish grin on his lips. You smacked his arm with a hand, your other hand covering your chest with your shirt.

“You’re an ass!” You chuckled, your face still feeling warm, “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face, looking for any sign he was joking, but there was nothing more than a cool smirk on his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.

“Do I gotta spell it out for you, doll?” Johnny’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked, “I’m into girls with piercin’s, and I’m much more into them when they’re on your gorgeous ass.”

Your head was absolutely swimming, the thoughts swirling through your head nothing that would be considered safe for work. But Johnny’s voice brought you back down to Earth;

“Now, you gonna let Daddy see my babygirl’s piercin’s?” He purred, his hands tracing circles on your shoulders. You shuddered under his hands, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned forward, dipping his head down, and captured your lips in a kiss. Immediately, all of the breath was stolen from your lungs, and your hands scrambled to his shoulders. The kiss started off as slow and soft at first, but it slowly progressed to bruising and passionate.

He growled against your lips, something primal flaring in his chest. This wasn't just some casual kiss; this was a decade of suppressed emotions and desires erupting to the surface for the both of you. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him firmly, as if he was afraid of you slipping away.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to tease at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You opened your mouth, accepting his tongue to touch around. You were secretly very thankful that he didn’t try and jam his tongue so far down your throat that you gagged. His free hand moved up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you captive against him.

Finally, you broke the kiss, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, and your cheeks were flushed a brilliant red. You searched Johnny’s eyes for a moment, a small, breathless giggle leaving your lips. Johnny had the same breathlessness you did, his lips quirking up in a half smile.

“Well, if I didn’t know any better, doll, I’d say you’ve been waitin’ for me to do that for a while.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hand cradling your face. You looked up at him with humor filled eyes, giggling.

“Good thing you know better, hmm?” You asked, giving him a teasing smile. His smile darkened and before you knew it, he had you up in the air, his arms locked around your waist. You squealed and giggled, as Johnny walked over to the small couch that was in your trailer.

He tossed you on the couch, your back pressed dully into the cushions. He crawled in between your legs, his face ghosting over yours. His breath was stolen from his lungs as he looked down at the goddess laid before him, your cheeks flushed the prettiest salmon. You looked up at him, pupils blown wide with lust and want. It intoxicated him in the best way possible, and it made him want more.

More he got, as your hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down roughly. Your lips reconnected and Johnny grunted against your lips, his hands going to your hips to raise them up against him. In this new angle, you could feel the hard press of the growing bulge in Johnny’s jeans.

He pulled away from the bruising kiss, his breath fanning heavy over your face. A smile tugged at his lips, his head dipping down to your neck. Hot opened mouth kisses were pressed into your skin, the sharp edges of his teeth pressing gently into your neck. You writhed and whimpered under him, his hands tracing your sides with the softest of touches.

“This okay?” He murmured against your skin as his fingers danced at the hem of your bralette, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah, ‘m good.” You breathed out, helping him take off your bralette. He threw it into a random corner, his hands shaking as they ghosted over your breasts.

His eyes stayed stationary on the black barbells pushed through either of your nipples. Slowly, as if he was hesitant, his hands came to your breasts, kneading them. You let out a shaky breath, your heart hammering in your chest. His nimble fingers danced over the barbells, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

“Yeah? Sensitive, ain’tcha?” He breathed out, his eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your breasts, “My pretty girl.” He breathed out, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts.

His head dipped lower, his lips attaching to one of your nipples. It was like an electric current was sent through your whole body, the warm feeling of his mouth on the cold barbell made you shoot up. Your back arched, as a shaky wail came from your mouth. Johnny pulled back immediately, his face flashing with concern.

“No, no, no!” You babbled, whining deep in your throat, “Pl-Please.” You begged, your breath coming out in pathetic sounding pants.

“Well, I gotta listen when you’re beggin’ so pretty for me.” Johnny chuckled, dipping his head back down. His mouth went back to your nipple, the warm feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple making you wail again.

His hand dipped to your jeans, fumbling with the button as he tried to undo it with one hand. A huff of breath left his nose and he pulled off of your breast, focusing his attention on your jeans.

“Fuckin’ - goddamnit.” He cursed under his breath, making you giggle. You gently covered his hands with yours, helping him undo the button on your jeans, and you started to push them off of your hips. He caught the hem of your panties in his blunt nails, practically ripping both of them off of your legs. He threw both pieces of clothing to a random corner of your trailer, pushing your legs open. You tried to close your legs, a flare of embarrassment running hot through your veins, but he was much stronger than you were.

He growled, his lips kissing down your stomach, along your hip bone, tasting the cream of your skin mixed with the salt of sweat. He kissed down along your thigh, stopping just before where you needed it the most. You watched as his cheek pressed into your thigh, as he watched how you dripped and keened.

