#surely I've used that tag a time or two before

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Sensitive.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Words count: 1300 (more or less, I added something just before posting it)

Warning: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You make Frankie come just by playing with his nipples. That’s it, that’s the fic LOL

Tags: pov second person, reader has breasts, nipples and hair, no other description of her is given, pwp, nipples play (YAS we play with the man’s nipples wooo), ice cubes, swearing, pet names (baby, honey), established relationship, dick pronouns for @sp00kymulderr’s challenge, kissing, Frankie obviously has a huge cock, I think it’s all? Let me know if I missed something and I will add it right away.

A/N: I've been wanting to do this for a while now because I'm a big fan of nipples (gender neutral, folks, we don't discriminate here, I can love a variety of them) and those Pedro pics yesterday uhm…inspired me lol English is not my first language, I have no beta, any mistakes are my fault, I’m so very sorry 💀

I also did it because every time I use the translator to check my English, whenever I type something nipples related, the translator always uses she/her and it pisses me off.

I hope it's not cringe, if it sucks pretend you've never read it, please, I love you all bye.

I started a tag list, let me know if you want to be added, thanks so much!

Frankie has sensitive nipples.

You discovered this by accident, while you were in bed together after he had fucked you like a god. Your hand wandered over his chest and brushed against his areola. Frankie fidgeted, tried not to show it but the involuntary flinching of his body spoke for him.

He kissed you right after just before you could ask anything so you didn’t investigate any further but you were so intrigued by it. You kept thinking about the way he squirmed under your touch for days and craved to do something more for him.

You have a thing for nipples. For his especially.

Both because you love him and because they are delicious. You also don't like the fact that yours get all the attention while his have always remained two neglected little buttons on his chest while you’re pretty sure you could make good use of them.

Tonight is the time to change that, at least to try.

As you kiss on your couch his hands instantly fly to your tits, he massages them, squeezes them and as much as what he's doing drives you crazy you keep thinking that you would like to do something for him.

“Frankie” you breathe between kisses and he whispers on your lips “what, honey?”

“Nothing… it’s just…”

“What?” he interrupts you “did I do something wrong?”

You smile in front of his worried eyes “no, you’re perfect, really. I just…” you hesitate but in the end you spit it out “I would love to try something new”

Frankie smirks under his mustache “uh, what’s in that scrumptious little head of yours?”

You giggle, feeling your courage grow as you slowly run a hand over his chest still covered by his shirt, starting from his neck, down his collarbones and then his pectorals.

“I would like… uhm… I would like to play a little game”

Frankie’s eyes sparkle with curiosity mixed with excitement “you know I like games”

“Okay, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, baby” he says right away, brushing your arm gently and looking you sweetly in the eyes.

“Let’s go to bedroom then”

You stop in the kitchen to get some ice cubes that you put in a glass as he watches you, still confused but definitely aroused “What are those for?”

“You'll find out soon enough” you take him by the hand grinning, lead him towards your room which has now become yours and you have him stand in front of the bed.

“Take off your shirt” you order him “and your jeans”

“I already like that,” he chuckles.

“Lie down,” you tell him soon after, playfully pressing a hand to the center of his chest.

You place the glass on the bedside table and undress, remaining only in your underwear while he cranes his neck to look at you and licks his lips full of anticipation.

“My favorite view…” he whispers and you giggle, crouching on the bed right next to him “Now listen to me, you can’t touch me but I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Frankie sighs “okay”

“Can you behave for me?” you raise an eyebrow watching him ironically.

Frankie lets out a more convinced “yes” and you praise him “such a good boy for me”

You brush your fingertips over his chest again, going down over his sternum, then over his stomach and belly, stroking the thin strip of hair that disappears into his boxers. "I think he'll like this," you whisper, watching his half-erection rose from beneath the fabric.

“He’s looking forward to it” he nods with a crooked smile.

Of course he expects you to touch him right there, but your hand goes back up letting a little protest leave his lips.

You stop on one of his nipples and your fingers graze all around the areola.

Frankie squirms, widening his eyes, mouth agape “oh fuck, is that what you want to do?”

You purr “exactly. Can I go on?”

Frankie swallows air, his Adam's apple pops in his throat, then murmurs, “Go ahead.”

“Shall we bet he will come untouched?” You suggest.

“We’ll see. Don’t make him wait further, gorgeous, do your thing” he urges you.

You begin to caress his skin, moving closer and closer, Frankie watches you mesmerized as you feel his body tense under your fingers.

You rub his areola again and then pinch his nipple. He gasps loudly “Oh fuck”

“Everything okay?” You murmur.

He frowns noticeably and nudges “yes.”

You alternate between pinching and rubbing, feeling his breathing get heavy and shorter as his cock swells under his boxers. You shift only long enough to pull them down and expose his huge engorged dick to your view.

“So much better” you purr “I need to see him”

You return to your seat beside him and remove your bra, smiling mischievously at him. Frankie tries to raise his hand to reach out to feel you but you rebuke him, " Hey, no! You can look, but don't touch, remember?”

He blurts out, “That's not fair,” and you chuckle, “I feel like he's doing just fine anyway. The best boy," you tease him.

You take an ice cube and pass it over your lips, you suck on it lightly and small drops of water slide down your chin, you place it back into the glass as Frankie lets out a needy moan. His pupils are dilated and his lower lip quivers slightly, he is absolutely delicious.

You reach down and your nipples brush against him, “You can feel them like that, can't you?”

He sighs “yeah…okay”

You stick your cold tongue out and run it over his and he groans “oh baby”

You eye his cock rise higher and higher until it comes flapping against his tummy, hard and swollen and its pre cum begins to drip from the tip along its length.

Your tongue circles his nipple, again and again, then you flick it and you nibble it lightly and Frankie's back arches as he gasps, "Holy fuck, baby, you're killing me."

Your mouth and ice-cold lips stir all his nerve endings just as you expected.

You smile pleasantly impressed against his skin ”you like that, huh?”

“God, yes” he breathes “fuck”

He groans loudly when you detached, taking an ice cube again and sucking it between your lips, then lean over his chest to reach the other nipple as you continue to rub the other with your fingertips.

His chest rises and falls faster and faster as your tongue strikes sharply and precisely, your other hand resting on his arm to steady you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop please I’m so close” he whimpers “fuck - just like that baby”

You continue until his cock is on the verge of bursting, then you move your hand to take it and finish him off.

“Come for me, Frankie, come on” you urge him “Give it all to me, baby” just like he does every time he’s in control and his response is immediate, he comes in your palm after a few strokes, long streaks of sticky cum painting your hands and his tummy as he whines.

You get between his legs to suck him clean, welcoming his cock between your lips and giving him what he wanted from the beginning after what he didn’t know he needed.

You suck him until he softens and then you lie in his arms, quietly enjoying his warmth. He is the first to break the silence, after kissing your nose and your forehead "damn, baby, you knocked me out"

You lift your gaze to his and smile "you didn't imagine that huh?"

"He didn't imagine it either," Frankie laughs.

"I told you he would like it" Frankie caresses your cheek and you reach out to kiss him, his taste still on your lips. "next time you play with mine while I play with yours" you coo.

He retorts, “just give me some time to rest and I’ll show you right away”

Thank for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away ♥️

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 20)

Hello lovelies, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! It's been a while, and for that, I'm sorry. I've been (and still am) going through a bit of a depressive episode. November's typically a tough month for me for a couple of reasons, but it hit harder than usual this year. Still, I wanted to come back and bring you another installment of Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics, just in case anyone needs a little Sterek to get them by like I have.

Side note: I'm actually thinking of doing a some, like, "feature" posts where I rec a single fic at a time, regardless of whether or not I've already rec'd it through this series, and actually explain what I like about the fics. Give a little endorsement, if you will. As much as I love all of the fics I have recommended throughout this series, I definitely have some go-to staple fics that I re-read with far more frequency than others. I can think of at least 3 off of the top of my head right this second...

Idk. Would any of you be interested in that? I might do it no matter what, just to have something to engage my brain a bit, but I have also been nearly catatonic with brain fog and just a general exhaustion of life, so. We'll see.

Okay, enough of my yappin'!

As ever and always, thank you all so much for all of the love and support you've shown this series. It genuinely warms my heart when I get a notification for this series, and I appreciate you all so much. I hope you've all found some new favorites and/or got to dig back into an old favorite or two along the way. There won't be too many more parts, but I'm going to try to stretch this bitch out to 25 parts because it's a tasty number to my brain.

I hope you're all having a good day, if not a great one! Smoochies and squeezies, lovelies!

List and links to previous parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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The Horror of Our Love by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 1/1 | 4,941)

"I'm not wearing a muzzle," Derek snaps.

"Look, if you wear this then we're golden! There's no way you can bite through this, Deaton said so."

"Oh well, if Deaton says," Derek says snidely. It's a silly argument. Sure, Deaton is shady and enjoys bending the truth on occasion, but unless it's a complex assassination plan he wouldn't lie about this. Something that Stiles knows that Derek is aware of.

"There's really no reason for him to lie," Stiles points out. "What's your real problem with it?"

"It's demeaning," Derek says through gritted teeth.

"What? No! Lots of werewolves have to wear one of these," Stiles says, waving the muzzle around. The leather and clasps jingle.

Derek sneers at him. "Wolves who can't control themselves."

"Pot and kettle, buddy. Wait, wait," Stiles says hurriedly when Derek turns to leave, "let's just... let's try it, okay? Come on, have I steered us wrong before?"

-

In which Derek can't control himself while having sex with Stiles and needs to be muzzled.

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Burial Rituals by aurevell (G | 1/1 | 4,989)

The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

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Devoured by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 5,298)

Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.

He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.

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Satisfaction Brought It Back by Snare (E | 1/1 | 7,223)

Derek doesn't know how nobody else seems to notice the large, ever-present bulge in Stiles' jeans. He can't help but be curious about it, he just - he just wants.

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Lay Me Out by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 2/2 | 8,967)

"This is weird," Stiles tells him. His hands are still on Derek's chest. "Is this weird? Are you even sentient enough to think things are weird?"

Derek's tail wags back and forth, brushing against his calves and stirring up the fallen leaves. And the licking? It doesn't stop. Derek keeps at it, licking Stiles' cheeks, his forehead, that sensitive spot behind his ears. Stiles tries to twist away, much braver now that he hasn't been mauled, but there's no escape.

"Okay," Stiles croaks out. He pushes at Derek's shoulders, his chest. "Let me up, big guy, come on."

When Derek doesn't move, Stiles arches up, trying to wriggle free, but then he feels something wet and sticky against his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. He cranes his neck down and sees Derek's dick. It's distinctly non-human; red, with a tapered tip. Clear fluid drips from it.

"Oh holy god," he says, horrified and fascinated. "Is that - oh fuck."

-

In which Derek has sex with Stiles while in the Alpha form

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to be with those I like by sheafrotherdon (E | 1/1 | 9,323)

It's Deaton who tells Derek that Stiles is back in town, a broken marriage behind him, his daughter in tow.

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How We Got Here by Areiton (E | 1/1 | 9,718)

Maybe if you fight the creatures of the night together like they did, if you bury enough friends and strangers and enemies, you don’t lose touch.

He thinks that’s why he and Derek are friends--because Derek understands his nightmares, understands the nights when he can’t talk, and the nights he can’t stand the dark.

OR: Against all odds and expectations, Stiles and Derek have become respectable adults ( WHY?) and friends.

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Lunches, Knitting and Definitely Not Dating by attackofthezee (noxlunate), noxlunate (T | 1/1 | 10,107)

“So, I uh, managed to get myself pregnant.”

“You what?!”

“Got myself pregnant. Y’know, up the duff, knocked up, a bun in the oven, in a family way, eating for two, with child. I could go on Dad, really, stop me before I exhaust the list of pregnancy euphemisms. There’s still caught an 18 year STD, my eggo is preggo, building a person-“

“Stiles.”

“Hosting a parasite, harboring a fugitive-“

(Just a weird mpreg fic with Derek and Stiles totally kinda dating without realizing it, and Stiles figuring out this whole having a baby thing.)

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(they say) this should feel something like fire by dallisons (E | 1/1 | 11,163)

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

"Turn it off." The pack looked up, stunned into silence by the first words they'd heard from him in weeks.

Stiles stood, trembling - his knees weak. He tried to run and collapsed, his bad leg failing him once again. Derek caught him. "Turn it off," he said, his voice unmistakably a growl.

The water continued leaking from the loose faucet, and all Stiles heard was Erica's blood against the concrete. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of by Lissadiane (NR | 1/1 | 14,953)

It's a cold, snowy night and Stiles is halfway through his shift at the campus coffee shop when a tall, dark and handsome stranger walks in, one who seems unaware that he's being haunted by a wolf.

In which Stiles Stilinski sees the ghosts of animals with unfinished business, and Derek Hale is unaware that his dearly departed sister left a few things unfinished.

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Untouchable by Hedwig221b (E | 1/1 | 17,128)

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts.

See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding.

And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

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Camaro '68 by ZainClaw (E | 1/1 | 17,707)

Derek huffs, arching one eyebrow. "I'm not a fugitive." "You look like a fugitive," Stiles insists, practically beaming. "Maybe you should start wearing cardigans."

In which Stiles is a hitchhiker and Derek a runaway whose paths cross at a gas station in the California desert.

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Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit (T | 1/1 | 18,010)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

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Do You Wanna Date My Avatar? by Renmackree (T | 9/9 | 18,399)

Scott frowned, grabbing the game case and reading it out loud.

“Become the Hero you've always wanted to be. Battle monsters, witches, dragons, and all the mythical beasts of the World of Fantasy. Play as a Human, Elf, Dwarf and other special races included in the basic game. Stiles this so stupid. Who the hell would want to play as a Werewolf?” Scott threw the game back on the bed and leaned back in the chair.

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We Only Get Better by Ninna_7 (T | 8/8 | 22,741)

Stiles doesn't call him these days. Not since he left Beacon Hills that last time. Not since Stiles left the FBI internship programme in favour of studying Forensic Psychology at NYU. Stiles has texted him a few times in the past, but he never called. Not anymore. Back then, however, whenever Derek received a call from Stiles or called Stiles in return, it was purely for survival's sake. So Derek doesn't know what to expect from this call. If he's being honest, he's scared of it.

x

Or: It's been years since Stiles and Derek last spoke, but a phone call from the human reconnects them. They have the chemistry, the history and the shared trauma. With time and each other, maybe they can have more.

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part-time soulmate, full-time problem by Renmackree (E | 1/1 | 27,111)

Stiles had seen it all in his five years of supernatural shenanigans, but never in his life would he have guessed returning to Derek's old stomping grounds in New York, especially under the guise of Derek's magical Mate.

It was going to be an exciting summer.

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The Light in the Woods series by DiscontentedWinter (5 works | G-M | 36,507)

1. The Lights in the Woods (T | 8/8 | 12,293) To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles. 2. The Gift of the Trees (T | 1/1 | 4,780) Stiles is everything that Derek ever wanted... almost. 3. Moonflower (G | 1/1 | 3,331) Stiles and Derek's son finds his magic. 4. The Path of the Wolf (G | 1/1 | 5,206) Faolán has to find his own path. 5. The Heart of the Wolf (M | 4/4 | 10,897) Etienne Argent is rescued by a strange young man in the woods.

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In Any Version of Reality by alisvolatpropiis (E | 7/7 | 39,853)

Standing next to not-Derek – whoa, holding not-Derek’s hand? – is someone who looks remarkably like Stiles. Is Stiles, a slightly-altered replica, just like this guy both is and isn't Derek.

It’s not like looking into a mirror – one, because looking into a mirror actually makes some kind of sense, and two, because not-Stiles looks older too, mid twenties maybe. And the tips of his short, spiky hair are dark purple, and he’s got a lip ring and he’s shirtless and covered in tattoos and what the holy hell?

