#non-pen challenge

[notallsandmen]

for the WIP game: you know I'm obsessed with Hob titty fucking, I think everyone else should be too

It was a sveltering London summer day. Hob nearly passes out on the bus home, and he has to stand in the shower for half an hour to cool down.

It didn’t use to be this fucking hot. So much had changed in just a few centuries, and not for the better.

But something as petty as cataclysmic global warming was apparently not enough to stop Dream from popping by for a cheeky afternoon shag: only giving Hob a salutary little bow and a wry half-smile before practically tackling him into bed. Dream’s clothes had melted away with Hob’s remaining resolve; now, they were naked and panting into each other’s mouths. Dream’s damn smirk was somewhat undermined by the rosy-dawning blush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his navel. Hob had tried to be pragmatic and suggest that they could take this to the Dreaming instead, but apparently Dream was barred due to similar overheating issues, so they were stuck here now. Quite literally — it feels heretical, the way Hob’s sweaty skin cloys for Dream’s sultrily temperate skin.

Hob presses his entire face into Dream’s cool chest and groans so loudly, he can feel it rattle through Dream’s ribcage.

“Are you well, little darling?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hob can see the onyx-lacquered nail tracing orbits into the Hob’s furred thigh.

“I know I have had a penchant for hyperbole in the past. But I’m actually dying. The heat, Dream. The fucking heat.”

Dream nods slowly, as if Hob was just randomly listing the physical properties of their environment, like a rambling toddler losing the thread of the story they’re telling.

It would be condescending if it wasn’t so maddeningly arousing. Hob might have a problem.

“Would you prefer not to have sex, so as to not risk your body over-heating?”

“Would I…?”, Hob chuckles exasperatedly.

“No I would obviously not prefer that, because I’ve evidently lost every remaining survival instinct from disuse.”

He pauses to empty the glass of water on his bedside table.

“Oi, Pillow Prince of Stories — you could be on top, for once, seeing as you’re not as affected by the heat as I am.”

The way Dream solemnly nods, resigning himself to his tragic fate, to again be saddled with the crushing duty of “having to do any work in bed except for coming”, was frankly so adorably melodramatic that the end of Hob’s sentence trailed out into a sputter.

“Fine, fine, if you’re going to pout about it, I yield.”

Still straddling Dream, Hob closes his eyes and tries to estimate what he could realistically be able to perform without ruining the afterglow with fainting salts.

Only now does Hob register the way he was unconsciously dragging his cock over Dream’s blessedly cool chest.

Well, that’s a thought.

Hob can’t deny that he descends into a heart-eyed mess every time he witnesses Dream laying eyes on his own chest hair; making a content little hum as his nimble fingers card through the coarse pelt like a homecoming.

But the idea of doing this, to rut against Dream’s silky-smooth chest, to come all over —

”Hob? Are you having a heat-stroke? Should I consult a physician?”

Dream’s brows furrow in concern, and Hob feels a bit high-maintenance with his autonomic nervous system baggage and everything.

”Like this?”

It was meant to be suggestive, but Hob feels himself sheepishly flush when his voice comes out as a dry croak.

It was hardly the most energy-efficient position, given the heat.

But as a bead of sweat falls from Hob’s temple down onto Dream’s throat, trickling down his breastbone, Hob realizes that he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head, now.

Right — it’s settled. Hob needs to fuck Dream’s tits.

Dream looks down at himself, and then back up at Hob in confusion, pressing two fingers against Hob’s wrist where they grasp his hips, not very discreetly checking his pulse. Dream’s concerns were evidently soothed enough to plummet him back into his ordinary state of perplexed feline imperiousness, scoffing:

”Why would you want that?”

“Why?”, Hob laughs, a little maniacally. As if it would be a hardship. As if he’s not already smearing a drop of pre into the tuft of hair on Dream’s chest.

”Let me show you why.”

Continue to read:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

your drawings literally makes my day !! thank you so much <3 hope you have a great summer winter spring autumn - ❣️

Getting myself ready for the best Summerwinter Springautumn!

[ohbuggy]

Magma doodles of them bc it’s nearly 6 and I am mentally unwell ❤️

[amarriageoftrueminds]

View on Twitter

Since it came up recently, link to that therapist on twitter 👆 who was discussing Bucky's terribile therapist in TFATWS and how they should’ve been. 

Transcript:

"As a therapist myself I've had a lot of feelings about Bucky's therapist on TFatWS, and have decided I need to rant a little to let it all out. I've worked w/active duty, trauma survivors, and court ordered clients, so here's some therapeutic conjecture on Bucky's therapy:

Aesthetically her office and presentation don't fit for someone who has been through the trauma that he’s been through. A client like this would need something non-threatening and safe- the whole vibe is overly formal and official in an office building, not at all therapeutic.

6 months working together she calls him Mr. Barnes and then James-he has identity issues and is struggling with who he is, so I think that one of the 1st things they would have done is figure out what he is comfortable being called, by whom and what that means for him.

He is still full out lying to her about pretty much everything including PTSD sx—I’m not saying clients never lie if they have good therapists, but if after 6 months he still doesn’t feel like he can be truthful at all then they haven’t built any trust/ solid therapeutic rapport

The pen and notebook thing-that’s clearly a trigger for him, there’s no reason to antagonize him and take notes in session like a punishment, it’s a power play on her part and it only emphasizes his lack of control in being forced into therapy (she should know his hx w/notebooks)

The whole little arm motion she made when she said “they need to make sure you don’t…” – that made so much light of what has happened to him, he probably feels like his arm is only good as a weapon and things like that will not help him accept it as part of his body

The rules, UGH the rules—from how they were talking about them clearly not something he actively created for himself, more like directives that he’s been ordered to adhere to—something fed to him and reinforced, feels like a way to sign off on liability only

THE AMENDS—this is probably my biggest issue. Amends are for people who need to take accountability for their actions and the repercussions of those choices. He had NO choice. He was a victim of horrific crimes against him, and framing it in a way that he needs to make up for

the crimes that others used him for is abhorrent. The lack of trauma informed care as astounding in the way it is being framed that he has to atone for sins that weren’t his. Its clearly reinforcing the idea in his head in ep 2 when he says “HYDRA were my people".

NO, HYDRA were your captors. They were not your people. That type of thinking needs to get deconstructed and challenged. He can dedicate himself to bringing good into the world and righting wrongs that happened WITHOUT taking on the responsibility of those actions.

Her whole attitude and demeanor were condescending and demeaning. I know some people have said “I love how she calls him out on his bullshit!” That’s not what I see happening. I call my clients out on their shit all the time—this was not that.

And I can only do that with clients ONCE we’ve built the type of relationship where it’s going to be therapeutic for them to hear it, and it’s done intentionally and with purpose. She just came off shaming and mean because they don’t seem to have any form of therapeutic rapport.

She said “you have no history, no family”- there is no therapeutic reason for that, and she’s wrong. He most likely has family alive (he used current tense when talking about his sister) and he was close to Shuri and TChalla, his history is vital to understanding him

When she said “Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back. You are being pardoned. These are good things. You’re free.”—Yeah this feels really dismissive and like toxic positivity. “I know you’ve been through a lot BUT BE HAPPY!!??”

He certainly doesn’t seem to feel like he’s free (especially having therapy mandated), and you can’t just tell someone they’re free. I felt like she was pretty much just like, “shake it off, look to the future!” which feels really shitty when you’ve experienced excessive trauma.

HELLO breach of confidentiality, just introducing herself to Sam as his therapist and confirming it to Walker and the whole police station, it doesn’t matter if they know he’s in therapy you do not break someone’s privacy like that, he still deserves some control over his tx.

Ordering Sam into a session, NO, he’s not your client and you don’t know him well enough to know if that’s appropriate or if it would be harmful to either, and you haven’t asked your client for his consent to have another person in his session

Forcing a trauma victim who was stripped of his bodily autonomy for 70 years into a physically intimate exercise with a coworker that he’s barely interacted with in the last several months? NOPE, just reinforcing to Bucky she has control over him the way his handlers used to

To me, I think she is more focused on signing off on his psychological eval that he isn't a liability rather than any actual healing or attention to his trauma. This unfortunately isn’t unusual in the military where “mental health treatment” is focused on being mission ready.

They are making sure he’s ready to be an “asset” w/ mandated therapy, which he shouldn’t even be forced to do as part of his pardon because he shouldn’t have needed a pardon at all because he was a victim of horrific war crimes, brainwashing, and dehumanization for 70 years.

I’m just saying, if that was me he would be on my big squishy couch, bright open windows, bowl of Hershey kisses, random fidget toys, and two therapy dogs laying all over him while we work through that trauma and he builds back his identity and finds the calm he wants so badly.

And yes he would probably need someone who would see through his BS, call him out when he needs it, not be overly "touchy feely", but only if he feels safe and there is trust, where he gets to work on what HE wants, not what others think he needs.

Anyway thanks for coming to my TEDTalk, I❤️my work and I think being a therapist on retainer for the Avengers would've been a fucking trip, they all needed a team of mental health professionals at their disposal 24/7 and things would've been so much better🤣

ps. They can be a good therapist and just not be a fit for the client, that happens regularly. We know when to make it part of the conversation and when to refer out. Nothing good is going to come out of a contemptuous therapeutic relationship, mandated or not.

pps. That whole situation and the scene with Zemo was so rough. I can't imagine how much it brought back the violation, humiliation, anger, and helplessness of when he was the WS. I'm just imagining him having a therapist he trusts and being able to process that afterwards 😭😭😭"

[pathologicalreid]

in sickness and in health | S.R.

Minutes before your wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet, and you have to find out why.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (a smidge angsty) content warnings: alzheimers, weddings, children, babies, sad!spencer, reader wears a dress and makeup, cursing word count: 1.8k a/n: so this became sadder than I had initially intended. also i decided to try something new and write in a different POV and i don't know if i like it. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' new beginnings challenge, because nothing says new beginning quite like getting married! thank you for having this challenge!