“Look at you, little one,” Johnny purred, causing you to whimper, your fingers tightening in his hair, “You got this wet just from Daddy playin’ with them sexy piercin’s?” The southern twang in his voice drove you crazy, but the fact that he bit into the soft of your thigh caused you to keen again.

“Jesus, don’t fucking tease me.” You whined, your voice coming out breathless and needy. Johnny nipped at the junction where your thigh met your pelvis, and the feeling made you shudder underneath his hands.

“You ain’t got a single idea how bad I’ve wanted you like this.” His breath fanned hot over your clammy skin, his lips kissing lower and lower until he was right above your clit, “Hearin’ you say my name like it’s the only prayer you’ve known.” He groaned, his tongue darting out and kitten licking across your clit.

His lips attached to your pussy, his tongue exploring every single part of you. You whined, throwing your head back against the couch, as his movements were slow, agonizing in the best way possible. He switched between his tongue thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy and sucking on your clit. You let out a strangled moan as he offered a hard suck of your clit.

“Goddamn, babygirl. You taste just like honey.” He grunted against you, pulling back slightly, and wetting his middle and ring finger with his own saliva, “Could spend the rest of my life right here, face pressed into this fuckin’ pussy.” He murmured, lowering his head again. His lips attached to your clit, his middle finger slowly dipping into your pussy.

You came lighting up off of the couch, wailing out his name as he curled his finger, finding the spongy tissue that had you seeing stars. He chuckled against you, the vibration of his laugh making your heart flip in your chest.

His ministrations were eager, and before you knew it, he was adding the second finger into you. He curled his fingers hard, the pleasure thrumming through your veins hitting an all time high. Your hands came to his hair, your hips rolling against his face.

The coil inside your core started to wind tighter and tighter, as you shamelessly grinded against his face, trying to pull yourself closer to an orgasm. He moaned eagerly against you, clearly enjoying the entire situation himself. Tighter and tighter the coil inside you wound, Johnny’s little grunts and moans against you doing nothing to help the situation.

The coil snapped, your orgasm rattling through your bones - your moans breathless and high pitched - as Johnny drank up all of your slick. Your breaths were heavy and ragged, Johnny’s face still firmly planted between your thighs. The feeling started to border on overstimulating, so you tapped his head three times shakily. Johnny finally pulled his head back, his chin and lips wet.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re gonna kill me, doll.” He grunted against your hipbone, laughing shakily, “Usin’ my face like your own personal throne, I could get used to that.” He looked up at you with humor filled eyes, crawling back up towards your lips.

You kissed him breathlessly, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned shamelessly into his mouth, your hands making quick work of ripping his shirt off of him and pushing his jeans down to his knees. He kicked off his shoes, awkwardly shoving his jeans off of his legs, the denim falling unceremoniously to the floor.

You adjusted on the couch, laying flat on your back horizontally, and Johnny slotted himself between your legs, the thick press of his cock against your weeping slit making you mewl. He fumbled around for a moment, trying to find his jeans.

“I’m on the-” You raised your arm, tapping your bicep, “-thing in arm. Good for three years.” You dropped your arm, your hand running down his chest. “You’re good. I’m clean.”

“You sure?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours, “Can’t promise I’m gonna last long feelin’ this pussy raw.” He admitted, laughing awkwardly.

“I’m sure. No babies.” You pulled his face down to yours, kissing him breathlessly, “Pump me full of cum, Daddy.” You purred.

“Jesus Ch-“ He let out a strangled grunt, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned hot against your face, his breath shaky, “You tryna give an old man a heart attack?” He asked, his voice shaking. He opened his eyes, silently asking if it was okay again. You nodded, and he slowly started to push into you.

The feeling of his thick cock stretching you out made you wail into his shoulder, your blunt nails digging into his shoulders. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed in until he bottomed out. His breath was catching in his throat, his arm twitching as he gripped onto the back of the couch for dear life.

“Fuckin’ hell, babygirl.” He grunted out, letting out a trembling exhale of breath, “Pussy’s like a goddamned vice around me.” He spoke through gritted teeth, staying still to let you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

It was a silent couple of seconds before your muscles started to relax and he was able to start thrusting shallowly in and out of you. You whimpered and keened underneath him, and he hadn’t even gotten started yet.

“Harder…” You whispered, your voice begging helplessly, “Daddy, please.”

“Anything my babygirl wants.” Johnny whispered back to you, his hands moving to wrap around your neck, pulling himself impossibly closer to you. His hips slowly sped up, the pace rough but not brutal. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy in your ear.

“Shit, Johnny.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth, whimpering in his ear as he set a steady pace. His hipbones smacked against your ass, causing a dull pain that only accentuated the pleasure.

It was a few moments of this steady pace before Johnny suddenly pulled back from where he was buried in your neck. You looked up at him with dazed eyes, confusion etching into your features. He shuddered out a breath as he met your eyes, a shaky smile crossing his face.