“Time travel?" He's sufficiently freaked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears his dad laughing.

“Not exactly,” not-Derek says, and shit, even his voice sounds exactly the same, disconcertingly gentle. He gestures behind him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, where behind him, scattered across the porch and in the front yard, are more…Dereks and more Stileses.

Fourteen total, including the two at the door, he notes distantly, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head from bulging so hard.

Seven other Dereks. Seven other Stileses.

Seven Derek and Stiles pairs.

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The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart) (E | 9/9 | 57,572)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.”

This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real.

The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent.

Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person.

He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it.

No one knows this case like Stiles does.

-

In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

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The Soul Knows What the Heart Wants by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (M | 9/9 | 163,779)

“Holy—shit,” Stiles breathed, Bacon stopping in what he was doing, still staring at him intently, as if begging him to understand, for someone to finally understand. Stiles felt like he’d been electrocuted and he leapt out of his chair, kneeling in front of Bacon and grabbing at his furry face. “Holy shit! Oh my God, are you—wait, holy—you’re not fucking with me, right?!”

Bacon let out two quick barks, which Stiles chose to interpret as ‘no.’

“Oh my God, are you a real person in there?!” Stiles shouted in the wolf’s face, staring him right in the eye. He was still holding the wolf’s head with both hands, but Bacon dipped his muzzle in confirmation and Stiles officially lost his mind.

“Oh my God!” he shouted again, releasing Bacon to clutch at his own hair. “Oh my God! Dude, for real?! You’re—holy shit! Holy shit!” He didn’t know how to react to this news. He had no fucking idea how to react. This was a person?! But how?! How was this a person?! People didn’t just turn into wolves!

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[lexosaurus]

From Goth to Ghost (part 2)

Here's part 2 to my @ecto-implosion fic for @blonchie's incredible art! Check out both of their pieces HERE!

Characters: Sam, Danny, Tucker Tags/warnings: No Warnings, Halfa!Sam (temporarily) Summary: The last thing Sam expected to wake up to was her body frozen on her bed. But unfortunately, thanks to a certain jock's midnight ponderings and the interference of one wish-granting ghost, that was exactly how she started off her morning.

[read on ao3]

[part 1]

****

Somehow, through sheer force of luck, and—well, actually, no, it was all luck—she managed to survive the school day with little more than a bruised knee.

But at least no one saw her fall!

Is what she would have thought if that were true. Unfortunately, everyone in her history class had seen her spectacular tumble to the floor. And yes, most of them had also laughed.

Which was the icing on the cake.

But, she supposed it could have been worse. She could have been like Danny who'd infamously dropped forty-two beakers and cost the school so much in damaged equipment that he was banned from ever handling fragile objects again.

Unlike Danny, however, she actually had a brain. And some impulse control. So perhaps that was why, unlike him, she managed to stay mostly on her feet.

She had to be nice to him, she reminded herself. He was the one who was going to teach her how to use these powers. She wasn't allowed to make fun of him for being a butterfingers—she wasn't going to say a word.

Of course, that promise lasted all of a minute after the final bell rang. 

Actually, she wasn't sure she'd even made it off the property before she was smugly rubbing it in Danny's scrawny face that unlike him, she actually managed to keep her shit (mostly) together during school. That it was obvious that in this competition of who could be the better halfa she'd only just invented, she was winning by a mile.

And no, his protesting and whining didn't change a thing. 

"Face it, Danny, I'm just better at being dead. What can I say? It's the goth in me."

"No way! I'm so much better at being dead. Skulker even wants to skin me and turn me into his rug because of how good I am at being dead!"

"Please! Skulker will turn anything that moves into a rug. You're not that special."

"You both are fantastic at being dead. Happy?" Tucker asked.

"Only after I get all this energy out!" Sam looked around, confirming that they were alone in the treeline of the park. Her heart pounded slightly, but her excitement won out. She barely contained her grin as she turned to Danny and asked, "Here?"

"Sure," Danny said. 

"How often do you come here again?" Tucker asked. Beside him was a tree with marks running along the bark that suspiciously resembled ecto-burns.

"Now? Almost never. But especially when I first got my ice powers, I was here a lot. The sudden shift in my core energy was pretty intense at first. You guys remember."

Tucker snorted and leaned back against the trunk, folding his arms. "Oh yeah. You nearly froze half the city over!"

"It wasn't pretty," Sam agreed, then faced a tree. "So what, I'm just supposed to blast it? I don't wanna hurt the plant!"

"Yeah, Danny, plants have feelings too!" Tucker agreed with a shit-eating grin.

One that Sam definitely knew wasn't sincere. "Oh, shut up, Tucker."

Danny face-palmed. "You won't hurt the tree. I've done this plenty of times." Then, he paused, adopting that aloof expression that so-often had Sam throwing her combat boot at his head. It was an agonizing pause before he finally opened his mouth and forced Sam and Tucker to listen to him say, "Or, I guess you could say I've done it plant-y of times." 

Sam had never felt so disappointed in him in her life. But he didn't seem to notice, instead facing them with a proud chuckle as he continued the torture, saying, "Hah, get it? Plant-y? Get it? Like plenty but with plants?" 

He bent over, clutching his knees with his hands as weak chuckles forced their way up his throat and desecrated the natural air around them.

"My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined," Tucker responded.

"I agree," Sam said.

"Well I could leaf you two right here!"

It took two full, long, painful minutes before Danny could stand upright without bursting into another fit of giggles. By the end of it, Sam was pretty sure that if he laughed over his awful puns one more time, she was going to use him for target practice instead of the tree.

"Okay, okay. I'm good now, I promise," Danny said. "I'm not going to branch out into a new—"

It was with Sam's deepest regrets that the last of her restraint failed her and she ended up blasting the ground at Danny's feet, causing him to leap into the air with a yelp and reflexively throw his hands out as if to defend himself. Except, what he'd forgotten, was that he didn't have a ghost core anymore, and thus couldn't do things like fly or blast Sam back, and he ended up with his ass on the ground.

Of course, Sam apologized from the bottom of her heart. It was incredibly convincing, which she knew because Danny totally didn't roll his eyes and "yeah yeah" her when she was done.

Once everyone got back on their feet, the real work could begin. Except...

Sam crossed her arms. "I'm still not blasting a tree. We need trees for the environment, Danny."

"I told you! They're fine. They like being blasted!"

Sam glared.

"I don't know, you're the tree whisperer! Do any of these trees look like they're dying?" Danny asked.

Other than the minor, surface-level burn marks she saw on a few trees, she couldn't see any significant damage. 

"Fine, but only because there's literally nowhere else for us to practice in Amity Park," Sam conceded. "So, how exactly do I do this?"

Danny’s face lit up. "So you feel that cold spot in your chest?"

Sam touched her chest. She could feel it, and with the growing anticipation of being used, it had began silently humming like a songbird. It was gentle, but excited all the same. "Yeah, I do feel it."

"Grab it. That should trigger your transformation. From there, it's just a matter of taking the energy and directing it. The more electric feeling ones are the blasts, and ice is colder."

Sam mentally poked at the core, and it almost jumped back at her, desperate to be brought to the forefront. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and this time when she mentally poked it, she didn't back away.

The transformation felt like being dunked in the Arctic Sea. Cold energy zapped through her spine as bright light overtook her vision. The rings split and traveled apart, and she shivered as she felt the energy course through her body like a charged magnet. It was spiky and tangy, and yet strangely smooth and right. 

She closed her eyes as the rings washed over her face and sizzled into her aura. Her body lightened, and her feet left the ground. She threw her arms out to the side and took a moment, feeling every sense heighten—her ears, her nose. It was as if she could hear every rustling leaf and smell each blade of grass. When her eyes opened, the world had sharpened, and she could see tiny details in the distance with more clarity than she thought possible.

"Whoa," was all she could think to say. 

"I know, right?" Danny smiled.

"Wow. I had no idea this is what your vision was like." Sam glanced down at him. "It's like putting on glasses or something. That's insane."

Tucker whistled. "You pull off the goth-ghost look pretty well! A little too much Danny, though. Too bad!"

Sam had nearly forgotten that her appearance had changed. She swiveled around—a little clumsily, she wasn't used to this whole flying thing—to face Tucker who had his phone already prepped and raised on camera mode. Leaning forward, she saw herself. Her previously black hair, like Danny's, had turned white, and her hair elastic holding up her half-ponytail glowed ectoplasmic green. Her eyes too had taken on that acid green color from their previous violet. Her suit was very much the classic Phantom suit with its black body, white gloves and boots, and the white DP logo on her chest. The only minor difference was unlike Danny's straight-lined white loop at the waist, hers was shaped like a V.

She backed away from the phone camera slightly, twirling so she could see more of herself. Sam had never particularly been one for appearances, and she certainly always scoffed at the way the A-Listers like Paulina liked to make their appearance the center of the Universe, but even she had to admit that yeah, she really did pull off the ghost look well.

Well, if that wasn't an extremely goth thing to think, Sam didn't know what was.

"I'm stealing your look, Danny," she joked.

He returned her grin. "Careful, and I might have to steal yours right back."

Tucker laughed. "Yeah, I'd love to see you in a skater skirt."

Sam rolled her eyes. Boys. 

"So, what, I just direct the energy into my hands and then that's how I blast things?" she asked.

"Yup! Try it out."

"Just don't hit me!" Tucker called, retreating back to his tree trunk where he settled down on the grass and leaned back to return his attention to his phone.

"Just for that, I'll hit you twice!"

"Go for it!" Danny encouraged.

"Shut up!"

Sam steeled herself, facing off against the tree. Even if logically the ectoplasmic blast wasn't going to hurt it, the thought of blasting a tree was a little much for her. So, gathering her energy, she decided to get a little creative.

The chill covered her body like a blizzard, and she'd seen Danny do this enough times to know that her eyes were glowing blue. It surged forth, propelling down her arms and through the tips of her fingers until there was nowhere for it to go but out. 

Ice billowed into the open air with more force than she was expecting. Like a blizzard, it wanted to commandeer the woods and fill every inch of the ground with spikes. She strained her fingers, forcing them to flex toward her palm. The ice followed her direction, collecting in one singular mound rather than fanning out. It wasn't smooth or delicate like she'd envisioned, but it worked. 

Eons later, but it was likely only a few seconds, she finally let go and the last of the power dwindled from her fingertips. She'd been pushed back slightly, and she drifted back toward Danny and Tucker.

"Not bad!" Danny said, bringing his hands down from their position shielding his face. "A little rough around the edges, but overall that's pretty damn good!"

Sam looked to her creation, the mound of ice that didn't really have much of a shape, but it existed and she'd made it. Pride surged through her, and she raised her fists in the air with a triumphant cry. "Fuck yeah!"

"An ice show? Now she's really stealing your style, dude," Tucker said.

Invigorated by her small win, Sam whirled around and tried again, this time picturing a shape. Something simple, she thought, like a box. 

Actually making her vision come to life was more difficult than she'd anticipated, and she wasn't exactly perfect. It resembled more of a rectangular shape than the cube she'd been picturing, and one of the corners was definitely jutting out—not to mention that big ice spike sticking out right in the center—but once again, she'd done it! 

And then, now with a target that wasn't a living plant, she switched her core over, tapping into the icy hot, tingly acid that dominated her senses. Like the ice, it was more than happy to respond, lighting her body with what she could only describe as pure and unfiltered energy. Her hair stood on its ends, and she could see her aura’s glow intensify as she raised her green palms and let out a singular blast.

The whiplash was intense, and she flew back, her spine hitting a branch behind her. The blast hit its target—not perfectly, of course, but with all her practicing with the ecto-gun, she had been at least confident that she wouldn't miss.

The semi-cube splintered, and the jutting corner that she'd hit fell into the ground and shattered to pieces. 

Sam pushed herself off the tree, a giggle of adrenaline crawling up her throat. "Holy shit!"

Danny stared at her, mouth agape.

"Guys!" She lowered herself, her feet touching down on the now-frosted ground. "Did you see that? How cool was that?"

"That was fucking awesome!" Danny said, nearly jumping over to Sam with bright eyes. 

"Right? It was so insane! How do you control the power level? It all came out in a giant flood, I could barely see! And you can make low-powered ones? How the hell do you do that?"

"Ah, yeah." Danny rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "I'm not sure? I just kind of dial the power level down. Like, in my core, I mean."

"Wow, Danny, you're so helpful!" Despite her excitement, she managed to get the sarcasm across.

"Hey, don't look at me! I haven't had these powers for that long, you know."

"Like over a year! And you haven't even sat down to study them at all?"

"Has it really been a year?" Danny asked.

"Yes, space-case!"

"Superpowers, ice blasting, blah, blah! You know what else is cool?" Tucker cut into their bantering, tapping away at his phone. He paused to wave it in the air. "Yo, lovebirds! Ember was spotted downtown!"

Sam and Danny froze, eyes glancing between each other and Tucker's phone.

Sam was the one to first break the silence. "Alright, let's go!"

Danny reeled back. "What do you mean, let's go?"

"I mean exactly what it sounds like. Let's go! Ember's downtown and is probably hypnotizing a bunch of people right now, so we have to go save them! Let's go!"

"Wait, wait, back up," Tucker said, holding his hand out. "You're gonna fight her? Ember?"

Sam huffed. "Well, duh! Who else? Danny? The one without ghost powers right now?"

"Well, I do have more experience—"

"Fighting with ghost powers, you do!" Sam retorted. 

"Hey, I have some experience fighting in human form too, you know! Vlad's shorted out my powers plenty of times..." He broke off, grumbling.

"Okay, well, I'm the one with the firepower right now, unless you forgot. So let's go! Seriously, I'm not gonna wait around for you two if you want to stay here thinking about it. The sooner we get there, the easier it'll be to take Ember down."

Danny stood here, brow furrowed and hand rubbing the back of his neck for another beat until he finally relented with a sigh. "Fine," he said, holding out his arm for flight. "Go on!"

Actually figuring out how to get the three of them into the air invisibly was harder than Danny had been making it look. In her defense, he didn't start flying the three of them together until over a month after he'd first acquired his ghost powers, and Sam was out here trying to do it on day one. 

Especially since she found that unless she was constantly paying attention to the invisibility, it had a bad habit of shortening out.

Which it did. Twice.

And that was where the phone call came from.

It was her mom, of course, who'd been watching the news and had seen flickers of Danny and Tucker being "kidnapped"—as she'd so elegantly called it—by Phantom. Now, her mom was entirely convinced that the three of them had been kidnapped or brainwashed or both by Phantom, and would not let Sam explain that she was safe and sound.

Especially since Ember was currently downtown. Where Phantom had been spotted with his equally captive audience.

"Shit," Sam swore, hanging up her phone and stuffing it into her backpack that Danny was now holding. "I don't know what to do! My mom is on her way down here to come rescue me!"

"Then turn back into yourself?" Tucker said. 

Sam heard a scuffle, and she peeked around the dumpster to glance down the alley they were hiding in, but fortunately, the source of the sound was only a squirrel. 

She turned back to her friends. "I can't! I have to go stop Ember. You saw the crowd she'd already amassed! That busking performance is going to turn into a mob before we know it."

"Sam's right," Danny conceded, surprising Sam. He held her gaze, and his eyes were steel. It was an expression she'd only seen come out when Phantom was involved. "She can't go home. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think I can stop Ember in human form. Sam has to be the one to fight her."

"Okay, then who's fighting Mrs. Manson?" Tucker asked. "Because that woman can be a freaking force when she wants to be."

"Easy!" Danny snapped his fingers. "We’ll just do the old switcheroo!"

Sam and Tucker looked at him blankly.

"The what?" Tucker blurted.

"You know! Like you guys did for me!" Danny opened the small front pocket of Sam’s backpack, and before she could protest, he brought out a little black hairband like it was some sort of prize. To her utter confusion, he began pulling the longer strands of his hair back and forming something of a messy half-ponytail. "Ta da! How do I look?"

