#and i have no dance partner alas :(

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters

[corrodedcoughin]

It is of my opinion that Eddie would actually have a killer falsetto which Steve discovers when he walks into the trailer kitchen to find eddie singing along to the radio playing you make me feel like dancing while waltzing (surprisingly well) with an upside down mop

[mynameisrobiniamadumbass]

dunno if I'll ever digitalise this so um. here. gently slides this in your direction.

[seattlesellie]

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

[bonus-links]

I got the notification the comic updated this morning like RIGHT as I had to start working! Needless to say, my excitement got me through the day (and had such good payoff omgg)! Thank you for sharing your work with the world, it brings such joy to so many people!

But directors commentary? 👀 I gotta say I love it equally as much as each update!

🎶two months without uploading they come back with a side conversation that takes up a whole update🎶 jokes aside uh. most of the rest of this chapter is going to be like this. sorry. bonus links is an excuse to have link legend of zelda philosophize at himself for 1000 pages probably at this rate

I rewrote this conversation a BUNCH. there are versions of it that are much longer, where they actually talk a bit abt the master sword— I really liked those versions, but I decided to save some of that for later. my goal was to create a convo where they both are sort of dancing around what they mean, but they come to an understanding anyway. I think Slate and Wake have a lot in common that they could bond abt.

Here’s an important note about Slate’s character: he does not lie. he says what he means. He will, however, prolifically dodge ur questions lolol

some notes from the script I left for myself abt Wake’s expressions, hope I was able to capture them lolol

Wolf playing with the kids! This was an important detail for me to include lolol tho I nearly left it out bc I was having trouble staging this update. I wanted to build more of a connection between him playing w the kids on the island and him playing with the kids in Ordon, but there’s just not time, and the last update already kind of covered that emotion. Wolf is a really quiet guy, so I’ve been doing my best to build up his character in the bg even if he hasn’t gotten center stage yet. A lot of ppl commented on how this is the happiest we’ve seen him so far, and that was the intention!

Just wanted to call attention to these cute lil faces.

Loft continuing his streak of falling asleep at every party he’s ever been to. alas, no partners to carry him home this time :-(

Lore abt the triforce mark has been inconsistent from game to game. Like usual, I’m sort of cobbling together my own interpretation from ideas I like— so, in this instance, the triforce mark isn’t just from having at one point handled the triforce or possessed a piece of it, and not everyone has it.

I am obsessed w the hero of time statue in wind waker. It is such a striking image, and that section of the game is one of my favorites from any Zelda game. I am also obsessed w how Wind Waker approaches itself as the aftermath of oot. I am really excited to put Wake and Mask in the same room lolol. as a side note, statues really are becoming a motif in this comic huh

That’s abt all I’ve got for now! Thanks for reading!! I really hope the chapter has been enjoyable so far. We’ve got a little while left to go, despite my best efforts to keep this chapter short 😩

[kikiiswashere]

Waltzing for Three

Summary: You're impossibly pregnant and uncomfortable. Luckily, Silco and Jinx are there to help you out.

Warnings: None/SFW

WC: 2.7K

SilcoxAFAB!Reader, established relationship, found family fluff

Notes: I have no idea where this came from, but this little drabble wouldn't leave my brain. So, please enjoy some domestic, soft Silco

------

It seemed entirely improbable that a human should ever fit into the tiny cloth you held up between your hands. The onesie was freshly laundered, the fabric impossibly soft under your fingers. You smiled, flipping it, and placing it against your swollen belly like a sticker. The pull of your lips broadened, revealing your teeth in a bright grin as your womb’s occupant gently patted their small feet or fists against their future wardrobe. Peeling the onesie away, you folded it and set it on the growing pile that had been started on the coffee table.

Nesting, they called it. A deep, primal urge to ready one’s space for a new baby. You hadn’t completely written off the people and books that had mentioned this phenomenon, but you were very surprised at the insistence and intensity of the inclination as you breached your third trimester. Especially since the pregnancy wasn’t planned, and since you and Silco were cautiously excited and anxious about the little one’s arrival. You figured your nervousness may sway nature’s tendencies; alas, she had a stronger pull than you realized.

A groan rattled through your teeth as you reached for the next article of baby clothing. Despite the happy anticipation with which you waited; your body was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. The first trimester was marked with nausea and tender, growing breasts; the second, digestive woes seceded and your bump bloomed proudly before you. You had felt beautiful and divine (and Silco had told you as much). Now, in your third, the glow of pregnancy was wearing off. You couldn’t breathe. You had to pee all the time. Your once confident and saucy gait had been reduced to a gimping waddle – like a fat whump. It hurt to exist; you and the baby fighting for space in your stretched out body.

Silco looked up from his desk at the displeased sound.

His scratching pen paused and he asked, “Are you alright, lovely?”