If it were up to you and Spencer, your wedding would’ve taken place at a courthouse with no fuss, just rings and a certificate. Especially after he shot down your idea of a 24-hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

In your defense, you pitched it to him as an intimate wedding in his hometown, but he didn’t take the bait.

But when the team found out that the two of you were planning what they deemed unsuitable, they all volunteered to help throw together a ceremony and reception. Everyone was under the duress of Penelope at the time, but they all volunteered.

She could be very formidable when she wanted to.

Your now maid of honor’s eyes were shimmering as she carefully adjusted some of the last few strands of hair upon your head, you had managed to talk her out of a tiara, but to Penelope Garcia, a veil was non-negotiable. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “the perfect bride.”

Laughing uncomfortably, you turn to look at yourself in the full-length mirror and take a deep breath, “Thank you, Pen.”

“I know I may have slightly nudged you in the direction of a bigger wedding-“

“More like punted,” you interrupt, an affectionate smile on your face.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned over to grab her buzzing phone on the velvet chair in your ready room. “Whatever, I just think that after everything you and Spencer have made it out of, you deserve a celebration that reflected that,” she speaks passionately, as she always does when discussing people in love.

Turning around to look back at the mirror, the tulle of your veil cascading over your shoulders as you grew giddy. Your dress was a whimsical, white chiffon that fell to the floor and moved with you as you walked. Small straps of fabric were delicately draped over your arms for an off-the-shoulder effect, you had never felt more glamorous. Although, if there was a day for glamor, your wedding day would certainly qualify.

You snap your head around to see Penelope furiously typing on her phone, “Uh oh,” she whispers, looking at the screen.

Humming, you step off of the pedestal and over to her, careful not to trip on your dress, “What’s wrong?” You murmur, trying to see what was distressing her. Dread built in your stomach; the team couldn’t be getting called away? Two of its members were about to get married. This is why you should’ve just gone to the courthouse; you never should’ve let Garcia talk you into this.

Jolting you out of your panic induced stupor, she answers, “Something’s up with Reid.”

Your heart clenches, “Reid? My Reid?” You whisper, “Is he okay?”

The two of you jump when someone bangs on the door, and she moves to open it, just a crack at first – to see who it is – and then all the way open to reveal Luke on the other side. Naturally, the members of the BAU made up your wedding party, and Luke as the best man was the easy choice.

He was mostly dressed, save for the bowtie that remained undone around his neck, “I need to steal Y/N.” His shoulders were rising and falling quickly like he had run across the building.

“She’s getting ready for the wedding. Her wedding,” Penelope answers, gesturing back to you. “Besides, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

Really, you were mostly ready, you just needed to put your shoes on and line up. “There won’t be a wedding if we can’t get the groom out there,” Luke replies.

You warily approach the doorway, peeking around the door, “What’s wrong?”

“He just needs you,” Luke explains, gesturing toward you with his hands.

Nodding determinedly, you step out the door and run over to the other side of the building to where the groom’s ready room is, pulling the fabric of your dress up so that you don’t trip. Along the way, you pass a few guests, but you don’t stop.

It wasn’t news to most of them that you were a grounding force for Spencer, the two of you had been put through, as Luke put it, the wringer together and still managed to come out the other side. You skid to a halt in front of the door and knock quickly, “Spence, it’s me.”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” he murmurs through the door, echoing the earlier sentiments of Penelope. You know he doesn’t believe in it, which only adds to your concern.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fidgeting with the doorknob just to discover it’s locked. “If you don’t unlock the door, I’m going to go find Derek and have him kick it down for me,” you threaten, wondering if the reminder of all of the people here would coax him out.

There was no response from the other side of the door.

Sighing, you turn to look at Luke, “Can you give us a minute?” He nods, letting you know he’ll talk to Garcia before walking down the long hallway.

Once he’s gone, you hear the tell-tale click of the door unlocking, “Garcia will kill you if you walk in here.”

“Penny isn’t here, baby. It’s just you and me, okay?” You speak lowly, “What’s wrong, my love?” Dropping your hand on the doorknob, you startle slightly when it turns and the door swings open.

You yelp when Spencer pulls you in, closing the door behind you before he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Immediately, you feel his body relax against yours, “Isn’t this supposed to be bad luck?” He murmurs.

Humming, you return his hug gratefully, “We’ve had enough bad luck, don’t you think? It’ll be okay.” His arms loosen around you, and you pull away slightly so you can look up at him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest, thumbing the satin fabric of his lapels. “And besides, I’m not fully dressed yet. I’m fairly certain that means it doesn’t count.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, holding you out at arm’s length. “You’re perfect, and I’m…” His voice trails off as he takes a step back from you, sighing as he takes a seat in one of the white chairs in the ready room.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt the fabric of your veil flow to the side, “You’re what, Spence?” You ask, slowly approaching the chair he was sitting in.

He furrows his brows in apprehension, “I think I might be scared of you,” he answers candidly.

You couldn’t help the giggle that spurted from your lips, “Am I really that scary?” You inquire softly, seeking more answers from him. You saw him better now, the darkness of his tux offset by the purple bowtie and handkerchief, joined with the light florals of his boutonnière. Spencer’s hair was a mess, a tell-tale sign that he had been running his hands through it.

Clearing his throat, Spencer looks up at you with a look in his eye that you can’t quite place, “I passed by your room earlier, and I heard you laughing.” He took a deep, tentative breath, “I thought you sounded so happy, and now I’m not sure I can keep you happy.”

Sighing, you duck your head slightly, “Spencer,” you say seriously, “are we still getting married today?”

“What?” He says in disbelief. “Of course we are, that’s not- I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “We’re still getting married; I’ve quite literally never wanted anything more in my entire life. I’m just worried,” he speaks quietly.

Gingerly, you step closer to the chair before he reaches out for you, placing a hand on your waist and gently guiding you down until you are sitting on his lap. “You make me so happy, Spencer Reid. I know that somewhere in that gorgeous brain of yours you know that, but I also know that you are your own worst critic.”

You’re sitting sideways on his lap with your legs latticed on top of each other. Gingerly, he places a hand on your thigh and another on the small of your back, “You deserve everything you want in the world.”

“And I want you. Doesn’t that count for something?” You ask him, emotion beginning to rise in your throat – you cannot cry, then the wedding would really be delayed. “Spencer, I’m so ecstatic that at the end of today, I get to be your wife. That’s such a privilege to me. You and I, we get to be so fucking happy today. We deserve that.” You tell him gently, “We get to be married and go on our honeymoon and come home and we can tell all of your stories to your mom, and we’ll have a baby or two and we’ll be so fucking happy.” You swallow your emotion, looking up at the light in the hope that it will clear your tears. “For the rest of our lives, we’ll be so happy.”

Then it came, “I don’t want to forget you.” His voice is almost imperceptible, but you hear him still.

The ache in his voice feels like a stab to your heart, you were well aware that his mother had Alzheimer’s. She wasn’t having a good day today, but the two of you had gone to visit her in the morning. Ever since she was diagnosed, it’s been like Spencer has a storm cloud hovering over him – he can’t be tested for the gene markers, not for a few more years. Taking a deep breath, you reach over and smooth his hair back, “If you get Alzheimer’s, I will sit down with you every day and remind you. I’m going to walk down that aisle today and tell you that I’m going to love you in sickness and in health and I’m going to mean it.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch.

Using your free hand, you reach up and tenderly wipe a tear from his cheek, “We can take it.”

He nods in agreement with you, “Together, as a team,” he concurs, a slight amount of confidence returning to his voice.

Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you take your moment. The last moment before you officially unite as one, and you let that moment take as long as you need. “I should go,” you whisper, looking over at the clock, the ceremony was supposed to have started by now.

Spencer leans down and kisses you, “I’ll see you out there?” He asks expectantly.

Nodding assuredly, you reach up and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth, “I’ll be there.”

During the ceremony, you impressively were able to keep yourself together, until you promised him you would love him in sickness and in health.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[joocomics]

ಬ scaredy cat

pairing: non-idol!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.9k

contains: friends with benefits trope, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, overstimulation (f!rec), hickeys

[ txt masterlist | general masterlist ]

During the slow boring hours of work the other day you created a list with the pros and cons of possibly dating Yeonjun.

For a while now he’s been throwing you signals about getting serious (more often than not), so you thought it would be a good idea to look at this more thoroughly, and kill some time until your shift is finally over. Aware of the already strong feelings you have for him you grab a pen and start writing…

… funny and reliable

likes to cuddle but not clingy

great sense of fashion

(extremely) good at sex

has a super cool tv …

“Is this why you've been coming over more often these days?” Yeonjun returns into the living room with drinks in hand. After sitting down on the edge of the couch which he transforms into a comfy bed every time you're here, he turns to you with a raised brow. “To watch your disgusting movies on my new TV?”

“My disgusting movies are well written cinematic experiences that you're too big of a scaredy cat to recognize the full worth of.” You explain, crossing arms in front of your chest. “And they're even cooler on your TV, so to answer your question, yes.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes at you, but you can notice there’s a half-smile creeping up on his plump lips as he looks away with amusement.

“Actually,” you say almost through laughter which brings Yeonjun’s attention back to you, “recently I made a list with your good and bad qualities and your new TV made it.”

“That's not a quality.”

Now you’re the one who rolls eyes before glancing back at the screen.

“Just be grateful it's there to fill up space in the pros column.”

“So what are my bad qualities?” Yeonjun asks intrigued just when the main character of the horror film screams hysterically at the sight of yet another body, causing his heart to jump. He flinches at the sudden sound and instantly turns his back to the screen. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, who watches this kind of shit for fun?!”

You watch him scooting over and laugh at his attempts to avoid seeing the screen while doing so as the horrible scene unfolds on the large TV.

He positions next to you and now you're shoulder to shoulder.

“I still haven't gotten to them.”

“Don't waste your time,” he sighs, adjusting against the pillow, “I don't have any.”

“Don't be so sure about that.” You quickly respond, “I had to get back to work and then I forgot.”

“Because I don't have any.” He repeats after tittering. He finally dares to glance at the screen as it seems that the gory scene has passed.