"Danny, what the hell?" Sam asked deadpan.

"I told you, didn't I? You steal my Phantom style, and I'm going to steal yours."

Tucker guffawed. "Oh man, I was joking before, but are you really about to put on a skater skirt?"

"Not unless you want to. But something tells me Mrs. Manson won't be convinced if you try to be Sam."

"It's my eyes, I know," Tucker bantered. “They’re just too beautiful to be Sam’s.”

"Definitely your eyes," Sam agreed, then turned back to Danny. "You're being for real right now? You're cool with pretending to be me and letting my mom chase you around town while I deal with Ember?"

"Listen, my stamina's gotten pretty good fighting ghosts."

"My mom does crossfit."

"I thought she did pilates?" Tucker asked.

"She does that too."

Tucker tsked his tongue. "Oh shit, Danny, you're screwed. You can still back out, you know."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine! Being chased by ghosts all the time has built me some endurance, you know."

“Some?” Tucker asked.

“More than you have, anyway.”

"Alright, let's do this," Sam agreed.

Her boldness only lasted so long, unfortunately. The clothing swap was just as awkward to do as it sounded. Tucker, laughing maniacally, was forced to stand guard facing away from them as Sam transformed back into human form, they swapped outfits, and uncomfortably redressed behind the smelly dumpster. Only when they'd both given the verbal consent that they were decent again did they turn around and survey each other.

Sam felt as ridiculous in her new attire as she was sure Danny did in his. While she was normally used to her tighter, dark clothing, she felt like she was swimming in his baggy, bright white T-shirt and blue jeans. 

"You guys are good?" Tucker yelled.

"Yup!" Danny called back. 

"Hang on!" Tucker said, rushing over to them with a speed he hadn’t even reserved for gym class. As soon as he caught sight of them, he burst into laughter. "Oh, man! Oh my god, I gotta get a picture of this!"

"Tucker!" Sam stomped her floppy red feet. "Danny's doing me a solid right now!"

Tucker ignored her, pulling out his phone and not being subtle about the way he'd begun pointing it directly at the two of them. "I know I said I wanted to see you in a skater skirt, dude, but I never thought it'd actually come true!"

Danny took it in stride, putting one hand on the back of his hair and the other on his hip to strike a model pose. "As I said: Sam steals my style, I'm taking hers!"

That sent Tucker into another fit of giggles.

"You're sure about this?" Sam asked, watching as Danny bent down to lace his combat boots.

"Totally!" He gave her a cheesy smile from his crouched position. "I got this! You go get Ember!"

"Right!" Sam touched her core, and this time the transformation washed over her with easy familiarity. At once, her body felt light as gravity became optional, and she levitated into the air, inhaling a deep breath despite being keenly aware that she didn't really need to anymore. 

Her aura settled around her skin as her veins became rich with ectoplasmic power, and when she opened her eyes to give one last look to her friends, she did so with determination in her eyes. 

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Hell yeah, you are," Tucker agreed.

"You got this!" Danny said.

She nodded to them both once more and then took off, shooting down the alley and swooping up into the sky. She climbed the air high until she spotted Ember's rapidly growing crowd, and then with acrobatic ease, dived down in the direction of Ember's glowing figure.

As she approached, the crowd that hadn't seemed too large from the sky suddenly looked much more intimidating up close. She stopped above them, surveying the sea of chanting faces.

"Ember! Ember!" 

No one had noticed Sam yet, too entranced by Ember’s spell. And there was Ember herself at the center of the crowd, twirling to wave to the crowds all around her. 

"Thank you, everyone! Thank you!"

"Ember! Ember!"

This wasn't good. If they fought here, Ember would have a never-ending energy supply from the crowd's chanting. Like most ghosts, fighting Ember was a battle of endurance, and here, Ember could endure for hours. Meanwhile, Sam...had no idea what her limits were. 

She probably couldn't last that long, based on Danny's early fights.

So, Sam needed to get Ember away from her adoring fans. But how?

The first time Danny had to fight Ember, they used Tucker's ear-bleeding singing voice to snap the crowd out of their hypnosis. And...she'd left Tucker in the alley. 

Shit!

Okay, so she couldn't use Tucker. Turning invisible, she flew lower, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone else she recognized who probably had an equally terrible singing voice.

And...there! Perfect.

Ember's back was still to Sam, and she was still too distracted by her narcissism to notice Sam creeping forward, at first slowly, closer and closer until she was just fifteen feet away from Ember.

And that's when Sam saw it—Ember's shoulders stiffened. She'd noticed the chill of Sam's aura, and so before Sam could think, she shot forward, ripping the microphone from its stand at the same time as Ember whirled around. 

Sam regained visibility and darted back triumphantly, a whoop at her lips.

"You—" Ember stopped, her fierce brows melting into an expression of pure confusion. "Wait, you're not the dipstick!"

Sam didn't respond, instead flying down to greet her future savior: Kwan.

"Do you love Ember?" she yelled into the mic and then held it to Kwan's face.

"Yeah I do!" Kwan answered.

Behind him, the crowd roared in approval.

Ember's face pinched in confusion.

"So why don't you show us how much you love her by singing one of her songs?"

Kwan snatched the microphone from Sam's fingers, his eagerness overtaking all sense of reason. At the same time, still in the center of the crowd was Ember, who—based on her shifting facial expression—was just now catching up to Sam's master plan.

But she was too late. Because as soon as Kwan opened his mouth, Sam had already won.

"Ember! You will remember!"

If Sam Googled the definition of tone-deaf, she was pretty sure Kwan's name would appear as the first entry. For as athletically inclined and blessed with powerlifting genetics as the teenager was, his musical skills were....well, not even lacking, they were nonexistent. It was as if Kwan had never tried to sing before in his life. But, either through Ember's spell, his general affinity to being a total airhead, or a combination of both, he was so invested in belting out every approximation to a note that he could muster that he didn't notice the instantly dulled crowd around him as people began snapping out of their hypnosis.

"What happened?" a girl muttered nearby.

"Why does my head hurt?" a boy said.

"Ugh, what's that awful sound?"

"Ember! One thing remains!"

“I think that boy is dying.”

“Should someone call an ambulance?”

"No!" Ember screeched, her legs disappearing into a ghost tail as she abandoned all pretense of acting human and clawed at Kwan.

Sam raised a hand and blasted her away.

Ember recovered swiftly, pulling up midair and grabbing her guitar off her back. "You!" she bellowed, and then strummed a note, sending shockwaves crashing into the crowd that Sam couldn't dodge.

"Ah!" Sam was forced to kneel under the pressure of the soundwaves. Around her, people screamed.

She activated her ice and used it to push her body upright. Gripping onto one ice tower for support, she raised her other hand and sent a blast of ice Ember's way. 

Ember dodged smoothly, but the movement had taken her hand off her guitar, and thus interrupted her torturous playing.

Sam steadied herself with the reprieve. Beside her, Kwan groaned, now waking up too after Ember’s attack.

"Ugh…where am I?"

"Don't worry about it," Sam hissed. Then she spun around, grabbing the microphone from Kwan's hand to address the crowd. "Attention everyone! The ghost Ember is targeting this area! Go home or run to a safe zone!"

"You little twerp!" Ember screeched from above.

Meanwhile, the crowd was looking at her blankly. 

"Wait...since when is Phantom a girl?" Kwan asked.

Ah. That would be why.

Sighing, she raised the microphone back to her lips. "Yes, everyone, I'm Phantom's...sister. Yup, I'm his sister! He's, uh, on vacation right now and asked me to cover for him! Hello, nice to meet you all. Now please RUN!"

And with that, the crowd took off, running in every which direction. It was chaos, but the people were leaving and that's what Sam wanted.

She dropped the microphone and turned around to face her foe. "Hey, Ember!" she called, her voice catty.

"You're not Phantom's sister. Who the hell are you?"

Sam floated into the air until she was at eye-level with the rocker ghost. "I'm Sam! Remember me? I'm Danny's best friend."

"I thought the geeky weirdo nerd was his best friend."

"I'm the other best friend!"

It took a moment before recognition dawned on her features. Her green eyes widened, and the blue flames on her hair somehow sharpened as she leaned forward, eyes narrowing and lips curving into a smile as she said, "Ooh, I remember you. You were the one who ruined my debut!"

Sensing the challenge, Sam flared her aura in kind. "That's right! Now I've returned."

“Since when were you a ghost?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

"I’m not. I'm gonna make you pay, dipstick number two!" 

Ember raised her purple pick to strum just as Sam hoisted her glowing hand up. The two released their powers simultaneously and their energies clashed in midair, sending ectoplasm and sonic booms crashing all around.

Below them, people screamed and ducked down, cowering as the blasts showered over them.

Sam blanched, but barely had time to take in the damage before she saw Ember's hand raised again, her guitar poised for another attack.

"Shit!" Sam raised both hands this time, pushing more energy into the countering blast. But she missed, and Ember's wave hit her like a semi truck. 

She was catapulted down, slamming onto the pavement which cracked under her. Pain blossomed on her head, and she thought her vision may have flickered for a second.

But while this kind of injury would have certainly sent her to the emergency room as a human, as a ghost, all she could feel was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She rolled over and shot out to the side, narrowly dodging Ember's next attack. The edges of the sonic blast still hit her, but she was able to push through the pressure and climb back into the air.

She couldn't fight Ember here. Not so close to all these people. 

When Ember raised her hand again, grinning wickedly, Sam shot a blast of ice over to her. Though this time, aiming for the strings of her guitar.

It was a risk, but it paid off. The ice met its mark milliseconds before Ember's pick landed, and at once, the guitar strings were covered in a layer of ice.

Sam laughed. "It's my first day as a ghost, did I forget to mention that? How does it feel to be beaten by a newbie?"

Ember's face darkened, cheeks flushing with green. "Why you little asshole!"

"Oh yeah?" Sam goaded. "Why don't you say that to my face?"

Without waiting for a reply, Sam took off in the other direction. She had the thermos, but Ember wasn't weak enough yet for it to trap her inside. Sam had to wear her down first.

"Get back here!" Ember shouted, but Sam paid no heed, racing down the street and twisting between buildings. 

The wind whipped across her body, stinging her exposed cheeks. Cold tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away. Ember was gaining on her. She needed to fly faster, fly faster.

She pushed her core more until it was at its limits. Street signs, LED lights, and the shapes of people blurred into one. She'd never moved this fast in her life, and like driving down an icy road, she could feel her control slowly slipping away. Panicked, she called forth her intangibility.

Fatigue was beginning to bubble in her chest, but she batted it away. It was too early. She couldn't give up yet.

Ember screamed behind her, hurling fire from her hair. It licked Sam's spectral tail, and she yelped, rolling sideways and narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack.

She shot down an alley and out the other side into a residential neighborhood. Looking around, she didn't see anyone out and about nearby.

Perfect.

She stopped in the air and whipped around just in time to see Ember throw another fire blast her way. 

Sam raised her hands, forming an ice shield. The fire melted it instantly, and she tried to form another, but she wasn't quick enough.

"Shit!" Sam yelled, ducking down as the fire sailed over her head. She could feel the heat singe the tip of her ponytail. Too close. 

"That's right! Cower, dipstick! Just lie down and give up!"

Sam straightened, firing another ectoblast back at Ember, who dodged it by a hair's breadth. "The only person cowering here is you, hiding behind all those fake fans!"

Ember glared, her eyes burning with rage. "They're my fans and you took them from me!"

"You hypnotized them! They were never your fans to begin with!" Then she paused. "Well, Tucker might have been your fan anyway, but still!"

That didn't seem to quell Ember's rage, who sent a gust of fire that Sam only barely had time to counter with a blast of ice.

"Just admit it! You've lost!" Sam said. "So why don't you pack up and go home?"

"I can still get them back!" 

Sam had to refrain from rolling her eyes hard enough to send them flying off her skull. "No, you can't. I won't let you!"

"Like you're the boss of me!" Ember geared up to shoot more fire at Sam, but then out of seemingly nowhere, a blast of green nailed her shoulder.

Sam spun around, the question dying from her lips the moment she saw who was behind her. 

Tucker stumbled out from between two houses. He coughed, half hunched over from panting so hard, half cheering with a single-raised fist. "Booya!" he gasped, sucking in air in between each word. "And that's...what I...like...to call...a sneak attack."

And with that, he collapsed on the ground in a sweating heap of gaudy orange and yellow clothing.

"Tucker!" Sam shouted, reaching out as if to save him.

"Who?" Ember asked.

"Sam!" came another voice from Tucker's hiding place, this one filling her with relief.

Well, until he stepped out into view and she remembered how entirely ridiculous he looked in her black skater skirt, purple leggings, and black crop top.

She grinned. "Danny!"

"I'm all good!" Tucker craned his head up from the sidewalk. "Don't...don't worry about me! I'm gucci here!"

"I'm so glad my mom didn't kidnap and murder you!" Sam said.

Danny smiled mischievously. "Your mom spotted me as planned, and then I ran in the other direction. Managed to shake her off somewhere between Elmer's Park and the Nasty Burger. As far as she's aware, we got out of downtown safely! Though, she might ground you later for ignoring her when she was following you."

"She was....so fast..."

"And persistent," Danny added.

"That...too..."

Sam face-palmed. "Oh man, I'm so grounded later."

"Yup! You are." Danny said, seeming far too cheery for the torturous news he'd just delivered to Sam.

"Okay, okay. Pause." Ember held up her hands in the universal time-out gesture. "What the fuck is going on here, exactly?"

"Oh, hey, Ember!" Danny said as if noticing her for the first time. "How's it hanging?"

"How's it hanging?" Ember guffawed. She pointed to Sam. "Well, your sister just ruined my evening, so pretty shit, actually." 

Danny didn't look at all remorseful as he responded, "Oh, bummer! Well, I'll just have to let this supposed-sister handle the rest of it. As you can tell, I'm really not dressed for the ghost-fighting occasion!"

He turned to Sam, offering her a thumbs-up as he said, "You got this!"

Sam smirked, folded her arms, and turned back to Ember.  "Yeah, I do got this."

"For sure!" Tucker added, though he still sounded far too on the verge of passing out to offer any sort of confidence. 

"So, Ember, you wanna go for round two?" Sam asked.

Ember blinked, gaze swiveling between Sam and Danny, and then again, before she threw her hands up and cried, "No, seriously, what the fuck?"

"I ask myself that same question every day," Tucker said.

"It's called an outfit swap!" Danny said, sweeping his hands over his outfit. "It's all the rage with us teens nowadays."

"You look fucking insane, you know," Ember said.

"You mean I look gorgeous."

"I didn't."

"I think Sam pulls off the ghost look pretty well, though. Don't you think?" Danny asked.

"It's totally goth," Sam agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Then, summoning some ectoplasmic energy to her palms, she added, "I think the green really suits me, too."

"It does!" Danny said.

"I'm so confused."

"Aren't we all?" Tucker said.

"You know what? No." Ember threw her hands up. "Nope! Fuck this shit. Listen, I don't know what the hell is going on, but I refused to be sucked into your weirdo shenanigans tonight. I'm out of here!"

Sam's brows raised in shock. Was confusing Ember really all it took to get her to go back to the Ghost Zone? "You're being for real?" she asked.

"Yup!" Ember pivoted around until her back was to the trio. "I'm going back to the Zone. I'm tired. See ya!"

And with that, she disappeared.

The three of them waited a heartbeat, and then another. But then, Sam felt it: the telltale coolness of her chest receding as her ghost sense ceased detecting Ember around her.

Tucker struggled to his feet. "Are we sure she's actually going to the Ghost Zone?" 

"Yeah, she will," Danny said, unconcerned. "When she gives you that look, you know she's over it."

"Wow, congrats then, Sam. You beat Ember!" 

Celebratory giddiness washed over her, and she didn't try to fight the smile that overtook her lips. "Wow. Yeah, guys, I did it! I beat Ember!"

