#this was long af oops

[slink-a-dink]

LobCorp Egotober Day 1 - One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds, Tim

[solaestial]

I really like your art, you are one of my favorite End Roll fanartists and you make me consider ChriSsell

And your snipped fangame are adorable, also your Omori x End Roll crossover scritched my need for crossover, thank you.

SOBBING??? this practically made my day to see omg 🥺🥺✨✨ thank youuu for popping in with these kind words!! i'm so glad you've been enjoying my art!!! (and to be spreading the chrissell agenda LET'S GOOOOO. getting others to see their appeal is the biggest honor of all uwu uwu)

[rnaeborowski]

i hope the scar will look cool at least

[13eyond13]

CAN I FINISH SOME DOODLES FOR Y'ALL THIS AFTERNOON WHO REQUESTED THEN YESTERDAY? I AM SURE GOING TO TRY

[dawnedon]

Dawn hadn't slept at all for the night, not even after the clock had struck midnight. For her, her New Year's didn't end there. Color was already beginning to bleed into the dark skies, hearkening the sun's eventual arrival.

She could feel the chill in the air from the frigid seas upon her face, the cold keeping her more awake and alert than normal. The rest of her body was cradled in a wetsuit, insulating her from Sinnoh's unforgiving sea.

Emperor stood next to her, eyeing the inky waters. As rough and cruel as the ocean could be, she was calm this morning. The waters along the southern edge of the region battered rocky outcrops, being a treacherous length of sea for even the most seasoned of sailors to traverse. Today, it was almost as if the ocean was welcoming them.

The pair made their way to the water, Dawn tossing her braid over her shoulder. The sea hummed around her as she made her way further in. Lighter blues and teals danced along the rippling waves as the sky lightened with each passing moment. Dawn situated herself on Emperor's back, and the Empoleon cut through the ocean with unmatched grace.

They traveled eastward, Sunyshore passing by on Dawn's left. Light from the lighthouse cut through the remaining bands of darkness, a silent and solitary beacon that kept Sinnoh's sailors safe from the rocky shores.

Throngs of cold-water dwelling pokemon made way for the duo. Separating to let them through, and then converging back together once they'd passed. It was a sight to behold each and every time, despite Dawn having witnessed it several years in a row.

Neither of them ever made any attempts of communication when they were out here like this. They didn't really need to in the first place - they both understood one another on such a deep level that it was unnecessary. It was a time for them both to reflect on themselves, and to bask in the quiet.

Golds and oranges began to bleed into blue hues, pushing the cooler colors away and towards the west. The sun was just about ready to make its entrance, it seemed. It wasn't long before Emperor would stop. Sinnoh was long behind them now, Sunyshore a mere blip on the western horizon. Ahead of them stretched nothing but the endless sea, no other landmasses to be seen.

Dawn could feel a frigid pang in her heart, veins turning to ice for a moment as her head swam. Midnight eyes couldn't help but peer deep into the sea; her gaze was met by bands of glowing red far, far below.

Giratina.

Suddenly, the ocean being so calm made much more sense to her. It was only calm because Giratina willed it. Dawn knew what the goddess of chaos was capable of. She could bring a cataclysm upon this earth with a mere breath, a mere fraction of her power, if she so wished. But instead, Dawn could see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back up at her as Giratina's titanic figure slowly meandered beneath them.

There wasn't the same fear that gripped Dawn's heart after her second run-in with Giratina alongside May. Instead, there was a mutual understanding between the two now. The bottomless gap between the two of them finally had been bridged, though how strong the bridge was was yet to be seen. However... Dawn could only feel a sense of awe as she watched her patron deity, her bonded legendary.

Dawn closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her mind connect to Giratina's. Suddenly, Dawn wasn't in the ocean anymore. They stood before one another, Giratina in her human guise.

'Passing through?' Dawn would question, the words echoing in their shared mindspace. The woman before her would merely nod. Piercing crimson eyes stared into Dawn's very soul, but she did not shake this time.

'Yes,' she'd respond after a moment. Giratina had clearly been gauging the Champion - what she had seen and felt was yet to be determined, but Dawn could tell that Giratina was much more relaxed. 'This is the year of the dragon, after all. I figured showing up might bring you some good luck this year. I think you need it.'

It was hard for Dawn to tell when Giratina was joking, with how dry she usually was. She couldn't help but smile either way, a pleasant feeling tickling her heart. 'That, and I was curious about what you were doing. Going this far east so early? Do you do this every year?'

Giratina definitely had strange ways of showing that she cared - something that Dawn understood very well. They were a lot more alike than she'd thought previously. Despite everything that happened with them, their bond was starting to make more sense to Dawn. She wondered if Giratina could say the same.

'The first sunrise of the year?" Dawn finally replies, before nodding, 'It's part of my New Year's traditions. It's something I've done since I was a kid.' She pauses thoughtfully, eyes meeting Giratina's again. 'Real quick, before I go. Do you... have a shrine, or... a temple, or anything like that? Something I can visit this morning once I get back.'

It was a question the goddess genuinely seemed taken aback by, as if this were the first time anyone had ever asked her such a thing. Giratina's reaction made Dawn feel a bit sad, in a way. A sadness she didn't want to feel too deeply or strongly, lest Giratina be able to tell through their bonded souls.

'There should be one near Sendoff Spring. It's... been so long, though, the path is more than likely overgrown. The shrine itself is probably in total disrepair. It was one of the only structures dedicated to myself that Arceus didn't destroy because it was so well hidden.'

Dawn finds herself nodding solemnly. In her ancestor's journal, Dawn recalled reading an entry detailing three statues of the Creation Trio, with only Giratina's being totally destroyed.

'That's okay. I'll go there later. I can help clean it up a bit.' A sensation of surprise washed over Dawn, though it was not her own surprise she was feeling. Giratina could only blink, before the briefest, tiniest of smiles appeared on her lips. 'You're too much. Every time I think I start to understand you, you do something that makes even me confused. I think you're going to be an enigma to me forever, Dawn.'

The Champion lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. 'An enigma to the most eldritch and unknown legendary out there? I'm flattered.' Giratina could only roll her eyes, but the feeling of mirth between the two was palpable.

'I know I'm so much fun to talk to, but you should go before you miss that sunrise of yours.'

And just like that, Dawn would slowly open her eyes. It was like she woke up from a dream. The sea around her was bathed in golden light, and the first few rays of actual sunlight crested over the horizon. Any remaining darkness in the sky was banished as the sun appeared to rise out of the ocean itself. She felt Giratina's presence slowly retreating back to the shores, and she and Emperor were alone once again.

The first rays of morning light felt warm on Dawn's face despite the freezing temperature of the air. It warmed her very heart and soul, instilling a deep sense of peace in her. It was the strangest, most interesting start to her New Year by far - but it wasn't unwelcome. If anything, it only made her more confident that this would be a good year after all.

[puppy-the-mask]

I have an au i've been referring to as 'Magus' or 'Layered Reality' in my notes, idk what the story will actually be called but i've been brainrotting over it particularly hard recently so i'm gonna talk about it

Namely because Blue is a little FREAK and I love him :3

So I love soulmate aus, and I love Yanderes, but you know what we need more of? MUTUAL YANDERES so you know this shit is gonna get wild when the entire premise is combining all three. Be aware, most are gonna be low-key about their obsession or it's only going to show up later on so some of the characters may seem like normal well adjusted individuals... they are not

Y/n, or 'Magus' as they're know to the wider public, is a prominent masked public figure that showed up out of the blue and broke the barrier. And then Kept showing up randomly when the underground seemingly re-filled with monsters with a new barrier in place. They're like a volunteer firefighter, but for the royal guard. They aren't officially hired or anything, but they most often work directly with a team of guards or are often called in as backup by others if Magus is in the area and able to help. Technically the only calls Magus has to answer/missions they have to attend are any having to do with the barriers.

See, in this world a cluster of universes collided, the effect being imperceptible as the humans of said universes were all the same and fused into one person. The difference lied underground, where because they're so different the universes couldn't merge seamlessly like they did up top and so, thanks to the barrier keeping the underground isolated, the undergrounds became isolated instances layered on top of each other. With the breaking of the barrier and emptying of the underground the mountain destabilizes and the next layer of the universe fills its place to rectify this now that the space is open.

This mean that Magus, being the fusion of all the versions of themself, is soulmates with ALL of the skeleton brothers. Now, soulmates are kind of a forgotten art in this world, it's a type of magic and most humans, having forgotten magic, don't know they exist. Most monsters don't pay much mind to it either since it's more nebulous than media makes it out to be. Your souls draw you together to meet, no matter what a meeting Will happen as that is destiny, but what happens after depends on if the individuals can hold onto that connection or even notice it in the first place. People who specialize in soulmate magic are like fortune tellers, they can't tell you specifics but they Can tell you what kind of mark your destined will leave on you or what their mark on you says if it's a word/name/sentence.

Magus has a special connection to soulmate magic, being naturally attuned to it as they see their soulmates in dreams (I have the same soulmate system set up in other works), it's actually how they learn magic and Become a mage in a modern post-magic world. Rus (sf!papyrus) teaches them via dreams because he's also a dreamer and the connection lets them talk! That is until they grow up and become teenagers and suddenly Rus cuts Magus off, creating a literal wall between them whenever they meet in dreams so they can't speak. Magus believes this is because they've become a mage and that he hates them for it. That's not why, but it's what they assume. And they hold that assumption for Years.

I could go more into Magus' story and why they become a Yandere, but the crux of it is that they are so starved for love and so single-mindedly focused on protecting their soulmates and being with them someday that morality kind of falls to the wayside. They think the only way they can show their love for the time being is by ensuring their soulmates are safe and happy from the shadows. They are a protective and doting yandere, what their love says goes. Of course, they can keep it cool and are very good at acting like they are perfectly normal to the point nobody suspects they so much as care about the skeletons, much less favor them over others.

Bringing Magus' job back up, they mainly work for the Underfell branch of the guard. Their direct partner is Fell Undyne, who is very obviously trying to kill them or at least get them hurt. The animosity between the fell monsters and Magus is especially obvious, as lots are still pretty iffy with humans and of course would hate mages especially. Why does Magus work with them then? Because it's safer working with obvious threats then one of the other branches filled with people who may try to get their guard down before leaving them for dead. They know to keep on their toes and won't slip up. Of course, not all fell monsters are assholes or hate Magus just for being a mage, just like not all tale monsters are nice. So there are some people Magus is chill with. The one they trust the most in their group? Red (uf!sans)

This dude is too busy and tired with his own shit to care. This friendship actually comes about in the strangest of ways thanks to a forgotten closet office. It's a small office that was obviously a closet before being renovated, nobody uses it so it's the Perfect secret nap spot. There's a beanbag chair in there and everything! Neither knew the other used the office until Red teleported to the beanbag and landed right on top of a napping Magus. They agreed to keep quiet about it and share the office. (Either that or it's Red's office but he almost never uses it so Magus had no idea it was his office until he dropped in on them)

Edge (uf!paps) is also chill, he doesn't care so long as you prove yourself and don't get in his way. Magus simps for has a deep respect for him as coworkers, though they don't work with him often as he's not on their team, they do see each other in the office. (It's not all action, someone has to write those field reports!)

Now onto Blue(us!sans)- yanberry will forever be ingrained into my heart and mind so you cannot tell me he wouldn't be BATSHIT as a yandere. This man craves blood. So anyways, Blue believes in soulmates- having the type where when you lock eyes you can see colors. He's been Red-Green colorblind all his life until meeting Magus, his fascination with blood kind of stemming from it. From the moment his eye's met Magus' he was hooked and is Always trying to call them whenever his team needs backup. He is a Magus supporter, if Magus has no fans assume he is dead. Everyone close to him knows him as the #1 Magus Fan and he is tied for the most devoted to finding out who Magus is. This man has a whole conspiracy board covered with colored string and news snippets about them as well as blurry pictures and whatever he can find related to them. It's his shrine in disguise except there is no disguise but he insists everything on it is imperative to his research.

When they do work together Blue and Magus are Absolutely. Fucking. Terrifying. This is not an exaggeration, this is an action drama aside from the romance and they mow through people like it's nothing. There is a specific joint move in my head where Magus traps a person in a barrier box with a floating lid and Blue runs up, jumps, and slams his giant hammer on the lid and it crushes the victim like a fucking hydraulic press- like a fucked up game of whack-a-mole. Magus is chill as ever and Blue is smiling and cheerful like always as they high-five a job well done. They look at the others like 'What? Did some get on us?' I swear Blue is normal around other people, he's actually really good at pretending to be normal, it's just that sometimes you're in the middle of a shootout and a brawl and the place is covered in red and the adrenaline gets to you and your crush is Right There so Of Course you gotta impress them! Y'know? The fells are terrified and also respect it. Blues own team? He might be sent home and put on probation with a psych evaluation pending.

Then there's Black (sf!sans). He's the one tied with Blue in trying to discover Magus' identity. He was originally ordered to follow Magus in secret and find out where they live as well as their true motive to helping the monsters, this of course led nowhere as Magus has multiple failsafes and waypoints to teleport between to get home that prevent them from being followed. But now it's become a game, a challenge, even after the order drops Black continues to follow Magus at every opportunity, even enlisting Rus' help to follow them for him and report back anything interesting (which is everything, he wants to know Everything.) Magus is, of course, Aware of this as they've recognized the siren's call of their soulmate's souls. Even if they don't know exactly whose it is until they meet face to face and memorize the signature, they at least know a soulmate is around and following them.

And that's the true purpose of this au, i thought it'd be hilarious if the skeletons were being creeps in the shadows and MC already knows. They can tell when the guys are around and following them, can sense their magic on anything they let them borrow, can sense the residual trace of their magic on the table they left their missing pencil on. Magus Knows, and finds this development and behavior absolutely Adorable. They hold all the cards and have just as much power and sway as the skeletons, but the skeletons don't know that Magus is stalking them back. There are things the skeletons put together or know that Magus doesn't, but in this regard Magus is the mastermind.

Not everyone falls for Magus though, some fall for the sweet human Y/n that they met at volunteer events. Y/n is very active in the community and is a staple for all the charity projects whenever a new mountain is opened. Since Ebott isn't stable the monsters have to move out fast before the next underground takes it's place, but often don't have anywhere to go yet so the community comes together to provide things like blankets, food, and other resources for the first couple nights camping out. Of course, over time the monster government has learned and prepares housing in advance but sometimes it isn't enough quite yet or it takes a couple days to get everyone moved in. Some may just take the opportunity to camp under the stars for once. Either way, Y/n has been at every one and quite a few skeles have fallen for them after meeting. In fact, most of them have! It's only Blue and Black that have fallen solely for their Magus persona, Red is in the middle as he fell for Y/n but also has been getting closer to Magus. He is fully ready to chat up both before realizing they're the same person. He only partially laments the loss of two hot partners but, according to him "they're sexy enough i can let it slide" lol

Magus' daily life as Y/n is where we see the skeletons trying to cozy up and flirt their way into their life the most as well as most of the yandere behavior as Y/n has Sans, Stretch(us!paps), and Red all actively stalking them. Papyrus too to a lesser degree as he knows Y/n as Undyne and Alphys' human friend that he always seems to just miss whenever he goes over. There is more story to that but this is already long and I haven't even gotten to all of the aus in play because for one time only- we've got dusttale in this bitch

Dust? Oh no dear reader- Magus fucking hates him and he feels the same! At first. No no, in this story his dead brother is one of THE main characters :3c I call him Phantom. See, Magus has 4 main types if magic they specialize in. Soulmate and Healing magic is what they're naturally attuned to, but Barrier magic is what they've studied the most. And when they learned The Barrier required the power of 7 human souls to break, they thought to themself 'you know what type of magic is perfect for acquiring human souls? Necromancy.' So they learned the basics of necromancy to gather the necessary soul power to break the barrier from the outside. But summoning the undead kind of leaves your soul open to possession if you aren't careful, wandering spirits may latch onto it as a source of energy to feed off of. Can you guess who latched onto Magus' soul? They later worked out a genuine pact and contract where Phantom could be called upon whenever and would also get more access to magic in exchange. But yeah, i meant it when I said soulmates are destined to meet no matter what, not even Death can prevent your fated meeting.