His hands shoved your thighs back, pushing your knees almost to your chest. In this angle, you could feel every inch of his cock as he pounded into you. You threw your head back, wailing out a mix of his name and a guttural scream. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you threw your head back against the small couch.

“Yeah, that’s it, my sweet girl.” He grunted through gritted teeth, his breath coming out in bursts, “You take Daddy’s cock so fucking well. This goddamned pussy was made for this cock - Fuck!” He snarled, his hips speeding up. All you could do was hold on for dear life, your mind swimming with nothing but him and how fucking good this felt.

His hands came to your breasts, his fingers tweaking one of the barbells. Between his nimble fingers on your nipples sending waves of heat to your core, and him making a complete mess of your pussy, you felt yourself coming undone at the seams. The familiar coil in your core was winding tighter and tighter by the second, and the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes fell down your face. The pleasure was starting to border on the perfect blend of amazing and almost cruel. You met his eyes, your vision blurry from the tears, and you could see he had a wolfish grin on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s it. Cry over how fucking good this cock is.” He snarled, dipping his head down to your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses against your skin, “Could fucking live in this pussy, babygirl, Jesus Christ-!” His thrusts were getting sloppy, and you wailed out his name again, the coil suddenly snapping in your core. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your body trembled, your pussy fluttering around him. Your body felt taut, as your orgasm rippled through your bones.

“Oh fuck, babygirl-“ He grunted out, his thrusts brutal and rapid, “Just like that… Daddy’s gonna fucking cum all in this pussy.” He growled in your ear, and all you could do was hold on for dear life.

A couple seconds later, he stilled, letting out a moan that would make a pornstar blush. His cock twitched and pulsed inside of you as thick, hot ropes of cum filled you. You writhed, still trying to come down from your high.

It was a silent couple of seconds as the two of you remembered how to breathe, and you were the first to make any form of a sound. You chuckled breathlessly, meeting Johnny’s eyes.

“Well, remind me to accidentally strip in front of you more often.” You panted out, bringing your arms up and pulling Johnny into a kiss. His hands cradled the back of your head, holding your lips to his. He broke the kiss, laughing softly against your lips.

“Ain’t gotta be accidental no more, doll.” He pressed kiss after kiss to your lips, “You got me hooked around your lil’ finger.” He smiled down at you, before the sound of someone banging on the door made you both jump. You swore under your breath, your heart racing.

“Ye-Yeah?” You called, putting a finger to Johnny’s lip to shush him.

“Hey, are you two done fucking already? Your guys’ stunt is about to start.” Ehren’s voice, which had the edge of awkwardness to it, rang out through the door and it took everything in you to not want to melt into the floor from embarrassment.

“Why, you wanna join?��� Johnny called and you smacked his arm, his loud cackle of a laugh making you roll your eyes.

“Gross! Fuck no!” Ehren’s voice was high pitched, and you could almost see him cringing, “Fucking hell, Knox. Just get dressed and get your guys’ asses out here. Jeff’s pissed.” Ehren walked away from the door, and you could hear his soft muttering as he walked away. You snorted out a laugh, cringing as Johnny pulled out of you. He grabbed a couple of tissues from a table nearby, getting you as cleaned up as possible.

“Well, I’m gonna have my own cum running down my neck.” He joked, and you groaned.

“Ew! Johnny!” You whined, and he barked out a laugh.

“What? I’m right!” He had a twinkle in his eye, helping you get up from the couch. Your hair was a mess, and your neck was covered with all sorts of love bites, “I ain’t the one who decided you were gonna wear shorts that barely cover your ass while you’re up on my damn shoulders!” He helped you get dressed, putting on his own clothes quickly afterwards.

“So…” You trailed off, letting him run a brush through your hair. You smiled at the odd intimacy of the action, and he hummed, a question of ‘Go on?’, “When’s round two?” You asked, the question hanging thickly in the air.

“Let’s win this stupid chicken fight ‘tween Bam and Ryan, and maybe then we’ll talk.” He chuckled darkly in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Don’t worry, babygirl. I’ll have you walkin’ funny sooner rather than later.” He growled in your ear, sending a rush through you. He patted your butt, shaking his head, “But come on. Before the Almighty Tremaine slits our damn throats for fuckin’ up his perfect lil’ schedule.”

You exited your trailer, and if it wasn’t for the love bites on your neck and the flush that covered your cheeks, you were sure no one would have pegged you for having just had sex with Johnny. You, of course, would have been wrong.

“How big’s his cock, (Y/N)?” Bam all but screamed at you when you and Johnny made it to the set, and you bristled for a moment, “Come on, everyone heard you screamin’ his name!”

“Jealous, are we?” Johnny asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Too bad she ain’t gonna ever scream your name, Bambi.”