Above them, a window slid open. Then, a voice boomed out into the open air, filling the street with a cry so insane, that Sam could have sworn her head exploded right then and there. 

"WHOA! PHANTOM! IS THAT YOU?"

Danny cringed, ducking down into his hands while Sam plastered a smile on her face and turned around to meet who could easily turn into her greatest foe of the evening: Dash Baxter.

"Uh, hi," Sam said.

He gasped and leaned so far, he nearly fell out his window. "IT IS YOU! MY WISH CAME TRUE!"

"Your...wish?" Sam asked.

"YEAH! I WISHED PHANTOM WAS A HOT CHICK INSTEAD OF BEING A DUDE, AND THEN BA-BAM! YOU TURNED INTO A HOT CHICK!"

Below them, Tucker guffawed. Thankfully, Dash seemed too preoccupied in his fanboying to notice.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE MY WISH CAME TRUE! THANK GOD! IT WAS TOO WEIRD CRUSHING ON A DUDE, YOU KNOW?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny slowly make his way back between the houses and, thankfully, out of Dash's eyeline. 

For as exhausted as Tucker was, he quickly followed suit.

"Well...um...thanks? I guess?" Sam looked around as if to plan her escape. But unfortunately, she couldn't see one. It would have been so much easier if Ember had lied and instead of returning to the Ghost Zone, tried to attack her right here and now. That might have been preferable to whatever the hell was happening in front of her.

When the silence turned from awkward to entirely painful, Sam jabbed her thumb over her shoulder and said, "Uh, I'm gonna go now."

"WAIT!"

"What?" Sam asked, internally admonishing herself for responding.

"WILL YOU BE MY GHOST GIRLFRIEND?"

She heard a choke of laughter sound from behind the house, and she shot a glare to the two idiots in hiding.

"Thanks for asking, but...sorry, I have to say no. I'm very busy fighting ghosts, you know."

Dash nodded with more empathy in his eyes than Sam had ever seen him display in his life. "I UNDERSTAND. THANKS ANYWAY AND ENJOY THE TITS!"

Sam would have loved to say that she maintained Phantom's pristine people-pleasing image by giving grace to every single citizen no matter what.

But, of course, Dash was a fucking moron. And as far as Sam was concerned, morons like him deserved to have their face punched in every once in a while.

So, shaking the bruise from her knuckles, she rejoined her friends. Danny's face was beet red, while Tucker, on the other hand, was wheezing laughing so hard, his airy gasps of, "I'm going to piss myself" took about five tries to sound intelligible.

"No funny, Tucker!" Sam glared.

"Are you kidding?" His eyes were wet with tears. "That was hilarious! Dash has a crush on both of you! Oh my god, that was the single greatest thing to ever happen in my life!"

Danny fell to his knees and raked his fingers over his face. "I'm never living this down, am I?" 

"Never!" Tucker howled.

"I want to go back to a time where I never had to hear Dash speak," Sam mourned, then she flexed her fists, brightening slightly. "Though, punching him felt pretty cathartic!"

"Wish that were me," Danny bemoaned.

"He'll probably blame you for it anyway, so consider it done."

Tucker doubled over, rasping in uncontrollable laughter all over again. "Oh man, and you punched him! You actually punched him!"

"Hell yeah I did." Her eyes glinted over to Danny, who was still growing redder by the second. "Call that payback for getting me grounded."

"Fair," he said.

"I can't fucking believe you punched him, and that he has the hots for y'all—this is the greatest day of my LIFE"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!"

"You know," Sam said, cutting the boys off, "at least we learned something."

"Yeah, we did," Tucker giggled, clearly not thinking along the same lines as her.

Sam zapped him with her finger and ignored his subsequent yelp, continuing, "We learned that he wished for you to change! I bet you anything Desiree was the cause of this."

Danny perked up. "Wait, you're right! If Dash wished this, that definitely means Desiree was involved."

"So, what? We just find her and wish ourselves back to normal again?" Tucker asked.

That was, in fact, exactly what it meant.

The trio searched high and low for any unusual wishes that had come to light, but unfortunately for them, it seemed that Desiree had practiced laying on the down-low since her last escapade into the Human Realm. That also meant she was incredibly difficult to find.

So difficult, in fact, that despite searching for her for another two hours and Sam receiving a text from her mom stating that if Sam didn't get her ass home right now, missy, then the cops were going to be called, they didn't actually find a single wisp of Desiree at all. 

Well, not until in a moment of complete and utter exasperation, did Tucker throw in the metaphorical towel and shout into the air, "Ugh! Where is she? I wish Desiree would just show herself already so we could finally go home!"

The wind picked up, and a transcendental feminine voice graced the air, saying, "And so you have wished it, and so it shall be...."

Danny—now back in his normal attire—stared dumbstruck at Tucker. "I can't believe none of us thought of that earlier."

"Oh my god, guys, we're idiots," he agreed.

Sam could do little more than nod numbly as stray leaves and twigs gathered gently in the air, spiraling until the graceful form of Desiree, dressed in her blue and purple Persian attire, appeared before them. Her thick, black hair flowed down her back, fading at the ends midway down her spectral tail. She raised a silver-bangled hand, her glowing green skin standing out in the night air, and said, "Hello, you three. I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon."

"Yeah, you think?" Danny asked. "What gives?"

"I was merely granting a wish." Her red eyes trailed over to Sam, hovering at the ready just in case. "Though, it seems that you've already caught on."

"You could say that," Sam answered.

Desiree clasped her hands together, looking almost like a ballerina as she did so. "I'm assuming you would like me to set you right again?"

"Yes," Danny said readily.

"Please. I'm so tired," Tucker agreed.

Sam tilted her head. Despite the rocky start to her day, she'd done pretty damn well as a halfa if she did say so herself. And now that she was starting to get the hang of these ghost powers, they were very fun.

But in fairness, they weren't really her ghost powers to begin with. As fun as they were to borrow for the day, she knew she had to return them to their rightful owner. Even if it pained her to do so.

"Alright," she relented. "You can take them back. It's not like I'm going to be able to use them with how grounded I'm about to be, anyway."

"I'd be surprised if your mom didn't put surveillance in your room after this," Tucker said.

Yeah, she'd be surprised too.

Danny stepped forward, head held high as he commanded, "I wish my ghost core was back in my body!"

"So you have wished it, so it shall be!"

The air picked up around them, and Sam felt her body rise as an invisible blanket gently wrapped itself around her and hoisted her into the air. Her aura glowed like a thousand lightning bugs illuminating at once, and she shut her eyes, letting it take over. The core in her chest stirred, and her body was plunged into a snowstorm as it seemed to expand, growing stronger, stronger, until Sam was sure it would burst. But just before it became unbearable, like a marionette on a string, it was gently guided from her chest.

She gasped, her breath freezing in her lungs as the glowing orb of pure ectoplasmic energy exited her body. Her eyes flew open, and she watched as it slowly drifted to Danny who was floating across the way. 

As soon as it entered his body, she felt the liquid ice that had been a constant in her veins since she'd woken up begin to recede as her enshrouding aura began to pull toward Danny. As the last strands of it left her fingertips, she was tenderly lowered to the ground. 

Heat rushed into Sam’s body, filling in the gaps where the chill had abandoned her. A shiver crawled up her spine, and then her body settled, the heat dispersing around her torso, spreading out to the tips of her fingers and toes. It felt…strangely right, somehow, even as her chest was missing that persistent core.

There was a moment of silence where the world seemed to hold its breath, and then Danny raised a timid hand to his chest, and a grin spread across his lips. “I’m back.”

“Thank fuck!” Tucker cheered. “Now I can finally go home and sleep!”

“Congrats, Danny.” Sam offered a small smile, flexing her now-human fingers. Without the cold, all her bruises were beginning to hurt. At least the one on her knuckles was for a good cause.

“Thanks for keeping this safe for me,” Danny said.

“No problem.”

Desiree brushed the invisible dirt off her clothing. “Well, now that my work is done, I assume I’ll be off.”

“To the Ghost Zone, right?” Danny flashed his eyes at her.

It was a challenge, of course, that she picked up on instantly, giving a wry smile in return. “But of course.”

Danny insisted on accompanying her to the portal, which while he claimed was only because he wanted to be polite, Sam knew fully well was because he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, even if their relationship had improved since their first few encounters. But true to her word, Desiree took the directive with grace, going through the portal to the Ghost Zone with little more than the tilt of her head Sam's way. 

They watched the swirling green fizzle out from where Desiree had left them, and with a final sigh, Danny closed the portal doors behind her.

Tucker nearly slumped over his chair. "Oh, thank god. I thought this day was never going to end."

"Right?" Sam yawned, fatigue washing over her. "I'm beat."

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about not having the ghost powers anymore. 'Cause after this, your mom is definitely going to kill you."

Her stomach dropped. "Oh, fuck. I'd forgotten about that."

"At least you won't have to feel Dash's disappointment at being punched by his hero tomorrow." Danny slumped over.

"You could punch him too, you know. There's nothing stopping you," Sam pointed out.

Where she thought he would argue with her, he just tilted his head, as if weighing the options. "You know," he started, speaking slow. "I guess...yeah, I mean, I could punch him. It's not like I haven't already gotten enough detentions. One more wouldn't hurt. Or, do you think they'd suspend me?"

"Are you kidding?" Tucker snorted. "Dale and Austin were swinging at each other last week and they were sent back to class an hour later."

"Fair point." 

"Alright, I better go home before my mom calls SWAT. Danny?" 

"On it!" Danny sauntered over to them both, transforming. "Let’s get you guys back home."

"I've never heard such sweet words come out of your mouth before," Tucker said.

"Oh, shut up."

Sam wrapped her arm around his cold body, and instead of the ominous chill she normally felt around ghosts—even Danny, though she'd never tell him—this time, it felt oddly familiar. Comforting, even.

"I did pretty good today, admit it." She smirked at him.

"Don't get cocky now." He returned the grin and took off into the air. This time when he turned invisible and intangible to shoot through the basement, it was almost nostalgic to her skin. And when the air rushed over her face, she felt herself preen like a peacock in its gusts.

"But yes," Danny said, leaning into her once they leveled out over the air. "You did awesome."

She already knew she had, but the validation still made her feel warm all the same.

Well, until she had to step through her front door, at which point the click of a high heel and a screeching "SAMANTHA EMILY MANSON" pierced her ears.

And thus, her second death of the day commenced.

[diazsdimples]

🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️♾️ (This one already has a chokehold on me)

30 sentences of the most niche AU I've created 😅 + another 9 for the infinity symbol.

He comes to a stop in the foyer, his eyes straying to the large grandfather clock ticking away merrily in the corner. It’s 4 o’clock now, meaning his parents’ dinner party begins in 2 hours, and there’s still another 7 until he’s due to meet the contact. Leaning against the banister of the grand marble staircase, Buck ponders his instructions. Look for the beginning of new life. That line in particular confuses Buck. Bryant Park hasn’t had new trees planted since the Fuhrer visited in the late 40’s, and unless Josephine Shaw Lowell had something to do with obstetrics, he’s completely at a loss. Life can begin in many different ways, but he struggles to connect it with the location. There’s a large stretch of lawn behind the fountain, sweeping up to the steps of the public library. Maybe new life could equate to new ideas, that one might get from reading a book? Buck shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He’s overthinking it and he need to catch himself before he spirals and panics. There can be no room for error tonight. He turns on his heel to make his way to the library, eager to find something to take him out of his head for a moment, when a loud tut from behind him stops him in his tracks. With the familiar sinking feeling of dread, Buck turns to face his father. “Your mother is hosting a dinner party with some of the most influential members of the Nazi party in 2 hours, and you’re not even dressed yet? What have you been doing?” Buck bites his lip before he says something stupid like “committing the highest form of treason by conspiring to overthrow the Fuhrer and drive the Nazis from out country.” Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, pulling his face into a neutral expression. He won’t give his father a reason to be angry with him. “Reading a book Maddie sent me,” he replies coolly. His father rolls his eyes and adjusts one of the shining golden domes on the sleeve of his crisp uniform. Buck has always hated the way he insists on strutting around in that godforsaken uniform every day, looking like a prized peacock with his medals and shiny buttons. “The Reich doesn’t like men who have the heads in books, Evan. They’re of no use to us.” His tone drips with disapproval, but Buck is too accustomed to it for there to be any real effect on him. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment, Father,” he replies stiffly. “I’ll make sure I don’t disgrace you in front of your – ah – friends.” His father narrows his eyes but says nothing more, dismissing Buck with a jerked nod of his head. Buck takes the stairs two at a time and makes a beeline for his room. He slams the solid oak door and leans against it, breathing heavily. Maddie. Mentioning his sister to his father had made his gut twist with guilt. She won’t know what happened to him when the news of his disappearance reaches her. His parents likely won’t do much other than the expected reports with the police. They won’t search for him like they would have done if it were Daniel. Maddie forever think she’s lost another baby brother. He can’t do that to her. Running a hand through his hair, Buck crosses the room in 2 long strides and throws himself at his desk, rummaging through the drawers for a piece of paper and a fountain pen. He reaches for the battered copy of Charlotte’s Web, their favourite book as children, and thumbs through until he reaches the cipher at the very back, before he begins to write.

Tagging @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks and @steadfastsaturnsrings for potential interest

[jakeperalta]

spent weeks psyching myself up to stand up to my mum and then immediately got shot down by her 😃👍

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[whyeverr]

Hello and happy holidays! 🥂✨ Over the past couple months of semi-hiatus I’ve had time to reflect on what’s next for me here—specifically, how I want to best enjoy my free time in this game and community—and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I want to do. 

Lots of rambling on that below the cut, but tl;dr you can expect me back with more build projects and new gameplay kicking off in 2023! 💗

I’ve had a few folks ask about what my next story will be after wrapping up La Boca Cerrada this fall, but tbh I don’t think I’ll actually tell another story quite like that ever again...? (A sigh of relief for some, surely!) I mean, never say never and all that, but for me, LBC has been a unique experience: a story I just couldn’t get out of my head, characters and scenes I couldn’t stop seeing play out in the Sims. There’s nothing like it simmering on the back burner. 

I’ve learned a ton from the experience: mods like TOOL and Pose Player, but also just like the completely absurd level of determination and stick-to-itiveness required to tell a long-form story start to finish via 2–4 posts per day over the course of literal years. It’s been a journey—one I'm proud and grateful to have taken with you—but not a path I'll be looking to revisit anytime soon.

So yeah! What comes next? Every pack release post Discover University I haven’t really explored past build mode. With the quality of some of the more recent releases that uhhhhh hasn't really been a big issue. 🥴 But I’ve been wanting for a long time now to play in Evergreen Harbor, so that’s exactly where I’m headed! I’ve been having fun for awhile now setting up a save there for my own spin on the Build a City Challenge, and while I have a few background details in mind, I'm going back to my gameplay-driven storytelling roots. Which—fingers crossed—should require a lot less planning and posing and other time-consuming stuff, hopefully leaving me with a better balance of time for build mode projects as well. Speaking of which... 👀

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

happy wip wednesday! this one is the ed’s pov version of this post

—————————-

“Izzy.” Ed waits, knowing Izzy is playing out any responses that lead to him going back to bed. Fortunately there are none, or at least none that Izzy deems worth the effort to argue with him over.

With a sigh, he hears Izzy rustle around for a moment before there’s suddenly a blanket in his arms. “Fine.”

[amplexadversary]

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THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE TO TURN OFF WHEN THE SITE WAS NEW WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU FUCKING PEOPLE

I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO PUT MY CURSOR ON MY OTHER FUCKING MONITOR TO AVOID YOU PUTTING SOMEONE ELSE'S WORDS IN MY MOUTH AND DELETING WHAT I ACTUALLY WROTE

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[sincerelyneo]

no control | l.jn

“i can't contain this anymore, i'm all yours i've got no control”

💿now playing: no control by one direction

❯ summary: The guy sitting at the bar next to you seems pretty smitten - and Jeno hates it. He wants to be the one making you blush…or more accurately, scream his name.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends with benefits

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), jealousy, arguing, wall sex, swearing, back scratching/marking?, possessiveness, public sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, slight begging, a bit angsty, porn with feelings, literally just jeno being petty and jealous.