Phantom is very smug that he's already soul married to Magus before the others even got a date. He's The Worst, I love him with all my heart and soul. He is bonkers from the isolation of death and doesn't want to share with the living because they're alive and he's insecure. Only he puts this on Magus like 'hey you should totally die and join me as a ghost so the others can't have you :3' and Magus just sighs and grounds him from cuddles for the day. If Magus is in a life threatening situation he is completely chill about it because 'oh hey ghost time! =D' and then he'll pout when they make it out alive. Magus has to remind him there's no guarantee they'd be a ghost and that both of them would basically up and dissapear if it happened. He's a little delusional that it'll work out perfectly and they'll be ghosts together in the afterlife without all the struggling to stay together to not fade away he'd gone through before 6-6 =_='' he has redeeming qualities I swear. To be clear though, Dust seeing his brother's ghost is a hallucination and manifestation of his grief as in canon. Because Magus is a necromancer i thought it'd be interesting if he's just Also an actual ghost at play in the story. So like, Dust will be looking off into space talking with his brother and Y/n will be across the room with Phantom at her side and looking between them because they can't Say anything, but Magus being a necromancer reaffirmed that ghosts are real so people believe Dust that his brother's ghost is haunting him. It's a whole thing. Dust please get therapy. Magus doesn't like him because he killed his brother, yes they're taking sides in this, that's their husband. Don't expect much from dust, he's gonna get sidelined hard if I actually write this, I just wanted his brother lol. He'd rather die than date a human mage anyways after all he went through which is fair.

The introduction of the Horror bros is where things start really kicking off (though i have like 5 different concept timelines, this is the main one) it's when Blue first meets Magus and falls head over heels seeing them covered in blood and dust, it's when Black sees part of Magus' face and decides to put their mask back on rather than taking a closer peak and a picture- as Magus is unconscious and he feels he hasn't earned it. He didn't do anything, he just showed up. It was too easy. He wanted them to show him. It's when the horror bros show up obviously, and Chef (ht!paps) Immediately leaves his mark And sees under the mask so he's leagues ahead of the others right off the bat. Bones (ht!sans) is a little behind him in the uptake, i'm not sure he's realized they're also his soulmate too yet- they just seem kind of familiar in a way he can't place but he's glad his bro is happy. It's also when Magus and Phantom either first meet or create their pact. I need to refresh my memory but lots of things come together and start falling apart when the horrorbros come into play :3

Eventually they'll all live together in concerning unorthodox harmony but for now there are secrets and drama to be had!

[dreamersparacosm]

𐙚₊˚⊹ flustered!jk and cheeky!reader 𐙚₊˚⊹

warnings ; jk losing his marbles, reader is a menace to society, oral (male recieving), car/public sex, jk is big af, he’s also a head pusher oop

prompt ; in which he takes you up on your offer.

part one!

Jungkook has had better days.

He’s had better weeks, actually. Ones where his brain wasn’t halting every neuron firing each time someone said your name. Ones where he could focus on normal things, like work and video games and whatever ramen packet was closest to expiration, without flashing back to you in his car, looking like a problem and sounding like a promise.

God.

It’s been exactly six days, and you’re still living rent-free in his head like you own the place, feet up on the furniture, eating snacks in his subconscious like it’s a sleepover. It’s not even sexy anymore, it’s embarrassing. He’s replayed that moment so many times it’s starting to feel like trauma. His brain shortens it into TikTok-length flashbacks like some deranged highlight reel.

And now it’s Friday night again. Another weekend. Another group outing. And he knows you’ll be there, laughing too loud, leaning too close to other guys, dressed like sin in some crop top. He thinks he’s doing himself a massive favor by telling the boys he’s too tired to go out, that he’s better off staying home so not to ruin the mood. Yet, somehow he knows his peace will be disturbed.

Despite all of his better judgment, despite the five pep talks he’s given himself today, despite Googling “how to stop thinking about someone you can’t bone for moral reasons,” he’s caving.

All because you’re texting him again. One simple message.

You: can you give me a ride home :( <3

That’s it. That’s his villain origin story.

He shouldn’t say yes. He should say you can Uber. He should say he’s busy. He should say he’s out of town, in a coma, legally dead. But instead, he just texts back.

Jungkook : on my way.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You slide into the passenger seat like you own it. Like you belong there. (Which you do — the man broke traffic laws to get to you.)

Your top, if it can even be called that, is doing absolutely no work. It’s sheer, shimmery, strapless, and defies the laws of physics and fabric. Your skin is warm from the bar, and you smell like perfume and trouble and something fruity with a hint of Casamigos. You’re tipsy, giggly, legs crossed like a Bond girl, and your hand lands on his shoulder like it’s nothing.

“Hi, driver,” you sing-song, smiling at him as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. “Miss me?”

He almost drives into a parked car.

You click your seatbelt with a soft snap and stretch, lifting your arms over your head in a way that should be illegal. Your shirt rides up an inch. His sanity drops ten.

“Where to?” he asks, voice already tight.

“Wherever you wanna take me,” you hum, then glance sideways at him. “As long as there’s room for me to get on my knees.”

He actually chokes. Like physically this time. Coughs. Slams a hand against the wheel. Regains composure only to lose it again.

You grin like the Cheshire Cat.

He starts driving, but barely. His eyes are glued to the road with soldier-like discipline, hands clenched at ten and two, just like last time. Except this time he’s thinking about your mouth. And your legs. And that last damn thing you said.

Every five seconds you keep touching him. A hand on his thigh, fingers tracing his bicep. At one point you lean forward to grab a sip of his water bottle from the cupholder and your boobs brush his arm and he lets out a sound like a dying animal.

He’s going to hell. You’re sending him there personally.

“You’re quiet,” you pout, turning to face him. “Are you nervous again, Jungkookie?”

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, adjusting the air-conditioning and absolutely not touching anything else.

“Why not?” you ask, tilting your head. “You don’t like it when I’m cute?”

“You’re never just cute,” he snaps, then freezes, realizes what he just said.

Your grin stretches slow and dangerous. “Oh?”

He exhales hard through his nose. His fingers twitch. That’s enough. Fucking enough.

He pulls over. Hard turn, sharp brake, slams the car into park like he’s punishing it. The air goes silent except for the faint hum of the engine and both of your breathing.

“You want to keep playing this game?” he asks, voice low and rough. “Fine. But you better be ready to lose.”

You blink, startled by the shift. “What..”

“You think I haven’t been thinking about it?” he interrupts. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’ve been doing every time you get in this car looking like that?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, then lower. It makes your skin erupt in heat.

“You have been nervous,” You whisper, a little breathless.

“I’ve been trying not to crash the car,” he says sharply. “Because all I do is imagine what would happen if I just pulled over. And now I have.”

Your heart’s going feral in your chest. Your thighs press together. You stare at him, stunned into silence for once in your life.

“Well,” you finally murmur, licking your lips. “Better make sure my seatbelt is on.”

He leans closer, eyes glued to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re gonna need it.”

Ay, ay captain. You do double-check to make sure your seatbelt is on.

Mostly because Jungkook is staring at you like a man on the edge and if this goes where you think it’s going, you’d like your insurance to cover it.

He hasn’t moved yet. Just sitting there, parked in the dark near some empty lot, one hand still on the steering wheel like it’s his emotional support item. He licks his lips, exhales deeply within his chest. And you can see the exact moment he loses the fight with himself.

His hand drops from the wheel. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

“I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m saying okay.”

..Okay what? Okay you can shut up now? Okay let’s never speak of this again? Okay go ahead and ruin my life with your mouth?

You lean in slightly, your voice low and wicked. “You want me to suck you off, Jungkook?”

He nods slowly . You swear he passes away in real time when you unclick your seatbelt.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, palms up like he’s calling a timeout. “Hold on. Are we… this is really happening?”

You smile all wicked. “Unless you want me to stop?”

He stares at you, mouth slightly open. “No! I mean… yes. I mean, wait. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Just— God, I sound like a virgin.”

“You kinda do,” you whisper, sliding closer to the drivers seat.

“I’m not, by the way,” he says quickly, then winces. “Not that it matters. I mean, it does. But not like that. I’ve just never.. not in a car—”

You press your finger gently to his lips. “Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

And then your hand slides up his thigh.

Somewhere, above the clouds, there is a higher power that has been praying on his come-up, he swears.

He makes a noise. An animal dying in the zoo kind of noise. His head thunks lightly against the headrest and he closes his eyes like he’s making peace with God.

Jungkook is already half hard and you haven’t even done anything yet. You watch his chest rise and fall like he’s sprinted a mile, and you swear you can see the moment his brain physically leaves his body.

“You’re so tense,” you murmur, fingers brushing higher. “Told you.”

“I’m trying so hard not to die right now,” he says, voice ragged.

You giggle, leaning over the console to kiss his jaw, slow and deliberate. “Poor baby.”

He swallows like it’s painful. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“And I hate it.”

“No, you don’t,” You smile against his skin.

His hands hover awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with them; should he touch you? Is that allowed? Is this a trap? Will he be smited? You reach over and gently guide one of his hands to the back of your neck.

“There,” you whisper. “See? Not so hard.”

He mutters under his breath, “Speak for yourself.”

You burst out laughing, and he groans, closing his eyes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, half-laughing, half-dying. “I’m trying to be smooth. But you.. God, you’re just—”

“I’m what?”

He looks at you, eyes wild. “You’re.. you. You know? Just.. every guy in our friend group wants to fuck you. ”

“Is that a compliment?” You bat your lashes at him.

“It is. It is a huge compliment. Please continue.”

He should be arrested. No, seriously. Somebody should call the police. He should be handcuffed and tossed directly into horny jail because there is no way what you’re doing right now is allowed under the laws of God or man.

Your hand is still on his thigh, lingering dangerously close to his button. Your mouth — your actual, real-life mouth — is somewhere in the vicinity of his zipper. And Jungkook is trying so hard to play it cool but his brain is firing blank slides like a broken projector.

He grips the seat. The wheel. Himself. The back of your neck like you told him to.

You’re too calm. Too confident. Like you’ve done this before. Like you know exactly what kind of damage you’re about to inflict on his very mortal soul (which is rude, honestly.)

You drag the zipper down slow. Partly for dramatic effect. Mostly because your hands are suddenly shaky (not that you’d ever admit that out loud.)

You’ve been teasing him for far too long, riding the high of his nervous little stares and fumbling responses like it’s your favorite roller coaster. And up until now? You were untouchable, confident, the seductress in the passenger seat of his car.

You drag his jeans down, take a look at his black Calvin Klein boxers that you’re a little surprised he owns. You finally get your hand past the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down painfully slow.

You pause.

Gulp.

Because, um. That’s a lot.

Not in a humble, oh he’s hard kind of way. No. You mean that is a full-blown situation. A legitimate problem. Something you should’ve been briefed on ahead of time with a PowerPoint and maybe a warning label.

You glance up at him.

He’s already flushed and pink-lipped, panting like he just ran laps. Doesn’t even realize you’ve frozen mid-mission. Poor guy probably thinks you’re being seductive. He’s looking down at you with the dazed trust of a man who has no idea you’ve just had a spiritual crisis.

The driver’s console presses up against your boobs a little more as you wiggle closer to him, taking his length in your hand. It’s big. He’s big. Why is he not more smug about this? Why is he always so shy when he’s walking around with a whole weapon under there?

You feel a full-on identity shift coming. Like you might start paying for his gas. Or offering to make him soup. Like this might change the entire dynamic, and you’re suddenly the one nervously blinking up at him.

You look back down at his cock in your hand, observing the way every vein curves, the way his pink tip is wet with precum. It’s curved slightly, and is thick enough that you’re starting to question if it’ll even fit in your mouth.

Your fingertips give him one long stroke and he shudders, which makes your stomach flip. Okay, this is fine. You’re strong. You do Pilates. You’ve read Harry Styles fanfiction.

You steady yourself, take a breath, and blink again. One last internal scream for good measure. Then you smile up at him, all soft lips and fake confidence, and whisper, “You’re lucky I like a challenge.”

You watch the words hit him like a punch to the gut. His whole body tightens; shoulders, thighs, jaw, everything. He stares down at you like you just offered him his first taste of oxygen after being underwater for weeks.

He reaches out, slow but sure, and gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one trembling hand. His fingers flex at the base of your neck, and the move is so unexpectedly possessive that it sends heat curling low in your stomach.

His other hand drops to his thigh, clenched in a fist. His breathing’s all wrong, shallow and desperate. He bites his lip ring so hard you swear it might split skin, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Then take your time,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t say anything to that. You just lower your mouth and give him one single, kitten-soft lick from the base of his cock to tip, your eyes locked on his the entire time. No pressure, no rhythm. Just a soft, teasing taste. His skin is slightly salty with a tinge of sweetness, also some familiar soap you’ve smelled on him before.

His hips jerk violently, a sharp moan escaping his mouth before he can even try to swallow it. His grip in your hair tightens like a reflex with a choked, “F-fuck—”

You inhale once, deep and steady, and then slide your mouth over him in one slow, devastating stroke, past your lips and over your tongue. Until your nose brushes against his pubic bone and your throat stretches to accommodate every inch.

Jungkook lets out a deep, desperate groan that vibrates from somewhere low in his chest liike he wasn’t ready. Like he thought he knew what this would be and now he’s realizing, Oh no. Oh no, no, no, I was wrong. I’m in danger.

You don’t really give him time to recover. You set a rhythm until the obscene sound of gagging fills up the car, mingling with his panting and the slick noises of your mouth.

His hips jerk like they want to move but don’t dare. He’s panting your name between gasps, muttering nonsense, sentences with no real structure. “Oh my fuck — so good, I can’t —“

You hollow your cheeks just slightly. The effect is instant and he lets out this helpless whimper, one hand gripping the headrest behind him like he’s trying not to ascend, other one knotted in your hair.

You come up for air for one brief second, spit stringing between your lips and his cock, and before he can even look at you, you’re going right back down even faster this time.

His voice pitches. “Wait, wait, slow down, I’m—”

You don’t. Because you like the way his voice sounds right now, shaky and too high, like you’ve rewired every synapse in his body. You like how big he is, how heavy in your mouth. You also like the fact that he’s so obviously been thinking about this for as long as you have.