Internally, you felt your eyes cross. While you appreciated his doting behavior, part of you was sick and tired of being treated like a fragile, delicate thing. As your due date neared, every single utterance you made had Silco checking in. When you cleared your throat in your morning shower, he’d pop his head into the bathroom. When your inhale hitched up as you attempted to take a deeper breath, he looked at you expectantly. Once, you had stifled a wayward burp and he had shot up from his desk, looking at you with wide, waiting eyes.

“I’m eight and a half months pregnant, Silco,” you sighed, folding the onesie you had just plucked from the laundry basket. “I’m tired and it hurts to move. It hurts to be still. My hips and lower back are killing me.”

“Shall I pour a tub for you?”

Sitting back on the red tufted couch, you smiled appreciatively at your partner before lifting your gaze to the large window behind him. While the Undercity was always darker than the surface, you could tell by the light glowing behind its many panes that it was only early evening. If you took your nightly tub now, it wouldn’t be long before you fell asleep. Which would mean the baby would kick you awake in the predawn hours.

“No. Thank you, though. I don’t want to get ready for bed quite yet.”

An understanding hum rolled through the back of his throat. He put his pen down and pushed his chair away from his desk, making to stand. Setting the carefully folded onesie on top of the others, you reached into the basket, pulling out one that made you smile with soft fondness. It was black, with bright scribbles of blue and pink dancing in jagged designs across the fabric. It was an utter relief to you both that Jinx was just as excited about the baby. Given her traumatic past with siblings, you and Silco were initially nervous about sharing the news with her.

However, per usual, she surprised you with her reaction. When you had told her (being very mindful to repeat the fact that you and Silco would not love or cherish her any less), she tittered with excitement and fidgeted more than usual in Silco’s lap as she gazed at you with awe, her big, blue eyes tracking between your face and your (then, still unassuming) belly. Her small hands twitched and flexed, and she bit her lower lip.

“You can touch them,” you had chuckled. “But you won’t feel anything right now. Not yet.”

In a flash, Jinx’s hands were on your abdomen, inspecting.

“Gentle, Jinx,” Silco reminded.

She heeded his instruction, but her attention was fully on your stomach. Her small but dexterous hands padding over you in wonder.

“I’m the big sister,” she whispered, and both you and Silco shared a look over her head. She leaned in closer, lightly pressing her cheek to you. She wrapped her skinny arms around you and said, “I’ll never leave you. Okay? You can count on me.”

Your throat tightened and your eyes welled at her promise. Cursing your raging hormones, you pulled the girl into your chest for a tight hug. Once she was settled, you reach over her and pulled Silco into the embrace with a tug on his tie.

The soft, fuzzy sound of music flowing through Silco’s gramophone pulled you from your memory. Your head swiveled around to see him lift his hand away from the needle. He pivoted the sound horn just so before turning and walking over to you. Reaching out, he gestured for the onesie in your hands. You gave a quizzical look, but handed the garment over. Deftly folding it, he placed it on the pile and then held both hands out to you. Your eyes rolled and a playful scoff tsk’d behind your teeth. Nevertheless, you gripped his offered hands, and using your combined strength, hauled your massive, front-heavy form to its swollen feet.

You groaned as Silco steadied you, your skeleton adjusting and succumbing to the pull of gravity.

“I don’t know how good of a waltz partner I’ll be right now,” you sighed, waddling to the center of the office.

“Never fear, my lovely. I won’t hold it against you.”

Silco slid in behind you, nestling his front to your back. He wrapped his arms around you, but lower than usual. Before you could question it, his hands cupped the underside of your belly . . . and then hoisted up.

Janna’s sweet tits . . . the relief!!

It was immediate and euphoric. Your jaw dropped, head lulling back onto Silco’s shoulder. You were simultaneously melting and floating. The weight of your huge stomach being lifted off the aching and stretched cradle of your hip bones was heavenly. A long, loud, rattling groan tore through your mouth.

Silco chuckled. “Is that so?”

Weakly nodding against him, you matter-of-factly said, “If it wasn’t such a chore to get down and back up again, I get on my knees and blow you right now.”

A deeper laugh rumbled through his chest and he kissed your temple.

“Perhaps I can get a raincheck, then?”

A gooey smile, stupid with reprieve, spread across your face. You turned to look up towards your partner, and he was quick to kiss you. His lips were warm and firm against yours, just like his hands on your belly. Your and Silco’s lips molded seamlessly against one another; top and bottom lips taking turns puzzling against their neighbors. It was lovely, intimate, easeful, and unassuming. Giving him one last, lingering kiss on his scarred lip, your head lulled into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Silco readjusted his hold on your belly, and you both kept swaying to the music softly warbling through the office.

After a few minutes, the babe within you wriggled into a new position, punching, or kicking, across Silco’s wide hands. You felt his hold tighten and his chest swell. The fact that he was so quietly excited made your knees wobbly with adoration.

“They’re a good dancer,” you whispered. “Just like their dad.”