Jeno hates to admit it, but Mark was right. Casual, no-strings-attached sex does in fact suck. And God does he know it. It’s hard to forget when his friends keep bringing you up.

“Who’s she talking to?” Renjun asks.

Jisung replies with a simple shrug before Chenle chimes in with a quick, “I don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”

Him. Jeno feels that pronoun hit harder than expected, but he forces himself to keep cool. He doesn’t turn around to see who’s got your attention, even though every fiber of his being screams and begs for him to look.

His spying friends keep giggling amongst themselves as they sit on the stools at the bar. But it wasn’t until Renjun throws back the last of his whiskey and says: “He looks pretty into her.” That Jeno’s gaze is forced to find you.

Jeno’s too proud to admit it but he finds you instantly, you’re like a magnet, a force that he’s drawn to. And truthfully, he considers it a talent that he can seek you out of a crowd in seconds.

There you are, with some guy. Some guy he didn’t know. Some guy that, from what he could see from the side of his head, was probably good-looking. The good-looking ones always liked to try and talk to you.

Not that it matters, Jeno reminds himself, dragging his eyes away from you for his own sake. You hadn’t come to this party with him; he never even asked you. He agreed to keep this casual. You could spend your time with whoever you damn well pleased.

Even if that wasn’t him. And even if that’s a bitter pill for him to swallow. 

“Leave him alone guys,” Jisung finally speaks up. “They’re probably just talking. Besides aren’t you staying over at Y/N’s tonight anyway Jen?” He asked. 

Jeno takes his eyes off you for a second to look at his friends, he’s thankful for the reminder that he was supposed to be coming over to your place tonight. But now his mind is racing. Maybe you would change your mind, ditching him to hang out with that good-looking man instead.

You’re not like that, he tells himself. While you hadn’t attended the party with him, you had promised to spend the night with him, and you weren’t one to break promises. Besides, you didn’t bring strangers you just met home, either. He had nothing to worry about.

Except…what if he did?

When he dared to glance over to the last spot he had seen you across the lavish bar, he wasn’t expecting to still find you there. Surely, you would’ve found an opening to excuse yourself and re-join the friends you’d arrived with, but there you were. Still talking to that asshole. Smiling at him. Enjoying yourself.

Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but Jeno felt like he was being replaced as if he was across the world and not merely across the room. Because it had been well over half an hour since he had first seen them together. And who knew how long you two had been talking before he or his friends even noticed?

Jeno doesn’t like this feeling. So he orders another drink.

He tries to ignore you – tries to focus on his friends but they keep mentioning it. Mentioning you. Which makes it so damn difficult to stop his eyes from sliding over, and noticing every little detail about you. 

The short dress that had ridden up from where you’d sat down and crossed your legs, showing off more than enough of your toned thighs. The deep black of it suited you, and not just because it was Jeno’s favourite colour, but because it complemented the tumble of hair falling over your shoulder. You looked like a goddess, untouchable. Especially when you smile. God, he loves when you smile. 

Just not when he’s not the one doing it. He should be the only one to make you laugh, to make you feel more relaxed at a party. Because he knows you, all the little things and your quirks.

But not once did you glance his way; and he’s fully aware of that because Jeno has definitely been staring. You’re ignoring him, and he hates it. So fucking much.

Maybe the alchohol was catching up to him, finally settling into his bloodstream and mixing dangerously with his jealous streak because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he has to do something. 

Impulsively, Jeno abandons the conversation he had already half checked out of with his friends, and doesn’t waste a second marching over to you and the man. Ideally, Jeno wanted you to be thrilled to have him sweep you away, but when he arrived at the booth you and him had been sitting at, Jeno sees your eyes flash with an undeniable ‘what the fuck are you doing over here?’

“Nice to see you, Y/N,” Jeno greets you charmingly, sliding right into the booth on your side without an invitation, blatantly interrupting.

“Hi, Jeno,” you reply, keeping your tone polite despite not moving to give him more room.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It hasn’t. “I thought I’d get you a drink and we could catch up?”

Jeno’s attempt to get you away is feeble, but it’s not exactly like he had enough time to devise a good plan. He was being impulsive, jealous, reckless – acting on instinct and he instinct was telling him that he need you, by his side. 

“Maybe later, yeah Jen?”.

“Why? You having too much fun already?” he asks, which was rather a loaded question, considering you had company sitting right across from you. 

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you emphasise a little more than necessary, glancing at the brunette across the table and playfully rolling your eyes. It had the man smiling in understanding, which was quick to piss Jeno off. 

“Really?” he said flatly. “You don’t look it.”

“Maybe you don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.”

“I think I know better than most.”

That’s when Jeno squeezes your knee, and you want to disagree, but you couldn’t. Because Jeno knew, alright. He knew pretty damn well.

The guy opposite you shifts in his seat, probably aware that he had suddenly become a third wheel, thanks to the flirty tone in Jeno’s voice. Jeno gets a sick sense of enjoyment watching the man get uncomfortable – all the confirmation that whatever little plan he had going on was working. It made him only want to do it more.

So Jeno oh so casually reaches to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. You try not to react, but your head tilts slightly towards him, and your features soften. 

“You look beautiful,” Jeno compliments, fingers trailing down your hair, brushing over your shoulder before they settled back on your knee. “Black suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

“Are you two friends?” The man asks, reminding you both of his presence.

“Sort of,” you began to say, just as Jeno declares, “Very close friends.”

With your cheeks now flushing, you cut him a look that he largely ignores, before feeling the need to explain yourself to the friendly guy you had just met. “We catch up sometimes. Occasionally.”

“We’ve known each other for ages.” Jeno emphasises because he liked that fact. Liked knowing he was here first, having that leverage and advantage over any guy you’d ever meet.   

“I should leave you to it then, let you two catch up,” the man says through a tight lipped smile as he began to slide out of the booth. He knew exactly what Jeno was trying to do. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around sometime.”

“I hope so!” You reply trying to sound enthusiastic. You didn’t want to give Jeno the satisfaction he was clearly hoping for. 

Once the man turned his back on you, you grab your glass and take an extra generous gulp of your drink. 

Before Jeno had the chance to open his mouth and say something else that was only going to irritate you, you lean into him. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Out. Get out. Let me out.”

Shuffling along as he was told, Jeno watches dumbly as you hastily slip out of the booth after the stranger, tugging the hem of your dress down with one hand and clutching your nearly empty glass in the other.

Jeno blinks for a second as you try to parade away from him. Then it registers in his mind and he’s chasing behind you and out of the bar. That’s when he tugs on your arm to stop you in your tracks. 

“Y/N. Stop, please.”

Much to Jeno’s surprise, you do as he says, turning around and holding up a commanding finger.  It almost seemed like a joke, but there was no humour in your tone when you asked, “What were you thinking?”

Jeno tilted his head to the side, tonguing the side of his cheek. 

“We weren’t at that party together! You knew that,” you continue your rant.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak to you in public,” Jeno replies naïvely with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

“You know that’s not what we do. We don’t hang out at social events, Jeno. We agreed on casual. I don’t want a relationship.”

Casual. Yeah, you seemed to really not want a relationship when you were chatting up that guy for ages. The thought makes Jeno scoff, his gaze dropping to his feet. 

 You cross your arms over your chest, exhaling, “What?”

“That guy,” he simply says, his eyes flashing with a slight fury when he looks back up at you. “You were with that guy.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Who was he?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter when you refuse to even speak to me in public, but spend your whole night with him.”

Jeno’s smile is long gone, and almost, almost, you wanted to forget this whole thing and bring it back. You hated when Jeno was mad at you, not that he was very often, but he was being irrational right now. 

“I just met him, it was all friendly” you explain. “I can’t believe you’re jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!”

Jeno knew he was, but there was not a chance of him admitting that seeing you with any other man drove him absolutely insane. Every single damn time. Still, you know better.

“You obviously are! Jeno, you know how I feel about you–”

“Do I? You didn’t seem to be into me tonight.”

“Because you came out of nowhere and acted like I was all yours!”

“You are mine!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Jeno knew it as soon as it came out his mouth, saw it in the way your expression tightened slightly. Even so, he wouldn’t take back what he thought was true.

“We haven’t defined anything–” you fumble, “Infact, I think we did the opposite—” 

“How would you like it if I’d been flirting with another girl all night?” He cuts in.

“It wouldn’t matter,” you lie. “You can do what you want.

Jeno takes a few steps towards you, and it makes you unconsciously hold your breath. He’s so tall and intimidating and goddam sexy—wait you’re mad at him right now! 

“What I really want, Y/N, is to be with you,” he spells it out frustratingly slowly. “Seeing you all night long in that short dress that barely covers your ass and knowing I can’t touch you, claim you, fucking kills me.” 

Your eyes betray you, because despite every brain wave in your mind telling you to yell at him for that slightly misogynistic statement—your eyes still soften. 

“Well, you should’ve just said that,” you try to explain instead of lecturing him. “If you’ve been feeling like that you should’ve talked to me instead of acting like a caveman.” 

“You don’t listen.”

“I’m listening now.”

Jeno blinks at you, his jaw loosening as his eyes watch your gaze drift down to his lips. The action is loud enough for him to not waste another second before his hands move to your waist, pulling you in to the kiss he had been dying to give you all night. 

It’s harder than he would’ve given you earlier, more possessive – oh, definitely possessive when he forces your back against the brick wall at the side of the bar and your arms have no choice but to hastily wrap around his neck. You stumble a little, but he keeps a firm grip on you.

If you wanted him to tell you how he felt, well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.

He tells you in the desperate way that he kisses you, lips parting and unwilling to leave yours. He tells you by the way he presses his body flush against yours, pinning you to the brick so you can’t slip away from him, not again. He tells you in the low moan that escapes him when your hand tangles up in his hair and your own lips work just as eager.

When he breaks away for a moment, he takes his time to just look at you. So pretty, so desperate, and so undoubtedly all his. 

And when you gaze back at him through long lashes and eyes radiating with lust, he has to groan because he’s the one making you like that. He’s the one getting you to bite down on those pretty lips, lips that were made for him, belong to him. 

But you’re feeling too desperate and he’s taking too long. So within a mere few seconds, you’re reaching for him again. It has him thinking maybe you’re trying to tell him the same thing. But there was no need to do that. Jeno had made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 

There was still a lingering frustration fuelling the two of you – mostly from you; it was jealousy for Jeno. He is jealous that someone else – another man – had gotten to spend the night at the party with you. He needed you to know that he hated to see you with him, and that this – this was never going to be better with anyone else. 

No matter how hard a man would try, they could never know you the way that he did. They could never make you feel the way he did. 

Ridiculously, you want to apologise despite him reading the situation all wrong. You hadn’t been flirting with anyone else, and you thought it didn’t matter who you chose to simply talk to. You never knew he’d feel this threatened. Never suspected it would upset him this much. 

You proposed the idea of keeping things casual to not get hurt. Jeno was unbelievably attractive and could have his pick of any woman. You thought keeping him at arm's length would protect you—figures it’s only hurting him. 

Regardless, no matter the context there was no denying that he was being a jealous ass tonight and the two of you had argued. An argument that you were both getting very turned on by and had you conflicted between getting down on your knees for him or letting him fuck you against the wall, outside and all. 

You always found great thrill in surprising him: breaking from the feverish kisses, you reach up under your dress and yank down your underwear. The delicate fabric falls around your ankles, and you kick them off to the side, inviting him to what he so clearly wanted.

I’m yours right here, right now, your eyes tell him.

And you really thought you had won at the whole surprising thing, until he hooks your legs around his waist and presses his hips harder against you. You never pegged yourself or Jeno for being an exhibitionist but something about him taking you against the wall of the very same bar he thought a man was flirting with you at, awakens something feral inside him. 

All of a sudden the wall seemed like the perfect spot for make up sex. Honestly, Jeno just wanted any sex. As long as it was with you. 

He exhales heavily when he starts to ease his pants down and you fumble to undo his shirt buttons. But you get far too distracted by his lips beginning to trail down your throat. He reaches for your thigh, smoothing up your soft skin, as he hitches up your dress around your hips. 

You’re so desperate for him you can’t help but whimper. And just when you think ‘Yes, finally,’ a cocky grin spreads across his face as his finger slips effortlessly (and too goddamn slowly) over your centre. His teasing is somewhat annoying, but it’s so hard to be pissed at him when he’s touching you like that. Hell, it’s hard to be mad at him in general—you’re weak to him and that’s exactly why you’re pushed up against a wall. 

Jeno picks up his pace as soon as he begins stroking you with another finger. You squirm against the wall and he watches that hungry expression grow as he rubs you rhythmically, fingers sliding up and down, up and down, so easily from how wet you are. Pride swells in his chest because he did that. 

Every moan that leaves your lips is his own little reward, one that he is dying to receive more, and more, and more of. Forever. 

Jeno knows you’re close. It would’ve been easy to get you off right there, and he would’ve, had he not abruptly pulled away from you. You curse under your breath at the loss of contact. 

“Jeno!” 

He smirks, loving the way you squirm as he nudges your legs further apart. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Got to tell me what you want, baby.” 

You groan frustratingly, since apparently he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said something. “I want you, now. Just need you inside me.”  

He smirks, the grip he had on your thighs tightening and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt. He shifts his hips, pushing the crown of his cock against your entrance — slowly, sensually, tormentingly. 

You lean into him, nails digging into the fabric on his back as he presses his forehead against your neck, soft hisses escaping him as he feels you — wet and tight. 

“This pussy was fucking made for me,” he growls, cock buried to the hilt. He could stay there forever, selfishly he wants to, but he can hear your whimpers and the need to please you becomes priority. 

He bottoms out and then his hips are snapping forward hard, fast, possessive. Whatever words you wanted to say dissolves into a senseless moan. His thrusts become more erratic and needy and the pace has you clenching down around him. Fuck. 

Jeno stills. His breath ghosts over your collarbones and his fingers dig even further into your hips. You know that look, he’s struggling to keep himself under control, which, given the circumstances is the last fucking thing you want. 

“Not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby.” 

He’s trying to reason with you, but before you really have time to think about what you’re doing you’re clawing at his back, tightening your legs around and digging the heels of your shoes into his back hard enough that he growls, low and frightening in a way that makes your spine tingle. 

“Fuck,” he grits out thrusting into you hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud and vulgar in the middle of the street, but you don’t care and can’t care because fuck, all you can think about is how it feels as he rocks into you, again and again and again. 

“Jeno,” you gasp out, grip digging into his shoulders as he fucks you, ruthless and unforgiving. 

He’s relishing in it, you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s trying to fucking burn the sight into his brain forever, the sounds you’re making and the way you shiver in his arms and the sheer force of it all. He groans and when he kisses you again it’s nearly violent, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. 

“All mine,” he groans against your mouth. He hisses as you bite at his bottom lip, retaliating with a growl and driving his hips into yours with a newfound ruthlessness. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Oh—fuck please,” you gasp out, breaths coming out in little huffs in time with the movement of his body. 

“Not what I asked,” he lowers his voice, serious. His pace slows down and it has you squirming and crying out.

“Fuck yes—yours Jeno. Always been yours. Just please don’t stop—” 

Jeno groans and kisses your neck. He picks up his pace again. The same low tone in his voice as he promises, “I’m all yours too.” 

You swear those three simple words were the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Your walls flutter around him and you don’t miss the prideful grin on his face as his hand moves down from your hip and his thumb presses against your clit.