Your mascara’s already smudging, eyes glassy, cheeks streaked with tears, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

He’s still unraveling above you and every single moan you wring out of him feels like a prize. His hand is fisted in your hair still, this time tighter, bolder, and he’s using it to push your head down even further.

Your throat’s raw, your lungs are burning, your jaw aches and none of it matters. Because you’ve got both hands working the rest of him, twisting and stroking whatever your mouth can’t reach, and every time you swirl your tongue over his tip, he lets out a new sound that makes you wetter.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, fuck,” He begs.

And you don’t. Of course you don’t. Because you’re evil. Beautiful and focused and slightly too good at this, and now he’s seconds from becoming a cautionary tale on Reddit.

You hum around him, the vibrations dizzying his brain. “I’m gonna crash the car without even moving it if you do that again, I swear,” He moans out.

Okay. So. You’re currently giving a blowjob in the front seat of Jungkook’s sad little car, and he’s moaning like it’s the rapture.

Cool, cool, cool.

You didn’t plan this, exactly. You were just trying to be hot and flirty and maybe mess with his head a little and now here you are.

His breaths are so shaky you think he’ll need an inhaler. He’s whispering please like you’ve got divine powers, which, honestly, right now? You do.

You pop your mouth off his cock for one second, glance up, and whisper, “You still breathing, Jungkookie?”

He looks down at you like he’s in love.

Another tear slips down your cheek from the sheer force of how you’re swallowing his cock whole. You used to doodle his name in your diary. Now you’re deepthroating him in a car like it’s your full-time job. What is wrong with you (Everything. And you don’t care.)

You used to wonder what he was like underneath all that quiet nervousness. Well. Now you know. He’s like this. Loud, sweaty, so responsive, and squirming under your touch like he’s never felt anything like this in his life.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god, you’re — shit, you’re perfect,” he gasps, eyes wide, voice cracking on every other word. “I can’t, baby, you’re gonna make me — fuck — cum.”

Baby? That’s new. That, you can work with.

You moan around him just to be cruel, and the reaction is instant: his thighs jerk, his head falls back, and he wails, hips twitching like his body’s trying to chase the high before it’s even hit. “I’m so fucking close, shit.”

You’re faring no better. You’re crying and choking and gagging and soaked between the legs and still going because the way he sounds when he falls apart? It’s addicting.

You circle your tongue once more around his tip, drag your hand faster up the base, and glance up through your wet lashes, eyes locking with his just long enough to see the moment he snaps. “Baby, I’m gonna cum, yesyesyesyes.”

His whole body seizes, abs tightening, lips parted around a strangled moan. He doesn’t even say your name, just gasps it, offers it up like a sacrifice. Warm and overwhelming, spilling past your tongue in slow pulses, you swallow his entire load. It doesn’t taste bad at all, it’s salty and warm and oddly satisfying. Tastes a little like success.

You sit up, all dainty and slow, like you didn’t just dismantle a grown man in a semi-legal parking lot. You stretch like you’re easing out of a yoga pose, then swipe your fingers across your bottom lip to wipe away the last trace of his cum. You look like you just got out of a Sephora, not off his cock.

Poor Jungkook is catatonic.He’s melted into the seat, completely slack, one hand limp against the window and the other cradling his own thigh like he needs emotional support. His chest is rising like he just ran a marathon and lost by a landslide. His dark hair is messily strewn over his eyes.

Because you’re heartless and delightful, you twist toward him and ask all cutesy: “Sooo… how long do you think it’ll take to get to my place from here?”

His head lolls in your direction. “What?”

You blink innocently. “You are still driving me home, right?”

“I-I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Not my problem,” you sing, clicking your seatbelt on again. “You said months ago I could ask you for a ride whenever, remember? That’s a verbal contract.”

He’s staring at you like you just kicked a puppy and then kissed it on the nose. “You’re… evil.”

You grin. “Flattered.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I can’t believe I let you do that.”

“You didn’t let me,” you hum. “I begged you until you cracked.”

He groans again, louder this time. The sound vibrates through the car pathetically. His head drops against the steering wheel with a dull thud and stays there.

You glance out the windshield,“Anyway, if you take the expressway, I think we can make it to mine in like… fifteen minutes?”

“You’re insane,” He tuts against the steering wheel.

“True. But I’m also your ride-or-die now, apparently.”

He lifts his head with effort. Looks at you with the wide, shellshocked eyes of a man who knows he’ll never recover from this.

You smile at him sweetly, reaching over to squeeze his thigh again. He flinches at the comtact.

You bite your lip. “Still sensitive?”

“Don’t touch me,” he pleads, voice high and fragile.

You giggle like the monster you are. “Alright, alright,” you say, settling back in your seat as any law-abiding citizen. “Let’s go. Home sweet home.”

He starts the car with shaking hands. And as he pulls back onto the road, vision blurry, soul permanently altered he swears to himself he will never respond to your texts past midnight again.

(But he will.)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

note ; ok…. so this is no longer a blurb, i fear. i feel like this needs a title now but i also have no desire bc then it’ll be a thing. and i cannot have it be a thing bc i have 2039339 wip’s. but also them. jk spiraling over this blowjob, the friend group going crazy over it.. why is it giving toxic situationship with you not ready to commit and him being a mess? literally remove the pen from my hand. anyways this is all your guys’ fault (and also mine bc this is inspired by how my ex from 4 years ago and i started dating)

masterlist + request

[toiletclown]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.

spencer agnew x f!reader

fluff <3 word count: 6354

summary: being best friends with spencer agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you. you don't have anyone else in your life who keeps up with you like he does. which is why the flirty banter between you two is so fun, right? it's silly. it doesn't mean anything. right??

(basically the you wanna kiss me so bad x that's so gross get tf away from me freak bestie to lovers trope. or whatever. i don't know. love u.)

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

“Spencer, ew!” You yelled from across the Board AF table. You were in the middle of a Moose Master shoot, and it had very quickly turned to chaos – as usual. Luckily, Moose Master shoot days meant a long, long lunch after wrap to recuperate the massive amount of energy you lost after screaming and laughing like a banshee for an hour. 

“What, you don't think that’s funny?” Spencer shot back. He was using his freshly-pulled Echo Master card on you, because of course he was. “I'm the one in charge here! You're my echo and you have to say baaaabe if I say it.” He dragged out the word, a whiny cadence, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. Cute, he was attempting to put his foot down.

“I’m not doing that, Spencer!” You crossed your arms right back. Two could play at this game.

Being best friends with Spencer Agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you.

Courtney, Chanse, and Angela were just whipping their heads back and forth, following the banter from each side of the table.

“Alex!” Spencer called out, a last ditch effort.

Alex laughed from off-camera. “Sorry, Y/N. He has the card, he makes the rule.”

“Judas!” You hissed. 

Everyone was laughing at this point, and despite your bickering, you were over the moon. You loved your job, and all your friends. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” He winked at you, and you pretended to gag.

“Babe, nothing is wrong,” You deadpanned. You didn't use the same inflection as Spencer, wondering if he would try to argue that that counted as a penalty.

“Penalty card! Pull a penalty card!” Spencer’s face was filled with childlike glee. Bastard, of course he would pull that shit. Although, you selfishly loved seeing his face light up like this. You loved seeing him happy. 

“For what?” Courtney asked, no malice in her voice – they were enjoying the show.

“No answering questions!” Spencer yelled, thinking he pulled one over on you.

But really, Courtney pulled one over on him. “Penalty card, pull a penalty card, Spence!” You mocked him, rubbing it in his face.

“Bro, you want to kiss me so bad right now,” Spencer made several kissy noises at you.

“Do we still have a yeet bucket available?” You begged, tipping your head back and rolling your eyes.

“Do we?” Spencer asked you, remembering the rule that got him yet another “bummer, this is your penalty card to keep!” card. It was first to seven, and he was at six. You, however, were at four.

The game went on and on, you echoing Spencer’s babe, incessantly. You finally missed one and took your penalty card, but you had lasted several rounds of play and were still proud of yourself. However, if this was a bummer card, you would lose.

You hold the penalty card face down, attempting to build suspense. “Can I have a drumroll?”

Spencer immediately began tapping his fingers on the table.

You squealed. “Lucky day! Hmm, who shall I give this to…” You held the card up to your face, tapping it against your chin as though in deep thought.

Everyone started shouting names. Courtney called for Spencer. Spencer called for Angela. Angela called for Chanse. Chanse called for Spencer, too.

You shot the card across the table to Spencer, and it hit him in the face. “Oops! Sorry, I’m a bad shot,” you shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t actually care.

“I gave you a drumroll!” He yelped, incensed that you would do this to him, knowing he was one card away from being out.

“Sorry, babe, it wasn’t the right tempo.”

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You and Spencer decided on Homestate for lunch, sitting in your car in the Smoffice parking lot, bent every which way to be comfy and facing each other in the small car.

You loved having time alone with Spencer, and you refused to think deeper into why. You weren’t that extroverted in your real life. It was easy to be extroverted on camera, especially when your best friends in the entire universe are there with you, making you double over in laughter, egging you on to take a joke further.

The past few times you’ve been one-on-one with Spencer, you had gotten a bit nervous right beforehand. You’ve never, in all your years of friendship with Spencer, felt nervous before seeing him. And you were choosing to blame one Courtney Ruth Miller for this.

“Spencer’s thirst trap edits on TikTok,” Courtney giggled.

Shayne breaks into that high-pitched laughter that only Courtney brought out of him, and Amanda was laughing in either disbelief or agreement. Actually, it was probably both.

“No, I don’t save them,” Courtney clarified. “But I send–I send them to him.” 

“Check this out, dude,” Shayne said in his frat bro voice.

“And also me, why don’t I check it out again?” Courtney laughed again.

“Also, where did I save that? Hmm…” Amanda added.

The room devolved into a fit of giggles.

Courtney left out a small part of the story. You were usually the one that sent the edits to her.

You wouldn’t say that you had a crush on Spencer. Or that you even had feelings for him that weren't platonic. But sometimes, late in bed, scrolling on TikTok, your for you page would really be for you and put a thirst trap edit of your best friend on your feed. Sometimes, once you sent a video to Court, your algorithm would pick up on it and put a bunch of edits in a row. You’d watch them all, sending half of them to Courtney, fawning over how pretty he was.

You didn’t have feelings for Spencer, you just had eyes that worked. You knew he was beautiful, with his wild, curly hair, his glasses, his humor. Everything about him was attractive to you. He was extremely funny, never took a joke too far, and respected your boundaries. These were all desirable traits, normal things to find attractive in another person.

But, when you watched that Smosh Mouth episode, and dared to look at the comments, your stomach started burning.

The spencer thirst edits is so real, courtney

I also send my friends spencer thirst edits <3

Spencer thirst trap enjoyers rise up !!

You couldn’t place the emotion that was rising inside you, swallowing you. You weren’t dumb, you knew that other people saw those edits. You once saw one with over 20k likes, clearly Spencer being attractive wasn’t a hot take. And it wasn’t – he was objectively hot in looks alone, right? But knowing him personally, well, that only endeared you to him more. 

Jealousy. You felt… jealous. You had pinpointed the emotion that was skyrocketing your body temperature, but you needed to pinpoint the reason now. Why do you feel jealous? What is there to be jealous of? He’s not yours. 

You had had a bit of an anxiety attack over it all when you woke up this morning. You let it all fade away once you got to the office, but sitting in your tiny car, cramped up next to Spencer… the confusion, the jealousy, it was all rearing its head once more.

“You good, babe?” Spencer asked, followed by a large bite of quesadilla.

For some reason, the pet name – despite its frequency in conservation with Spencer – burned you just a little more.

You moved your food to the side, no longer hungry. “Yeah, Spence. I’m okay.” But your voice was tight, and you knew it gave you away. Spencer always knew.

“Y/N, you know you’re a shit liar.” He tossed a crumpled up napkin at you, his way of encouraging you to open up. 

You let out a laugh, weakly. “Shut up.”

Spencer tapped your leg, prompting you to meet his eyes. “Hey. Please? Let me help my best friend,” he said, and the platonic tone he used made you want to shrivel up and pass away. His best friend. That was all you were, all you would ever be. You thought you had made peace with this sentiment, years and years ago. You thought this was a thing you understood, a thing that was an unspoken agreement. 

But maybe it wasn’t. “I don’t think I want to talk about it just yet. Let me process a bit more, and you’ll be the first one to know.” You held out your right pinky, silently asking for a pinky swear.

Spencer smiled, a beautiful sight in the afternoon sun, and linked his pinky with yours. You both leaned in, kissing your respective thumbs to signify the pinky swear was official. It was something you had done for so many years at this point, that the motion was entirely subconscious. 

You pulled away with more force than was necessary, but if Spencer noticed, he took mercy and he didn’t question you. “Let’s talk about you!” You blurted out, desperately trying to redirect the conversation. “How are the apps treating you?” You said ‘apps’ with a certain sense of disdain, meant to come off as a joke but coming out more truthful than you meant.

You’re not sure why this was your best choice for “redirecting the conversation”. Because whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to be any easier to hear.

“Oh, I deleted ‘em.” 

Eyes wide, you leaned forward again, your body constantly stuck in a gravitational pull towards him. “What? When? Why?”

“Who, what, when, where, why, and how?” He mocked you, and you made a big show of rolling your eyes.

“You’re so dramatic, Y/N. I love it.” He said. 

So, you did what you always did. “I might be dramatic but I’m always right.” You loved your friendship with Spencer, because he was the only one that pushed you hard enough. You loved to volley insults back and forth, and to have someone keep up with you when you’re really in the groove. Here you were, starting up your game. A back and forth of barbs with frightening frequency, always on the same page. Spencer never had a problem keeping that insane pace with you. It almost seemed like you were the one running, and he was on a leisurely stroll right behind you, never struggling to keep up with you. Always right there.

“Best friend my ass, why didn’t you tell me!” It was a rhetorical question, and you didn’t need or want an answer to it. You were afraid of what his reasoning would be. 

What if he met someone?

He didn’t seem to pick up on your internal battle. “I don’t know, we haven’t really hung out lately.” His voice was suddenly a lot lower, an air of sadness in his tone. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve had you to myself in a month.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, just for a moment, at that. You decided to push your luck.

“Had me to yourself, eh?” You winked at him, “And you say that I want to kiss you so bad.” You leaned back again, letting the space between you and Spencer return to a normal, friendly, platonic amount. 

To his credit, Spencer was usually the one that made the suggestive jokes. Then, you would shut him down immediately. You would call him disgusting, say he could only have you in his dreams, make a small dick joke, something. That was how the bit went. But you were surprised to see how dumbfounded he looked.

“Sorry I stole your bit,” you exhaled, a bit breathless at the way he was looking at you. Like you were always surprising him, and that he loved it. Like he could maybe love you.

Your phone’s alarm went off, signaling it was time to go back inside. You didn’t have another shoot today, but Spencer had a livestream. Maybe you’d sit in, but you’d more than likely go for a walk to try and get rid of this negative, nervous, jealous energy.

Spencer groaned, and you laughed. “What?”