“You get jealous pretty easily.” You state cautiously, wanting to shoot him a discreet look so bad, but you resist.

You also want to add, and pretty obviously, but you keep that detail for yourself as you remember how overprotective he was the other night at the birthday party you were invited to. It resulted into you getting asked the same question over and over again. Your friends were having a hard time believing you’re not dating.

Yeonjun remains silent for a moment as he tilts his head to see you. He leans in, just a little bit, to make your cheeks warm from the sudden closeness; to bring goosebumps across your skin from his mouth being close enough to your ear as he speaks through low voice.

“So it’s a bad thing that I don’t like sharing what’s mine?”

His gaze holds onto yours causing the fireworks into your stomach to ignite even harder. It’s like your heart stops for a second, and your brain as well, making the task to come up with a good answer on time challenging. It’s so obvious at this point that you’re taking too much time; too fumbled by the last word in his sentence. And especially by how much you like its presence there; how you’re already getting used to the sound of it in his voice.

Your lips part, not to speak, but to kiss him instead when another jumpscare makes him wince.

Too busy to hide his face into your chest, he only groans in despair, simultaneously pulling the blanket over your tangled bodies. One airy shit! slips from beneath it. The dramatic spine-chilling soundtrack overpowers the cussing, but you catch it nevertheless.

He sounds as if he's the one being tortured.

“Poor baby,” you tease him by cooing. “Is this too scary for you?”

He murmurs something about you shutting your mouth, but the anguish is making his frustrated words incoherent.

“How much left till the end?”

“Like an hour and a half,” you start running your fingertips through his dark hair as he adjusts even further into your arms. His head finds a comfortable spot onto your chest.

“I’ll just close my eyes for a little while…” his voice is slower than a moment ago, and you hum softly in agreement.

It’s almost like your familiar scent can lull him to sleep despite the scary movie playing in the background. He can feel his muscles loosen up, his mind relaxing with each peaceful breath you take.

Until the noise of a new jumpscare comes to frighten him again.

“I will add this in my cons list by the way.” You cackle.

Yeonjun’s brows furrow, but you can’t see his irritated eyes, because his face is hidden into your neck.

You can feel his warm breath caressing your skin once he speaks up.

“I know what will help me calm down.”

As the words slip lazily one by one from his lips, his hand slides down between your thighs. His fingertips feel the nice fabric of your little cotton shorts that seem too tight around your curves. They keep roaming around, rising your body temperature, until he guides them to your clothed clit, putting just enough pressure on it while his mouth nibbles on the skin of your neck.

“But… I want to finish the movie,” you whine softly before shutting your eyes at the thrill he’s causing you to feel kiss after kiss.

“You keep watching, baby.” His lips detach from your neck and curl up into a sinful smirk.

You centre your head again, watching him pull down your shorts as the screen behind him paints his silhouette in dark blue and purple hues, turning his features even more seductive.

Half of the fuzzy blanket is now almost on the ground as you keep your legs spread open. Yeonjun’s hand rubs in continuous circling motions that he synchronises with your breathing. Focusing entirely on your body helps him completely ignore the on going movie you keep watching with interest. He’s giving his full attention to your little squirming movements, to your rhythmical breathes, and to the erotic sounds that start escaping your mouth more frequently only to mix with the background noise in the room.

There are fresh bruises forming on your neck, but he continues to suck, making himself drool from how much he enjoys doing it. The only time he backs away is when he pushes two fingers inside you for the first time and he gets the urge to taste them, as it often happens when he’s pleasing you.

“Mmm, you always taste so good.” He humms after unwrapping his lips from his fingertips. His mouth has a red tint to it, glistening with moisture. “So fuckin’ wet for me, can you feel it?”

“Fuck, don’t stop—“ The only thing you’re able to say when he slips back into your arousal is to keep going. His fingers curl up perfectly, and aiming for the right spot they start thrusting in a steady pace causing your moans to shake. “Yeah, just like that... yeah—“

Yeonjun buries his face into the crook of your neck while starting to breathe more heavily too.

You keep closing and opening your heavy eyes at the screen where an intense moment is looming, filling the room with an intense instrumental music, but all he can register is the noises you keep losing control over. His hand flexes while increasing its speed in order to push you closer to the desired peak and it swiftly succeeds.

Your attention level drops and your head falls to one side with your eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“Sounds so pretty,” he comments at your ear as the wet lewd noise keeps erupting with the nonstop slamming of his palm against your slick folds. Just the way you like it. “You’re close, doll.”

His fingers, stuck between your pulsing walls, get squished tighter as the seconds pass by. He keeps up the quick and smooth pacing until your breaking point comes in, forcing it to turn sloppy and rigid.

“Fuck, there you go,” Yeonjun’s chuckle rings out with a husky tone, only adding to the ecstatic effects of your intense climax.

Your whole body squirms as Yeonjun lets his fingers, wet and sticky, rest still on your throbbing clit. The fluids slowly spill out of you, forming a dark spot on the couch as the sensation turns more light and mellow, but he doesn’t mind it.

You’re still regaining your normal breathing when his fingertips start skidding rapidly along your soaked folds. You whimper at the unexpected contact with your clit that’s now extra sensitive, causing intense reactions from your body at even the smallest touch.

As he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down you whine his name, but without being able to utter any other word.

“Give me one more, baby.” He whispers, effortlessly sliding his fingers up and down your slickness in an indescribable way; so fast, so determined to receive more from you. “C’mon, doll.”

You pant uncontrollably under his tireless touch. The dancing of his fingers keep up the same energy, making you clench as they create another burning knot of pleasure in your core. Once it bursts, you’re not able to stay still and Yeonjun tries his best to keep his hand on your puffy lips so he can rub till the second orgasm washes over you.

Your legs tremble when he enters you with the same eager fingers, curious to feel how wet you are. The pool of arousal welcomes him with ease, and he cannot help but start fantasising how good it would feel to have his cock deep inside you right now. He can give it to you, but making you cum multiple times like this is just as exciting.

He notices your eyes are half-closed while gazing down between your thighs.

“Keep watching, sweetheart.” He says softly, but with a slight hint of demand which makes you look up on the instant. “You don’t want to miss anything from the movie, that’s why you’re here, right?”

He glides slowly through your tight walls and you both sense how they keep throbbing against him from lust and sensitivity. You take a deep shaky breath, trying to concentrate on the story line, but it’s so hard when he’s in the middle of building up a new wave of rush while hiding in the crook of your neck. Running his tongue over his own love marks now and then.

You bite your lip at the realisation of how much is still left from the movie that is about to become the reason your brain is going to turn completely numb and your pussy sore by the end of this Halloween night.

But the thing you will always associate it with first, from this day forward, is you officially becoming his.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[flamingpudding]

Gaming Pal Prompt

A/N: Random Idea that was stuck in my head after reading about a Pen Pal Prompt

It all started with a simple accidentally created open lobby. Sam, Tucker and Danny were just playing Doom in a four person Lobby that was supposed to be passcode locked and private so that it was only the three of them playing. But one of them must have forgotten to lock it as suddenly a random player joined them as well as the in-game voice chat they were using.

"Sup. Mind if I join the game? My last lobby kicked me."

"Why? Too good or too bad?"

Tucker shot back, not minding the new player. The three would just have to watch what they talk about during game time.

"Don't know. I think they thought I cheated."

"Pff, sore losers. Maybe you can help these losers kick ass."

"Oh shut it Sam, we will wipe the floor with you now!"

"A challenge huh? That sounds interesting. I am Tim by the way."

"Sam."

"Tucker."

"Danny."

The friend request was sent after the game in which Tim did help Tucker and Danny beat Sam. Only for Sam to demand a rematch to regain her victory streak. From then on the random player regularity started joining in on their games whenever he happened to be online at the same time.

Of course the trio filtered their talks over voice chat. Making sure they wouldn't let anything atrocious slip. Though they did have some fun telling a non Amity Parker about the shit that goes down in their town and Tim always appeared interested to hear more about the things going on. Always curious and full of follow up questions, that strangely focus on who the attackers were ( always ghosts really they don't have any other rogues aside from maybe the fruitloop) and other times very much focused on their local ghost hero Phantom. He was also strangely interested in the whole GIW situation and sounded rather confused when they mentioned the Anti-Ecto Acts.

Aside from that Tim practically became a part of their little group. Their online Gamer Pal who knew nearly as much about their rogues and local Hero (thanks to all the questions he asked) like they did. A full fledged Team Phantom member who just didn't know the main secret of Danny actually doing the Ghost fighting as Phantom and being the one getting hunted by his own Parents and the GIW.

So of course the day came where Sam, Tucker and Danny forget to filter their words. It was during one particularly exhausting day when Danny had only had like 4 hours of sleep because he had studied all night for an English Test and then Skulker appeared to hunt Phantom and Danny's parents showed up too, making souping the Hunter Ghost especially difficult.

"Ancients, Skulker just had to decide on hunting you today, didn't he Danny?"

"Don't remind me. He is still souped in the thermos, but dodging Mom was harder with so little sleep."

"Should you like take a nap then man?"

"Nah I am fine for gaming night."

"Hey Danny, you did escape the blasters unscratched right? Your mom is the better shot after all."

"Nearly. Mom landed a couple of hits but it's almost healed already, just some small burn marks left."

"I am sorry, WHAT?! Did you guys just say that Skulker, the one that's hunting Phantom for sports, was hunting Danny. Danny was the one to Soup him not Phantom and Danny's Mom shot and hurt her own son with one of these ecto-blasters?!"

[lilrainbowcloud]

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Reader

Genre: Comfy cozy fluff

Word count: 567 [masterlist]

a/n: i live for soft percy fics🩵

[13:23]

Sitting during lunch period together, both leaning on the trunk of an old rain tree at the campus park, you both enjoyed the company of each other in silence. Well, not in complete silence, there was the buzzing of passing conversations of the other students and the sound of the rustling leaves from the gentle breeze of wind.