Silco huffed a small laugh and you were thrilled to see the color rise in his cheek out of the corner of your eye.

Before he could administer a witty retort, there were a series of thumps and mutterings above your heads. Then soft, shuffling scratches and mumbled thoughts traveled further through the ceiling. Both of your heads followed the noise, bodies gently turning in time with the sway of your feet, until you were both facing Silco’s desk.

From the rafters, you heard a small voice take a deep breath and whisper, “Okay . . . Three, two . . . one!”

Jinx leapt from her platform and tumbled onto Silco’s desk. Even though this was not a new behavior for the girl, what was new was the way your heart leapt in your throat, and the way you winced at her clumsy landing. A few times, you had read how a parents’ brain (especially the parent that carried the child) changed; how things that never used to bother or scare them suddenly mattered when it came to the safety of their little one.

You had expected it, but you were not looking forward to the ‘worrying’ part of parenthood – especially in a place like Zaun. Especially in the positions you and Silco held. Especially since Jinx did not seem to have any sense of self-preservation.

She dusted her knees off and leapt up. “I finished it!” She proclaimed, flourishing a large piece of white parchment with scribbles all over it.

“Oh? Let’s see then,” you said, awkwardly leading you and Silco toward the desk, making sure he still held up the weight of your bump.

Jinx flopped onto her seat on the desk’s top, kicking her gangly legs over the edge. Adjusting the paper in her hands, she thrust it forward proudly for inspection. Your heart swelled at the sight of it, and it was a weight you were glad to hold within your bosom.

For the past week, Jinx had been designing the baby’s room. What color it would be; where the furniture would go; what art she was going to put on the wall; where the toys would live; where she was going to keep a sleeping bag and pillow in case she and the baby decided to have a slumber party.

Excitedly, loudly, and quickly, Jinx began to take both you and Silco through each detail she had laid out. You listened attentively, still weaving to the music.

“And this is where his toys will be stored . . . over here is his dresser . . . this is his changing table. I’m still trying to figure out how to create a super-sealed-smelly bin in case his diapers are extra stinky . . . “

As beautiful and sweet as it was, your heart couldn’t help but tap a little nervously as Jinx went on about ‘his this’ and ‘he that’. You weren’t sure what the sex of the baby would be – and you, annoyingly, felt like you never got a good, motherly sense of it. Somedays you were certain it was a boy; then a few days later, it felt like it could be a girl; then you wouldn’t be sure at all. Regardless, you both had tried over the last several months to temper Jinx’s insistence that she would be having a brother. But she wouldn’t hear it.

“I don’t want another sister!” she would cry, stomping her feet.

Of course, you and Silco would be happy with either, or whoever the baby turned out to be. But you were quietly hoping that Jinx would get the brother she was expecting.

As she continued explaining the sorting system of the dresser, a knock came at the office door. All three of you paused, Jinx’s face falling into an aggravated expression at being interrupted. Silco guided you both to turn toward the door.

“Come in.”

At this time of day, it could be only one person; and, indeed, Sevika let herself into the office. She froze at the sight before her. It wasn’t new per say – this domestic scene – but it clearly wasn’t one she was getting used to. She huffed and closed the door behind her.

“We have an issue,” she said, stepping forward.

Again, you felt the pads of Silco’s fingers press more firmly against your bump. Whether he was conscious of the way his arms stiffened to pull you closer, you weren’t sure. It made your heart melt regardless.

“An issue that you cannot sort on your own?” he asked. You could hear by his tone that he was sneering at her. As your due date grew nearer, Silco had made an effort to delegate as many tasks as he could so he could be close.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Sevika replied, barely keeping her temper in check. “Marcus is on his way. About that Councilor’s kid OD-ing on Shimmer.”

A gruff sigh passed through Silco’s lips. He rolled his eyes and said, “Very well. Go get the VIP booth in the mezzanine ready. I’ll be there shortly.”

Since you had become pregnant, Silco no longer took meetings in his office. It didn’t quite make sense, since it was not a secret that you two were expecting. But it seemed to bring him some modicum of peace, so you hadn’t questioned it.

“Good night, Sevika,” you called as she turned to leave.

She nodded and half-heartedly waved a hand in your direction before leaving and closing the door. Silco let out a gentler, more forlorn sigh once she was gone.

“I’m sorry, my lovelies,” he said, addressing you, Jinx, and the baby, you realized, as his hands gently caressed your bump. “Duty calls, unfortunately.”

“No!” Jinx cried. “I wasn’t done showing you his room!”

She brandished the blue print at him, her blue eyes going big and watery.

“I know, child,” he cooed, leaning his head toward her. “I would love to see and hear the rest if I am finished before your bedtime. If not tonight, tomorrow over breakfast. Agreeable?”