“I just wanted more time with you is all,” he started, measuring your reaction. When you raised an eyebrow, he pushed his luck. He leaned over the console, right up to your face. Your lips were merely an inch apart, a soft, warm kiss just a small distance away. You stayed silent, and you stayed still. 

A beat.

He looked down at your lips.

Another beat.

“Wanted to see how bothered I could get you,” he whispers, and as he speaks he loses his balance for a second. Your lips brush for the quickest moment. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, just a slight touch. Lips to lips, but no pressure. No romance. 

Somehow, you both managed to keep your faces straight.

Then, Spencer pulled away, agonizingly slow, tantalizingly slow. You didn’t breathe for a moment. It felt like recess again, like you had just run around too hard for too long and now your little lungs couldn’t fill up all the way. 

You forced yourself to stay silent. He smiled again, a wickedly beautiful thing. Then he left you in your car, a raging fire fueled further with every one of his antics.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

After three full minutes of deep breathing exercises, you finally reentered the office. As soon as the door came to a close behind you, Alex came sprinting up to you, scaring you a little with their sense of urgency.

They came to a stop right in front of you, and after doubling over trying to catch his breath, he finally spoke. “Angela got sick after lunch,” Another quick breath, “can you come do the livestream with Spencer in her place?” 

All that fucking nervous energy came flooding back in, thousandfold. Those deep breathing exercises were useless. All for naught.

Alex was desperate, and despite your current problem, you loved him. And Spencer. And Smosh. Fuck it.

“Yeah, of course I can. Is there anything planned?” You said, following behind them when they rejoiced and started heading for the stage.

They laugh, which makes you laugh, only his was genuine and yours was nervous and obvious.

“Oh, no, what?” You asked, another nervous chuckle coming out of you.

You had reached the door to the stage, and when you walked in you watched as Spencer rattled on about – you listened a bit closer – Family Guy? What the hell, sure. Alex probably told him to start the stream and keep it going while they grabbed someone to cover.

You’d like to think you were Alex’s first choice. You knew that you and Spencer had incredible chemistry on camera, which was only because you had incredible chemistry for real. There was a not insignificant amount of the fanbase that shipped you two. Sometimes, if your TikTok FYP didn’t serve you Spencer thirst traps, it served you edits of the two of you flirting. Compilation videos of moments you shared on camera would come up in your YouTube suggestions. And you watched them all. All the way to the end.

And that never really made much sense, now did it? Why watch these videos speculating on the romantic nature of the friendship you cherished so dearly? You wanted it to be just friendship. That’s what you’ve wanted for nearly ten years now.

And now, all of the sudden, it really was starting to feel like ‘friends’ wasn’t enough. Like you wanted more, and you wanted it bad.

Shit.

You walked over to the livestream setup, making a loud whooping noise to announce your arrival. “Big dick daddy’s back in town baby!” You said, for some fucking reason. While you were doing your breathing exercises in your car, you were also on Twitter. Clearly the brain rot was influencing you. Or it was the gas leak.

You went with that.

“Whoa, coming in hot, eh?” Spencer said, looking up at you while you fiddled with the headphones before sitting in the comfy little swivel chair next to him.

His eyes were full of love, but you knew that was just because you were saving his ass right now.

That was all. You couldn’t indulge yourself in the possibility of it being more. 

You just realized, as you nestled into the chair next to him, that you and Spencer hadn’t done a solo stream together yet. You were in a few of the group livestreams together, when there were four or five cast members involved. But you had yet to do one this… intimate. You shuddered mentally at that word.

“I’m here with Mr. Spencer Agnew, sir, can you tell us what we’ll be doing today?” You asked Spencer, holding your fist up like you had a microphone in. You leaned closer and shoved your hand in his face.

He laughed, and if you actually did have a mic in your hands, the audio would have peaked from the sheer sound of it. You didn’t think your bit was that funny, but you appreciated his enthusiasm.

Spencer played into all your bits. You were always thankful for that. You were never made to feel like your joke was going to bomb. He put his mouth right up close to the ‘mic’ you were holding, and he wrapped his hand around yours like he was trying to steady the ‘microphone’ himself. You threw your head back, giddy.

“Well, Mr. Big Dick Daddy, today we have a FNAF livestream! Super excited to be here, super excited that you are here, because I know how much you hate jumpscares.”

“Alex! You fuck!” You screamed in his general direction. That was why they had laughed when you asked them what was planned.

Spencer snickered, then added a dramatic gasp. “Hey! I was the one who decided that we were playing FNAF, don’t give them all the credit!”

“The only thing I’m going to give you credit for is giving me a heart murmur at such a young age, dickwad.” You crossed your arms in defiance, then bumped shoulders with Spencer to make sure he knew you were okay. “You play, please?” You asked, timid, picking up the controller. “I’ll watch. Please?”

Spencer couldn’t deny you much. He’d proven time and again that despite the way you both spoke to each other, your best friend had a soft spot for you. He gave you a reassuring smile, grabbing the controller from your hands. Just out of frame, one of his hands landed on your knee, a sign of safety, a hint of comfort. You instantly found yourself calming down, despite knowing you were about to get wrecked in the chat for your reactions to the jumpscares.

You looked over at chat for the first time since you sat down, and a blush started forming. The monitor displaying the chat was just off to your left side, and you were able to eye it surreptitiously. 

fuck they are SO cute

shayne and courtney truthers turned to spencer and y/n truthers WAKE UP!! it’s our time!!

the way she’s leaning into him goddddddddd ME AND WHO?

between the shourtney lore we’ve been getting and now these two, i’m going to explode

they act just how me and my now wife acted before we made the leap from friends to lovers. i have faith !!

The last comment stood out to you the most. So much so, that you didn’t realize you didn't answer Spencer’s question. The chat was flying, the comment you committed to memory long gone.

“Sorry, I zoned out. That Homestate was so good, I think I need a nap now.” You decided to acknowledge it while still deflecting. 

Spencer chuckled. He was swapping through the cameras in the game at warp speed, click, click, click. Click, click, click. You didn’t know how he even processed what he was looking at, or for. “You didn’t even finish it, how are you this tired?” 

“If I remember correctly, I was interrupted.” You shot a fiery look at him, pushing him. This was a livestream, nothing could just be cut out of it. He had to be careful. You wanted to see if he would be.

“You want to kiss me soooooo bad, Y/N.” To anyone else, that retort was normal. He’d said it to you on camera about a hundred times. Hell, he said it a few hours ago. But he was pushing back. Teetering dangerously on the line of caution.

You were trying to figure out if you should just push both of you over the edge, sending each other tumbling into madness. But you also wondered if you should pull him back by the sleeve of his stupid hoodie. “Maybe, maybe not,” was what you settled on. 

Chat exploded again, you could see the feed rapidly updating in your periphery. For your own sanity, you decided not to actually try and read anything being said.

“Oh, ew!” Spencer shouted. Your look of confusion, borderline a look of hurt, sends him spiraling and he hurries to explain. “You always say something mean to me when I flirt with you, I figured I’d return the favor this time.” He ended his declaration with a wink. Spencer wasn’t being mean, he was giving you a dose of your own medicine.

Fuck the cliff, fuck any sort of ground you’ve ever stood on. You were free falling, hurtling at record speed, mere moments away from going splat! all over the comically large bullseye painted below. It was the best adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. All-encompassing, consuming, hungry.

“Ohhhh,” you said, like you just got the joke. “Okay, let’s go again. I’m ready this time!”

Spencer continued playing the game, focus never breaking because this was everyday for you. Neither of you had an on-camera persona when you were next to each other. It was just your friendship. The things you said off-camera, you said just as loud on-camera.

You watched as his thumbs flew around on the controller, flipping through the cameras, shutting the doors. No major jumpscares yet, but the knowledge that they would come was still in the back of your mind.

His hands were nice. Not too big, his fingers stopping not far above the tips of yours when you would hold your hands up to each other’s. You were both big on physical affection, so that was often. They were extremely dextrous, watching him type on a mechanical keyboard felt near-religious. The way they sped around, key-to-key, no effort needed, no concentration, no looking at the keyboard. 

He finally spoke again. “I’m waiting for you to do your line, babe.”

Spencer was on the brink of the danger zone. He didn’t call you babe on camera that often, as though he wanted to keep that for just the two of you, as often as possible. When he did, it was either a whisper – low enough the editor would have to add in an on-screen caption – or in a mocking manner like today’s Moose Master.

“Shit, sorry. Okay.” You did a few speech and breathing exercises, rapidly moving from noise to noise, just to make him laugh. “If I remember correctly, I was interrupted.”

“You want to kiss me so bad, babe. You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Your head turned to him at Mach 1. Not necessarily because of his words, but because of how nonchalantly he spoke them. Like you didn’t have at least 5,000 eyes on you right now. Like you weren’t livestreaming, on the internet, for everyone and their fucking mother to see.

Like you weren’t having your heart ripped out on a live feed. 

The universe decided to throw you a bone, but it was unfortunately in the form of a jumpscare. It had you screeching, knees pulled up to your chest in your chair, both hands suddenly gripping Spencer’s hoodie. Your heart rate was through the roof, and anything you felt a minute ago was gone, replaced only with this new strain of adrenaline and a little bit of fear.

“Fuck!” You yelled one last time, your string of expletives sure to get clipped and bleeped to death for TikTok. “Sometimes I try to play this game and I remember that literal children can play this. This shit scares me at my big age, and my little cousins are telling me all about the fucking lore like it’s fun!”

“It is fun!” Spencer cut in, defending Scott Cawthon’s honor. The game was still on the ‘game over’ screen, and he was making no moves to jump back in. He wanted to make sure you were okay to continue, and you loved him more for it. He was so thoughtful, you wanted to throw up.

“No, no, the game is fun, please don’t attack me, chat!” You said through a fit of laughter. “I like the game, I promise. I can watch Spence play it, but I can’t ever play it myself because I simply freak out at everything. It’s embarrassing!”

“It’s cute.” Spencer restarted the night, since you had lightly tapped his knee to let him know you were okay to keep going. But now that he said that, you weren’t as sure. He was going to be the death of you, and he was likely going to enjoy it. Sadist.

After a few small jumpscares, another big one came in the form of Foxy. You yelped, again, shutting your eyes and grabbing onto Spencer’s hoodie for the second time in less than twenty minutes. “I told you that you would give me an irregular heart beat, but I think you just want me to die on camera.” 

“Hey,” Spencer said, voice soft and serious while not being too vulnerable. You were being watched after all. “Don’t say that.”

You kissed his cheek, deciding that nothing fucking mattered anymore. So what, you were in love with your best friend. It’s okay that he doesn’t think of you that way, because at least he’s in your life. You might as well do some fan service. Have some fun. 

“Sorry, babe.” Your head found his shoulder, curled up into him. Far too intimate for a Five Nights at Freddy’s let’s play livestream, far too intimate for ‘friends’. But Spencer just readjusted to wrap his arm around you, reuniting his hand with the controller once you wiggled around a little to get comfortable. It was a tight fit, but it wasn’t a bad one. It was comfy. You’d played video games like this with Spencer before, though usually you were in a dark living room, illuminated only by the TV screen as you watched him play Fortnite or Resident Evil or as you played Stardew co-op together. Never like this, cameras and microphones and viewers. But it felt nice, that he wanted to love you so loudly, despite you just being friends.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Ian called you into a meeting room two minutes after the livestream ended. Both of you, actually.

“Ian? What’s going on?” You asked, feeling panicked.

Ian sat down and let out a breath, contemplating his word choice. “Okay, so,” he paused, once again trying to figure out his wording. “So, I just have to ask, because I’m your boss, and because this is unfortunately a ‘business’ –” he added air quotes around the word ‘business’, which made you and Spencer chuckle, “Are the two of you in a relationship?”

You were genuinely too stunned to speak. You looked at Spencer, who was already looking at you. Because of course he was. Because of course Ian’s asking this question. Because why aren’t you dating? Why have you been wasting all these years as ‘just friends’ when you’ve both clearly been in love with each other this whole time? You finally broke the silence.

“Not that I’m aware of?” It was a cop out, but you needed to talk to Spencer one-on-one. This wasn’t a conversation to have in front of your boss. “You?”

Spencer slowly shook his head before looking at Ian once more. “Yeah, no, not as far as I know.”

Ian sighed. “And you would be one hundred percent honest if this changed?”

“Yes, Dad. If me and Spencer decide to start making out, we will ask for your consent first. Sorry, Dad.” You said, trying to ease the tension in the room. It was making you claustrophobic.

Thankfully, Ian and Spencer laughed. “Yeah, sorry Y/N’s Dad. We promise to ask you first. Please make sure you do not have Slack alerts silenced at any time.”

After some laughs, Ian stood back up and wrapped you and Spencer in a hug. Once he pulled back, he whispered, “Please tell me first so I can win the office bet.” And then, he was gone.

“Office bet?” You asked, turning to Spencer in confusion. 

He shrugged, “I’m not sure.”

“Okay. Well, can you come over tonight? I think I want to talk to you about that thing from earlier. I think I’ve processed enough.” You smiled at him, baiting him in.

“Well, I was supposed to hang with Alex tonight, but they’ll understand.” Spencer grabbed your hand, linking your fingers loosely. “I’ll see you tonight, babe.” 

And then you were alone.

With a lot of thinking to do.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

You had agreed that Spencer would be at your place at 9pm. It was currently 8:45pm and you were on the verge of passing out from stress. You’d been doing laps around your apartment for an hour, and you’d never been so happy to be on the bottom floor. You cannot imagine being someone’s upstair’s neighbor right now. 

You paced once more, repeating the cycle. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, on and on forever. Luckily, Spencer was always a little early. He knocked on your door at 8:50pm.

You rushed over, but waited a second before opening the door. You didn’t want to seem too eager. This likely was going to be an extremely emotional conversation. What if you came off desperate?

Once you had paused for what felt like a normal amount of time, you opened the door to Spencer’s beautiful smile. “Hey, babe,” he greeted.

“Hi.”

He nodded towards the entrance, “Can I… come in?”

Oh, right. You were still fully blocking the way. “Oh, sorry, of course!” You laughed, stepping to the side. “Entrée!” You were acting like a fool, but you were nervous as hell. You deserved some slack.

As he entered, you could tell he showered before coming over. You could smell his body wash and his cologne. And it… excited you. You loved the way he smelled, which is why you were constantly stealing his hoodies. 

You followed him through your kitchen and into your living room, sitting down next to him on the sofa. Instinctively, you curled right up to him. Though, as soon as you actually noticed this, you pulled back and put a bit of space between the two of you. You can’t be cuddling him when you’re planning to have a heavy conversation about feelings.

Spencer cleared his throat, and you finally met his eyes. “Is everything okay?” He reached a hand out, and you graciously accepted it. You needed a little grounding right now.

Without your consent, tears started pouring out of you, but you did your best to get your words out. “Yeah. Yeah, Spence, everything is okay,” you let out a laugh, and even though it sounded sad due to your state, it was a happy laugh. “Everything is great. I just, um, I just have a question. And it might be silly, but I want you to be honest.” You were thanking the universe that you got everything out without choking. Your tears were still falling, but luckily they were mostly silent.

“Of course, Y/N. What’s up? You’re starting to scare me a bit.” His thumb was rubbing at your hand, a featherlight touch that was so comforting, you could start sobbing all over again.