You chuckled, trying to pull your beanie down to hide your face in embarrassment. But as you looked up at Johnny, who was harassing Bam about being jealous still, that weird love you had for Johnny settled in your stomach again. But those were feelings for another day. You had more pressing matters, namely throwing Bam and Ryan off of a wooden beam so you could get round two.

You had a pretty good feeling you’d be getting what you wanted, regardless of what Johnny had said.

[esimsterlookbook]

Please let me know if any links aren't working and I'll do my best to update them!

Base Sim:

Twisted Cat LashesRed Ear Cat's Scar / Peachyfaerie's Lily Contour Breezytrait acne / Magic Hand Eyebrows N40 / Nesurii skin details / Ok-ruee skin details / Nell's Bruised Knees / Llumisims Lily Non-default skin / Miiko Rhea Skin Details / Praline Sims Clevage Pack 01 / Sammi_xox Nose and Lip Masks / Kijiko's remove EA eyelashes / Praline Sims Odd Eye. / Praline Sims Jetlag N20 Eyebag

Everyday:

Nightcrawler Buttercup Hair / Plaza Sims Untamed Set Top / AxA Chloe Jeans Graphics / BED and Musae Sungsudong Chelsea Boots / Giulietta Sims Moon Chain Earrings / Darte_77 03 Bracelet / Blue Craving Piercing Mouth 4 / Praline Sims Immunity Septum / Simpliciaty's Lilith Rings Both / Gorilla x3 Heart Ring Chain Choker / Breezytrait Florence makeup / Lady Simmer's Drink of my sisters liner / Lady Simmer's midnight eye shadow / Lady Simmer's oh he's sorry lipstick / Giulietta Sims Long Edge Gothic Nails

Formal:

S-Club Ada Hair / Reina May Gothic Dress / Ellone Helene Boots / Caio Dainty Necklace / Enrique24 Jane Earrings / Simpliciaty Elise Rings both / Blue Craving Piercing Mouth 4 /Praline Sims Immunity Septum / Praline Sims Lip N238 Underworld / Evil Quinzel Heartwood Eyeshadow / Praline Sims Eyeliner N82 / Northern Siberia Winds Blush N5+Highlighter

Sleep:

Nightcrawler Petal Hair / Gorilla x3 Casual T-Shirt /Rimings Lazy Sunday Short Pants

Party:

Hezeh Hair No16 / PLB Sims Puppet Top / Plaza Sims' untamed skirt 2 / Shoetopia Obscurus ankle boots / Simpliciaty Aubrey rings - both / Blue Craving Piercing Mouth 4 / Praline Sims Earrings Agony v7 / Praline Sims Immunity Septum / PLB Sims Untouchable Necklace / AxA Yoshi Tights / Breezytrait Florence makeup / PralineSims Eyeshadow 91 Macchiato / Praline Sims Lipstick N237 Icon

Swim:

Nightcrawler Petal Hair / Senate Tara Bikini Top / Senate Tara Bikini Bottom / ArethaBee Jayleen Sunglasses / Giulietta Sims Mutliple Bangles / Simpliciaty Dolly Rings / S-Club TS4 Bracelet 202013 / Blue Craving Piercing Mouth 4 / Suzue Piercing N58 / Praline Sims Immunity Septum / Trillyke Candyfloss Belly Chains / ArethaBee Milena Necklace / R Raven Garter

Hot Weather:

Nightcrawler Buttercup Hair / Plaza Sims Untamed Set Corset / Busara-tr Leather Metallic Skirt / BED and Musae Sungsudong Chelsea Boots / ArethaBee Jayleen Sunglasses / Bobur Bracelet 05 R / Christopher067 Tori Necklace / Simpliciaty Dolly Rings / Blue Craving Piercing Mouth 4 / Ellone 2024 Freya Garter / Lady Simmer Glossy Babe Eyeshadow / Praline Sims Blush N78 Mocha / Praline Sims Lip N232 Paradise / Praline Sims Eyeliner 125 Cruel

Cold Weather:

Nightcrawler Buttercup Hair / Rimings Casual Set Cross Ring Beanie / PLB Sims Untouchable T-Shirt / Euno y2k Wide Jeans / Jius Leather Platform Oxford 01 / Rimings butterfly choker / Murphy T True Ring Set / Giulietta Sims Moon Chain Earrings / Blue Craving Mouth Piercing 4 / Praline Sims Immunity Septum Piercing / Northern Siberia Winds Eyeliner N5 / Northern Siberia Winds Lip Liner N1 / Lady Simmer Moonlit eyeshadow / Northern Siberia Winds Lips N39

[zorosdimples]

cw: mourning, angst, and hurt/comfort. sweet ino takuma. in the same vein as this post. dedicated to @schrodingers-romy mwah mwah <3

it’s fucked up.

days bled into weeks, weeks seeped into months, and you’re still neck deep in the tides of mourning. along with the love of your life died your future, your hope. the once cosy apartment you shared with kento is a shell of a home—a painful memory of what could have been.

you’re curled in a ball on your sofa, the spot where he always settled at the end of a grueling day: tie discarded, collar unbuttoned, belt removed, scotch in hand. his clothes still hang in the closet (your therapist says it’s okay to take your time with his belongings, so you do). you’re swimming in his old, faded grey sweatshirt, along with a pair of pajama pants you bought him for his last birthday.

takuma is kneeling on the floor in front of you, beanie tossed aside, running a calloused palm up and down your forearm. you bemoaned your appearance when he showed up at the door with your favorite takeout, but he can’t help but think of how beautiful you are, even with swollen eyes and bitten lips and tears for another man—his mentor—glistening like dewdrops on your cheeks.

i’m fucked up.