His fingers move hurriedly and the pleasure is suddenly blinding and white and fuck fuck—

“Jeno yes just like that I’m gonna—”

“Good fucking girl,” he chokes out, your orgasm shaking him to his core, making his thrusts half-desperate. 

His rhythm falters and his own breath catches. He digs his fingers into your hip hard enough that it makes you hiss and then he falters and slows and gives one, two, three more thrusts before pinning you harder with a shaky, breathless sigh.

The two of you stay like that for a beat before he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your dress. Then slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks, tasting you with a roll of his eyes. 

“I mean it, you know,” He quietly says. “I’m all yours.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a revering kiss, and you tell him the exact same thing back. 

[kaciidubs]

Wait Your Turn

❣ Summary: If you're going to break the rules, then you have to face the consequences of your actions. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 5.7k ❣ Warnings: Poly! OT8 x Reader, smut, humor, comfort, fluff, Dom/Sub dynamics, bondage, edging, spit roasting, bukkake, creampie(s), cum play, slight spit play, dacryphilia, choking, degradation, implied after care ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Usual first name + pet name references for the members, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny, Pup, Bub, Kitten, Muse, Jagi[ya], Sunshine, Noona, probably the filthiest thing I've written so far, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Being in a polyamorous relationship with one of the busiest idol groups meant having to apply schedules to the most mundane parts of your life; which dorm you stay at for the week, who wants to go on solo dates and who wants to do group dates, and most importantly, who's the next to get laid by you and when.

Granted, these types of things are only applied when they're in the midst of a comeback - making sure their work life doesn't interfere with your relationship - but when the dreadful time does come around, the struggle truly begins.

Each of your boys were different in terms of their needs, so the schedule was set to alternate between the needier members having more frequent interactions with you throughout the week while the more independent members cashed their time during off days or weekends.

It was a strange system to adapt to, but you all made it work for the length of the comebacks - though, that doesn't mean it always held up. Some of the boys cracked, some deciding to share their time with you and another boy while others asked for trades in their time slots to see you sooner, but they always did their best not to alter the schedule too much.

That is, until week two came and you were begged for a cuddle session from a certain Aussie leader - Changbin agreeing to save his night for another day since Chris only went out of turn when he was really in his head about something.

You slipped into his room easily, getting bathed in the soft purple lighting of his room as you shut the door behind you. "You okay, Channie?"

He turned onto his side, putting his phone on the small table next to his bed before reaching his hand out, "Yeah, just need you in my arms, love."

Your heart fluttered, obliging his request with a smile as you happily rush to his bed, letting him pull you under the blanket and into his warmth - your darling personal heater who rarely wore anything more than boxer briefs to bed.

It doesn't take long until you're settled underneath him, caged between his arms while his slim hips keeps your legs separated, soft lips pressing to your own with barely hidden intent.

"Christopher," you hum against his lips, pulling away just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, "what are you up to, mister?"

"Need you," he breathed softly, pecking your lips once again before kissing just under your jaw, "need you so bad, baby."

A soft moan floated past your lips as he nipped at your sweet spot, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair, "You know it's not your night, baby - we can't."

"No one needs to know, yeah?" His lips continued down, wet kisses left in his wake until he moved back up to your face, eyes lidded and fogged over with lust. "It's just one night, princess, please." Pressing his body against yours, he ground his hips, further enticing you with the feeling of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. "Please, princess, just for daddy?"

In all honesty, you should've stuck to the rules, you should've been the voice of reason, but then his lips were on yours again and all thoughts of rationality went out the window.

When he felt you melt into the kiss he sighed a breath of relief, pulling away to sit himself up on his knees, "I'll do all the work, baby, alright? I just need you to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet - we don't want to get caught, do we?"

You shook your head softly, shamelessly checking out his chest under the LED lights, "No, daddy - I'll be quiet."

His right hand caught your chin, bringing your gaze back to his with a knowing smirk, "Good girl."

With that, your fate was sealed with the tangling of limbs, breathless sighs of names, and muffled moans of pleasure.

It wasn't until the next morning that you realized the repercussions of your shared decision, waking up to an empty bed and a wall of texts waiting on your phone that sent chills down your spine.

My Loves - GC Min [Cat Daddy]🐈: Meeting at 3Racha + Artist dorm tonight Sun-Bok ☀️: Yep! Binnie Baby 💪🏻: 👍🏻 My Artist 💌: This'll be fun 🙄 Hannie Jisungie 💘: Do we have to?? I kinda had plans.. Bubs [SeungMongMong] 💕: Han. Read the room. Baby Bread 🍞❣️: 😭😭😭

Judging from the lack of reply from a certain leader, you already knew what the meeting was going to be about.

Wonderful.

"Do you know why we're gathered here today?"

You wanted to coo at how cute Felix's 'domineering' act was, but you chose to refrain as you sat next to Chris in chairs borrowed from the dining room.

"Um... No?"

Minho clicked his tongue, sharp eyes narrowing in an expression you were all too familiar with, "Are you sure about that, Kitten?"

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you immediately knew that playing innocent was not in your favor.

"Chan?" He now challenged the eldest, the fire in his eyes unwavering.

The black haired man timidly shook his head, not even daring to open his mouth - he was a terrible liar, and everyone knew that.

"Alright, so we're playing this game." Shrugging dismissively, he turned his attention to Hyunjin and gave him a nod.

Without missing a beat, Hyunjin took out his phone and swiped across the screen before putting it down on the coffee table for everyone to witness what would happen next.

You froze at the sound playing from Hyunjin's phone, eyes snapping to Chris as his feigned look of confusion fell to sheepish embarrassment.

Floating through the small speaker were your moans, his moans, and the faint thumping of the bed you had warned him about before the entire scenario started.

"You recorded us?!" Even though he tried to save face, the blush tinting his ears and cheeks was more than a dead giveaway that you'd been caught red handed.

"You fucked her when it wasn't even your turn!" Hyunjin argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You were supposed to be asleep!"

"First of all, I can stay up late as long as I want, and second of all, you two aren't the quietest of fucks in this house!"

"We share a wall and I slept through all of that?!" Jisung suddenly piped up, gesturing wildly to the phone on the table, "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"I sense we're missing the point here..." Jeongin mumbled, snatching Hyunjin's phone from the table to pause the tantalizing audio.

"Innie's right! The point is," Changbin pointed a finger at their leader, "you tricked my bunny into letting you hit!"

Seungmin scoffed, "Tricked is a strong accusation, your 'bunny' isn't as innocent as she seems, isn't that right, pup?"

As much as you wanted to speak up in defense of yourself, they were completely right; you were in the wrong, no matter how it started and how rewarding the act was, you had broken one of the rules explicitly set for comeback season.

"This isn't all sunshine's fault," Felix butted in, quieting the bickering happening around him, "but it isn't all Chan's fault either - they both did it, so they both need to be punished, right? That's what we normally do when rules are broken, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Minho purred, running a hand through Felix's blond hair in appreciation, "and lucky for you two, we already thought of a punishment."

A chill ran down your spine and you stiffened under his mischievous gaze, noticing Chris opening his mouth to speak from your peripheral but closed it once more.

He may have been their leader at work, but here they were all partners, and the eldest card was virtually useless.

Looking between the two of you, a smug smirk graced Minho's lips as he nodded, "No objections? Good." Turning his gaze to you, he nodded his head, "Clothes off, kitten."

Apparently, the agreed upon punishment must've been a pact for pure torture for you and Chris; the eldest remaining in the same dining chair he sat in during the meeting, wearing only his boxer briefs with his wrists tied behind his back as part of his personal punishment.

You, however, seemed to get the brunt of the arrangement, laid naked on a blanket spread out over the area rug, a few decorative pillows spread around in case you needed the extra support.

Chris wasn't allowed to touch you or himself, nor was he allowed to cum during any point of the punishment; whereas you were allowed to touch anyone but Chris, and you weren't allowed to cum while the remaining members used their designated day to fuck you out of schedule - just like their wise leader and boyfriend had done the night before.

After some thorough - and quite unfair - prep by Jisung that left your pussy covered in spit and glistening for all of the boys to pay witness, Jeongin shuffled his way between your legs.

"Hi, Noona."

You did your best not to giggle at how causal he was, despite being stark naked and fisting his dick for what was to come next. "Hi, Innie."

"I still think it isn't fair you let Channie Hyung break the rules like that," he pouted, shuffling closer to rub his tip against your awaiting folds, drawing a shivering breath from you in the process.

"I-I know, I'm so-rry!" The feeling of his cock sliding past your walls had your back arching slightly, a low moan floating past your lips as he steadily filled you to the hilt.

He groaned softly, hands anchoring at your hips as he began to thrust into you without abandon, eyes locked onto where you were connected as his tongue just barely poked between his lips.

Your peace of getting used to his fast pace was interrupted with a shadow being cast over your face, the sight of Changbin shuffling into view with his signature smirk curving his lips.

"You don't mind taking two at once, do you, bunny?" He hummed, tapping the head of his dick against your bottom lip for emphasis.

A pitiful whimper escaped you, eyebrows sloping as realization quickly dawned on you - if he was using your mouth, then that meant you wouldn't get to feel that delicious stretch you'd been craving for the past week, yet another punishment.

"C'mon, little bunny, open up for me."

Doing as you were told, you parted your lips to welcome his thick tip, dropping your jaw to accompany the rest of his thick length to slip into your mouth and press against the back of your throat.

He rocked his hips in an opposing rhythm to Jeongin's powerful thrusts, the force simply jolting you into Changbin's dick and helping him fuck your mouth in return.

Any sound you made was turned into vibrations that shot up his spine, while panted moans and grunted breaths flowed freely from them, mingling with the distant sounds of your other boyfriends pleasuring themselves on the side as they waited for their turn.

"Look at you taking Innie so well, gonna make him come, bunny? Make him fill that needy pussy of yours?" The third eldest goaded, his hand sliding down to grope at your breast, running his thumb over your budding nipple.

Jeongin grunted, head bowed with focus as he drove into you with one desire and one only - to come.

You tried to hum out a reply, nodding your head in hopes that it would get noticed through the bobbing of your head until an increase of speed had your eyes rolling in your head.

"I-I'm gonna come, Noona- Oh, fuck-"

Just as you were ready to feel the signature warmth filling you, the presence of him inside of you disappeared and your eyes shot open to see him jacking himself off above you. Within a few passes of his fist, ropes of cum decorated your stomach, starting just above your naval and ending near your breasts.

It was almost as if he could sense your disappointment as he shot you a cocky smirk, "Oh - did you want me to finish inside? Sorry, Noona, I got to pick since it was my turn."

With a tap to your cheek, Changbin brought your attention back to him, "Don't get too upset, you still have five more dicks to go, bunny."

He was right - your punishment was far from over, and with the needy flutters of your pussy, you knew the requirement of not coming would be an uphill battle.

So, with renowned vigor, you did your best to focus on giving the best head you could manage in this position, laving your tongue against the smooth skin of his dick while trying not to mind the saliva that trailed down your cheek.

In the meantime, Chris wasn't faring too well in his seat, his hard on straining in his boxer briefs and begging for some form of attention from anyone in the room - the subtle shifting doing next to nothing to satisfy the pressure he craved.

He watched as Hyunjin guided Seungmin's mouth up and down his cock, a hand tangled in the long golden tresses of the younger's hair while the other half of his attention was focused on slow makeout session Felix had drawn him into; plump lips working against the smaller pair in a way that couldn't be described as anything other than beautiful.

"IN-ah," Minho called out, almost looking completely unphased by the drag of Jisung's lips against the column of his neck if it weren't for the way his hands gripped his slim waist. "Why don't you make sure Hyung doesn't get too bored over there?"

Fuck.

Jeongin gave a dutiful nod as he crawled his way over to the eldest, fox-like eyes sparkling with a glee that made his stomach flip. "Channie Hyung."

"Jeongin."

He pouted at the use of his name, no glittering nickname or endearing title following, "Don't be like that! You know why we're doing this - you'd do the same if it was one of us!"

Of course, he was right, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save as much of his pride as he could, not with the way he could feel his sanity slipping as the two-toned blond settled between his spread legs.

"Alright, alright, 'm sorry," relaxing against the chair, he gave a small smile toward the youngest, "hi, baby boy."

Preening with happiness, Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh that nearly had him jolting out of the chair, a delighted laugh floating past those daring lips.

"You know... You didn't have to try to keep it a secret," he hummed, planting another kiss higher up the smooth plane of skin, "there's nothing wrong with needing Noona sooner than us, unless..." Sharp eyes looked up at him, a dark glint sending a spark of electricity down the eldest's spine, "You wanted to see what would happen if we found out - is that it, Hyung?"

Chris opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a guttural groan escaping Changbin, pulling his attention toward the main event happening in the middle of the living room.

The buff man shivered, hissing sharply as he pulled his softening dick from your mouth, "Show Binnie, bunny."

You opened your mouth immediately, showing the mess of cum and saliva pooling your tongue.

"Good girl, go on and swallow."

Your puffy lips closed for a moment before parting again to show your now empty mouth, void of any remnants of his seed; as a reward, Changbin bent down and pressed his lips to your forehead.

Next in the rotation was Seungmin, Felix, and Hyunjin - taking on a position that seemed to be coordinated in advance; Seungmin taking post between your legs, Felix straddling your torso with his hands already groping your chest, while Hyunjin lingered beside you.

"Jeongin, did you really have to leave a mess behind?" Seungmin groaned as he dragged his thumb through a still wet line of cum, tapping Felix's cheek with his index.

Following his instincts, Felix turned his head and instantly took his thumb into his mouth, and you watched with lust fogged eyes as he sucked it clean.

"Don't act like you weren't going to do the same thing." The youngest deadpanned, shooting the singer a glare, "You're just mad I did it first."

Deciding to ignore that statement, the second youngest slipped his thumb from Felix's soft lips and brought it down toward your awaiting pussy, putting slight pressure on your neglected clit.

You jolted at the sudden touch, whining pitifully, "Minnie, please, don't tease me."

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands, bub."

Despite his snarky reply, you could feel the head of his dick nudge against your slick entrance, all the while Felix was happily enjoying his time with your breasts; gently kneading the mounds and tweaking your nipples with subtle pinches here and there.

"Come here, my angel." Hyunjin murmured softly, cupping the freckled blond's face before pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

You watched helplessly, forced to be a spectator of the pleasure happening around you; the show above you, the sounds of Jisung's unabashed whimpers from the couch, and the grunted gasps of Chris from whatever Jeongin and Changbin had resorted to doing to him.

When the duo pulled away, Felix leaned over to let a stream of spit drip onto his twitching cock and the valley of your boobs, the excitement palpable from the way he practically vibrated above you.

Without any further preparation, he pressed your breasts together to sandwich his cock and rocked his hips forward, a heavenly groan floating past his lips.

At the same time, Seungmin slipped past your walls with little resistance, sighing happily at the warmth of your pussy finally enveloping him.

Your hands found Felix's thighs, squeezing the flexed muscles as he fucked your breasts at a steady pace - meanwhile, Seungmin set his own rhythm of deep and hard thrusts, practically punching moans out of your throat with each slap of his thighs against the back of your own.

"Sunshine, you feel so good," Felix groaned, eyes flicking between your face and the way the pink head of his dick peeked out from between your boobs on each inward thrust.

"Of course she'd feel good," Seungmin scoffed, his hands gripping the backs of your knees for leverage, "the little slut was made for us, isn't that right, pup?"

You preened at his words, tossing your head back with an unabashed moan.

"So shameless, my muse," Hyunjin smirked, watching you lovingly as he lazily fisted his spit-slicked cock. "You love being used like this by us - but, then again, we love getting to use you, too."

Whining up at him, your dazed eyes glanced down at his length and your lips parted - an offering.

"Nuh uh, beauty, I'm waiting for that sweet pussy of yours."

The clench your walls gave earned you a moan from the singer inside of you, his grip on your legs tightening slightly, "Fuck, stop it, pup - feels too fucking good."