“Um, Spencer, are we in love?” You were sheepish, admittedly. It was a strange question to ask, and you were terrified at what his answer could be. It seemed like any answer was going to hurt, whether it was a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

Spencer started blushing, and sputtered a bit before saying, “Uh, are we in love? Like you and me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re saying it like it’s impossible!” Even though that thought should hurt, a stab wound with the knife ripped out to make sure you keep bleeding, it didn’t. Because it wasn’t impossible, it was the reality, and you knew that.

“I-I mean, fuck, Y/N. Yeah, I’m definitely in love with you. I just didn’t know it was a mutual thing.” Spencer was getting teary-eyed now, and you just wanted to hold him.

So you did. You climbed into his lap, straddling him. Not in a sexual way, in a, I-need-to-be-close-to-you-right-now way. In a way that brought both of you comfort and peace. You hugged him as tight as you could. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I’m sorry it took me so long to understand.”

Spencer was hugging you just as hard, and when he laughed you felt the vibrations blossom in your chest, too. What a beautiful thing, physical touch. 

“It’s okay, babe. I was okay with waiting,” Spencer was softing running his hands through your hair now. “I knew I was going to have to wait – you’re fucking oblivious.”

You pulled back with a gasp, “Hey!”

“Baby, it’s been nearly ten years. I’ve been flirting with you excessively and loudly in videos with millions of views for years.” Spencer’s eyes were shining again, and you let yourself get lost in them for a moment. 

“I watch YouTube compilations of us flirting!” You blurted out, again, for some fucking reason. What the hell was going on with you today? 

Spencer’s laugh was boisterous, and it shook both of you. You were laughing just as hard. “Hey, I do, too. One time someone on Twitter caught me liking a fancam of us. I’m secretly very happy likes are private now.” 

“Wait, am I your girlfriend now?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend now?”

You shook your head, “That is not how you’re asking me out, Spencer Agnew.”

He laughed, “My bad, let me start over. Y/N, baaaabe? Will you be my girlfriend? FInally? After ten agonizing years? Please?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer, that one was bad, too!” Your laughs were slightly betraying you, however.

“Baby, please, be my girl. Please?”

You broke out in a feverish blush, and put your head on his shoulder. “Yeah,” you laughed, “Yeah, I will.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your head. “Sorry, what was that?”

You pulled back to look him in the eyes. You grabbed his chin with both of your hands so you could really drive your point home. “Yes, Spencer. I’ll be your girl.”

“Thank fucking god, can I kiss you now?” He was borderline panting now.

“Anytime, babe.”

And he did. He kissed you hard, and he kissed you soft. He was rough, and he was slow. He was everything, all at once, and it was dizzying and intoxicating in the best fucking way.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there kissing, but it was well into the morning. You woke up in the middle of night, legs tangled with Spencer’s. You had both fallen asleep on your couch, and you were sprawled out across Spencer’s sleeping body. He was snoring very faintly, which was fucking adorable.

You fumbled around in the low light for your phone, checking the time. It was 2:04am. You also had a message from Ian.

I’ll have the HR forms on your desk in the morning. Love you both <3

Damn him.

You woke Spencer up after you had gotten up to pee. After a few minutes of attempting to get him to stand up, you both migrated to the bedroom. Under the covers, you both cuddled up to each other instantly. He sleepily kissed your forehead and wished you a good night. It was the most peaceful sleep of your life.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

When your alarm went off a mere four hours later, you both were tempted to ignore it. Unfortunately, you both had extremely busy days to tend to. You showed Spencer Ian’s text, which he laughed at. “I hate him.”

You snorted, “Same.” Despite this, you shot him a text.

I’ll bring my favorite pen to sign them with. We’ll be a little late this morning. Busy night :)

“Oh, don’t tell Ian that, please.” Spencer laid back against the pillow with his arm over his eyes, always the drama queen.

Ian’s reply came in, Please respect my boundaries of not discussing my employee’s sex lives. Love you both.

You laughed at his semi-contradiction. You won’t talk to your employees about personal shit but you’ll tell them you love them. Okay, Dad.

You then sat your phone down, and cuddled back up with Spencer. Just for another quick moment. “Five more minutes of this? Then we can get ready.”

“Yeah, I’ll steal something from cast wardrobe today. And I’m sure one of my hoodies is in your car.”

You gaped at the accusation, “Ugh! You don’t know that.”

“Y/N, I saw my grey Legacy hoodie in there yesterday.” He smiled at you, and you loved that he paid attention to you like this. You knew that that hoodie was in there. But it was in the backseat under a number of random items, because you were trying to conceal it. But he saw it anyway, because he sees you. And you were beyond thankful for that.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You both laid in silence, just breathing each other in. This was nice. You could get used to this. You were excited to have this part of Spencer, this side of him that’s just for you. The one that’s extremely soft and caring, but still extremely hilarious. The side that’s so understanding, so observant, so loving. 

Maybe loving Spencer Agnew was the greatest gift the universe ever gave you.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Sports Car - S.MG

“You feel so perfect.. need to feel you again. Need you to ride me, baby.”   ~ inspired from one of his new post on Tate's song... + his fashion appearance for Off-White. enjoy ^^

pairing: mingi x fem!reader genre: 18+ summary: you're so eager to see mingi atap that you decided to wait for him in his car... and it gets steamy. wc: 3.7k warnings: needy desperate mingi, alcohol ingestion (slightly, he's just tipsy), car sex, semi public sex, neck grabbing, making out, biting, lots of touching, he's touchy af, fingering, he's loud, foreplay, lots of cum, one denied orgasm, multiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later. author's note: yes atap is inspired from bm's song atap ^^ (after the after party). this is gonna become a damn series, to always write sth about them after a fashion show/appearance- oops. seonghwa fic coming later today and... it's SPICY. it's steamy.. it's a niche thing happening there-

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The BMW is quiet except for the low hum of the engine, parked just far enough from the venue to stay hidden. The city is still alive in the distance, but here, wrapped in shadows, it's just you and the anticipation coiling in your stomach. You’ve been waiting, fingers tracing patterns on the leather seat, the faint scent of Mingi’s cologne still lingering from earlier. You knew he would come. He always does.  

And then, you see him.  

Mingi moves quickly, slipping out of the after-party unnoticed, his long strides purposeful. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, he looks unreal—the Off-White jacket slightly open, his silver chain catching the light against the deep cleavage of his barely buttoned up jacket. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips a little red, and you can tell—he’s been drinking. Not enough to lose control, just enough to make his touches slower, his voice lower.  

The car door opens, and the second he slides into the passenger seat, the air shifts. Heat replaces the cool night air, thick and heavy. He exhales, head resting against the seat for a moment before turning to you. His gaze is dark, locked onto you with something dangerous simmering beneath the surface.  

“You’ve been waiting,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough around the edges.  

You tilt your head, meeting his stare. “Knew you wouldn’t last long without me.”  

His tongue swipes over his lower lip, and you catch the way his fingers flex against his thigh. He lets out a low chuckle, but there’s something restless in the way he looks at you—like he’s already lost the patience to talk.  

“You have no idea.”  

The space between you disappears in an instant. His hand finds the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you into a kiss that’s all heat and desperation. The taste of whiskey lingers on his tongue, mixing with the groan that rumbles in his chest when you press closer. His other hand moves without hesitation, sliding up your thigh, rings cool against your burning skin.  

The bass from the after-party still thrums faintly in the distance, but here, inside the car, there’s only the sound of your breaths mingling, the rustle of fabric, and the quiet, unspoken promise that you won’t be leaving this car anytime soon.

Mingi pulls back from the kiss, breath hot against your lips, his eyes clouded with something dark and heavy. For a moment, he just stares at you, chest rising and falling, before he suddenly moves—quick, impatient.  

He pushes open the door and stumbles as he steps out, a quiet curse slipping from his lips as his legs struggle to keep up with his urgency. His balance wavers for a second, but he doesn’t stop. He rounds the car in long strides, fingers brushing through his already-messy hair, the dim glow of the streetlights casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face.  

Then, the driver’s side door swings open.  

Mingi barely gives you a second before his hand is reaching for you, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulls you out in one smooth, rather slow motion. The cool night air barely registers against your skin before he’s guiding you—toward the backseat, his grip firm but not rough.  

The second your back hits the seat, he follows.  

Mingi climbs in after you, body pressing close, his weight caging you in as he pulls the door shut behind him. His hands are everywhere—one braced against the seat beside your head, the other slipping down your waist, gripping, holding, grounding himself in you. The scent of him is overwhelming now, a mix of whiskey, expensive cologne, and something distinctly *him*.  

He exhales sharply, forehead nearly pressing against yours as he hovers over you. “Been thinking about this all night,” he murmurs, voice thick, slurred at the edges, but steady.  

His lips brush over yours, teasing, slow, his breath warm. His fingers tighten on your waist before sliding lower, fingertips dragging over your thigh, pushing fabric aside.  

“Shouldn’t have kept me waiting,” you whisper, smirking against his mouth.  

Mingi groans, low and deep, and then he’s kissing you again—harder this time, more desperate. The world outside the car fades, the city noise nothing but a distant hum. In here, there’s only him. Only the heat, the hunger, and the way his hands start to move with purpose.  

And he’s just getting started.

Your breath comes out shaky as Mingi’s lips drag along your jaw, slow and deliberate, his body pressing you deeper into the backseat. His hands are warm, gripping your waist, fingertips digging in like he’s trying to hold himself together. But you can feel it—he’s barely hanging on.  

“Mingi,” you murmur, voice softer than you intend. He hums against your skin, lips ghosting over your collarbone.  

“You’re drunk,” you say, a little firmer this time, fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly to pull him back.  

He exhales a laugh, lifting his head, eyes dark and lidded as he looks at you. “Nuh-uh,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just tipsy, my love…” His lips curve, hands slipping lower, pressing against your thighs. “And I know exactly what I’m doing.”  

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles against your skin, and his gaze flickers down—watching the way your chest rises and falls, how your lips part just slightly.  

“I just…” He exhales, his thumb brushing over the hem of your blouse. “I want to make you feel good.” His voice is lower now, rougher, thick with want.  

His hands move with purpose as he starts undoing the buttons of your blouse, each one slipping through his fingers with ease. His touch is slow, almost teasing, until the fabric falls open, exposing more of your skin to the cool air. His gaze darkens, lingering, drinking you in like he’s been starving for this moment.  

His hands slide lower, pushing the fabric of your skirt up, bunching it at your hips. Then, with practiced ease, his fingers hook into your panties, tugging them to the side, baring you completely to him.  

Mingi stills for a second, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression unreadable—somewhere between awe and hunger.  

“Fuck,” he whispers, almost to himself. His fingers trail along your inner thigh, deliberate and slow, but he doesn’t push any further. Instead, he leans back slightly, his free hand moving to the waistband of his own pants.  

You watch, heat pooling low in your stomach as he unbuttons them, shoving them down just enough to free himself. His breathing is heavier now, but he doesn’t move to take you—not yet.  

Instead, he just watches you, his hands spreading your thighs a little wider, his touch slow, reverent.  

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, voice dripping with restraint. “I need a second to admire you.”

Mingi exhales sharply, his hands spreading you wider, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles on your inner thighs. His gaze drops between your legs, and he groans, deep and low, when he sees just how ready you are for him.  

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, his fingers grazing over your slick heat but not pushing in. “You’ve been eagerly waiting for me, haven’t you?”  

Your breath catches in your throat, your hips instinctively shifting, searching for more. He smirks, dark and lazy, dragging his fingers through your wetness, spreading it, watching how you react.  

“So wet,” he murmurs, his voice husky with admiration. “All this for me?”  

You nod, barely able to form words, anticipation curling deep in your stomach. You needed this—you needed *him*. And he knew it.  

Mingi leans in, his lips brushing over yours, teasing, before finally capturing you in a kiss that’s all-consuming. It’s slow but desperate, his tongue slipping past your lips, tasting, claiming. One of his hands grips your waist, holding you still, while the other wraps around his cock, stroking himself as he presses his body closer to yours.  

He’s warm, hard, and aching against your thigh, his breaths turning uneven as he moves his hand up and down his length, slicking himself with his own arousal. His forehead presses against yours for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he exhales shakily.  

“You have no idea how bad I need you right now,” he groans, his voice wrecked, full of raw want.  

His hips roll slightly, the head of his cock brushing against your thigh, and he lets out a quiet curse under his breath. He’s holding back, fighting to pace himself, but you can feel it—the barely restrained desperation in the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his kisses grow messier, more feverish.  

Mingi looks down at you, pupils blown wide, lips slightly swollen from kissing you so hard. His fingers tighten their grip on your thigh, spreading you even more beneath him.  

“I want to take my time,” he breathes, voice thick with need. “But I don’t know if I can.”

Mingi’s breathing is ragged, his forehead pressed against yours as he grips your thigh, fingers twitching against your skin like he’s barely holding himself together. His cock is hard and leaking against your thigh, his hips jerking slightly, desperate for relief.  

He tilts his head, lips brushing over yours as he murmurs, “Baby… do you want me to take my time?”  

His voice is low, almost strained, like he’s fighting every instinct in his body to slow down, to savor this. But you can feel the way he’s shaking, the way his body is screaming for more.  

You swallow hard, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your legs spreading wider beneath him as you whisper, “N-no… I need you.”  

That’s all it takes.  

Mingi growls against your lips, his control snapping as he slides his hand down between your legs. Two fingers push into you without warning, sinking deep, and your body jolts from the sudden stretch. He groans at how easily you take him, at how wet you are for him.  

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mutters, pumping his fingers in and out of you, his pace relentless from the start. He curls them just right, dragging against that spot inside you that makes you whimper.

His lips crash onto yours, swallowing every moan, every gasp as he fucks you with his fingers, his palm pressing against your clit with every thrust. The wet sounds fill the car, mixing with the sharp breaths and the faint bass from the after-party still thumping outside.  

You’re trembling beneath him, gripping his biceps, but then—your hand moves.  

Boldly, you reach down, fingers wrapping around his cock, and the second you touch him, Mingi *breaks*.  

His hips jerk forward into your palm, a deep, guttural moan slipping into your mouth. His cock twitches in your grip, hot and heavy, and you stroke him slowly at first, teasing, your thumb gliding over the tip, smearing his arousal.  

“Shit,” he groans, kissing you harder, his tongue tangling with yours as his fingers fuck into you even faster. His hand is soaked, but he doesn’t slow down—if anything, it makes him move rougher, hungrier.  

Your hand tightens around his cock, stroking him in time with the way he’s working you open, and the way he *whimpers* into your mouth sends a rush of heat straight to your core.  

“Gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he breathes, his voice wrecked, his body shaking as he teeters on the edge of completely losing control.

Mingi is a mess above you, hips bucking into your hand as he groans against your lips, his fingers still working you open, still fucking into you with a pace that has you seeing stars. His cock twitches in your grip, hot and heavy, leaking against your fingers as you stroke him, your hand tightening just enough to make his breath stutter.  

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, his voice wrecked, his forehead pressing against yours. He’s trembling, trying to hold on, but you can feel how close he is, how desperate he’s getting.  