Jinx’s shoulders and lower lip slumped forward, but she nodded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Silco whispered against your temple before planting a kiss there. Your daughter was already laying on the guilt pretty thick, so you restrained your reaction and merely nodded in understanding.

“Ready?” he asked, indicating his hold on you.

Something between a whine and groan pealed out of your throat at the thought of being saddled with the weight of your giant belly again. You began to nod, but Jinx jumped off the desk with renewed excitement.

“Let me! Let me! I can do it!”

She jockeyed in next to Silco, awkwardly wrapping her arms around you.

Your partner’s soft chuckle vibrated through your chest, and he said, “Come stand over here, Jinx . . .”

You stood dutifully still as Silco patiently guided Jinx into the correct stance, placing her arms and hands appropriately and instructing her to widen her feet to accommodate her shorter height.

“Ready? I’m going to let go. Don’t drop them.”

“I won’t! I won’t! I can do it!”

You felt Silco’s hands and arms recede, transferring the weight of you and the babe to Jinx. A small laugh escaped you as you felt the small girl behind you squeak and brace herself. To her credit, she did manage to keep your womb off your hips.

“Oh my gosh! Why is he so heavy?” Jinx exclaimed.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Jinx,” Silco applauded as he rounded you both.

He brought a hand up to your face and held it against your cheek, looking you in the eye earnestly.

“I am sorry.”

You leaned into his hand and shrugged, as you and Jinx began to sway to the music again.

“You can make it up to me later,” you said coquettishly.

That sliver of a smile that was reserved only for you (and now Jinx. And soon, baby) cut across Silco’s lips. He leaned forward and kissed you.

“Good luck,” you said as he broke away. “Give Marcus my best.”

Silco rolled his eyes, ocean and fire flicking up to the ceiling. He reluctantly took his hand from your cheek and strode for the office door.

“Give him hell!” Jinx grunted from behind you.

You laughed, patting her hands with yours. Silco did not respond, but you saw his shoulders quake with amusement as the door closed behind him.

------

Notes: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please comment and reblog!

[anxious-lee]

|| These Moments That I Treasure || Arcane Tickle Fic

A/N: holy cow does this fandom need some fluff right now 😳. this takes place before season two, but other than that, it can pretty much be whenever you want. if for whatever reason, you don't like these kinds of fics and you stumbled onto this, SCROLL AWAY

Summary: During one of their quiet moments in the lab, Viktor learns something about Jayce

Lee: Jayce

Ler: Viktor

---

Sometimes all it takes is one touch. One sweep of skin on skin to dissolve all your worries. The throes of passion are nice too, but even they cannot replace the value of a simple, delicate touch.

Viktor and Jayce knew this truth better than most. In Viktor's condition, delicacy was crucial. Sometimes in between work sessions, they would prop themselves up on the table, and just hold each other. Playing with fingers, rubbing shoulders, combing through hair, it didn't matter. It was what kept each other grounded when the obstacles seemed too insurmountable; when the weight of living was too difficult to bear.

It was in one of these gentle moments, that Jayce let something slip.

Viktor was exploring the skin underneath Jayce's shirt, taking in every crevice and contour, when he felt his partner shift.

Then came a huff. "Be careful down there."

Viktor's concern was immediately piqued. He hadn't realized that there was a boundary there not to cross. If he had, he would have been much more careful. Jayce had told him about the sort of trouble he used to find himself in, and the memories that his body kept record of.

"You have scars here too?" Vik asked.

The fret in his partner's voice was laughable to Jayce. Absolutely laughable. But only because it was severely misplaced.

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just..." He trailed off, smothering his sheepishness long enough to say, "... a little ticklish there."

A moment of relief. A moment of quiet. A moment of opportunity.

Viktor chuckled. "You shouldn't have told me that."

Before Jayce could process that threat, nimble fingers were dancing over his ribs like they were plucking a harp. It was electrifying. He was so unused to this feeling that he choked on his own laugh.

It was a sound of shock, but more importantly to Viktor, it wasn't a sound of discomfort.

Jayce tried to hold it in like a breath, but some part of him didn't want to. That part of himself just wanted to enjoy how ridiculous this all was and laugh about it. But alas, his pride was stronger, and so was his will to stay quiet.

Viktor wouldn't let him. He moved his hands down the front of his belly and around to the backs of his sides. Jayce's bubbling laughter was his reward.

"It's funny. I never thought to try this. Now you'll have to listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep at a decent hour."

"You're one to talk," came the giggly retort.

The devilish hands trailed higher, drawing higher chortles. Jayce was now folded in half like a mouse trap, flinching but not quite shifting away.

"I see I'm not the only one having fun," Viktor smirked.

"SHUHUT UHUP!"

Viktor couldn't contain a chuckle of his own. "Where else are you ticklish?"

The audacity to expect Jayce to reveal himself like that amused him. That was such a Viktor thing to do.

"I'm nohot telling yohohou that!"

"That's okay. You don't need to," he said simply.