“i’m s-sorry it always ends up like this,” you croak, a wry chuckle fluttering past your lips, dying almost instantly. you flash him a pathetic smile and use the sweatshirt cuff to swipe at your dripping nose. “go, takuma. you’ve done enough for me already. you should have fun instead of listening to me cry.”

the young man simply shakes his head, umber eyes filled with a bone-deep warmth—a hearty soup on a snowy day. “i want to stay.” please don’t make me leave. he squeezes your hand. “you don’t have to be alone right now.” all i can think about is you.

for the first time all evening, you grace takuma with a genuine smile, its radiance piercing his heart and flooding his bloodstream. he feels lightheaded as he sits next to you on the couch, like his chest might explode when you snuggle into his side. he wants nothing more that to kiss the tears from your face and swallow your sorrow and carry it as his own. but he’ll wait—he’ll always wait for you.

i’m sorry, nanami. but i think i’m in love.

[wnobin]

BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au

pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader

genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.

series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.

series masterlist | 04: mismatched pyjamas

it was 8:57 and seunghan was still nowhere to be seen. anton shook his leg as he bit the inside of his cheek anxiously. professor won had already arrived and begun to set up the projector screen whilst making small talk with the rest of the students. the words ‘self-introduction’ on a blank slide was displayed and anton immediately begun to panic, trying to remember at least one fact about himself. all of a sudden his mind was blank and the only fun fact he could think of was that he’s… a first year? totally not a fun fact.

anton was too occupied with blowing up seunghan’s phones with angry texts to notice you walking in to the class, two minutes late. he lifted his head from his phone screen only to make eye contact with you for a split second, immediately looking at the seat next to him. the seat that had his bag on it. the seat that made it look like he was saving it for someone else. he was about to take away his bag but you had already turned away, sitting at your previous front row seat.

you had left your dorm early in an attempt to make it to class early this time but it just wasn’t your fault that the classroom was all the way on the other side of campus, a 15 minute walk away. when you made it to class, you noticed only 1 seat that wasn’t in the front row was available. you were about to walk towards it when you noticed a black bag on the chair, seemingly belonging to the boy sitting next to it, who had his headphones on and was busy typing furiously on his phone. he was dressed rather nicely, even wearing a beanie, in contrast to the rest of the class who were all wearing their pyjamas since it was a 9am class. the two of you made eye contact for a millisecond before you looked away. the last thing you wanted was for someone you didn’t know to offer you a seat he was probably saving so you decided to sit back down at your old seat.

you rested your chin on your palm, listening to professor won give instructions to the self-introduction activity for the day. “so for this activity, i’ll need everyone to stand up and go around introducing yourselves, your major, and one fun fact about yourself! all in japanese, of course. let’s start with… you, over there in the front row!”

professor won’s eyes had landed on you unsurprisingly, as you were the only one in the front row and first in his line of sight. you cleared your throat and got up from your seat, turning to face the rest of your classmates. “hi, i’m y/n and i’m a first year majoring in nursing, and… i’m a first year…?”

in your defence, this was only your second lesson and your japanese vocabulary was extremely limited, hence the repetition and boring self-introduction. you could tell from the hesitant and scattered claps that even your classmates were confused as to why your fun fact was that you were a first year when everyone in that class was a first year too. you proceeded to zone out for the rest of the class, absentmindedly clapping along with the rest whenever someone finished their self-introduction.

when it got to anton’s turn, your ears perked up at the sound of his voice. he was unexpectedly soft spoken and sounded like he was whispering, prompting professor won to ask him to speak up, making a joke about how old he was getting. “um, i’m anton, a first year majoring in early childhood education, and i like swimming.”

everyone’s introductions went by relatively fast due to their inability to say anything more than a simple five second sentence. seunghan’s turn was skipped when professor won saw him fully sleep, quietly snoring as the rest of the class laughed at the sight. he remained asleep the entire time, only waking up when he heard the word ‘dismissed’. he was gathering his things and getting up when he saw a glimpse of you leaving from your seat in the front row, turning to look behind at anton who was packing up alone in the back row. “you sat alone? what happened?” anton simply walked past the half-awake male without saying a word, glaring daggers at him. “hey, wait for me!”