But you and Percy were in your quiet bubble together. You felt like it was your own world. Being with him, sharing earbuds as your favourite playlist played on shuffle, it felt as if the bubble was a vacuumed space, shutting out the outside world. For like, an hour.

Shoulder to shoulder, you sat sketching on your little sketch book. Determined to commit to finishing the entire book for the semester and not abandoning it like.... the last 4 times. Hey, it wasn't your fault that artist block came knocking on your dorm room's door after a couple of days. Keeping up with the motivation to do something can be challenging okay!

As your pen scratched the paper with black ink, you were sketching a portrait of a woman you saw from your trip to the flower market yesterday. Mind in deep focus as you tried to recall the angle of her face, the deep hooded brown eyes, and the dark curl of her hair. She was very pretty enough to be your subject of art.

Being deep in your creative headspace, the person who was leaning himself onto your shoulder took hold of your non dominant hand which didn't catch your attention at first, but the cold and blunt tip of a pen gliding on the skin of the back of your hand sure did.

Tilting your head down to your intertwined hands, you smiled at the sight of Percy drawing an outline of a star on your hand, matching his blacked out one.

Glancing at his face the best you can, given your position, you could see the little smile on his face as he carefully traced the star's outline, darkening it.

You thought he was done, but under the star, Percy being Percy, wrote a cliche line of "You're the star of my life." Which got an amused scoff out of you. And a proud smile on his face as he let go of your hand only to take it in his other one to hold them up beside his as he examined his 'masterpiece'.

"You're such a dork, you know that?"

"At least I'm your dork," Taking your hand in his again, he brought your knuckles to his lips, "M'lady."

Groaning, you rolled your eyes as you pushed him, making him fall to the side. His melodious laugh filled your bubble.

"Oh my god Percy, I swear on your dad I will-"

"What? You will what, hm?" Giving you a raised eyebrow in question. Sometimes, your mind can't think of a fast retort to him, you stutter, thinking of something.

"I'm telling him that his son cheated on a carnival water gun's game to win a stuffed bear." With a proud face, you crossed your arms over your chest. Feeling defeated already from your poor attempt at a clapback.

You hoped he didn't notice the change of subject matter?

"Okay, I won a stuffed bear for you!" Okay, he didn't notice, "If you don't want him, I'll kidnap him back from you."

"No! He's mine!"

[jane-alma]

Writing advice for new writers

Some things that I wished I had been told when I started writing <3

1. Read, read, read:

Immerse yourself in the works of established authors across various genres. Reading not only exposes you to different writing styles and techniques but also helps you understand the fundamentals of storytelling. It broadens your vocabulary, sparks your imagination, and inspires your own writing.

2. Write regularly:

Make writing a habit. Set aside dedicated time each day or week to write, even if it's just for a short period. Consistency is key to improving your skills and developing your unique voice. Practice, experiment, and don't be afraid to make mistakes – it's all part of the learning process.

3. Embrace the editing process:

Writing is rewriting. Understand that your first draft is just the beginning. Editing and revising are crucial steps that transform your work into its best version. Be open to constructive feedback, whether from friends, writing groups, or professionals. Embrace the opportunity to refine your ideas, strengthen your prose, and polish your storytelling.

4. Find your writing environment:

Discover the environment in which you feel most comfortable and creative. Experiment with different settings, and create a space that inspires and motivates you to write. Surround yourself with objects, images, or music that enhance your creativity.

5. Explore different genres and styles:

Don't limit yourself to a single genre or writing style. Experiment with different forms of writing – from short stories to poetry, fiction to non-fiction. Trying new genres and styles challenges you as a writer, expands your skills. I also find this really helpful If I feel stuck in a project. Whenever I feel really stuck, I like to open a new document, or even get a pen and some paper and just write something completely different. It might just be a silly little poem, or maybe I’ll just write down what I’ve been doing that day. Just something to get out of my head, and then I can get back to my project with a clearer mind.

6. Write what you love:

Write about topics that genuinely interest and excite you. When you're passionate about your subject matter, your enthusiasm will shine through in your writing. Whether it's fantasy, romance, history, or science fiction, let your love for the topic fuel your creativity and captivate your readers.

7. Trust your voice:

Each writer has a unique voice, perspective, and story to tell. Embrace your individuality and trust your instincts. Don't compare yourself to others or try to imitate someone else's style. Your voice is what sets you apart and makes your writing authentic.

8. Enjoy the process:

Above all, enjoy the process of writing. Writing is a creative outlet, a form of self-expression, and a journey of self-discovery. Embrace the ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, and savor the joy of bringing your ideas to life through words.

And most importantly of all: Remember, every writer starts somewhere, and like any other craft, it takes time, practice and dedication. Happy writing y’all! <3

[justaskgames]

Have people send you a number and letter for a quick doodle challenge! (No art skills required!)

~~ What to Draw ~~

1.) The most recent character in your photos.

2.) Your profile picture.

3.) The last character you drew.

4.) The last character you talked/typed/wrote about.

5.) The most recent character in your search history.

6.) A character from the last show or movie you watched.

7.) Your favorite animated character.

8.) The last character you posted or reblogged.

9.) Your choice!

~~ How to Draw It ~~

A.) Using your non-dominant hand.

B.) In 30 seconds.

C.) Without looking at a reference.

D.) Without erasing or using undo.

E.) With your eyes closed.

F.) Upside-down (flip when done).

G.) Without lifting your pen (single line).

H.) With your finger / on your phone.

[seonghwaswifereal]

Changbin

(I'm putting this at the start of every list, so ignore it if you want)

Just wanna say that this is pretty much just for me to catalog all the fics and random things that I like, so idk, just enjoy it if you want lol

Stuck In A Wall

Part of a Kinktober challenge thing, Personal favorite frrrr, he's so himbo in this lol

In The Pocket Of Your Ripped Jeans

Dry humpin, thigh ridin' CLOTHED thigh riding, and ofc some cum swallowing

Tummy Insecurity Texts

Goddd he needs to know that he's literally GORGEOUS no matter what weight he is lol

Choking

You and Bin try choking for the first time, he's scared:( lowkey rough

Stretch You Out

Basically, Bin's stretching you, in a non-sexual way lol, and then he just gets mega turned on, yay gym fucking!!!

Hate Sex

Part of Another Kinktober thingy, gym sex, you and binnie kinda be beefin, he's there EVERY time you are, so kinda stalker Bin? Generally just wet, messy, and debauched

Need Some Air

Another gym based one lol, this time he's a frat boy, ooh~

Good Loving

Gurlll you and Binnie have a sex playlist, cause I mean, of course you do lol, also car stuff gets me so bad fr

Just Another Day At The Dorms

MF VIBRATING UNDERWEAR, imagine this irl Like??? I need him so bad + Minho being the catalyst for this is-

Double Trouble

Anal hehe, double pen. separate holes, surprise guest Channie

Switchin' For You

Riding but you get tired, thick cock Binnie, rough, Manhandling:)

It's Only Us In This World

Homemade Porn:) mutual masturbation, tired Bin

Loved

Giving him the love he deserves, deepthroating, and implied more rounds

Body Worship

Just Binnie being the sweet, loving, doting, adorable boyfriend we know he is, with just a Dash of smut:)

Sweet Boyfriend Changbin

Some short headcannons on how Binnie would be as your bf

I Said SIT

Lowkey scared reader, absolute cunnilingus GOD, bin knows EXACTLY how to use that gorgeous mouth lol

Sensitive

Just a small little drabble on Bin's sensitive tiddies, fjdskljds, shit got me fucked up fr

Those Goddamn Shorts

Just imagine riding his thigh in those shorts I genuinely can't

Things He Says During Sex

That pretty much sums it up, it's surprisingly fluffy ig?

Shirt

I need this specific Bin's balls in my mouth like rn? Hello??

Boyfriend Texts

So cute and fluffy omggg, I need this man carnally

Tummy

Some Delicious Binny tummy pics

Belt

Binnie undoing his belt after a big meal has me in the ground

Biker Bin

Horny, deserted gas station, biker gloves Binnie, need I say more

Pics

Takin pics w. him that are... yeah

[beomgyucoded]

Genre: established relationship, idol!Taehyun x non idol!Reader, fluff, so much fluff and warmth, slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none that I can think of other than it being the slightest bit suggestive in one part

Summary: The Star Chapter: Sanctuary was gearing up for release and fans couldn't help but point out how the album feels like it was written in glitter pen.

The air was warm, both outside and inside your room. You stretched lazily on the bed, feeling the soft cotton sheets against your skin for the first time in hours. Taehyun’s chuckle floated through the space behind you.

“You look so content,” he remarked, amusement lacing his voice.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smile on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Can you blame me? This bed feels like a cloud.”

Taehyun chuckled again, pushing himself off the door frame and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he said softly.

“I’m surprised you were able to come over. I’ve missed you,” you murmured, sitting up and leaning into his touch.

"I've missed you too," Taehyun whispered, his gaze tender.

The warmth of his hand against your cheek ignited a familiar flame in your heart. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled away.

“They’re working you guys way too hard,” you pouted.

“You have no idea,” Taehyun sighed, his expression turning somber.

“It’s been non-stop. I feel like I haven’t had a moment to breathe.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“You need to take care of yourself. Don’t push yourself too hard."

Taehyun’s eyes softened at your words.

“I’m trying," he whispered.

“You have to promise me too,” he insisted. 

“Have you taken any breaks today?”

His voice grew firmer, knowing how easily you lost yourself in work.

"I... I might have gotten a bit caught up," you admitted sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

"You and your dedication," he teased gently. 

"Always diving headfirst into your work without thinking of yourself."

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you playfully swatted his arm before leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder. Taehyun wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you.

"I think we both need a break," Taehyun murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“I agree,” you whispered, soaking in his warmth.

After a comfortable silence, Taehyun gently took your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. His touch sent a wave of reassurance through you, reminding you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you’d always have each other.

You first met years ago, when Taehyun was still a trainee. You would often take evening dance classes at a nearby studio for fun and enjoyed clearing your mind after busy days. It wasn’t uncommon to see other trainees spilling out into the hallways or staying late to practice.