Suddenly Viktor's hands abandoned their post under Jayce's arms, and instead latched themselves onto his thighs.

The shriek was incredible.

Jayce could do nothing but cling to his torturer's shoulders. He was so overcome with hysterical laughter that he couldn't see Viktor's smile, bigger and brighter than it had been all month.

"I love you like this" Viktor said.

"LIHIHIKE WHAT?" Jay wheezed.

"Glowing. Happy. Not thinking," Viktor would have had half a mind to be embarrassed of how sappy he sounded right now, if he wasn't so enamored with his partner's smile.

At the unexpected sincere words, Jayce looked up at Vik for the first time since this whole game began. He got a good look into the eyes of warmth and love that were reserved only for him. How he treasured those eyes.

Viktor hadn't realized he had stopped tickling. He also hadn't realized how close his lips were to Jayce's.

The gap between them closed, and whatever they were working on today was entirely forgotten. Nothing in this dusty laboratory could replace the value of a loving, delicate touch.

---

i really need this after yesterday's episodes 😭

[teenytinyjimin]

baroque (j. jungkook)

summary: masquerade balls are all fun and games until you meet that one person that you feel like you’ve known for a lifetime, but regardless as to who he is, you can’t just let him go.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.4k

tags: masquerade, mystery, academia/renaissance/baroque (i know these are all different but its a little combination), ballroom dancing, reader is absolutely in love with this mystery man she’s dancing with, and he’s kinda in love with her too, spoiler: they know each other, kissing of course!

warnings: none

author’s note: IM BACK! IM SO SORRY BUT IM BACK! anyways i hope u guys enjoy! my last kook fic got a lot of traction so thank u so much <3 so i hope this is up to par with that one :)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

As you stood at the steps to the entrance of one of the largest ballrooms in town, you took a deep sigh. This wasn't a sigh of distress, however, it was more of a sigh of anticipation.

Balls weren't necessarily a thing of the 21st century. Had it been, say, four-hundred or five-hundred years prior, a ball would be the talk of the town and absolutely everyone would be flooding into the ballroom to have the time of their lives dancing with one another. Alas, it was 2024, and the only people you'd see attending a ball nowadays would be people who are actively interested in Renaissance and Baroque culture and seek rare events pertaining to such.

There was something about these classical time periods that felt ageless and beautiful to you. The big gowns, glimmering jewels, and elaborate ballroom designs were absolutely gorgeous. So of course you were going to indulge in as much classical beauty as possible in modern times. And that meant going to balls whenever you could (or, in other words, whenever you were able to hear about them through the grapevine).

So here you were, in your elaborate Renaissance dress, staring at the entrance ahead of you. This particular ball was a masquerade ball, so it was even more exciting considering the fact that most everyone would be anonymously dancing behind beautifully decorated masks. You looked down at your own mask in hand, a beautiful and ornate piece strewn with jewels, glitter, and feathers. You had spent the last week perfecting the mask and had gone through nearly a dozen prototypes before you created what you thought was the best piece of work you had ever done in your twenty-something years of living. It was beautiful, and it would do a perfect job of hiding exactly what needed to be hidden to make this masquerade a true mystery for you.

Fastening the mask over your head and onto your face, you began to ascend the steps and enter the ballroom. As anticipated, the venue was covered in beautiful Renaissance artwork and ornate chandeliers. The marble pillars holding the place together really brought everything to life as they echoed the Roman influence that they possessed into the large room. Ahead of you was a sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos, all spinning around in harmony as they danced with one another to the beautiful orchestral music that played.

"A glass of champagne, miss?" A voice called out from next to you. You looked over to see a masked waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand. You gave him a polite nod and curtsy as you took a glass from him. Champagne wasn't necessarily your drink of choice, however you needed something to keep you company while you waited for a good opportunity to join the dancing or, alternatively, until you were asked to dance.

As you approached the floor of the ball, navigating through the sea of dancing people, you attempted to find someone you may have recognized. Sure, masquerades made it rather difficult to identify a person and thus it was quite hard to know if you knew anyone anyway, but it was worth a shot for the sake of socializing. For the most part, everyone seemed pretty invested in their partners, committing to the elaborate ballroom dance that was taking place to the sound of a piano and violin.

Within a matter of moments, you suddenly found yourself on the ground as you had accidentally run directly into another individual. You looked up to see a gloved hand reach down to you, begging for your touch so that it could help you to your feet once again. As you obliged, you realized the body to which the hand was connected was much stronger than you had anticipated as you practically flew back to your feet. A little lightheaded from the rush of movement, you swayed for a moment and tried to find your footing, but the hand that previously helped you was now firmly on your waist as a form of support.