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[slu7formen]

icy nights | cedric diggory x f.r

cedric invites you to go ice skating on christmas night, and how could you say no to him?

warnings: kissing, just pure fluff. <3

reminder: english is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

“Where did you even get those?” you asked Cedric as he closed the front door behind him, the yelling and laughing of the people at the living room now becoming a barely mumbling as you both walked.

Cedric was holding two pairs of ice skates, one for you, one for him. He smiled as he talked. “My older cousins. They were the ones allowed to go ice skating during the holidays while I just watched them from my room because I was too young and I could get hurt. Now they get to watch”

You laughed as you kept walking, hands deep inside your pockets as you looked up at the sky. Despite being late at night, the stars were enough to light up the sky along with the moon.

Cedric’s house was a comfy place to spend Christmas at. It smelled just like the perfect amount of pumpkin and gingerbread, with the fire and those amazing cookies that Cedric’s grandma made and basically forced you to eat more than once. His family was nice, more than nice actually, really sweet and caring, and it made you feel like part of the family too, despite only being with Cedric for a few months.

His house was small, but it was located at a rural zone, and it had such a landscape that every time you looked at it when you woke up, the soft sun and orange dawn would take your breath away. Also, it had a lake, one in which him and his cousins would swim during summer and now, skate on during winter.

Only this time, it was just you and him.

“Do they fit?” he asked as he finished tying your laces, and placed one of his hands on your calve as you shook your foot, smoothly drawing circles with his thumb.

“They’re a little big, but it’s fine” you answered. He nodded once, then sat at the bench next to you.

“Let me put on mine” he said as he took off his shoes. “Have you ever ice skated before?” he questioned.

“No” you replied as you looked at him. You loved how soft yet smooth and marble looking skin looked tonight. His cheeks were red, as always, but it contrasted perfectly with the pale color of his face. His lips, plumped and pink, weren’t even dry because of the freezing weather. Unlike yours, you had to apply lip balm every five minutes.

Truth was, Cedric looked good at all times, but something about this particular night that made your tummy flip in a different way whenever you looked at him, almost as if it was the first day you met, in which you felt the exact same.

Winter just went so good with him. The turtle neck, the long coat, almost brushing his ankles, the ridiculously long scarf and his black jeans. His ears were red because he refused to wear a beanie, so you wore it instead.

Cedric thought it looked cute on you. After all, your cheeks were just as red as his and the soft cream colored accessory on your head that combined with your outfit just made you look like a tiny marshmallow to his eyes. He loved it.

“Okay, slowly” he pointed out when you almost fell once you stepped into the ice. You gripped his hands tightly as you closed your eyes even tighter. “Okay, honey, you have to use your eyes” you heard his laugh ring in your ears.

“How can you do this so easily? Skating backwards!?” you panicked. Your feet were moving smoothly along the ice, and you could stay like this forever, if it wasn’t for the fact that the reason why you were moving forward, was because your boyfriend was pushing you towards his body, that kept moving back and back and back.

“It’s easy, you’ll see” he tried to sound as calm as possible to calm you down. After a few seconds he decided to let go of your left hand slowly, to which you didn’t complain as much as he expected you to. “Open your eyes”

You shook your head.

“Come on” he smiled “I won’t let go of you”

He could never let go.

You both stopped your slow skating as you opened your eyes, looking down at your feet. The fact that the only thing that was holding you to the ground was a thin and sharp piece of shiny blade was what made you the most nervous. Staring off wrong would definitely make you fall to the ground and have the worst embarrassment from your life.

“H-how do I do this? I feel like I’ll fall”

“You won’t fall” he laughed out loud. “Merlin, you are so cute” he muttered almost to himself, but he knew you heard. It made your cheeks redder. “Just go slow, I promise I won’t let you go”

You nodded as he took the initiative, smoothly sliding his thin skates through the ice, which made a satisfactory sound anytime the blade cut the thick layer of frozen water.

You then started to do it on your own without even noticing. The cold wind of the night hit into your face sharply, but you didn’t care. Cedric held your hand as you started to go faster and faster, almost as if you tried to race your boyfriend.

“See? You got it!” he encouraged you. “Can I let go now?”

“No! You promised you wouldn’t, Ced!” you yelled as you abruptly turned around. The sudden move made you both trip in your own feet and soon, you fell to the ice.

Your butt hit the hard surface as Cedric slightly groaned when he hit his forearm, but quickly started to laugh.

“I’m sorry” you giggled.

“It’s fine, honey”

He sighed deeply as he let himself fall in the cold ice, coat getting wet and a deep freezing breeze brushing his head and neck. You imitated him, laying next to his body as you felt both sensations, the coldness of the ice and snow, and the warmth of his body.

The sky was shiny, just as every night that you saw this past week that you slept at Cedric’s house. However, seeing it from the middle of the lake, staring directly at it, was completely different than looking at it from a window.