One night, you noticed someone else working in the studio next to yours. He looked deeply focused, repeating the same moves over and over until they were just right. You had seen him around before, but that night he looked especially exhausted, covered in sweat and slowing down with each movement. 

On your way out, you decided to take a chance and knocked on his door, offering him one of the water bottles you brought.

"Here, it looks like you need it more than I do," you said with a small smile. 

He seemed surprised but grateful as he accepted the bottle. 

"Thanks...I'm Taehyun," he introduced himself with a shy smile, catching his breath. 

From then on, the two of you would often chat after class about your days, your dreams, and the hard work required to keep pushing forward. 

Over time, these late-night encounters became routine. You would hang out in the hallway after class and talk about anything and everything, enjoying each other's company and finding solace in being understood by one another. 

When Taehyun finally debuted with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, you were one of the first people to congratulate him. Despite his busy new schedule, your friendship continued to grow deeper as you continued supporting each other through life's ups and downs. Without realizing it, those late-night talks and shared aspirations brought you closer until eventually, you became something more.

You remember when he asked you out, that night a mixture of chaos, confusion and relief. 

Taehyun had planned everything out carefully. He’d decided that after movie night at the dorm, he’d casually ask you if you wanted to take a walk, giving him the perfect opening to finally tell you how he felt. What he didn’t know, was that his members had noticed his feelings long ago and were each, in their own quiet way, scheming to help him along.

You arrived at the dorm and Yeonjun was the first to greet you, holding the door open with a warm smile and an encouraging, “Hey, glad you could make it.” 

Then he threw a sidelong look at Taehyun, who blinked in surprise but brushed it off.

The movie was picked carefully by Beomgyu, a romantic comedy that the group had never watched together before. He insisted, with a knowing look at both of you,

“We need something lighthearted tonight, don’t you think?”

As the movie went on, Taehyun tried to focus, but the occasional glances from his friends were keeping him on edge. Halfway through, Kai got up to dim the lights even further, leaning over with a grin. 

“You know, dim lighting really makes the whole vibe cozier, doesn’t it?”

“Sure, I guess…” Taehyun mumbled, catching your eye with an apologetic smile. 

You gave him an amused look back, sensing his friends were up to something but deciding to stay quiet.

Finally, as the credits rolled, Taehyun gathered his courage and turned to you, just as Kai and Soobin exchanged an exaggerated stretch and yawn, subtly nudging the rest of the members to leave the room. Taehyun, still slightly clueless to their orchestrations, took his chance.

“Hey,” he started softly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the others were gone, “do you want to go for a walk? I thought it’d be nice to get some air…”

You agreed, and the two of you slipped out, walking side by side in the cool evening air. Before Taehyun could say what he’d planned, Beomgyu appeared out of nowhere, calling after you with a suspiciously innocent expression. 

“Forgot to say goodnight!” he said, grinning. 

Then he added, with a barely hidden smirk, “Make sure you two enjoy yourselves!”

After Beomgyu disappeared, Taehyun groaned, finally realizing what his friends had been up to. He laughed, turning to you with a shake of his head. 

“I’m pretty sure they were trying to set this whole thing up tonight.”

“Well,” you replied with a soft smile, “it’s about time you caught on. Did you really not know?”

Taehyun’s face softened as he looked at you, taking your hand with a quiet laugh. 

“Guess they saved me some trouble. I wanted to ask… if maybe you’d like to go on a date with me?”

You nodded, your hand fitting easily in his, and you both laughed at the subtle chaos of the night. In the end, the efforts of his well-meaning members brought you together in exactly the way he’d hoped. 

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Taehyun’s voice brought you back to the present. 

“Huh?”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out while lost in the memory of that night. 

Taehyun chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back. 

“You were miles away just now. I thought maybe I lost you to the stars or something.”

You smiled back at Taehyun, grateful for the way everything had unfolded. 

"Sure, let's watch a movie," you replied, grabbing your laptop from your desk, closing out all the programs you had opened.

Opening Netflix, you decided on a movie neither of you had seen before, but had saved to your watchlist. 

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the movie playing on the screen. You nestled closer to Taehyun, feeling the warmth of his body as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in. 

The movie was acting as background noise, neither of you were really paying attention. His rare free time meant more than just physical proximity, it was the comfort of having him fully present with you, not thinking about schedules or meetings or the endless hours of practice.

"Do you want me to grab some popcorn?" you whispered, feeling a shift in his posture.

Taehyun didn't answer right away. 

Instead, he shifted slightly, his eyes glued to the screen as if something had caught his attention. You looked up at him, puzzled.

"Taehyunnie?" you asked gently, softly poking his side.

His arm was still holding you close, but his gaze seemed distant, focused, as if he were deep in thought. Then, his eyes snapped back to you and you could see the spark of realization in them.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement. 

"Can you… can you grab me a pen? I just got an idea."

You blinked in surprise. 

"A pen? Now?"

He shrugged apologetically, his face lighting up with that familiar, almost boyish grin. 

"I know, I know. I didn’t expect it either. But it’s like—" He paused, trying to find the right words. 

"It’s like the lyrics just clicked. I need to write them down before I forget."

With a soft laugh, you paused the movie and sat up. 

"Okay, okay. I’ll get you your pen," you teased. 

"But only if you promise not to get lost in your thoughts for the next hour."

Taehyun smirked, his eyes twinkling. 

"I’ll try, but no promises. Inspiration’s a funny thing."

Giggling, you made your way to your desk, rummaging around for a pen. 

Since most of your work was done digitally, you didn't have many writing tools on hand.

You sifted through the small drawer of your desk, and just as you were about to give up, your eyes spotted one.

"Found one," you said, turning to Taehyun with a grin.

Taehyun’s eyes lit up as you handed it to him. 

"Is this a glitter pen?"

You nodded, chuckling softly. 

"Yep, a pretty pink one."

Taehyun chuckled, taking the glittery pink pen from you and pulling out the small notebook he always carried around with him. 

After a moment, Taehyun looked up, a spark of excitement in his eyes. 

“This is it,” he murmured. 

“I think this pen is magic.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Magic, huh?”

He nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

"I don’t know what it is, but everything I’m writing right now feels perfect."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching as he carefully wrote down more lyrics. 

"Maybe it’s the glitter.”

“The glitter is definitely a vibe,” he said with a laugh, not looking up from the notebook. 

He continued to write, his expression one of pure focus. It was mesmerizing to watch him work, to witness his creative process unfold right before your eyes.

He was so absorbed, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, so focused, so in tune with his craft.

The soft sounds of the pen tapping on the paper was the only thing that filled the room, a comforting rhythm in the otherwise peaceful silence.

You shifted a little closer, resting your head on his shoulder, watching him finish the last few lines. When he finally put the pen down and leaned back, he glanced over at you with that familiar, warm smile.

"Done?" you asked, a teasing glint in your voice.

"Yeah," Taehyun replied softly, his gaze lingering on you. 

“What?” you asked with a laugh, nudging him gently.

He shook his head, the mischievous glint still present in his eyes. 

Taehyun just watched you for a moment, the softest smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t respond. You tilted your head, waiting, but he seemed lost in thought again, his eyes warm and full of affection as they met yours.

Finally, he glanced back at the glitter pen on the bed, a small smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah, it must be the pen,” he said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. 

“Definitely something magic about it.”

You laughed, playfully pushing him. 

“Glitter is powerful, you know.”

He chuckled, nodding along. But in his mind, he knew that the pen didn’t play a part at all. The real magic, his biggest source of inspiration, was sitting right there beside him. For now, he’d let you believe it was the pen. 

Taehyun’s eyes held yours, and without a word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The warmth of his touch ignited something deep within you, each soft, lingering kiss drawing you further under his spell.

His lips trailed slowly from yours, brushing along your jaw and down to your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. 

His voice, barely a whisper, reached your ear, sending a thrill through you. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your waist.

A shiver ran down your spine as you held him closer, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, your touch electrifying even the smallest points of contact. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your fingertips, grounding you in this intimate moment.

You let your fingers trail down his back, as you listened to the steady rise and fall of his breaths. Taehyun pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. There was a glint of something playfully wicked there, and a quiet longing that made your heart race.

“Should we try and actually watch the movie this time?” he whispered, though his eyes were fixed on you, clearly not invested in the idea of focusing on the screen. 

You blush at his attempt to divert your attention away from the inevitable, undeniable pull between the two of you.

With a shy smile, you nodded in agreement, feigning innocence. 

"Sure, we should probably try to watch the movie. But I make no promises," you teased, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face.

"You’re dangerous, you know that?" Taehyun murmured, his voice low and full of affection.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

“Dangerous?” you repeated with a teasing grin. 

How?”

He chuckled softly, his hand finding yours once more, fingers intertwining effortlessly. 

"Because you make it impossible to focus on anything but you."

You rolled your eyes, though your smile couldn’t hide how his words affected you. 

"You’re such a flirt," you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

You bit your lip, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, the spark of chemistry crackling between you. 

Taehyun’s smile softened, but his eyes still danced with mischief. 

“Did I mention that you’re dangerous?”

“You love it,” you replied, letting your gaze linger a little longer before pulling back to glance at your laptop screen again.

But Taehyun wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was just a touch longer than a peck.

He pulled back, his lips still hovering close to yours. 

“You know, I’m starting to think the only thing I want to focus on right now is you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart racing a little faster. 

“I’m starting to think that’s exactly what I want too.”

And with that, the movie was officially forgotten, for the second time that night. Your focus solely on each other.

Months had passed since that night, it was the last time you’d been able to see each other. The whirlwind of TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s comeback was finally in full swing, The Star Chapter: Sanctuary was about to drop, and everything was a blur of excitement. 

Teasers, track previews, and concept photos flooded your social media feeds. 

You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you watched the fans get hyped, knowing all the hard work that had gone into this moment. 

Scrolling through fan posts, one in particular makes you pause.

"All their songs are written with pink sparkly gel pens made to listen for pretty people only."