You brushed off your dress once you found yourself more stable, a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry-" You began before looking up to the person in front of you. Something about his presence left you fascinated – He was tall with wide shoulders and toned arms, something you could immediately notice through his tight-fitting shirt. Despite being fit to his body, his shirt was beautiful and contained all sorts of frills and jewels. Only one of his hands were gloved, as the other one was covered in bracelets and rings of a particularly ornate design. He had the most beautiful chain necklaces wrapped around his neck which perfectly suited his beautiful jawline, which was both sharp and soft at the same time. His lips, a perfect amount of plump, were curled into a soft smile which made him a lot less intimidating than he seemed. When you finally saw his eyes, you were met with the most beautiful black orbs that were wide with wonder and amazement. You could've sworn that you've seen those eyes somewhere, as they reminded you of all the comfort you had ever felt in your life, but you couldn't quite put them to a face you recognized. Though this man's face was hidden behind a beautiful mask, you could tell that he was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

"Are you okay?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you. There was no way you were going to escape his gaze, not because he wouldn't let you but also because you didn't want to. You nodded softly as you continued awkwardly brushing off your dress, unsure of how to speak to the man in front of you. The soft smile that was once on his face now grew to a more toothy grin as he took your hand in his and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips. "If you'd like to make it up to me, I'd love to dance with you."

How were you meant to say no to him? Besides the fact that he had quite literally left you speechless, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous and you'd never turn down an offer to dance with someone like him. As you once again responded with a nod, you felt as he used the hand he had wrapped around your waist to guide you further into the crowd of people and to a more open area where you could properly dance. Once there, he pulled you slightly closer to him as he took your hand in his free one. You naturally placed your other hand upon his bicep, which was tense under your touch, and he began to guide you into a waltz-style dance. It felt as if this came naturally to him as you effortlessly swayed around. You continued to stare into his beautiful doe eyes which shimmered with fantasy as they quite literally pierced into your soul. Whoever this man was, he was perfect in every sense of the word. He was just so perfect.

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I'm not sure if I mentioned that," He said after a moment, causing you to blush and look away. "I could say the same about you," You responded quietly, letting yourself feel the air around you blow through your hair. "Thank you for helping me up, by the way. This dress is difficult to maneuver in when you're on the ground."

"It's my pleasure. After all, we bumped into each other. I had an obligation. I wasn't going to let a beautiful girl fend for herself on the ground as a bunch of people danced all over her." You looked back over to him and let out a soft giggle, watching as a grin rose to his face. Something about him was just so warm and inviting, yet you couldn't put your finger on what it was. Perhaps you two knew each other in a past life, one in which you were actually attending balls together in the Renaissance.

"I bet you call a lot of girls at these sorts of things beautiful. I mean, look at you." You say in a teasing tone, watching as his grin dropped to a smirk. "Bold of you to assume that I go to these dances very often, miss." He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to effortlessly sway you around, refusing to stop staring at you. "But even if I did, you're the most breathtaking of them all. Honest."

You remove your hand from his as you bring both hands to rest on the back of his neck, attempting to push yourself closer to him so you can talk a little quieter. "You seem like a pro, do you really not go to balls very often?" He shrugs under your touch as he wraps both arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "Not really. This is my first time coming to this place at least. I'm more of a contemporary dancer."

"Ah, I see," You say softly, letting one of your hands feel at the hair on the back of his neck. He lets out a hitched breath at your touch but continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "It's a beautiful venue, though. It feels like we're in the 1700s and not the 2000s." He comments, looking up briefly at the chandelier above the two of you. You couldn't help but agree. Sometimes when you go to events like these you forget about the chaos of life and pretend that you're still in the Renaissance, which is beautiful in and of itself.

"Have you been on the balcony yet? It has a beautiful view of the city if you want to go take a look," You propose, looking back down at the man in your arms. You watch as his eyes soften and a small smile grows on his lips, pulling away so he can offer you his hand. "You lead the way," He says as you take your hand in his and gently pull him away from the crowd.

As soon as you reached the fresh air of the empty balcony, the two of you stood in silence as you admired the shimmering lights of the city in front of you. "Wow..." He muttered, clearly surprised at the sight in front of him. "You can see pretty much everything from here. How is that possible?" You approach the railing of the balcony and lean against it, taking a moment to look around. "The ballroom is on a hill, even though it doesn't really feel like it. It's actually above the rest of the town so the balcony is able to look down on everything around us."

"I hate to say it, but it seems like I might have found something more beautiful than you." Letting out a small gasp, you turn around to face the man behind you, noticing a huge grin on his face. You smile in return. "I guess I don't blame you. A good view beats a pretty face any day."

"Mmm." He hums, approaching you slowly. He secures his hands on your waist as he picks you up with ease and places you on the railing, keeping contact with you at all times to ensure that you don't fall. Once you are steady on the railing he wraps both arms around you and presses himself tightly to you for extra support, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to stay safe. "I'm only joking anyway. I don't think it's possible to be more beautiful than you."