Your thumb drags over the tip, smearing his arousal, and when you squeeze—just slightly—his whole body tenses.  

“Shit—fuck” His moan is raw, needy, and then he’s gone, coming hard with a sharp gasp, his hips jerking into your grip. His cock pulses in your hand, thick ropes of cum spilling onto your stomach, hot and messy, as his head falls into the crook of your neck.  

But even as he’s coming undone, even as his body shudders from the force of his release, his fingers don’t stop.  

He’s still pumping into you, still curling them deep, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. He moans against your skin, panting, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he fucks you through the pleasure, determined to drag you right over the edge with him.  

His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper as he pants, “Not done with you yet, baby.”

Mingi is still panting against your skin, his breath hot, his body still trembling from his release—but his fingers don’t stop. If anything, he moves with more purpose now, his palm pressing against your clit, his fingers curling deep, dragging you closer and closer to your own high.  

But then, he stills.  

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips slightly parted, his pupils blown wide, his expression caught between awe and raw desperation. His fingers slip from you, coated in your slick, and he groans at the sight, bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact.  

“Baby,” he breathes, voice thick, shaking. “I can’t hold back anymore.”  

His hands slide to your thighs, spreading you open beneath him as he settles between your legs. His cock is still hard, still aching, rubbing against your slick folds, teasing, torturing.  

“I need you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers threading through yours as he pins your hands beside your head. “Need to feel you. Need to fill you up.”  

You whimper, body arching into him, legs wrapping around his waist as you pull him closer. “Mingi, please…”  

That’s all it takes.  

Mingi exhales shakily, guiding himself to your entrance, and then he’s pushing in—slow, deep, inch by inch, stretching you open in a way that steals the breath from your lungs. He curses under his breath, burying his face in your neck, his body tensing as he finally, *finally* sinks all the way in.  

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice almost broken, like he’s never felt anything better than this.  

He stays still for a moment, breathing you in, letting you adjust. His hands squeeze yours, grounding himself, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your lips.  

And then, he moves.  

His thrusts are slow, deep, deliberate—like he wants to feel every inch of you, like he wants you to feel every inch of him. He moans softly against your lips, swallowing your gasps, rolling his hips in a way that makes pleasure spark up your spine.  

“You feel so perfect,” he whispers, kissing you between every word. “So warm. So tight. Fuck, I love you.”  

His hands release yours, trailing down to your waist, gripping you, holding you close as he thrusts into you, his body pressing flush against yours. There’s nothing rough, nothing rushed—just slow, intoxicating pleasure, his lips never leaving yours, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours.  

His fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit, circling it gently, making you gasp against his lips. “Gonna make you cum for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice full of love, of need. “Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna fill you up while you’re falling apart around me.”  

And the way he’s moving, the way he’s touching you—it’s only a matter of time before you do exactly that.

Your body trembles beneath him, every slow, deliberate thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His fingers work your clit in lazy, teasing circles—just enough to make you whimper, just enough to keep you right there, dangling, desperate.  

“Mingi,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.  

He groans at the sound of his name, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath hot, uneven. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, his hips rolling deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you soak me.”  

You don’t stand a chance.  

The pleasure crashes over you all at once, your body tensing, your back arching as you gasp his name. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, milking him, and Mingi moans—low and wrecked—his movements stuttering as he fucks you through it, his pace still deep, still consuming.  

“Fuck,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips, his body trembling against you. “Fuck, you feel—shit, you feel so good.”  

His voice is ragged, desperate, full of nothing but pure need. His lips find yours in a messy kiss, all tongue and panting breaths, as his hips snap forward, faster now, sloppier, chasing his own release.  

“I love you,” he murmurs between kisses, his words slurred with pleasure. “I love you so fucking much.”  

And then he’s gone—his body tensing, his breath catching, his cock twitching inside you as he spills deep, his moans muffled against your lips. His hips jerk forward once, twice, his grip on you tightening as he groans your name like a prayer.  

For a moment, he just stays there, buried deep, his body still shaking.  

Then, with a soft chuckle, you run your fingers through his damp hair, watching the way his dazed eyes blink open to meet yours. “You’re always like this when you’re tipsy,” you tease, voice soft, amused.  

Mingi grins, breathless, nuzzling into your neck. “Like what?”  

“So needy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. “So in love.”  

He groans, burying his face in your skin. “Because I *am* in love. And I *am* needy.” He exhales shakily, squeezing you closer. 

And just like that, he’s kissing you again—slower now, sweeter. Like he’s trying to prove just how much he means it.

Your breathing is still uneven, your body still trembling from your last orgasm, but Mingi isn’t done with you. Not even close.  

He shifts, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you with him as he moves and leans on the backseat. The leather squeaks under his weight as he sits down, legs spread, hands already guiding you onto his lap. His eyes are heavy with need, lips parted as he watches you settle above him.  

“Come here, baby,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with something almost desperate.  

You straddle him, your knees sinking into the seat on either side of his hips. His cock is still hard, still leaking, pressed between your bodies, smearing slick across your skin. His hands grip your waist, dragging you forward until your chest is flush against his, his forehead pressing to yours.  

“You feel so perfect,” he breathes, his fingers digging into your skin. “Need to feel you again. Need you to ride me, baby.”  

His hands slide down to your ass, helping you lift yourself just enough for him to position himself at your entrance. And then, with one slow, deliberate push, he’s inside you again—stretching you, filling you, making you feel completely, utterly his.  

Mingi groans, his head falling back against the seat, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost burns. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice barely more than a whimper. “You take me so well, baby. You’re perfect—so fucking perfect.”  

You moan, rolling your hips experimentally, gasping at the way he presses so deep, the way he fills every inch of you. He hisses through his teeth, his hands guiding your movements, helping you find a slow, intoxicating rhythm.  

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his fingers splaying across your lower back, his lips tracing lazy kisses along your jaw. “Just like that. Ride me nice and slow, baby. Wanna feel you.”  

And fuck, you do.  

You rock against him, every movement sending pleasure sparking through your veins. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and intense, his lips slightly parted as he watches you—watches the way you gasp for him, the way your brows furrow when he thrusts up to meet you.  

His hands never stop moving—roaming your back, gripping your hips, dragging you closer. One slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles that make you tremble in his arms.  

“You feel so good,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “So warm. So tight around me.” He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Love you so much, baby. Love you so fucking much.”  

Your hands tangle in his hair, your lips finding his in a desperate kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, swallowing your moans, his hips pressing up into you with every roll of your own. It’s slow, deep—less frantic than before but just as consuming, if not more.  

You can feel yourself getting close again, the pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, your legs shaking as you cling to him. “Mingi—”  

���I know, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft, reverent. “I know. Let go for me. Cum for me again.”  

His thumb presses down just right, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, and then—  

You break.  

Your body tenses, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you moan his name. He groans at the feeling, at the way you squeeze him, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through it.  

And then he’s right behind you.  

Mingi curses under his breath, his movements turning desperate, his hips stuttering as his own release overtakes him. He moans your name, his hands gripping your hips as he cums inside you, filling you up just like he said he would.  

For a long moment, the only sound in the car is the sound of your breathing—heavy, uneven, tangled together like your bodies.  

And with the way he’s still holding you—his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go—you know he means every word.

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒: @blossomnet ♡ @illusionnet ♡ @mirohs-aurora-society ♡

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @strawberry-mingi @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @memorabxlia @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @tahiraax1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou @lezleeferguson-120 @sopematesxx @joyfulcadence @puppytruther

[kaluxsims]

It took me a moment to figure out what to call this top. It's the shirts from my 4t2 conversion of @pixelunivairse's Samantha outfit as a top, without the shorts. But that outfit is an edit of EP15LayerJeans (which I think PlatAsp converted), and I converted a bunch of recolors for it by Standardheld/LadyFu. I wound up calling it SamanthaTop, but it could have been EP15LayerTop or something. I plan on doing a version with a longer undershirt eventually, but for now it's a crop.

It's TF-AF, Everyday only, standard morphs. Like most of my long tops, I didn't want to bulk it up too much, so it will clip with baggier bottoms.

The trouble I run into every time I convert Standardheld textures is there are just so many. I narrowed it way down, from 137 to 88. That's still a lot, I know. They're numbered, but this time I ditched Standardheld's numbering and they're just 1 to 44 for both the Country and Solid textures, same order as in the swatches. There are also the same 15 textures as my Pixelunivairse conversion, for a grand total of...oops...103.

Pixelunivairse + my recolors:

Standardheld solid:

Standardheld country:

Download:

REPO: SFS or MediaFire

Standalone: SFS or MediaFire

Credits: @pixelunivairse for TS4 mesh and textures, Standardheld/Ladyfu for TS4 textures

This somehow posted itself early, so...here it is, I guess. I'll reblog it later too.

[bunny-norris]

TEENAGE DREAM, L. NORRIS.

Word count: idek but it’s long af (oops)

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) i also can’t write smut too well so enjoy this monstrosity.

In which, his best friend was there all along, he just never realised it until it was almost too late. Best friends to lovers.

From the moment you were a little girl, motorsport was a big thing in your life. Your father and brother grew up being Formula One fans; it ran through your family. Your brother had decided he wanted to go karting, and ultimately you wanted to join him, wanting to compete against him.

It was on one of those early Saturday mornings at the local karting track, the air buzzing with excitement and the smell of petrol filling your lungs, that you first met Lando Norris. He was a scrawny kid with a mop of dark hair and a cheeky grin, looking just as eager to hit the track as you were. At first, you thought nothing of him, just another competitor in the line-up. But as the weeks turned into months, and the karting sessions became a regular part of your routine, you began to notice him more.

Lando was fast, really fast. But more than that, he was kind. In a world where everyone was trying to get ahead, he was the one who’d stick around to help you with your kart when it faltered, or share a laugh after a particularly tough race. Despite your fierce competitiveness and tough exterior, Lando seemed to see right through to the part of you that loved the sport not just for the thrill of victory, but for the pure joy of racing.

One rainy afternoon, after a particularly grueling session where you'd spun out twice and felt like giving up, it was Lando who came over and offered you his umbrella and a hug. "You'll get them next time, I believe in you, always." he said with that infectious grin, he wrapped his arms around you and whilst Lando was not the tallest boy you had ever seen, but he was much taller than you were, to the point that you hid your head in his neck as he hugged you.

"I'll never be as good as you Lan, you'll be a Formula One star one day I just know it." You told him, even though it was a tough day for you, you were happy for Lando, who had succeeded in winning the race.

"You're better than me, Y/N. And even if I do ever get into Formula One, i'll take you to every race, we'll always be together, always be best friends, I promise."

And just like that, from being just 11 years old, Lando kept his promise to you.

--

At just 18 years old, Lando Norris found himself catapulted into the world of Formula One as a driver for McLaren and you were with him every single step of the way. You were always his plus one to everything, every event he would beg you to go with him. Many people thought you were his sister, following him around everywhere, you were in every family photo, every red carpet photo.

But as you both grew older and Lando's career skyrocketed, your relationship began to shift. It was subtle at first, the way his touch lingered a bit longer, the way his smiles seemed warmer. Lando had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his blue eyes locking onto yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. He would cling onto you like you were his anchor, hugging you from behind, holding your hand in crowded places, and giving you soft kisses on your temple that left you breathless.

It felt like he was treating you like his girlfriend, and for a while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he saw you that way too. But then, there were the other girls. Lando was charming and handsome, and the attention he got from the opposite sex was impossible to ignore. He would bring home different girls, be seen with someone else on his arm, and every time it happened, it crushed your heart a little more. You tried to bury your feelings, to forget about the way he made you feel, but it was easier said than done.

Max, Lando's other best friend, was one of the few people who saw through your façade. He knew how you felt about Lando, and he never missed an opportunity to encourage you to go for it. "You should tell him," Max would say, his eyes serious. "You never know, he might feel the same way." But the thought of risking your friendship with Lando was too much. The fear of losing him completely if things went wrong kept you from saying anything.

So, you focused on your work, throwing yourself into your career and avoiding getting involved with boys. It was easier that way, not having to deal with the pain of seeing Lando with someone else. But deep down, there was always that glimmer of hope that one day, he would see you as more than just his best friend.

Your life revolved around him, and as much as you tried to deny it, your heart belonged to Lando. Every time he took the wheel and raced around the track, your heart raced with him. You were there for his triumphs and his defeats, always cheering him on from the sidelines. And through it all, he was your constant, the one person who made everything better just by being there.

You remember the nights spent talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing your hopes and dreams. Lando would often tell you how much he appreciated having you by his side, how he couldn't imagine doing any of it without you. Those words kept you going, even when it felt like your heart was breaking.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race, you found yourself alone with Lando in his hotel room. The exhaustion was evident on his face, but so was the relief of having you there. He pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

You wanted to tell him right then and there how you felt, how much he meant to you, but the fear held you back. Instead, you held onto him a little tighter, savoring the moment and the warmth of his embrace. It was moments like these that made it all worth it, the pain and the longing. As long as you had him in your life, even as just a friend, it was enough.

But Max's words lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the possibility that things could be different. "You're always going to wonder 'what if' unless you say something," Max had said once, his voice gentle but firm. And he was right. The fear of losing Lando was strong, but the fear of never knowing if he could love you back was even stronger.

—

The 'what if' thought became true though, soon enough you still hadn’t worked up the courage to say anything to your friend. You carried on as normal and that normal turned into him getting a girlfriend. Sure, Lando had been out with girls before but nothing serious, it was never serious, until now.

She was beautiful, kind, and perfect for him. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Lando still acted like your best friend, still hugged you from behind, still gave you those soft kisses on your temple, but it wasn’t the same. You could feel the distance growing, a subtle shift in the way he interacted with you. He wasn’t as close to you anymore, and while you respected his boundaries, it saddened you deeply.

You tried to be happy for him, to support him in his new relationship, but the pain of seeing him with someone else was too much to bear. So, you started to distance yourself. You didn’t go to his races as much anymore, making excuses about work and other commitments. You told yourself it was for the best, that you needed to give him space to focus on his new relationship.

One night, after a race in which he made the podium, there was a knock on your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Lando standing there, still in his race suit, his face flushed with emotion.

“You weren't there, why weren't you there?” he demanded, his eyes searching yours for answers. “I wanted you there, I needed you there.”

Your heart ached at the frustration in his voice, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. "It's not a big deal, Lan. I've missed other races before, I'm sorry I wasn't there but i've been busy." You told him, but he didn't want to accept that.

"You haven't been the same recently, Y/N, have I done something wrong? Please baby, just stop avoiding me."

You know deep down that you weren't everything to Lando, yet he treated you like a princess and treated you that way all the time. You'd had enough of the heart-stopping leap that occurred each time he called you "baby," "darling," or "sweetheart." He was using sweet nicknames for you, ones he should be addressing his lover, not you. Even though he may consider you to be his best friend, the nicknames weren't meant for you; they were for the people he loved.

You turned to face him quickly, something in your mind snapping with hurt. "You can't call me that anymore, Lando, do you not understand that? You have a girlfriend now, we've always been close, but maybe it's sometimes too close for me, it gives people the wrong impression."

"But you're my best girl, Y/N, we've always been like this, I don't understand what the issue is. It doesn't change anything between us."