A laugh slips out before you can stop it. You remember that late night so vividly, the glow in Taehyun’s eyes when you handed him that silly pink glitter pen, and how he insisted that everything he wrote that night felt perfect. You wonder if any of them actually made it into the final lyrics. 

Without thinking twice, you copy the link of the post and quickly send it to Taehyun, adding a message:

You lean back in your seat, feeling a soft warmth in your chest. You missed him terribly, though you’ve gotten used to it. Getting to see him live his dream was more than fulfilling and it made the time you did get to spend together even more special. Your phone buzzes not long after, his name flashing on the screen.

A second message quickly follows, this time with an image attached. You open it, your heart skipping a beat.

It was a photo of the lyrics Taehyun had written that night, the ones you only got a tiny glimpse of. 

You stare at the photo, fingers hovering over your phone screen as you read the lyrics he wrote. The familiar handwriting makes your heart skip a beat. You can't help but smile, your mind, once again, racing back to that night. 

Without wasting a moment, you tap out a quick message to him:

Can you call me?

You sit back, mind still racing, until the sound of your ringtone fills the car. 

"Hello?" you say, your voice filled with curiosity.

"Hey," Taehyun’s voice is warm, comforting, and you can hear the slight smile in his tone. 

"Those lyrics are so sweet," you say, your smile widening. 

"You held onto my pen, didn’t you?"

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Taehyun chuckles softly. 

"I did," he admits, his voice filled with a quiet kind of pride. 

"I actually wrote all of my lyrics for this album with that pen."

You feel your breath catch in your throat. 

"Seriously?" 

You’re both amused and amazed. 

"I didn’t know a glitter pen could hold that much inspiration."

"Well, it’s not the pen," Taehyun says, his voice turning a little more serious, but still light. 

"It’s just that the pen reminded me of something important. Something I wanted to express for this comeback."

You tilt your head, puzzled. 

“What do you mean?"

"The lyrics... they feel like a reflection of my feelings," Taehyun explains softly. 

"And a lot of them made it onto the album. I’m not surprised though. This album is... different. It’s more of a love album this time around."

A warm feeling spreads through you, his words lingering in the air like a soft melody. 

"And, uh, I may have told you it was the pen," Taehyun continues, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"But really, it wasn’t the glitter or the pen that sparked anything."

You can hear the quiet sincerity in his voice now, and you sit up a little straighter, listening intently.

"It was you," he says, his voice so gentle and full of affection that it makes your chest tighten. 

"You’re the magic, the real inspiration. I could never have written these lyrics without you in my life. Without you, it wouldn’t have come together the way it did."

Your heart swells at his words, your mind reeling with emotion. 

"Taehyun..." 

You can barely find your voice, but your feelings are so clear. You’ve always known how much he meant to you, but hearing him say this, knowing he sees you as his muse, makes you feel overly emotional.

"I’m not just talking about the lyrics," Taehyun continues, his words coming from a deeper place now. 

"I’m talking about everything. The way you’re always there for me, even when things are tough. You’re my biggest inspiration, my strength, and you make me believe in things I never thought possible."

There’s a pause, and you can hear him exhale softly. 

"I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I’ll always be thankful for you, for the way you make me feel, and the way you light up my world."

You swallow hard, trying to steady the emotions rushing through you. 

"Taehyun..." You repeat his name, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"You don’t know how much that– you mean to me. I—I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," he replies, his tone tender. 

"I just wanted you to know that even though I joked about the pen, it’s always been you. You’re the reason everything falls into place."

A few more moments of silence pass, and then Taehyun adds, "I wanted to share that with you at some point, I was hoping it’d be a bit more romantic than this though."

You smile softly, the weight of his words settling into your heart. 

"I’m glad too. Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he started, letting out a small sigh followed by a chuckle, “I was going to ask you to come out with me the night before the album releases. I’d give you your usual album listen, and then tell you everything I just said while we watched the sunrise.”

“And you say you’re as cold as Antarctica,” you teased. 

"I have to get going now, we have a choreography lesson," Taehyun says, his voice matching your teasing tone. 

"But really, I wanted you to know, every time you listen to the album, that you’re in there.”

You feel your heart flutter. 

"I think that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard."

There’s a brief pause before Taehyun laughs softly. 

"I’m glad you think so. Just don’t forget who the real magic is."

You grin, feeling a warmth spread through you as you hear the affection in his voice. 

"I won’t forget. I promise."

a/n: finally a story that isn't a beomgyu one lol. I'm just kidding, but here's another idea inspired by this comeback and a few posts I've seen! A few of my friends actually suggested Yeonjun for this idea, but I went with Taehyun in the end cause he was the first member I thought of when I came up with this. I hope you enjoy it! as always, comments, reblogs and asks are much appreciated!

Taehyun Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

clue | S.R.

in which penelope hosts a new year's eve party. with a murder mystery theme.

who? spencer reid x fem!journalist!reader

category: fluff, slice of life

content warnings: all of the characters are dressed as detectives. marriage, murder, mentions of blood, fireworks, slight descriptions of fake violence, reader wears a dress, this is very haphazardly proofread. very slightly suggestive in the beginning if you squint.

word count: 2.95k

a/n: happy new year's eve friends! this idea has been rotting in my brain since i read the prompt. i started with the idea that i wanted reader and kristy to win and a dream, and now here i am. it was genuinely so much fun to write. (and now i have spencer x journalist!reader brain rot) i always see people writing for these challenges but this is my first time participating!

i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins' office party challenge based on the prompt "Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party... with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)" thank you so much for this challenge!

“I have no idea why Penelope felt the need to rent an AirBnB for a New Year’s Eve party,” you whispered, getting out of the car along with Spencer. “Or why we had to dress in costume,” you said, pulling your shawl over your shoulders.

Gently reaching over, Spencer tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears, “It’s a Penelope Garcia party, that means it’s a production. Additionally, this is the first New Year's Eve we’ve been in town in four years, which means there’s no need for an MHM.”

Grinning up at your fiancé, you responded, “There does seem to be a moratorium on violent crime this holiday season.” The best Christmas gift you received this year was finding Spencer sleeping in bed next to you when you woke up.

You watched him reach into the back of the car for his jacket. The costume description Garcia had given him was similar to what he wore on a normal day. You helped him pick out the brown sweater vest and matching tie, but he selected the rest of the ensemble. “Did I tell you that you look incredible?” He asked, pulling his jacket on.

“I believe those were the words that caused us to be fifteen minutes late, Dr. Reid,” you chided but smiled nonetheless when Spencer pulled you close and embraced you.

You felt him smile against your neck, “Worth it,” he whispered.

Dragging him by the arm, you stood on the porch and knocked on the door. Almost instantly, a familiar voice rang out, “You have to use the knocker!” Penelope called out.

Sighing, you rolled your eyes and took the bronze adornment in your hand and knocked it against the red-painted door. The heavy door swung open and you were greeted by Penelope Garcia, “Welcome Dr. Reid and Someday Mrs. Reid, to the New Year’s party that will, likely, be the New Year’s party to end all New Year’s parties.”

“I have no doubt, Pen,” you stepped forward and hugged her. “You look great, I love this color,” you told her, settling your hands on your shoulders. She wore a lime green button-down dress with an old-timey collar, and her blonde locks were pulled up into a French twist.

Spencer and Penelope greeted each other, and Garcia led the two of you to a sitting room, “Where did you find this house?” Spencer asked, walking in behind you.

She waved him off, “I am the master of all things Internet, I found it online and thought it was perfect.”

Your heels clicked as you followed the two of them. They were quicker, Penelope knew where she was going and Spencer naturally had a long stride, not to mention the restriction of your gown. “Perfect for what, exactly?” You inquired.

“A BAU Murder Mystery party!” She answered as if it was obvious.

A wolf whistle from the other side of the room caught your attention, you turned around to see Tara grinning at you, “Well how about you.”

Blushing, you spread the skirt of the red silk dress out and gave a fake curtsy, “Oh this? Just something I had lying around.” In reality, you borrowed the dress from a coworker. Its only fault was being just barely too long for you.

Once you observed Tara’s costume, an off-white button-up with brown suspenders and matching pants, the gears in your head clicked into place. “We’re dressed as characters from Clue?” You asked, looking at everyone’s costumes. It all suddenly made so much sense, you were Miss Scarlet, and Tara was meant to be Colonel Mustard.

“Well, there are only so many characters to choose from, so I needed some other detectives to choose from. I picked Nancy Drew, Spencer is Sherlock Holmes with Matt as his Watson, and Krystall is Jessica Fletcher from the renowned television show Murder She Wrote.” Penelope pointed at guests as she explained their outfits, “Kristy is Daphne of the differently renowned television show Scooby Doo, and Luke refused to dress up at Hercule Poirot.”

Your eyebrows raised up, “I didn’t know not dressing up was an option,” you admitted. Despite the weather being unseasonably warm, you were still cold in your dress.

Sending a pointed look in Luke’s direction, Penelope cleared her throat before responding, “It wasn’t.”

Putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt, Luke feigned shock, “I did dress up as a very famous detective. Matt Simmons of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“But does that really count as famous?” The man himself, Matt asked teasingly.

In response, Luke gestured around the room, “Everyone here has heard of him.”

You tuned the two of them out. When provided the time, the two of them could bicker for hours. You looked at everyone else’s costumes, the rest of the group was from the board game. Emily was Mrs. White, Rossi was Professor Plum, JJ was Mrs. Peacock, and Will was Mr. Green.

The BAU spent so much time sequestered solving crimes that it was a wonder to have the entire group here at the same time.

After effectively shushing Luke, Penelope made her way to the center of the room, “Okay, I know what you’re all thinking ‘Penelope, we spend all of our days solving murders, why would you plan a murder mystery party?’” She stood up straight, pushing her shoulders back, “Well, I’ll tell you, the idea for this party came to me when I had the flu last month.”

“Are you telling us this party was conceived from a fever dream?” Emily asked, she leaned forward in her all-white outfit, resting her elbows on her knees.