Felix whined, tossing his head back with a shivering breath, "W-What's she feel like, Minnie?"

"Wet, warm, t-tight," a low grunt fell from his lips, "I can tell she's getting close - you know, when her pussy f-flutters-"

"-Y-Yeah, oh, fuck- I'm close." The freckled boy's thrusts quickly began to falter, dissolving into him shallowly humping your breasts.

Hyunjin watched as both boys chased their orgasms, your breathless moans floating through the air like a song while your nails scratched angry red lines down Felix's slim thighs.

"A-Ah, fuck, f-fuck-" Seungmin was the first to topple over the edge, pulling out just as he began to come, the hot release adding to the partially dried mess left behind from his boyfriend before.

With a shaky rut of his hips, Felix came with a short cry of your name, his cum painting your neck and mixing with the mess of saliva and precum in your cleavage.

Dropping your legs unceremoniously, Seungmin shuffled from between your legs to sit breathlessly at your side; Felix managing to shakily slide himself off of your torso and into the former's arms.

"Oh, you poor beauty," Hyunjin cooed, taking in your utterly disheveled form as he filled in the newly freed space, "they made you so dirty, didn't they?"

You jolted at the feeling of his hand ghosting your side, your abdomen twisting so hard you nearly folded over.

"H-Hyune, can I come this time? Please, please, I-I need to, i-it's too much!"

"You're begging the wrong person, my muse." He used his right index to drag through the mess at your sternum and down to the cum coating your stomach, "I can't help you, here." Popping his finger into his mouth, a shivering breath ran through his body, eyelids fluttering before focusing his heated stare back onto you, "Don't worry, I'll be fast - two more after me and you'll be done."

Luckily for you, your orgasm had began to subside and you were barely affected by the graze of his fingertips down your hips and thighs, caressing your skin and massaging the tense muscles as he went.

Chris watched as Hyunjin slipped inside of you with little to no resistance, the sight of your cum stained body arching off of the floor making him strain against the rope keeping his hands behind his back.

"Wish that was you, huh?" Changbin taunted low in his ear, squeezing his shoulders before lightly massaging away the tenseness in his biceps, "Look at her, five dicks in and she's still taking everything we give her."

"Fuck."

Hyunjin had your legs in the air, calves resting against his right shoulder to make the squeeze even tighter, making each drag of his cock that much more devilish for you.

That should be him making you moan like that, he should be the one feeling the squeeze of your pussy around his dick, not the stupid confines of his underwear.

He felt like he was going crazy, and it didn't help with Jeongin's intermittent touches to his restrained bulge that kept him hyper aware of everything happening in front of him.

Your moans grew in pitch, one hand gripping onto the artist's forearm while the other gripped a decorative pillow by your head for further support.

"Oh, god - I c-can't- I-"

"Hold it, kitten." Minho spoke up from his position on the couch, "You have two more to go for your punishment - you don't want to make it worse, do you?"

"N-No, but- Ah!" Your train of thought escaped you as the lithe dancer slightly leaned forward, pushing your legs closer to your torso and brushing against your g-spot in an entirely new angle that had you seeing stars.

"You can do it, my love," Hyunjin panted breathlessly, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his skin, "g-gonna fill you up for doing such a good job for us, okay?"

There weren't any words you could find to somehow put together a coherent sentence, so you simply nodded with hiccuped breaths - doing your best not to focus on the burning desire in your abdomen.

It only took a few more strokes until he stilled with a gasp, broken moans happening in time with the twitching of his length, filling your cunt with every last drop of his load.

However, the turnaround this time was faster than you'd expected; Hyunjin pulling out with a still throbbing dick, while the sound of scrambling reached your ears before a new presence filled the void.

"Jagi."

Your heart clenched, blinking up at the man with a desperate gaze, "Sungie, please - I-I can't take anymore."

You were overly aware of the warm sensation of Hyunjin's cum dripping down the curve of your ass and undoubtedly staining the blanket beneath you, and you were beginning to feel tacky from the mix of cum and spit drying on your skin.

"I know, I know, but you're so close, Jagi - you can do it for us, right? Take your punishment like a good girl?"

The feeling of him pushing your legs up and out had you sobbing out a breath, everything from your waist down sore and crying for a break.

Jisung rubbed the leaky tip of his cock against your puffy clit, biting his lip as more cum seemed to endlessly dribble out of you, "Shit, he really filled you, hm?"

Then, just as his boyfriends before, he angled his hips and sunk into your sensitive cunt, your moans mixing together in a harmony.

"S-So good - god, I wish I could stay in this pussy." He groaned, leaning forward to hover over you - keeping your legs hooked on the outside of his arms - before shallowly thrusting into you.

The sloppy sounds of skin against skin and the mixture of cum and your arousal filled the living room as everyone watched on.

"Fuck... I wanna go again," Felix whined, doe eyes trained on where you and Jisung were connected.

Seungmin laughed, squeezing his arms around him, "Yeah? I bet Chan wishes he could go at all."

This comment brought each of their attentions to the man in mention, and the sight was one to be memorized for the time to come.

A light sheen of sweat shined across his forehead and chest, shallow breaths expanding his torso and exposing the slight definition of abs with each exhale, and thick thighs spread to display the bulge stretching the light grey fabric of his boxer briefs - a glaringly obvious stain of precum in the form of dark grey spread around the head of his hidden cock and along the length, defining it more.

"Holy shit, Chan - you're turned on this much?" Hyunjin took in the view with amused eyes, though the faint swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip hadn't gone unnoticed.

The eldest whined, an embarrassed blush adding to the flush of arousal on his face, "It doesn't help that these two," he nodded his head between Jeongin and Changbin, "have been over here touching me the whole time, and- fuck, watching everyone take turns with her, how could I not get turned on?"

"Channie Hyung, you look like you're one breeze away from coming." Jeongin giggled as he pressed his index finger against the outline of his tip, pulling it away to see a faint string of precum follow suit.

"He shouldn't." Minho interjected, watching the small group from the couch, "And you better not make him come either, unless you'd like to be added to the punishment list, too."

Another signature whine fell from Felix as he broke his focused stare to look at the black haired man, "Can we at least see him? Please, Hyung?"

There was a moment of silence - well, as silent as it could be with your and Jisung's moans and whimpers still dancing through the air - before he nodded his head.

"Fine, go ahead."

It definitely wasn't a three person job, but when Felix sprung into action with Jeongin, Seungmin wasn't about to be left out of the reveal - so, with three sets of hands and the help of Chris lifting his hips, they managed to toss away his one and only clothing item.

"Holy fuck, thank you," he groaned, his head falling back and lightly knocking against the backrest of the chair; a wave of goosebumps decorating his skin at the temperature shift and change in pressure.

The sudden sound of Jisung cursing called their attention like a moth to a flame, eyes snapping to see the rapper frantically fucking into you with reckless abandon.

Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you gripped his hair, "Please, please, please, I-I can't- j-just come already, Sungie!"

It wasn't clear if it was the tug on his scalp or your command that had him coming, but he was suddenly shaking above you with breathless whines, fucking his load into you with hard, shallow ruts.

He dipped his head to catch your lips in a less than coordinated kiss, a dazed smile finding its way to his face, "Last one, Jagi."

Sniffling up at him, a harsh realization hit you like a freight train - Minho was the last one to go.

Minho, the one who enjoyed seeing you at your wits end, wearing you down until you were nothing but his brainless little kitten - the one who laughed in the face of your pleas and begs, the one who would catch your tears onto his fingers and make you choke on the same digits.

As Jisung slipped away to join the rest of the spectators, you turned your head to see Minho unmoving from his seat, staring at you with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Hands and knees, kitten."

You were shocked to find out that you still had power left in you to lift your body from the floor, much less manage to turn yourself onto your aching legs before dipping into an arch you'd perfected in your time with them - ignoring the feeling of now cold cum meeting the fluffy warmth of the blanket where you once laid.

It wasn't long until you felt a large hand grip the swell of your ass before landing a hard slap against the cheek making you scream out a moan.

"What did we learn?" He hummed nonchalantly, spreading your ass cheeks to see the newest mess of cum ooze toward your clit.

"I-I won't k-keep secrets," you sobbed, the pulse of your pussy making your toes curl, "if s-someone wants to skip ahead, w-we make sure everyone knows - P-Please, Min, I'm sorry!"

The only sign of acknowledgment he gave you was a clipped hum, sliding one hand to the base of your spine while the other wrapped around his dick, pumping once and tracing your messy cunt.

"Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, please, I've been good - I-I didn't come while the others fucked me, I-I let them use me, please let me come, Min!" Hiccuping a sob, your hands fisted the blanket as fresh tears streaked down your cheeks, "Please, please, please, it hurts - I can't keep holding it!"

The stretch of his dick past your sensitive walls had your mouth falling open in a silent moan, eyes rolling as your veins flowed with molten lava - overstimulation beginning to set in.

"Okay, kitten, you can come," he murmured softly, his hand sliding up your slightly sweaty back before wrapping around your neck, his body eclipsing yours as his lips hovered just above your ear, "but only when I say so."

He dragged his hips back before delivering a hard thrust, forcing a choked gasp past your lips as he began to practically fuck you through the floor - broken moans and cries flowing like water in a stream.

"Remember this the next time you decide to bend the rules," hissing in your ear, his hand tightened around your neck ever so slightly, "doesn't matter if its Yongbokkie's charms, Hannie's begs, Jeongin's sugar coated promises - none of them, if you try lying to cover for them, this is what'll happen."

"Minho, it wasn't all her fault." Chris gritted, watching the way you writhed in the second eldest's hold - his dick twitching painfully for any type of relief.

Minho scoffed out a laugh, finally directly regarding him ever since the entire punishment started, "When did I ever say it was, Chan?"

Without so much as a stutter in his rhythm, he sat up onto his knees, bringing your body with his and putting you on full display for the rest of your partners.

"This is a lesson to you, too; don't try to keep things from us - if you want to fuck our girl, you can fuck her." His thumb pressed against the underside of your jaw, tilting your head in their direction, "She obviously loves it, so why put yourself through the stress of making it a secret? You can see her just like this without keeping her orgasm from her, isn't that right, kitten?"

You mindlessly nodded as best as you could, drool trailing out of the corner of your mouth as you tried your best to keep your focus on the man restrained in the chair and not on the six other pairs of eyes taking you in.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, Sir!" You mewled, your hands holding tight to his arm to keep yourself tethered to your own body.

"Exactly, now, say sorry."

Chris bristled, "Minho, that's-"

"Felix."

On command, the boys occupying the space near Chris's legs moved to allowed Felix between them; Jeongin holding onto one thigh while Hyunjin held onto the other to further restrain him.

The second Felix's soft hands wrapped around the base of his dick, he had to bite his lip to silence the pure moan of pleasure that wanted to rise out of him - but, the instant his lips pressed against a vein, he nearly cried.

"Say sorry, kitten," Minho whispered in your ear, breaking through the fog that clouded your brain, "say sorry then you can come."

A sob wracked through your body as you nodded, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Innie and Binnie. I'm sorry L-Lix, Minnie, a-and Hyune. I-I'm sorry S-Sungie," nearly choking on your breath, you cried, "a-and I'm sorry Min, I'm so sorry, sir!"

He hummed, a smirk on his lips, "You're missing an apology, kitten."

The names replayed in your head like a tape on rewind, your brain desperately searching for who you might have missed until it finally clicked.

"C-Channie!"

The call of his name brought his eyes to yours, breathless groans escaping him as Felix licked at him as if he were a popsicle on a hot summer day.

You sniffled, blown out pupils swimming in the sea of your watery eyes, "I-I'm so sorry, Channie - I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

His heart clenched in time with his abdomen, hips canting as best they could with Hyunjin and Jeongin keeping him still. "I'm sorry, princess, you hear me? Fuck- I'm so sorry, baby."

"Good kitten," Minho grunted, his free hand wrapping around your hip to the apex of your thighs, his skilled fingers finding your clit easily, "now, come for us."

There wasn't a singular word to describe the sensations that shot through your veins; euphoria, relief, satisfaction, all you could feel was the wave of your orgasm crashing around you and drowning you in the muffled sounds of your own screams.

It didn't take long for Chris to fall victim to the sinful kitten licks of Felix's tongue, not when he had the view of you and Minho falling apart before his eyes.

"Oh fuck, f-fuck!"

Minho felt you slump in his arms, shallow breaths wracking your body through soft whimpers and hiccups. "You're alright, Jagiya, I've got you."

You slurred out soft words he couldn't catch, though the faintest "Sorry" caught his ear through the jumbled mess.

"No more of that, kitten, okay? I forgive you - We forgive you, just take some deep breaths with me, hm?"

Changbin appeared in front of you with two wet washcloths, and a t-shirt most likely from his closet, "Hey, bunny, it's Binnie - I'm gonna clean you off, okay?"

You hummed softly and he got to work wiping away the dried cum and spit that stained your skin, using the second cloth to get whatever remnants he missed before handing it off to Minho who cleaned away the cum covering your pussy.

Meanwhile, Felix and Jeongin were having a field day of cleaning up the cum that decorated Chris's skin from his own orgasm; Hyunjin lazily running his hands through Chris's hair while Seungmin untied his wrists.

"Hyung," Seungmin prodded, garnering Chris's tired, but attentive gaze, "we know you mean well, and you don't like imposing over us, or whatever," he took a short breath, fighting through the shyness, "but if you need something then say so - it's not like we haven't adjusted our schedules before."

"Yeah, Chan - we're not gonna fault you if you need your time sooner than us, we do it all the time." Hyunjin chimed in, playing with a small curl at the front of his head.

"Some of us more than others."

"You know, I can hear you," Felix deadpanned, looking up at the three of them while licking his lips, "and it's not like I don't offer sharing my time!"

Jeongin laughed, "I don't think they meant it as a bad thing, Lix, you're just the one who uses your time the most, even if you share it."

"Which is, again, not a bad thing," Jisung piped up with a chuckle, walking toward the group with a washcloth and a bottle of water for the eldest, "I think it's a tie between me and you, honestly."

Through the small talk and pre-shower wipe downs - some of the boys dispersing to shower while others searched for snacks - Chris noticed Minho bundling up the soiled blanket while Changbin cradled your sleeping form in his arms on the couch, murmuring soft words he wasn't able to catch.

"She's okay," Minho hummed, catching Chris's soft gaze, "we're going to let her rest for a minute, then when she wakes up Changbin's going to make sure she uses the bathroom before anything else."

He nodded understandingly, stretching his arms and rubbing absentmindedly at his wrists.

"You want to cuddle with her."

Chris jolted, eyes widening, "What? I didn't say-"

"You don't have to say it, you do it all the time after sex, Chan," he rolled his eyes, a loving smirk playing at his lips, "it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just..." Sighing, Minho ventured over to the chair he still sat in, "Stop being shy about needing love, okay? This isn't about some stupid rule or 'fuck' schedule - you need to know that there isn't any shame in putting your needs first. You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need, Hyung."

Planting a quick kiss on his lips, Minho disappeared down the hall toward the laundry room, leaving Chris to settle with his words.

Nodding softly to himself, he made his way toward Changbin and swapped roles quietly, accepting a temple kiss from his fellow rapper before he headed into the kitchen to join whoever occupied the space.

Laying across the couch, Chris let you lay partially on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your back while he used his other hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

Stirring slightly, you cracked an eye open and a tired smile twitched your lips, "Mm... I love you."

You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need.

He smiled at Minho's words, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, watching as you drifted back to sleep.

"I love you too, baby."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[planetpiastri]

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader [no faceclaim, reader is faceless] summary: yn and lando are couple goals around the mclaren garage, but they don't want oscar to feel left out. the problem? oscar would very much like to be left out. notes: school has finally released me from its chokehold so i'm doing my part in filling the winter break void. part 2 of my logan smau is in the works, but in the meantime, here's this<3 enjoy!