"Well, I think you're living proof of that, because you're definitely more beautiful than me," You mumble as the distance between your faces becomes much shorter than it once was. He lets out a breathy laugh as he removes one of his arms from your waist and attaches his hand to your face, stroking it gently before closing the gap completely and bringing you in for a kiss.

Kissing someone under the stars is one thing, but kissing someone mysteriously under the stars is another thing. You have no idea who this man is, you don't even know his name, yet here you are, lips connected to his. This is perhaps the best kiss you have ever experienced, as he is so soft yet so passionate with his movements. He never once lets go of you with his other hand, keeping you secure on the railing so that you don't accidentally slip. The one on your face is so soft and gentle, holding onto your face in the most perfect way. It is only now that you are able to really breathe in his scent, an obviously expensive cologne that you would kill to drown in at this point. He was consuming every part of you and you wanted him and only him.

The two of you pulled away briefly so that he could stare into your eyes for a moment. "You really are breathtaking," He mumbled, fiddling with the bottom edge of your mask. As he began to slowly pull it off of your face, you watched as his expression went from lovestruck to shocked. It looked as if seeing your face without the mask scared him. He didn't like how you looked.

"I'm sorry-" You begin to say, tears welling up in your eyes. However he stops you as he takes his own mask off, revealing a face that you could never forget. Jeon Jungkook. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had a crush on for years several years ago. He wasn't disgusted by how you looked. He was shocked that it was you.

"Jungkook?" You said breathlessly, unable to say anything beyond his name. He only stared at you in response, unsure of what his own next move would be. This wasn't something you had ever expected. Not the whole 'kissing your childhood best friend' part, but the fact that somehow in an event of anonymity, you would find your way to each other. And now that you have shared this night together, it's almost as if all the feelings you ever felt for him over the years have flooded back to you as you once again felt head-over-heels for him.

Finally, you watched as a toothy smile returned to his face. He placed his hand once again on your cheek and brushed it as you watched him admire your features. "Thank god it's you. I've been waiting for this moment for years," He mumbled before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[sodaabaa]

to flee or not to flee, part one

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn,

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts

masterlist

Dearest gentle reader, 

The ton is abuzz with a new season filled with young, flowering debutantes making their dazzling debuts at the Queen’s ball, anxious mamas vying for a chance to secure their children’s future, and of course, the excitement that surrounds our beloved marriage mart. This season, it seems the eldest Bridgerton boy will finally be seeking a wife at the ripe age of nine and twenty. Who will be the flower to catch the eye of the ton’s most eligible bachelor, one Viscount Bridgerton this season? 

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown. 

Annalise scanned the bumbling room while the string quartet played quietly in the corner. Her fingers reach for a stray piece of thread on her bodice, twisting and twirling to calm her nerves. This would not be her first season out as a woman of marriageable age but alas, it was nerve-wracking as it had been then. Perhaps, even more – as the attention of all the ton would be on the glimmering, newly minted ladies eager to catch the eye of the Queen and the plethora of bachelors – leaving little room for a girl in her second season out. At one and twenty years, Annalise teetered on the edge of becoming desolate. Her prospects would be sparse, her pick limited to the less desirable men of the marriage mart. Despite this probability, she found herself in no rush to be tied down to a man, deep inside she knew that marriage was but a transfer from one cage to another. 

She made her way towards the emerald green wall as people ushered in, eager to get away from the buzz of the crowd. The quartet picked up as people began finding dance partners. She stuck to the wall, hoping she blended in enough to avoid notice. Luckily, her brother, Thomas, was distracted in conversation with a few of his friends and thus, did not see her attempt at hiding. Despite her hopes of invisibility, she was indeed seen by one eligible bachelor. 

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Anthony pushed through the bunches of gawking mothers and gossiping ladies, his mind set on one goal: find the perfect girl to marry. She must be of equal or lesser status, she must be intelligent enough to hold a conversation, and she must be attractive of course, one could not tolerate holy matrimony for life with someone one did not find attractive. He was nearing thirty and thought it wise to finally take a wife – a decision that nearly made his mother jump with joy. 

His brow furrowed in determination as he entered the emerald-walled ballroom, assessing the debutants. His gaze brushed over the eager, bright-faced girls and mentally made a list of who to approach and who to avoid at all costs. His eyes followed along the farthest wall, taking in the gaggle of girls until he fixed on one in particular. She was striking, not quite the Queen's diamond, but certainly the most mesmerizing of all the women he’d seen in all his years. Her slight shoulders caved in as if to hide her frame. Her brown eyes flitted across the room, refusing to rest in a single place as she fidgeted with the bodice of her lilac gown. She looked as if she were ready to flee at a moment’s notice, like a bird taking flight at the sound of footsteps. Anthony would start with her as the string quartet picked up in pace, signaling the start of the festivities.

“Would you happen to have space on your card for a dance, Miss…?” Anthony asked her as he approached her. The girl's flittering gaze landed on him, taking in his invasion of her presumed invisibility. Her eyes widened and her lips pursed, considering whether she could flee. 