Pointing at Emily, Penelope grinned, “That is exactly what I am telling you, my dear. Now, let me set the stage for you.” She clapped and the lights went out, bringing everyone’s attention to a projector screen that had just lit up against the only bare wall in this room. “Our victim was a resident of this house. What’s her name? You might ask. Patricia Gomez, heiress to a large fortune and a company that makes socks.”

A quiet chuckle came from the other side of the room, “This is quite the fever dream.” You had to agree with Rossi, Patricia Gomez was an almost painfully uncreative name. Still, everyone went along with it.

“Save all questions until the end, please!” Penelope scolded, “I have folders made up for each of you, with information on where your characters all were at the time of the murder. Before attending this party, the killer was already notified of their status, they may try to fool you.”

You skimmed through the folder that the technical analyst had handed you, it looked like a real FBI folder, but you didn’t doubt that Garcia had resources to make realistic fake files. The body had been found, stabbed in the kitchen, the time of death set at noon.

Matt stood up first, reaching out his hand for Kristy to take, but they didn’t get far. “Oh no, no partnering with your partners,” Penelope said, laying down another rule for her party.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked, looking between you and her. It was sweet knowing that he had wanted to team up with you, it reminded you of how you first met. The FBI profiler and the investigative journalist.

Garcia sighed, “If you are canoodling with someone, you may not investigate with them.”

You shrugged at Spencer and walked toward Kristy instead, “What do you say, Daphne? Shall we?”

“Oh, I think we shall,” Kristy responded, hooking her arm through yours.

“Hey,” Luke interrupted, “It’s not fair for the investigative journalist and the lawyer to be teamed up to solve a murder.”

Stopping in your tracks, you stared at him for a moment, “Luke, you work for the FBI. If anything, I think we’re at a disadvantage.”

Together, you and Kristy made your way to the kitchen, as you walked away you heard Luke ask Garcia to be his partner, the two of you laughed as she told him she wasn’t playing because, “Somebody has to keep things organized, Newbie!”

Looking around the kitchen, you found a chalk outline, but not much else. Of course, this wasn’t a real crime scene, there would be no blood, and for all you knew, Kristy was the killer.

“What are you thinking, Dave?” You asked Rossi, who had teamed up with JJ. Maybe a seasoned profiler would push you in the right direction.

He cocked his head like he was weighing his options, “Well, the folder says there were only four people in the building at the time of the murder, and only one of them was close enough to the kitchen to pull it off. Logically, the best option is Mrs. White.”

So, he thought Emily was responsible. You scrawled some notes down about the kitchen before you and Kristy decided to move to the bedroom, “It says Watson – Matt - was in the main bedroom at the time of the murder, Mrs. White – Emily - was in the pantry, Jessica Fletcher – Krystall – was in the basement, and Professor Plum – Rossi – was in the library,” you read from the file.

“Then Dave is right, Emily is the only one who was close enough to get to Patricia,” Kristy reasoned. There wouldn’t have been time for anyone else to commit the crime in between the time the body was found and the time of death. The timeline of events was very short.

You shrugged, “Then I guess we could probably go to the library until the timer runs out.” Picking up the skirt of your dress, the two of you left the bathroom and walked into the library. Leaning up against the shelves, you intertwined your fingers in front of you, “Do you have plans for the new year?” You asked Kristy, tilting your head.

She hummed, “A lot of our plans tend to change. You know, with Matt’s job and the kids, but we’d like to take some kind of vacation, even if it’s just a day trip.” She answered, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, “What about you?”

“Oh,” you said, “You know, getting married.” You answered, “Then we’re just planning on seeing where life takes us, I think. You’re right, it’s hard to plan around the job. I can’t imagine adding kids into the mix.” The thought gave you a whole new respect for Kristy – and Will, for that matter.

Kristy smiled, “Totally worth it, though.”

Laughing it off, you pushed yourself off of the shelving, “I think I’ll take your word for it,” you responded. “For now,” you added, looking around the library.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, following your gaze around the library.

Realizing this must be how the BAU feels all the time, you answered, “Something is bothering me about this case.” Kristy beckoned for you to go on, “They all solve crimes like this every day, so in order to make it fun for them, Penny would have to make it at least a little bit of a challenge, right?” You asked.

“You think it was too easy?” Kristy asked.

You started pacing around the library, along the front of the desk. “The answer being Emily is too easy. There has to be something more to it.”

“Well, the file says she had experienced a blow to the head shortly before her death. So, is it possible she was incapacitated somewhere else and then moved to the kitchen to be killed?” Kristy asked, flipping through the file, she was sat on top of the wooden desk.

Nodding, you looked at the generated picture of your fake victim. She wore a large ruby necklace, her hair was pinned up, but in the list of effects and evidence, a necklace was never mentioned. “Did you see a necklace in the kitchen?” You asked, flicking your eyes over in her direction.

Immediately, she shook her head you spun around to go back to the kitchen. Mid-spin the heel of your shoe hooked into the too-long fabric of your dress, causing you to tumble ungracefully to the floor. “Are you alright?” Kristy asked. Not for the first time tonight, you found yourself jealous of her shorter dress. Damned board game characters.

Groaning in response, you blinked in an attempt to reorient yourself. In your peripheral vision, something caught your eye: a necklace. “Kristy,” you whispered urgently, hoisting yourself up into a sitting position before reaching over to grab the gold chain. It was crusted with something red that you could only hope was ketchup. Unless Penelope was taking this game way too seriously.

You lifted the chain curiously. “That’s the necklace that Patricia was wearing when she died!” Kristy exclaimed, “But that means…”

“Rossi did it,” you said from the floor. “And he tried to fool us with his poker face.”

Setting the necklace on the desk, you reached down to take your heels off. Kristy spoke, “Do you think the necklace is enough evidence for us to make our case?”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at her, “I don’t know. You’re the lawyer, do you think it’s enough evidence?”

She nodded, “I think the evidence pointing to Emily is circumstantial, but this necklace has substance to it. And no one else has gone through the library, so at the very least we’ll have a unique answer.”

You grinned, “I like the way you think, Mrs. Simmons.” You reached out your hand and she helped you up, “Let’s go show these FBI agents how it’s done.” The two of you headed back to the sitting room.

The room was full when you got there, “Ah, I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for the two of you!” Penelope said, “Sit, sit, I’m sure we have some excellent conclusions to go through.” She handed the both of you glasses of wine before you sat down next to each other on the velvet chaise lounge.

Honestly, it reminded you of grade school. When your teacher would go through the answers on the homework, only for you to find that, somewhere, you had done something terribly wrong. By the time it got to you and Kristy, half of the people said it was Emily, almost half had said it was Matt, and one person said it was Kristy.

Nonetheless, the two of you stood up and announced your conclusion, “it was Rossi,” you said in unison.

“First, we met with David in the kitchen, and we asked him what he thought,” you said. “He could’ve said no, he could’ve said something else, but he told us how he thought Emily Prentiss was the killer.” You explained, “Now, as extremely professional detectives, we know that frequently, killers can’t help but insert themselves into the investigations.”

Lifting her hand in a waiting gesture, Kristy continued, “But we heard him out, and we trusted his conclusion. Until we didn’t, that is.” She said, “After some more expert investigation, we went to the library, where Rossi had claimed to have been at the time of the murder. It was there that my partner discovered the victim's necklace. It was broken as if it had been torn off of her neck, and there was blood on the chain.”

“This is combined with the report that the victim had experienced a blow to the head before she died, which could’ve easily been inflicted by the corner of the very desk I discovered the necklace beneath,” you resumed. “We propose that David Rossi, otherwise known as Professor Plum, incapacitated the victim in the library, before moving her to the kitchen so he could claim he had no part in her death.”

Rossi looked up at Penelope, who grinned and nodded, “I didn’t even realize I had done that in the kitchen earlier. Are you by chance looking for a new line of work?” He asked, getting a chorus of laughter in response.  

“For my two winners,” Garcia said, her smile still bright as she draped two medals around your and Kristy’s necks. “Thank you, everyone, so much for playing this game. I know it’s hard to see it as a game when it all feels so real, but I appreciate you for separating fact and fiction for tonight.”

It was Luke who responded first, “Of course.”

“But maybe,” Rossi said, raising his wine glass in his hand, “Maybe next year we’ll just do a normal party.”

Tara raised her glass in response, “If you’re hosting, I’m attending.”

You nodded, concurring, “Far be it from me to miss a BAU party.”

Behind you, Spencer loosely wrapped his arm around your waist, “It’s almost the new year.”

“Aha!” Penelope said, “I have one last surprise for all of my favorite people! If you’ll just follow me out to the deck, we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here!”

Outside, the cool air bit at your bare skin. Ever the gentleman, Spencer draped his jacket over your shoulders. Grateful for the warmth, you pushed your arms through the sleeves and turned to face him, “You know, we’ve been together for years, but this will be our first New Year’s kiss.” You said, studying his face, every detail that you’ve come to know over the past few years.

Distantly, you heard the rest of the group counting down, but you were too focused on Spencer. “It won’t be our last, though,” he promised.

You grinned up at him, “As long as we get to go to the BAU party, Sherlock.”

“Of course,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Happy New Year, Miss Scarlett.”

[72stars]

October 19, Dick Grayson & Koriand’r, non-specific personal drawing challenge. 1 brush (MaxU Tech Pen Clean), not counting unseen undersketch brush ‘cause I decided against using it for the lineart. couldn’t decide what to use to color it and am running out of time so here this is - maybe I’ll spruce it up and color it later?

[elenasalvatore94]

Magnetic Hearts - Franco Colapinto`s Fanfic - 1

We are all fascinated by Franco's natural charm and intensely flirty personality, right? So let's go... Chris Almeida, a passionate Brazilian journalist with a deep love for Formula 1, navigates the fast-paced world of motorsport while managing a complicated and intoxicating relationship with the rising F1 star, Franco Colapinto. From the adrenaline-fueled chaos of race weekends to the quiet moments shared in private, their chemistry is undeniable and their connection deepens with every challenge they face.

Warnings:

Explicit Sexual Content – Contains detailed and explicit sexual scenes.