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and others

ynusername recent stuff (following my two favorite boys around like a stray puppy)

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mclaren Always a pleasure to have you in the garage! 🧡

landonorris nyoom

ynusername vroom, even

username1 always a good day when yn refers to lando and oscar as her favorite boys

oscarpiastri Thanks for buying me dinner 👍🏻

ynusername you're welcome kiddo 🫶 oscarpiastri Please don't call me that

mclaren

liked by landonorris, ynusername, and 211,329 others

mclaren pookie #1 and pookie #2 dump (📸 - ynusername)

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username2 WHO PUT THE ADMIN UP TO THIS

oscarpiastri Why would you say that

username3 im cackling this had to be yn's idea

landonorris pookie and proud 💪

username4 everyone say thank you yn for taking cute pics of our boys

ynusername you're welcome 😁

ynusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and others

ynusername let! him! cook!!!!!

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username5 oh my god that is so much fire

oscarpiastri Do NOT let him cook I repeat do NOT let him cook

landonorris it was fine you big baby nobody got hurt 🙄 oscarpiastri I'd sure hope so??

username6 yn and lando are kind of unhinged together omg

username7 and that's why we love them 😌

mclaren Please bring our driver back to the paddock in one piece! 😬

landonorris all that fire and you were still the hottest thing in the kitchen 🥵🥵

ynusername 🤭🤭

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, and 738,899 others

landonorris actually can't think of a better way to spend this life 🤍

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username8 CAPTION IM IN TEARS 😭😭

username9 where's my credit for sending you the video lando

landonorris how many times do i have to teach you this lesson old man?? 👊💪

maxverstappen1 Too sweet

ynusername you're my everything 💌

landonorris you ARE everything oscarpiastri And Lando's just Ken landonorris this guy gets it

maxfewtrell Happy for you or whatever

username10 glad to know i'm not the only one crying over that video of lando and yn

georgerussell63 Don't worry I am too alex_albon me too carlossainz55 Me three username11 yo??

username12 help there are so many drivers in the comments 💀

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, ynusername, and 179,025 others

oscarpiastri Hanging out with Mum and Dad 👍🏻

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landonorris she started crying when she saw this btw

oscarpiastri Sorry? landonorris don't be, it's the pregnancy hormones ynusername I AM NOT PREGNANT DELETE THIS BEFORE THE WAG PAGES START POSTING

username13 ok but does oscar need a step-sister i wanna be part of this family

ynusername love u kiddo 🥹🧡

username14 oscar liking this comment oh we've come so far from when he used to tell her to stop calling him that oscarpiastri I've stopped fighting it

tagging: @sonder-paradise hey girl<3

request: hiii, could you do a smau similar to ‘heart eyes’ but with lando and oscar is the suffering third wheel? -from anon

[lumibuns-blog]

Ghost x Soap's roomie

Ghosts and Gaz stay the week and Soap's apartment. Ghost falls head over heels for you and can't seem to think of anything else.

its just two idiots in love at this point and also Soap and Gaz are there too lmao. I have more for this concept on my page or under the tag if you like it💪

Dinner was finished quicker than Simon would have preferred considering he still couldn't get the image of your sly smile out of his head, not to mention the piece of food he was sure was stuck in his throat from the laughing fit you had sent him and Gaz into with your well timed nut-tap. You were intoxicating to him, it was almost insufferable how unable he was to get your voice, your face, your figure, everything, out of his head. He could swear that he's never felt this way before about anyone, ever. It was like the moment he set eyes on you, his mind had made itself up and all he could do was let himself fall even further and further in love with you.

So he now watched as you forced a very upset Soap to do the dishes, not without great effort.

"aw 'bon why tha' hell do I have'ta do this shite it's fuckin feechie" he whined

"'cause I do the cooking, that's the deal we have" you bit back "plus, I've cleaned our bathroom before" you turned to face both Simon and Kyle, Simon couldn't help but notice he was the one you locked eyes with "you wanna see nasty, use the shower when he's finished" you sighed

"oye! Not fair" Johnny warned, an accusing finger pointed towards you "you shed more than a hound when 'ure in there, ya clog the damn drain"

"excuse me! I clean up after myself at least, any hair you find in there is yours!" you yelled back, clearly embarrassed

"nae, ma' hair ain't long with split ends, er' whateva' the hell 'ure always moanin' 'bout in there"

you had half a mind to hit him across the face for that, "I don't know, hairs getting a little long there princess" you teased, gesturing to his grown out mohawk "need to get it trimmed? or you worried they might leave you looking bald again like last time?" you grinned

"awe no way!" Gaz grinned "you got pictures?" he ran over to you. Simon was curious too but didn't make a show of it, settling to sit back with his arms crossed instead, surveying the chaos.

"sure do" you beamed, ready to pull out your phone

"Naw naw!" Johnny scrambled to intercept his friend "nae happenin'"

you flung the phone behind you, out of his reach "then wash the fucking dishes man" you scoffed, shoving the sponge into his chest "thought they called you Soap for a reason?"

"feckin whatever" Johnny groaned, returning to the sink and flicking the tap on

you beamed and turned to head towards your room, calling out your dibs on the shower. Not before holding your phone up to Kyle and Simon, mouthing an 'I'll show you later' before slipping out of view.

"cheeky little mother fucker..." Soap mumbled, the half smile on his face turning into a look of disgust as he touched some wet food.

"so...." Gaz started after a moment "Never did decide where we 'going to be sleepin' mate?"

"well 've only got two beds" Johnny said, back turned to his friends "an' mine can only fit one a you's plus ma'self" he continued "an' like -ell I'm not going to sleepin on 'ma own bed while 'm home , so one ya will have-tae take the couch" he paused "unless the other one wants to bunk up with 'er" he laughed

Simon froze simply at the idea, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable in his slacks at the thought of being right up next to you while you rested. If you were closer would be be able to put his hands of you? trace the contours of your waist with his finger tips, burry his nose in the back of your head and wrap his hulking arms around your smaller figure? Feel the curve of your ass as you pressed against-

he bit the inside of his cheek and gripped the counter top so hard his knuckles turned white, "I'll take the couch" he huffed "'ure smaller anyway" he gestured to Kyle

"Whateva' mate" Gaz rolled his eyes, taking his friends jab in stride.

You had claimed dibs of the shower first because you were well aware that three, probably filthy, men (all of which had to be over 6 feet) were bound to need to use it as well and it would be pointless to try and wash your hair after that disaster.

"I'm done!" you called absentmindedly from the hallway, a towel wrapped around your body, wet hair sticking to your neck and back. Simon had found a very interesting part of the ceiling to focus on while you went back to your room, "try to not blow the thing up, I've got a down payment on this thing" you said, closing the door behind you.

silence fell over the room once again, as all three men glanced between themselves. Gaz was first, he took off at a run towards the bathroom door, determined to be second. Soap started off not more then a moment after him,

"aye ya prick, it's my house this?!" he grabbed for Gaz who held on steady to the door

"exactly mate! we're the guests!" Kyle chided "so be a good host 'an bugger off!"

"Nae 'm not lettin' you's skimp me outta a hot shower" Soap yelled attempting to pull Gaz back, but the man had such a a tight hold on the door he might've pulled out the hinges first.

you reopened the door after hearing the chaos, still in only a towel "the hell is-?" you were cut off almost immediately by ghost stepping in, he grabbed them both by the back collars of their shirts with what seemed like minimal effort, and pulled them off each other.

"Gaz you go first," he growled "Johnny, at least finish drying the bloody dishes before you go runnin' off" he shoved your roommate back into the kitchen

"Lt.! 's no fair he's goin' first! Why do you get to decide?" Soap griped

"on base 'er not, 'm still in charge." Simon said plainly, narrowing his eyes towards his friend, "just be lucky I'm the one yellin' at you for tusslin' around inside"

"In 'ma own home!" Johnny threw his hands up in defeat as Gaz pumped his fist before closing the bathroom door.

for a moment, your eyes met Simon's as you peaked from behind your door and they lingered there. His gaze was so was piercing as he glared from above his mask, that he had (unfortunately) put back in after dinner. His eyes only remained that way for a moment however, for as soon as they met yours, they softened. The harsh lines fell away instantly and his pupils began to dilate when they met yours, not aware you had been watching the whole ordeal.

'why did his eyes have to be so pretty?'

He coughed quickly, tearing his gaze from you before returning to the kitchen himself. Leaving you awe struck, fanning your face behind the closed door of your room.

When it was finally time for him to take a shower, Simon allowed himself a moment of respite in the bathroom before actually cleaning himself off. Away from Johnny's teasing glances and their incessant banter that he hated to admit he had come to be too fond of to reprimand them for, and they knew that all to well. Above all else though, it was a moment to internally process seeing you in nothing but a towel because when he had tried to think it over out there, the evidence of that was all too noticeable. You had looked so fucking good, wet hair, glossy skin, that towel that did absolutely nothing to cover up the swell of your tits as you pressed it to your chest. Even the simple fact that your cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower sent his whole body into overdrive.

'shit- right, the shower.'

He broke from his thoughts to finally enter the shower but that did nothing to aid him in his situation. On the ledge was your shampoo and various other soaps, much like how your side of the sink was covered in various products and bottles he couldn't name even if he tried. Johnny's side had a toothbrush that was joined by Gaz's wash bag, and that was it. In the shower however, he only saw what were clearly your products. He grumbled and opened the door just a crack,

"Either 'a you got any shower gel?" He yelled through the crack, rather embarrassed at his current situation, "lef' mine at base."

"jus' use 'er's!" Johnny called back from his spot on the couch "'s what I do anyway..."

"You what?!" you yelled from across the flat

"dumbass" Kyle scoffed

"kidding, kidding!" Johnny laughed "Mines the one with the green lid mate, ya don' see it?"

"Fuckin hell...neva'mind!" Ghost responded, closing the door again. He swore he wasn't seeing straight. It didn't help that the whole bathroom already smelt like you, your intoxicating scent invading every breath he took. But to use your products? That was some shit couples do, and he had to stop his mind from getting away from him with that fantasy.

Stepping into the shower once more he located Johnny's soap. Spring rain?, no fucking wonder he hadn't noticed it, who would've thought Soap would use something like this? He quickly washed himself and got dressed, rubbing his hair dry with a towel as he exited the bathroom.

You stood in the kitchen, a large sweatshirt dwarfed your frame. You seemed to be waiting for the kettle of the stove to heat up as you noticed his presence.

"oh I can take that" you smiled, walking over to him and holding out your hand to take his towel from him.

He very reluctantly gave it to you, worried it would smell bad or have something gross on it he hadn't even realized. "was just about to start another lode anyway" you chimed, opening up the closet door and throwing it in the machine before starting it.

Simon couldn't help himself "Colors I'm assuming?" he joked

you whipped around to face him "Now don't you start" you scolded, but the smile and deep red of your cheeks was unmistakable, "Johnny's enough to deal with on his own" you headed back to your kettle

"'m sorry, I'll try to be less of a pain in the arse to ya than he is" Simon chuckled

"that's a low bar" you laughed dully "but thank you"

Simon found conversation to flow freely with you, like it does with the rest of his team but only after he had gotten close to them. He had only known you for a day but still found it so natural to speak to you (if he ignored the deafening sound of his heartbeat and the massive lump in his throat).

"want any tea?" your offer broke the silence as you grinned and held up the now boiling kettle.

"uh- sure" he nodded, was his heart getting louder?

you tossed open one of the cupboards "pick your poison" you chirped, gesturing the stocked shelf of teas.

he rounded the island to inspect the selection, peering over you in such a way that his form eclipsed yours and forced you to move back against the counter top. You held your breath.

"'ere" he handed a small tin containing a non-caffeinated herbal blend down to you and stepped away "is it any good?" he asked, pointing lazily at the tin that you now held.

you tried to shrug your flustered feelings away "Better be, 's what I'm having" you turned to grab him a mug from the shelf.

Simon smiled to himself at the knowledge he picked the same type of tea as you purely by coincidence. Moments later you were handing it to him, "here ya go Ghost" you said placing the hot mug in front of him

"Simon." he responded plainly

"Hm?" you tilted your head a bit

"Simon's fine, ya don't need to be calling me that 'Ghost' shit 'ere" he was staring holes into the kitchen island, wondering if it was weird for him to be asking you to call him by his given name.

"Alright, Simon it is then" you beamed, not missing a beat

christ his name sounded so good when you said it

"sorry guess it was just habit, seeing as thats what Johnny calls you whenever he's home"

"'s fine" he mumbled, a brief pause hung in the air as you both took your first sips of tea. You were right, it was good.

"where they at anyway?" Simon tried to fill the silence

"probably giggling under the covers by now" you scoffed "why? trying to get rid of me?" you joked

"'s not it" Simon answered quickly

"I know I know- I'm just teasing" you smirk "Johnny told me you were a bit quiet so don't feel pressured to talk 'er anything"

He appreciated the sentiment, but not talking to you was possibly the last thing he wanted to do right now. "What else does the little twat say?" Simon asked, a little gruffer than he intended to sound, but his reputation was on the line here.

"Oh just stories from all the dangerous stuff you all get up to, usually the ones where he can say he was the hero" you fully laughed and it sounded like music to Simon's ears "That and he complains about all the work he has to do, usually when he wants to get out of chores"

"sounds 'bout right" Simon smiled lightly and you could have sworn it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

At least you didn't think he was some sulking, menacing, edge-lord. I mean he most certainly was most times but he would really prefer it if you didn't think of him like that. Now he just had one more thing to clear up.

"jus' so ya know... I- I didn't use your body wash" he practically had to shove the words out of his mouth he was so tense, but to his surprise you just laughed.

You smiled brightly and waved your hand dismissively, "Don't worry I didn't think you had, I don't blame you for not finding his soap though" you held your mug close to your chest and smiled fondly "He used to use that Head and Shoulder's stuff, you know the one? Anyway, it was nasty so I got him some better stuff and he actually likes it, even if he complains he smells 'like a chick' now" you put that last part in air quotes.

"fair", the soap Simon used on base was Head and Shoulder's. He made a mental note to throw it out and get better stuff the second he got back.

Conversation flowed freely for the next couple minutes as you both finished your drinks, you mostly asked about what it was like living on a military base and he asked about a bit about your graduate studies. Happy just to learn anything about you. When you set your empty mug down on the kitchen counter, he silently glided over with his own and took your mug in his other hand, filling them with water in the sink.

"you really don't have to do that, but thank you" you smiled softly, a yawn escaped you, feeling the tiredness begin to catch up with you.

"don't mind it" he dried his hands off with the kitchen towel. When he looked back at you his heart swelled. you were smiling lightly in the dimly lit kitchen, eyes squinting from even that being too much light. You swayed back and forth slowly, heading nodding slightly every couple of moments. He felt bad for keeping you up but more than that he wished he could just pick you up and whisk you off to bed, curling up next you you and letting you snuggle into his chest. But there was no way he could do something like that, not now anyway, so he settled for the next option

"you look like you're about to fall over love, off to bed now" he said, his voice quiet and gentle as patted you on the back and steered you towards your room.

"aye aye captain" you lazily saluted him and he couldn't help but smile "let me know if ya need anything" you called from the hall "night!"

"yeah g'night" he groaned, shoving himself onto the couch that was much too small for him. He would rather freeze than make you get up to get him another blanket or something. And even though he felt perfectly comfortable he couldn't seem to get to sleep, his heart was just too loud.

*I might make Price come over to give the boys something they left behind just so he can meet/flirt with reader and Simon and get all grumpy and jealous cuz it would be cute <3

Tags:

@sleep101 @urbimom @noisydelusionlove @plk-18 @pinkyfqiry @wwe1rdc0re @vmaxis @jenlvr01 @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @ifsunmibts @callmeluno @nina-from-317 @strawberrygateau @leryg0 @weemansoap @dreamtofus @imjustheretofightforlove @electricmentalitypersona