“It changes everything between us, don't you understand that? You have a girlfriend now, Lando. You don’t need me following you everywhere. I have my own life, and I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship with her.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You can’t have it both ways,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t act like your girlfriend when I never will be. I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt to see you with someone else. I love you, Lando, and I understand that you’ll never love me back, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep breaking my own heart.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Lando’s face twisted with anger and hurt. “You love me?"

“What does it matter now, Lando? It never has done before, so it doesn't need to matter now."

Without another word, Lando stormed out, slamming the door behind him. You stood there, your heart shattered, believing that your friendship was over.

You watched him leave, the weight of unspoken words and broken dreams pressing down on your chest.

--

Weeks passed in a blur of heartache and regret. You buried yourself in work, trying to forget the look on Lando's face when he stormed out of your apartment. The silence between you two was deafening, a constant reminder of everything left unsaid.

One Friday night, Max invited you out. “It’s just going to be a few of us,” he said, his voice casual over the phone. “No Lando, I promise. Just me, my girlfriend, and some friends. Come on, you need a break.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Max’s girlfriend, Pietra, was one of your closest friends, and you missed her company. Besides, a night out might be exactly what you needed to get your mind off things.

When you arrived at the club, the music was loud and the lights were dazzling. Max’s girlfriend greeted you with a warm hug, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. You didn’t see Lando anywhere, and for that, you were grateful.

You joined your friends on the dance floor, letting the music and the rhythm wash over you. For a little while, you felt free, lost in the moment. A man approached you, charming and handsome, and you found yourself dancing with him. He was a bit too close, his hands lingering a bit too long, but you tried to enjoy the attention, anything to distract from the ache in your heart.

Meanwhile, across the club, Lando stood at the bar with Max. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when he finally spotted you, his heart clenched. Max noticed the shift in his friend’s demeanor and followed his gaze.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Max said, his voice cutting through the noise.

Lando tore his eyes away from you and glared at Max. “What are you talking about?”

“You love her,” Max stated bluntly. “You’ve been stringing her along for years, being best friends for years without telling her how you really feel, treating her like a princess but never actually telling her how much you want her. And now, you’re losing her.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, you do. I've been both of your friends since we were young, i've lived through every looking look, every pda sessions. And now look at her.” He nodded towards you, now laughing as the man you were dancing with moved even closer. “She’s trying to move on, and you’re just standing here like an idiot.”

"You're delusional," Lando says, rolling his eyes, sipping some of his drink. Max just huffs at him, "sure mate, really explains why you're just burning holes into the back of that blokes head that she's been getting quite close with tonight."

"He just shouldn't be touching her like that," Lando mumbles. "I think actually, if she consents, he can touch her how she and he wants him to. Looks like she'll be getting lucky tonight, at least one of us will." Max smirks, turning away from his friend, knowing his words will light a flame under Lando's arse.

And it does, before Lando even knows where his feet are taking him and stands just feet away from Y/N, and before he knows it, he's pushing the guy she's been dancing with all night. As he pushes the guy away he turns to Y/N cupping her face and pulling her lips onto his.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still for both Y/N and Lando. Y/N's mind went from dancing with a man she had met that night to now all she could think about the fact that Lando's lips were on hers in a way in which she never could've imagined.

Lando put his hands up in your hair and swiped his tongue across your lips, pleading for permission to enter, which you granted. You held onto his waist and drew him in closer, unable to let go of this moment. The fact that there were people around—both familiar and unfamiliar—did not concern you. You wanted all of him right now, so nothing else mattered. You never wanted this to end.

"My girl," Lando mumbled in between kissing you, going back to your lips, bruising them a little more with his mouth.

"Yours, always yours."

Lando let your lips breathe, learning his forehead against your own, his hands making their way up and down your back, getting close to below your waise almost towards your backside. "I love you, i'm sorry I stormed out, i'm sorry for everything. I've been in love with you since the moment you stepped onto that karting track, I never thought you'd ever want me so I never asked, and that was cowardly of me. But please believe me when I tell you that you truly are everything to me." He breathed, as you just stared at him, not quite sure what to say.

"What about your relationship?"

"The moment you told me you loved me, the moment I walked out your door, I ended it." Lando stared into your eyes, he chuckled slightly. "You think i'm going to stay with someone who I don't love when the girl i'm been dreaming about since I was a teenager told me she loves me. Do you know how many time I layed in bed thinking about you, about what I would do to you if I had the chance. I'm not letting that opportunity slip through my fingers."

Your eyebrow perked up at his revolation, wanting to know more. "You thought about me? In bed? Were you having some naughty thoughts, Mr Norris?" You joked, your hands going up to the back of his neck.

"All the damn time, I thought about your body every single moment, whenever you came to the races I would see you in those summer dresses, you have and always will be the most gorgeous person in the room. You have no idea what I want to do to you."

At Lando's words you felt a sensations rush right to your core, you had made him feel that way. Every touch he had ever given you, every kiss on the shoulder, on the head, every time he had wrapped his arms around your waist was now meaning something different.

"Then show me, you want me, I want all of you."

"Are you sure?" Lando asked, always the gentleman, wanting to know you were okay before anything else.

You felt brave, a new sense of confidence surrounding you. You weren't the most confident when it came to men, you never spoke your true feelings to them, you never spoke about your sexual desires with them. But now, something had lit a fire in you and you wanted nothing more than to have everything with Lando. "Positive."

You had both made a swift exit from the club and back to Lando's apartment, a place you knew so well, you had spent endless nights there, together as friends, cuddled up to one another. Some nights you would even join him on his stream, laughing with each other. But tonight was different, his apartment was no longer a hangout place.

The ride back to the apartment was full of sexual tension, and you felt it immensely. Whilst you felt surges of confidence, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Lando’s hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, making small shapes with his fingers, every so often getting higher and higher. Every time he would get to the point where you hoped he would finally touch you, he moved his fingers away from you.

You let out a whine, desperate for his touch. After all these years of pent up desire, you needed him to do something, anything. He rubbed your thigh, smirking at you. “Soon baby, just be patient, i’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Don’t wanna wait Lando, want you now.” You weren’t quite sure where what you were saying was coming from, but the way he spoke to you made you want more, you wanted more than what anyone else had ever given you during sex.

You pouted slightly as Lando just raised his brow, “carry on with that attitude and you won’t be getting anything.”

“I’ll just get myself off then, been doing it for years, i’ve gotten pretty good at it, you know.” Now it was your turn to smirk, though it seemed Lando didn’t find it too funny, his possessive side coming out even more.

He slapped your thigh slightly, making you gasp. “You’ll never do that to yourself again, the only person making you cum will be me, whether it’s my mouth, fingers or dick, only me you understand?”

“Only you.” You nodded, as he kissed you lightly, smirking knowingly to what his words did to you.

Arriving at his apartment, you both practically ran to his floor all the way to his door.

Opening the door, he pushed you up against the wall, slamming the door behind him, his hands cupped to your face, kissing you like it was your last night on earth.

His hands were everywhere, as were yours. His hands made their way to your breasts, spilling them out of the dress you were wearing, pinching your exposed nipples. Every piece of you he wanted to feel, and you wanted to feel all of him.

“Please Lando, want you inside me, please.” You moaned as he kissed down your neck, making sure to leave little marks in each spot he kissed.

“So needy,” he mumbled, but you just huffed again, trying desperately to get out of your dress. You felt hot, like your skin was on fire, wanting to feel your skin against his.

You pulled on his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, finally being able to touch him after longing to for so long. You weren’t new to seeing Lando without a shirt, it was common when you both went on holiday or even in the gym, but this time it was different, you knew he was now yours and you were his.

Lando led you to the bed, pushing you on your back as he climbed on top of you, getting rid of the last of the clothing on you. “Dreamed of you for so long, dreamed of your pussy, how you’d feel, filling you up.”

His words spurred you on, you had never expected him to be like this, but god, this was better than you ever could’ve imagined.

He wasted no time in attaching his lips to you, something you had never really had the chance to experience. His tongue moved in ways you never knew were possibly, sucking on your clit, dipping his tongue inside your pussy. You felt like you could practically explode, coming close to your release.

Arching your back, gripping the sheets, Lando finally came up for air. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

Before you could even think, he flipped you over so he was on his back and you were on top of him. “Gonna fuck you so good, darling, gonna treat you so right.”

You felt practically drunk at this point, you lined up his cock with your core, sinking onto it slowly, feeling him fill you just right.

“Fucking shit,” Lando cursed, not being able to take his eyes off you, mouth slightly agape unable to find the words to say from the pleasure.

You started moving slightly as you got use to him inside you. Your breasts bounced as you moved, Lando’s eyes never leaving yours.

“Can’t believe I never did this sooner, so many years I could’ve had you all to myself, had you like this every night. Never fucking letting you go, gonna fuck you everyday, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Lando purred, encouraging you to go faster.

You nodded, barely being able to form the words to reply. “Yes, yes, please.”

“Good girl. My dream girl, so good for me.”

Lando’s pace quickened, making you both come close to climax. Both saying incoherent words of love and pleasure, Lando chanting over and over again about how good you felt and how he never wanted to let you go.

“Lan, i’m gonna..” You said, as his hand gripped your backside, you knew there would be marks there in the morning.

“Me too, baby. Come with me,” he said as you both looked in each others eyes.

Coming together, you fell against his chest, exhausted.

“I love you,” Lando said, pushing your hair out of your face, kissing the side of your head. Even after everything that had just happened, he still managed to treat you like the princess he always had done.

Your teenage dream had turned into something real.

do i know how to finish fics? no. Bon Appetite.

[xbinksc]

nsfw smut detailed alphabet with nicholas chavez plsssss

Ahhhhhh I’m so happy someone asked for this😵‍💫

LETS GAURRRRRR

Not proofread and very rushed do not come for me

Warning nsfw duhh

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It takes him a second to get back into his body (if that even makes sense) but that doesn’t last long cause as soon as he regroupes himself he’s making sure you have what u need to be comfortable and of course the pillow talk is his fav! He does what he can to show how much he adores and appreciates you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man has worked hard for his body so naturally he’s proud of every part of himself but if he had to pick one it would probably be his thighs (and how u look riding them Oop-). Nicholas is an ass man at heart but is obsessed with your collarbones and your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s messy af😫 when he’s not finishing inside you (with ur consent duh) he’s finishing on your face,your mouth,your stomach, your thighs or your chest.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s so obsessed with you that he can’t get off unless it’s to a video of you or has something of yours somewhere near him you laugh about it but you secretly love that you have that kinda hold on him😈

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

It’s no secret that before he met you he was getting around so he’s definitely experienced and knows what he’s doing but he’s also learned a lot from you considering he doesn’t see you as another one of his flings so it’s different for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy is y’all’s go to for sure he loves the view and grabbing u by the neck while slowly bringing u close to his chest😵‍💫 nac does appreciate a little missionary or cowgirl moment tho.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

There are times he’ll throw in a few jokes mid fk but he’s quite concentrated making sure u feel good for the most part.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed but he’s not very hairy in general

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

No matter what mood he’s in sex between you both is very intimate Eye contact, soft whispers, moaning in each others ears and hands linked together.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn’t jack off as often since you guys started dating but when he does it’s nothing out of the ordinary just a quick spank sesh lmao

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Off the top of my head edging,doing it in public, ice play,slightly masochistic

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

literally everywhere. He just loves the idea that he can pick u up and bend u over anywhere and anytime (with consent😋)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Doesn’t take much for him ur mere presence turns him on but if he was to describe a scenario it would most probably be seeing you do really “wifey”shit like something as simple as u sweeping the floor lmao

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

do not ask this man for a threesome🥲

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A GIVER THROUGH AND THROUGH AND HE IS GOOD a little too good the view of you throwing your head back at the feeling of his tongue is equal to a Picasso art piece in his mind.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually starts off pretty slow but progressively gets faster and rougher

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies all day everyday🙂 jk but I’d say due to both of your busy schedules quickies are quite often between the two of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to experiment but more vanilla leaning typa stuff nothing too hard core

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds max but it’s rare y’all hit the 3rd round cause he lasts long and as I said takes it slow in the beginning so 1 round can last like a little over an hour

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s willing to an extent but y’all never tried them nor made it a priority. You’re bodies are enough for eachother.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he absolutely loves to see u squirm under his control😵‍💫🫠he’s the biggest tease

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very loud he’s more of a moan n groan in your ear type of guy

W = Wild card (a random headcanon)

One time y’all came home from a red carpet event drunk and h0rny as hell so the second u hit the door step y’all got to it removing your clothes piece by piece while making out making your way up the stairs and unbeknownst to you his tie that he removed fell right under ur foot and you slipped and hit ur head leaving u with an open gash on your forehead so y’all had to make your way to the emergency room but fortunately you were fine just a couple stitches although having to explain to the doctors the situation was verrrry awkward and to this day Nicholas refuses to not carry you up the steps.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A good 8.5-9 inches and not very thick

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It depends how many projects,interviews,etc he’s juggling. Naturally he has a high sex drive but he’s able to suppress it for the most part if needed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s hype immediately after so during that time he’s usually taking care of you and getting glasses of water and the whole schtick but very often once he’s back in bed laying down it’s as if someone tranquilized him he just knocks tf out once the adrenaline is gone

[darsynia]

Saw the creativepromptsforwriting post...

I would like to place a order :)

Steve Rogers, MCU/reader is an avengers hero, #12 corner mouth kisses/maybe #57 trembling mouth kiss

I can't believe I let myself think I'd do UP TO 500 WORDS! Steve/Reader, fluffy AF coworker love declarations facilitated by one ginger cat named Kirk. 2,200 words <- OOPS.

Excerpt:

You powerwalk over to the door and pull it open right as you hear the repulsors make their ‘ready to fuck shit up’ noise. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Oh look, you’re alive!” Tony says, completely unphased by your vehemence. “As your friend and teammate, let me save you both some time here: you--” he points to Steve “--need to tell her you’ve been making secret drawings of this woman’s every possible facial expression and you--” he points to you “--ought to let him know you stay after sparring sessions to hand-sew the rips in his suit. I’m talking before it’s laundered. Now, go kiss or something. Note how I didn’t say ‘go play with the pussy?’ That’s camaraderie. Stark out.”

With his verbal grenades expended, Tony grabs the door handle from your nerveless fingers and pulls it firmly shut.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Steve says in a stunned voice.

The Trouble With...

When you woke up this morning, you had a ground floor apartment and a pet cat. When you got back from your day of team training an hour ago, there was no cat to be seen, and your front door was cracked open to the apartment lobby.

A frantic call to your landlord revealed that they’d sent maintenance workers to finally fix the leaking toilet in your unit (with zero notice. Pepper Potts said she’s ‘on it,’ and you suspect your landlord won’t enjoy that experience one bit). 

The following sequence of events was where everything kind of fell apart.

You love your cat, and your first instinct was to call your teammate and training buddy, Steve Rogers. Your voice had been shaky during the call as you wandered the nearby alleys calling for Kirk and shaking his favorite earth-shaped cat toy. Steve asked twice as many questions as you even understood on the phone, until finally he said he would be right there to help out. You’d thanked him, bent over next to a dumpster, and sobbed.