Age Gap Relationship – Features a romantic relationship with a significant age difference.

Strong Language – Use of mature or explicit language throughout.

Jealousy/Possessiveness – Themes of jealousy and possessiveness in the relationship.

Alcohol Use – Depictions of drinking or being under the influence.

Public/Non-Traditional Sexual Situations – Sexual activity in less conventional or semi-public locations.

Body Image/Insecurity – Mentions of weight gain, body image issues, and self-esteem struggles.

Mental Health (Migraine) – Descriptions of intense migraine symptoms and their impact.

The Monaco sun's glistening heat filtered through the hotel suite's curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor. It was the first race weekend of the 2024 Formula 1 season, and the paddock buzzed with its usual frenzy.

For Chris, it was another day on the job. She had spent a decade carving her name as one of the best motorsport journalists in the field. Known for her sharp questions and no-nonsense attitude, she was the go-to for every serious driver looking to have their voice heard. But this weekend felt different.

Chris had turned 30 just a week ago. While some would celebrate the milestone, she felt an odd sense of displacement. She had dedicated her entire life to her career, leaving little room for anything else. Relationships had come and gone, and somewhere along the way, she had forgotten what it was like to feel excitement outside of her work.

Until today.

"Chris, you're up next with Franco Colapinto. He's finishing with Sky Sports now," her colleague nudged her from the door.

Franco Colapinto. The name had been circulating in the F1 world for months. The 21-year-old Argentinian driver had stormed through the ranks, landing a seat with Williams. He had the talent, the looks, and the kind of charisma that made him an instant media darling. But Chris wasn't easily swayed by charm or good looks. At least, that's what she told herself.

As she prepared her notes, she heard the door creak open behind her. Franco walked in, and instantly, the air in the room shifted. His presence was undeniable - tall, lean, with sun-kissed skin, his messy brown hair falling perfectly into place, and those piercing green eyes that seemed to see through everything.

"Chris!" he greeted her warmly, offering a hand as he sat across from her. His accent carried a melodic rhythm, and for a moment, she was caught off guard by how genuinely charismatic he seemed in person.

"Franco, it's great to have you here. How's your first weekend in F1 been so far?" Chris began, keeping her voice professional and her mind focused on the task at hand.

Franco smiled, leaning back in his chair, legs spread confidently. "It's been surreal, honestly. But I'm ready. I've worked for this my whole life."

Chris nodded, her pen scribbling across her notebook as they began the formalities of the interview. But something about Franco's energy felt... off. Every time she looked up to ask another question, his eyes lingered just a little too long on her face. He'd smile in a way that was more intimate than a casual interview required. It wasn't arrogant - it was... curious, almost playful.

"Do you feel any added pressure being so young in a field of more experienced drivers?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

Franco tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. "No more pressure than interviewing someone as beautiful as you."

Her pen stopped mid-sentence. Chris blinked, certain she had misheard him. "Excuse me?"

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I think you heard me."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she cursed herself for the flutter in her chest. She was a professional - this wasn't her first interview with a good-looking driver. But something about Franco made her feel... different. The confidence in his gaze, the way his tongue darted over his bottom lip after every sentence, the soft undertones of flirtation. It wasn't the usual media banter. This was something else entirely.

"I... think we should stay on track," she replied, clearing her throat, trying to push away the strange attraction that was bubbling under the surface. "Your goals for the season?"

Franco leaned back, but the grin didn't fade. "Win races. But you know, life is about more than just winning. It's about the moments in between, don't you think?"

"Moments in between?" she echoed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Franco's eyes locked onto hers. "The little things that take your breath away. The unexpected. The things that make you feel alive."

Chris swallowed hard, her legs shifting under the table as heat rose in her chest. There was no denying it - Franco was flirting with her. Boldly. Brazenly. And worse yet, she was letting him get to her. 

She forced herself to look at her notebook, her hands trembling just slightly as she tried to maintain composure. "What about your relationship with your team? How are you settling in at Williams?"

Franco chuckled, clearly enjoying the dance they were in. "Williams is great. But I think you're avoiding the real question here."

Her eyebrow arched. "And what question would that be?"

He leaned in again, his voice low and intimate. "When are we getting drinks after this?"

Chris felt her pulse quicken. She was used to drivers being cocky, but this was different. Franco wasn't just cocky; he was deliberate. Calculated. And yet, she felt herself being pulled into his orbit, her professionalism slowly unraveling under the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't mix work and pleasure," she said, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

Franco's smile grew wider. "Who said anything about mixing? I'm talking about pleasure after work."

Her breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking it now - he was coming on to her, and the worst part? She wanted him to. "Franco, this is an interview, not a date," she managed, her voice strained as she tried to regain control of the situation.

"Yet," he murmured, the word hanging between them like a challenge.

Chris stood abruptly, trying to put some physical distance between them. "I think we're done here," she said, her voice firmer now.

But as she gathered her things and turned to leave, Franco's voice stopped her.

"You can pretend all you want, Chris. But we both know you felt it too."

She froze, her back to him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second, she considered turning around, meeting his gaze one more time. But she couldn't. Not now. Not like this.

Without another word, she left the room, the door clicking softly behind her. But as she walked down the hotel corridor, her mind raced with the dangerous allure of Franco Colapinto.

What the hell just happened?

The rookie had flipped her world upside down in a matter of minutes. And for the first time in a long time, Chris had no idea what to do next.

So? More?

[pinkaditty]

Perv!Asmodeus Thoughts (Obey Me: SWD)

hihiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii this was totally 100% self indulgent it's just me thinking about Asmodeus if he was just a little more unhinged

summary: you're so innocent. he's quite the opposite.

a/n: can't really 100% say that this was inspired by anything ive just been thinking about Asmodeus and wanted to give him a little appreciation. admittedly perverted characters just... do it for me. my guilty pleasure lol <3 anyways anyways!!! answering more asks by the weekend or tmrw it depends on how much free time I have!!!! and am almost done with pervert pt 3!!!!! woo!!

cw: perverted behavior, creepy behavior, no penetration/sex but sexual acts mentioned, masturbation, non-con (no r*pe or anything just really weird scenarios in which one party is oblivious), cum eating, and other weird things that i don't really know how to tag, not proofread.

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY!

You're so innocent. And god, it drives him crazy. Your eyes make the most perfect alluring expressions, your lips curve into the most perfect smiles, and your body shaped so wonderfully… he can't help it if he feels a little wanting.

At first, he attempts to stifle it… keep it under wraps as much as he can. Sure, his eyes wander, but as soon as he starts imagining what you may look like under those clothes, he quickly tears his eyes away and censors his thoughts as much as he possibly can. Unusual for the Avatar of Lust, but he knows once he starts, he will not stop.

Saliva collects in his mouth so much he has to gulp it down as he watches you eat, teeth tearing and tongue licking and lips slurping. It makes him wonder, would you treat his flesh the same? Biting, licking, and slurping, leaving marks in your wake, swallowing down whatever juices spring forth from him before he is wrung dry? He often finds himself palming himself at the dinner table, completely enamored by your idle consumption of food, leaving his plate to grow cold from neglect. Even watching you walk is pure torture. He watches as the fabric hugs and rubs against your thighs, your ass, your torso, and your waist especially… He imagines how easy it would be to tear it apart, to simply lose control and throw the useless fabrics to the side, caring much more about the skin underneath. Sitting behind you in class proves to be a challenge, much more so when you're wearing that perfume he recommended. He bites his thumbnail until it bleeds, gripping his uniform pants, trying his hardest to resist the alluring scent of your perfume. The perfume is fine on its own, but mixed with your natural scent, it tears him apart.

As far as you are concerned, Asmodeus is a close friend, one you can come to in any scenario. He's proven himself worthy of your trust in your eyes, so you find it fit to spend time with him. Little do you know that while you suspect Mammon is going through your trash to sell things, it's actually Asmodeus, stealing this morning’s finished coffee to lick off the remnants of your saliva on the rim of the cup. While you suspect Belphegor of stealing your pillows, it's actually Asmodeus, humping into them at night, creaming to the thought of you sleeping on the same pillows he's used for personal pleasures. While you suspect Satan of nicking away your magazines, it's actually Asmodeus, taking note of which pages you licked your fingers to turn, carefully licking those edges. While you suspect Beelzebub of stealing some of your open snacks, it's actually Asmodeus, jerking off pointed directly at them, leaving his essence there for you to enjoy but be oblivious to. While you suspect Lucifer of taking your pens on occasion, it's actually Asmodeus, writing on his body how much he craves you, and then using that pen to pleasure himself, leaving his scent all over it. While you suspect Leviathan of stealing your underwear, it's actually Asmodeus, burying his face in them at night, wearing them, jerking off inside of them, all until he sees fit to return them to the wash. He just can't stop. He especially loves it when you visit his room with your guard down, having no idea how much of him you've consumed, touched, and felt just from doing your daily activities.

He's on cloud nine with how deeply you trust him, enough to feed you various snacks during your weekly spa session. He watches as you lick the icing off a pastry, oblivious to how most of it is his cum, simply enjoying the sweet-salty contrast. He is impressed with how much you'll let his hands wander as he gets a general feel of your body while you're in a robe. He's choosing the cutest outfit he can think of, but first, he needs to get a feel for your body to know what looks good on you, which is a total lie. He's letting his fingers drift awful close to your chest, dragging his fingers as they gently graze over your waistband, and pausing for an unusually long time when his fingers reach your ass. He's hard as a rock, but who can tell?

When you leave, having used his body products - to the point where you smell like him - and having consumed various amounts of his bodily fluids, he dreams of you laying on a pillow that he used to masturbate, eating snacks that he's creamed all over, using pens to doodle that are covered in his essence, reading magazines that he's licked every corner of, and having no idea about it at all.

You're just so innocent. And god, it drives him crazy.

a/n: this is short but regardless I enjoyed writing it. if I have any more insane thoughts about perverted characters ill post more.

reminder that i love likes, comments, reblogs, and asks!! tell me how much you liked it or ask for more! I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3