This was much better. It was like your eyes weren’t big enough to look around you, but everything was at your sight. The leafless trees, the house yellow lights, the big and white moon as the stars shinned around it.

You suddenly felt out of breath at such beauty.

“It’s beautiful” you whispered.

“It is” Cedric agreed.

Only that he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at you.

You turned your head when you felt his eyes on you. You thought his words, and hid your face in the thick layer of your coat to prevent him of seeing your poor red face. He laughed as he put his forearm over his forehead, really looking at the sky this time.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me” he said. The tip of his fingers touched yours, laying on the ice and wetting your fingertips.

You gripped your hand around his index finger, holding tightly. He secretly loved it when you did it.

“I’m glad you’re with me too” you answered, then turned your head to him, so you could live this moment one last time before getting back inside, as you promised Cedric’s mum you would so you wouldn’t get sick. “Merry Christmas, Ced”

His dimples showed when he smiled at you again. “Merry Christmas, baby”

[definitelynotstable]

Missed You [Price x fem!Reader]

AN: First Price fic!!! He is literally the loml and I've been too scared to write him so hope I did him justice. Lmk what you think!

Synopsis: You're undercover in Amsterdam when your cover is blown. Injured and alone you try to locate Price and Gaz before it's too late. Hurt/comfort. Word count: 1.6k Warnings: Wounds, blood, medical inaccuracies, canon typical violence and canon divergence. Price x fem!Reader (Callsign: Ferris)

✧˚ · .

You‘d been undercover for months. Months and the intel you’d provided had saved countless lives but undercover work always had an expiry date. 

And that date was today apparently. 

You knew you were pushing at the boundaries when inquiring after Hassan Zyani. But Laswell seemed desperate and time was tight. But here you were now, soaked to the bone and bleeding out in the middle of Amsterdam. Word was Gaz, Price and Laswell were in the city – you just had to find them before they reached EXFIL. 

The sun was getting low in the sky and your short swim in the canal hadn’t exactly warmed you. The cobbled streets were slick underfoot and you hugged the buildings bordering the footpath. Gun shots and screams echoed from the street up ahead and you quickly made your way in the direction of the chaos. 

A woman ran into you, blonde hair flapping in the wind. She apologised hastily in both Dutch and English, too distracted to notice as you ease the long coat from her arms. You wait for her to disappear behind a corner before shrugging it on. 

There’s a bullet still in your torso somewhere and every movement sends a flash of pain which radiates up through your spine. The coat covers most of the blood which has steadily bloomed across your navy shirt – not quite dark enough to disguise the stain. 

You duck behind a tree as more shots ring out. You’re wounded and unarmed – if this isn’t Price, Gaz or Laswell you’re toast. 

A man dives past you, tackling a man in a black leather jacket to the ground. He’d wearing a beanie and brown jacket with a woollen collar and a beard – a beard you’d know anywhere. Price.

A man with a darker complexion but similarly dressed, squats next to the two on the ground and injects something into the neck of the man Price is holding down. 

Together, the two of them lift him up and you’re able to identify Gaz as well. 

“Watcher, time to move.” Price speaks into an earpiece and you step forwards, legs wobbling beneath you. Both men look up as you come out from behind the tree, their target hanging unconscious between them. The captains eyes widen as he sees you. “Ferris?”

He reaches a hand out to steady you, hand landing on your shoulder as his eyes sweep across your form. You breath deeply, pushing away the urge to collapse. 

“Yeah,” you manage, “yeah – Laswell said you were in town,” you turn to Gaz and give him a smile, “you too.”

Gaz reaches out and gives you a pat on the arm, “good to see you.”

People are still fleeing the scene and time is limited. Price flicks you a concerned look. “EXFIL isn’t far, think you’ll make it?”

You swallow, mustering up every drop of remaining energy you have before nodding. “Anything for a free ride.”

Price eyes you for a moment before looking at Gaz. “Let’s go.”

You trail him and Gaz down a few streets before you reach a corner where a silver sedan has pulled up. Through slightly fuzzy vision you make out Laswell behind the wheel. Gaz shoves the target into the back seat while Price eases you into the front before joining the two men in the back.

“Kate.” You say to the woman beside you. “Hope this isn’t s rental.”

Her eyes snap down to where your arm is curled carefully around your waist. “Fucking hell, Ferris.”

Gaz leans forward and thumps the back of Laswell’s seat, throwing a worries glance out the back window. 

“We gotta go.”

The last door in the back slams and Laswell floors it. 

✧˚ · .

It’s dark when the car pulls up to the safehouse ad your head is lolling between the back of the seat and the window. Laswell goes between glancing at you and the road, her spare hand reaching over to grip your knee.

“We’re almost there,” she says, voice calm but you know the coat is no longer hiding the blood. She moves her hand down to cover your own which is definitely not putting enough pressure on the gaping hole in your side. 