Two minutes later, Tony Stark had flown in to use his HUD to search for small animal-shaped heat signatures. “Wow. That’s a lot of rats.”

Thor had sauntered up not long afterwards, Bifrost smoke still following his footsteps, but his ‘special cat whistle’ appeared to be inaudible to humans and cats. Not rats though, according to Tony.

Clint texted you a search grid diagram that had suspiciously blood-colored smudges on it, but before you could ask him about it, Nat sent the larger frame image of his lunch (BBQ wings) beside the printouts. “Don’t worry about him, I have some leads,” she’d told you.

By the time Steve showed up on his motorcycle in street clothes, you were completely overwhelmed, and you’d spent more time managing the feelings of your fellow Avengers than your own. As soon as you saw him approach on the bike, you let out a long sigh, pasted on a smile, and headed straight for your apartment building. You needed to feel safe and at home for the coming conversation.

As soon as you touched your own doorknob though, you realized something.

Was that maybe how Kirk felt too? Maybe for Kirk, the enemy of the week was the maintenance man who invaded the ‘ship’ of your apartment, and your cat wasn’t equipped with enough Dilithium Crystals, Phasers, or Tribbles to deal with it this time. When you had found the door open, you’d called out his name and rushed all over the place looking for him, but what if the sound of your voice just wasn’t enough for Kirk to trust that things were back to normal?

Steve’s arrival forgotten, you rushed into your apartment and tried to think of where Kirk’s ‘safe space’ would be. There was a damaged vent on the wall under the bed that he sometimes fiddled with--could he have finally broken it enough to go exploring? You were on your hands and knees setting one of his favorite treats on the floor next to the bed when Steve tapped gently on the door. 

“When I heard how upset you were on the phone call, I--”

Without thinking about the exact words, you blurted out, “Rogers, I love you, but you need to get out, right now. I think I found Kirk, but if there’s someone else here--”

You were so worried about your cat that you didn’t hear what he said in response.

*

You wake up on your side a few hours later on the floor, head resting on your pillow, with Kirk sleeping peacefully on the rug beside you. The bag of treats you’d grabbed to lure him from the vent in the wall is lying on the floor nearby, completely empty.

“Are you serious right now? Ginger cats, I swear to God.”

A judicious application of duct tape patches up the vent hole, so you head into the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. As the machine whirs to life, you unlock your phone to find multiple messages from each Avenger, all demanding to know if you are okay, if Kirk is okay, if you and Kirk are okay, if your landlord is around for a ‘casual conversation,’ and so on.

“Nope,” you say aloud, popping the ‘p’ for Kirk’s benefit. Of course, that’s when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s Steve, and he’s hovering like something happened during the disproportionate Assemble. “Hey, can I-- Well, first things fir-- Safe to assume you found your cat?”

“Yes, thank goodness” you say, ushering him in. He’s holding back, shifting from foot to foot, which is strange. You’ve held game and movie nights here before, and once or twice you and Steve had stayed up late afterwards talking, but now he’s acting like he’s never been here before. “Kirk went adventuring in the ductwork. I lured him out with treats, but he took so long I fell asleep on the floor.”

A lot of Steve’s tension drains away at that, and he smiles sheepishly. “Oh! So not answering any messages was-- Not that you have to, of course, that’s not what I--”

“Left my phone in the kitchen!” you say briskly, settling onto the couch so that Steve will be forced to sit out of innate politeness. “I just didn’t want to spook Kirk any more than he already was-- which reminds me, I’m sorry I snapped at you, or whatever. I don’t really--” 

“About that,” Steve interrupts, lurching a couple more steps into the living room.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask. He’d taken off his baseball cap when he walked in, and has been twisting it in his hands in an anxious way ever since. “Sit down?”

“Right, of course,” Steve says, sitting at the edge of the cushion at the far end of the same couch as you. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Kirk takes that moment to hop up onto your lap, and you let the moment stretch out as you smile politely, hoping Steve will explain what his deal is. It doesn’t work. He is giving off intense ‘waiting for bad news at the ER’ energy, and you can’t take it anymore. “All right, soldier. Spill it.”

Steve laughs weakly, and just like that, the odd suspense drains away. “That obvious, huh? Okay.” He swallows.

That comparison to the ER is starting to feel more and more plausible. “Is... someone hurt and you’re afraid to tell me?”

Steve answers in a headlong rush. “You said you loved me. When you told me to get out of your bedroo-- apartment.”

Suddenly all the obstacles to saying those words for real just melt away.

“That’s because I do!" you whisper, your voice becoming more and more confident as you continue. "I didn’t mean to tell you like that, of course. It slipped out, easy as breathing--because it is. Easy, that is. To love you.” Ironically, your chest feels like you’ve been holding your breath for a couple of months. Kirk’s still on your lap, but his ears show his annoyance at yet another disruption.

“I never-- I’ve dreamed about thi-- Right.” Steve stops himself, stands up, and takes two big steps closer to you before sitting down again, sending your heart into a rolling gallop and Kirk off to an away mission. “I’m falling in love with you. I want to be honest about that.” His eyes trace your face over and over as if determined to etch this moment into his memory. “I kept telling myself it wasn’t right to fall for a teammate--”

“Or, you know, the symbol of all that’s good and right with the world in superhero form,” you tease.

Steve takes your hand, looking at into your eyes with all the sincerity in the world and says, “What’s good and right with the world is this, us. If you’re okay with finding out what that’s like, that is?”

His phrasing is confusing, but the sentiment behind it has you even more in love with him than ever. Steve starts to lift your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it-- and a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Shoot!” he says, jumping to his feet. “I told Tony to come by if he didn’t hear from me. Because there might be something wrong, or--”

“Open up, one of your neighbors told me I bought a bad replica of the Iron Man suit and I’m feeling a powerful urge to prove them wrong!” Stark says, tapping on the door again.

You powerwalk over to the door and pull it open right as you hear the repulsors make their ‘ready to fuck shit up’ noise. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Oh look, you’re alive!” Tony says, completely unphased by your vehemence. “As your friend and teammate, let me save you both some time here: you--” he points to Steve “--need to tell her you’ve been making secret drawings of this woman’s every possible facial expression and you--” he points to you “--ought to let him know you stay after sparring sessions to hand-sew the rips in his suit. I’m talking before it’s laundered. Now, go kiss or something. Note how I didn’t say ‘go play with the pussy?’ That’s camaraderie. Stark out.”

With his verbal grenades expended, Tony grabs the door handle from your nerveless fingers and pulls it firmly shut.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Steve says in a stunned voice.

Your body has forgotten how to multitask, so you alternate between taking delighted gasps of air and feeling your heart hammer halfway through your ribcage. “You've made sketches of me? I love your art. I was trying to work my way up to telling you that you haven’t been drawing enough.”

“I’m doing it all the time, it’s just you, so I couldn’t, you know. Let you see them.” Steve steps close, herding you against the door, one hand coming up to trace an incredulous caress along your hairline. “You’re insane. I smell terrible after those workouts.”

Bursting out laughing, you bury your head in his chest, feeling and hearing the joyful laughter he lets out along with you. Steve kisses your hair, then your temple, creating a pathway of small steps toward your lips, symbolic of the way your association with each other has grown. By the time he’s pressing a heated kiss at the corner of your mouth, you’re grasping at him with both fists, full of anticipation.

Steve abandons his earlier restraint and takes charge, as though the wait set him on fire and the only way to quench it is through tasting you. One hand grasps your hip firmly, pulling you close, and you tangle your hand into his hair, pouring all the daydreams and late nights of wanting him into this first moment of connection.

It’s many minutes later when he finally gentles the kiss and steps back, apologetically holding up his phone. “I don’t trust Tony to tell everyone he’s made contact,” Steve explains. He taps at the touchscreen keyboard, frowning at the times his large fingers hit two letters at once, while you try to gather all of your molecules into a cohesive version of yourself ala the Star Trek teleporter.

When he’s finally done, you drop a kiss on his bicep, grinning at the thrill that you can even do something like that, even in private. “Thank you. I’m all people’d out today, I should have answered some of the messages that I got, but I saw them and my brain turned off. I’m all out of spoons.”

He snaps his fingers and points at you. “I know this one. You wake up with 100 spoons or something, and you spend them on--”

“Hold on. You might wake up with 100 spoons, but we’re not all supersoldiers!”

“Fair enough. Speaking of which, I’m sensing you’ve nearly run out by now. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?” 

He’s doing that thing with his eyes, the one where he’s warm and understanding and the perfect man for you and-- Steve clears his throat, and you realize you were staring. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get to draw those, you don’t,” he smiles, then chivalrously takes your hand to kiss the back of it. “Seven sound good?”

You nod. Two minutes later your sitting on your couch screaming into a pillow, and Kirk hops up to meow at you.

“I’m all out of treats, dude. You played yourself!” Another mrrow. “Yeah, okay, yes. You did play an integral part in my current state of delirious happiness. I’ll get another bag tomorrow, k, K?” Kirk rubs up against your elbow, and you take that as a ‘yes.’ “You know what? I think I’m going to refer to my spoons as Tribbles from now on, in your honor.”

Just like his namesake, Kirk the cat does not seem to like this idea, but you’re busy in your own mental holodeck, reliving the last half hour with a lovesick grin.

[qvert]

I was recently asked for Queer Book Recommendations so buckle up this is going to be a LONG one: It turned out too long so im breaking it up in several posts oops

Also while I cant rate them these are in order of preference/obsession.

The locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir

Gideon the Ninth - Harrow the Ninth - Nona the Ninth - (Alecto the Ninth)

Premise: There is NOTHING I can say that will not sound absolutely INSANE but if you give it a try it will change your life forever

Soooort of Bodyguard/Goth-Nun-Princess-idk

The official thing on the book says ‘Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!’

Or as a Tumblr Quote ’Galaxy’s least serious person and committed butch Lesbian has to help horrible ferret-woman-witch survive world’s most goth job-interview and judges all these nerds in her head for ever applying’ 

And the worst thing is it all makes perfect sense in context.

Characters: Butch Lesbian Bodyguard with a great sword and a stach of porn magazines and a little wet-to-the-bone twink goth nun that doesn’t believe in sleep, eating or other bodily needs. Both are deeeeeply traumatised but make up for it in memes :D

Gideon-‘Please keep insulting me because all I have ever wanted was your attention’

Harrow-‘I would rather get a diy lobotomy than bear the mere thought of loosing you and I will spontaneously go up in flame before ever saying that out loud’

Overview: They to this day have not ended up together but literally any sentence in these three books is (to cosmic proportions) gayer than gay sex could ever be

Three Books so far - Waiting on the 4th

Personal Thoughts: Again - the most insane thing you’ll ever read wile being FUNNY AF - do try the audiobook the reader is AMAZING

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

Laughing, Asli shook her head. "Not exactly like that, but I would love to answer that! Ancient Egyptians believed that magic was a core part of every day life, whether that be using specific amulets for protection or to go spend time in a certain chamber of a temple--such as pregnant women, for example, who may be facing complications spending time in an incubation chamber within a Temple of Bes, who was a god associated with fertility and childbirth--to help. Magic was considered more so as a ritual instead of a parlor trick, like what we're more so accustomed to today. However, there were Egyptians who would commission for magic wands made out of hippopotamus tusks to use for protection when they're dead and journeying through the afterlife and to also keep children protected. We have two of those wands, if you'd like to check them out!" Leading the way, excitement coursed through her. It'd been a moment since she got to guide a tour herself, so she found herself happy to have this unexpected opportunity. "It is, yes. I grew up in Egypt and while I am a specialist in both the eastern Mediterranean and Near East region, especially ancient history, I primarily have a focus in Egypt. Though we do have to train our tour guides to ensure they have knowledge all throughout the museum. I'm the curator of this specific wing, the History of Egypt, and I personally love to teach our tour guides more about this section when it comes time to training them over here. I use to be a professor at the university as well." At his new question, Asli shook her head. "From what I know, the movie is based on a children's book of the same name. There are plenty of Egyptian tablets made out of stone or clay, and their magical properties were mainly believe to be for protection or to tell a story, whether of the gods or an Egyptian noble. I believe that the movie took inspiration from that, in a way, but wanted to elevate it more to make an interesting story, much like The Mummy films with Hamunaptra, a made-up City of the Dead the movie created specifically for the franchise, and having two versions of the Book of the Dead, which the book itself is real but is one book and is entirely different from the versions we have in the films." ||📜@cjwelford

For a split second, CJ was worried that the woman was going to call security and have him escorted out, just like that time at the science museum. But thankfully, she seemed to take his very serious question very seriously indeed. Whilst he was a little sad they didn't have the magical tablet, it was nice they had other stuff. "Oh, so they didn't have like...magicians pulling bunnies out of hats?" He asked, grinning widely, "Don't worry, that one wasn't serious." Look, the lifeguard knew people thought a loaf of bread was smarter than him, but he knew when to poke fun. "Yeah a tour would be great, thank you! So, like, is Egypt your thing specifically or do they have to train up everyone here to know everything?" It wasn't exactly a question related to the history surrounding them, but hey, she did offer the invitation to ask more. "And where do you think Night at the Museum got the idea for magical tablet anyway? Like is there some truth to it, like...urban legends?"

@draslihanxfahri-bailey

[undeadcannibal]

Summary: Headcanons for what the Task Force 141 crew, Alejandro, Rudy, and König got goin’ on below the belt. Part 2 can be found here!

Genre: Headcanons

Characters featured: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and König.

Warnings: explicit content

A/N: Forgive me, for I wrote these quickly when it was very late. Enjoy? ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost ― 8 inches, cut, thick af, and damn proud of it. *cough*Has a tip as pink as his lips oops*cough* Keeps things trimmed up a bit, but overall doesn't really have a preference. Smells purely of his natural scent yum

Soap ― 7 inches, uncut, and thick as hell. Feels like 3 to 4 fingers inside you. Doesn't trim or shave often, prefers leaving himself natural. Dark, thick, curls that carry the scent of his naturally thick musk wowowow

Gaz ― 7.5 inches, uncut, girth that stretches you out just right. Prefers to keep himself trimmed pretty short and clean when he can. Though, is willing on skipping a trim or two if his partner asks him to. Clean linen, and sometimes a little musk and sweat if it's been a long day.

Price ― 8.5 inches, cut, nearly as thick as a can, woof. Strongly prefers the natural look but will trim or shave on occasion. Always smells like a mixture of his natural musk, his cologne, and sometimes even a bit of his cigar smoke as well if he's had a stressful day.

Alejandro ― 7 inches, uncut, and fits snugly inside of you perfectly. Trims things up, but not much, we love a man with a nice, dark bush in this house. Smells purely like his body wash and cologne, though not to an overwhelming extent.

Rudy ― 6.5 inches, cut, perfect amount of girth to 'im. Trims up only when he feels he's getting too wild for his personal preference. Smells clean like linen or his body wash, will sometimes smell like his cologne too during special occasions.

Bonus! Konig ― 9.5 inches, dunno how the guy manages to walk normally with it. Hm… I'd say he's part of the cut crusader squad, too. Also so thick he leaves you aching for days meow <3 Trims and cleans things up when he can. Has cute sandy brown curls, imo. Natural & sweaty musk~