“John?” She asks, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the man sitting behind you, “Can you reach Ferris? She needs to put pressure on that wound.”

The captain swears under his breath and you groan as the lever to the side is pulled and your seat slides back. A callused hand grips your wrist, pulling your hand aside before replacing it – firmly. 

“Ah fuck,” you hiss as the heel of his palm digs in to the wound, you weakly grab at his forearm but it remains solid against you. 

“Sorry, love.” Price responds, sounding gruff, “it’s this or bleed out.”

You suck in a sharp breath, “not sure there’s much left anyway.”

Price growls, “how long ago were you hit?”

You glance at Laswell, “When did I call you?”

“Ten-hundred hours,” she replies, glancing at you again, “christ, it’s been that long?”

You don’t respond, you’ve slumped forward, head to the dashboard – out cold.

✧˚ · .

You don’t fully resurface till you’re inside the safehouse. Voices murmur around you and things clatter as someone clears the table – laying you down. 

A hand cups the back of your neck.

“Gaz, get us a pillow or something, will ya?”

There’s shuffling sounds and suddenly your head is being lifted and then lowered onto a softer surface. 

You blink, shapes and colours hazy in the warm lighting; coming into focus slower than they should. Someone hovers over you, Price. 

“Gave us quite the scare.” He says, easing the coat aside to asses the damage. “Surprised you’re not dead.”

“Real helpful,” you cough with a wince, glaring up at him, “just fix me up, won’t you?”

“Working on it.”

Gaz hands him a pair of scissors from the med-kit and he carefully snips away at your shirt.

“Hope this wasn’t a favourite.”

You huff out a laugh, ignoring the ache it ignites. “Hole in it now anyway, and a bit of a stain – if you squint.”

Price chuckles, peeling the fabric away from your bloody skin. “Any exit wound?”

You shake your head, raising an arm to drape over your eyes in order to resist smacking the Captain’s hands away as he douses the wound in an anti-septic solution. You let out a slew of curses under your breath and he raises his eyebrows. 

“Quite the vocabulary.”

“You learn a word or too working with smugglers,” you quip back, gritting your teeth. 

He thoroughly cleans and sanitises the wound before calling Gaz over. Laswell’s somewhere, probably on a call with the higher ups or interrogating the HVT. 

“You’re better than me at this stuff, kid.” Price says, handing the sergeant a pair of gloves and some tweezers, “I’ll hold her down.”

“Fucking hell.” You roll your eyes, lip wedges between your teeth. “I am not looking forward to this.”

Price comes to stand by your head, he swipes a thumb over your lips. “Bite this instead.” He slips something soft between your teeth – his glove. 

He moves down the table to stand on the otherside, opposite Gaz. The young sergeant looks up, brow furrowed.  “We might need Laswell for this.”

Price shakes his head, “She’s busy, doubting my strength, Gaz?”

“More like overestimating mine,” you scoff, before flashing Gaz an encouraging look. “I’ve lost too much blood to put up much of a fight – have at it Gaz.”

The Captain reaches over and pushes the glove back between your lips. “Bite.” He says sternly, “you’ll need it.”

You glare back at him but comply as he settles an arm across your legs and grasps both your wrists in the other. 

Gaz looks to you, “Ready?”

You nod. 

✧˚ · .

The pain is white and hot but lasts for only a minute. By the time Gaz has dug out the bullet, you’re panting and sweaty. Tears sting at your eyes as the firm grip on your wrists loosens and a hand comes up to cup your cheek. 

“Good job.” Price murmurs, thumb stroking your cheekbone, “That’s my girl.”

Gaz, ever the professional, ignores how your face crumples and you curl into Price’s touch. He instead busies himself with threading a needle before nudging the Captain and offering it to him. 

Price takes it, giving him a pat on the back.

“Thanks Gaz.” You mumble hoarsely to the younger man who smiles and tousles your hair as he passes.

“Good to have you back, Ferris.”

With Gaz gone, you turn back to Price, sniffing. He pushes your hair away from your sweaty forehead and kisses your cheek. 

“Almost over, love. Just some stitches and you’ll be right as rain.”

You relax against the table. Stitches are a walk in the park compared to earlier. 

“Make them neat,” you stress and Price laughs. 

“Luckily I had a good teacher.”

He ties off the sutures and dresses the wound before discarding of his latex gloves. He wraps an arm around your waist and eases you up of the table, half-supporting, half-carrying your to a room nearby. He lowers you down onto a single bed in the corner, tucking the covers around you and taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“I missed you.” You confess, eyelids heavy. “So much.”

“Me too.” He admits, eyes creasing with a small smile as a hand cards through your hair. You sigh softly, allowing the rhythmic brush of his hand lull you to sleep. Your eyes have already fluttered shut when he whispers again.

“More than you could imagine.”

✧˚ · .

Masterlist