“I suppose so, my lord” She stuttered. 

“Very well, shall we?” He asked, holding his hand out for her to take. 

She simply nodded, taking his hand rather reluctantly. She glanced to her side, at a man not much older than Anthony himself. The man nodded his permission and she returned her gaze to Anthony. 

“Your brother, I presume? He’s far too young to be your father.”

“Yes, my lord. Baron Thomas Carrington.” 

“And you are?”

“Annalise Carrington.” 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Annalise. A most lovely name.” Anthony said. Hoping she would show some indication of interest in the man before her.

She only smiled, following him as he led the dance. This girl, no older than twenty, vexed Anthony instantly. A rare exception to the plethora of women he had easily bedded. He was, after all, a rake. All of them fell to his charm with ease, ladies of finer breeding and lesser all the same. Annalise looked as though she could not be any more impatient to leave his grasp and return to the wall like a fly. 

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Annalise was shocked at her ability to muster the courage to get through the dance with Anthony Bridgerton, a viscount, with a reputation well known to everyone in the ton. He was a rake, a rogue, and the most eligible bachelor of the season as he was finally seeking a wife. Annalise knew to be cautious of the viscount. 

“What do you do in your spare time, Miss Carrington?” His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. His gaze had not left her face since they began dancing.

She cleared her throat, hoarse with disuse, “I like to read, my lord. Anything I can get my hands on.” 

It was the truth. As a child, she had a penchant for reading tales of heroism, tragedy, and romance but unlike others, her curiosity always got the best of her, often going through periods of intense interest in a topic before finding a new topic to obsess over. 

Her response caused the viscount’s eyebrows to raise in amusement. 

“Anything? For example?” He mused.

“I am not too sure I can think of an answer at the moment, my lord.” Her cheeks flushed, silently berating herself for her lack of preparation. 

He simply nodded, his eyes scanning the room, giving Annalise a moment of respite to gather herself. As they continued to waltz around the room, a topic came to mind.

“The Renaissance.”

Anthony’s eyes snapped back to her face, “pardon?”

“The Renaissance has been a subject of interest, recently. Particularly the influence of the Medici family of Florence, they were bankers who held much influence on the city…” she trailed off, catching herself before rambling on. 

“Fascinating, Miss Carrington. Are you aware that four popes of the Catholic church were of the Medici family?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, “Pope Leo the Tenth, Pope Clement, Pope Pius, and Pope Leo the Eleventh” she listed.

Anthony chuckled at her quick response, “You surely do know your Medici history. It is rare to find someone, let alone a woman, to be so accurate about obscure knowledge as you are.” 

His remark should have flattered her, instead it felt patronizing. 

“Perhaps women would not surprise you if they were allowed to study ‘obscure’ topics such as history more often” she retorted. 

“I did not mean-” He paused, taking a breath to collect himself, “I have always encouraged my sisters to pursue knowledge. God almighty is witness to the freedom I've allowed them for they have become quite spirited and intelligent young women. I simply meant it is not a fact many know off the top of their head, even my own sisters.” 

She nodded. Suddenly aware of their proximity and her behavior with the viscount.

“Apologies, my lord. I did not mean to cause offense.”

He chuckled, “You did not offend me, Miss Carrington. I raised four sisters, each more mischievous than the last so believe me when I say I am quite accustomed to having insults thrown my way.” 

“That is most unfortunate, my lord.” 

“Indeed it is. Though I hope you do not make a habit of trying to wound my pride.” 

Warmth crept up her cheeks, “I do not, my lord.”

He only smiled, pleased with the blush his words resulted in. She cleared her throat, trying to settle her nerves and gather the composure needed to get through the rest of the dance when she saw her brother glowering at her over the viscount’s shoulders. The room suddenly felt smaller as her head began to spin with anxiety.

“Miss Carrington, are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, my lord. If you would excuse me.” She curtsied, not waiting for his permission to leave, and turned away from the viscount. 

She returned to her brother's side who grabbed her forearm, squeezing an already sore spot. 

"Do not embarrass me, Annalise. The first man to ask for a dance and you're already blushing like a schoolgirl. If you do not compose yourself, so help me God, I will set up a match for you myself" he scolded, Annalise flinched with each enunciated word. 

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“Good morning, Lord Bridgerton” his butler said, spreading apart the dark satin curtains quicker than he could process, the light overwhelming Anthony’s sleep-filled eyes. He grumbled his response, turning his back to the bright light. 

“The Viscountess is calling on you for breakfast, my lord.” 

“Yes, yes. I’ll be down in a moment.” He said, signaling to the door for the man to leave Anthony’s chambers. 

The butler left, leaving Anthony to himself. He could not sleep last night. His thoughts consumed by the Carrington girl. She was odd. Interesting, certainly. He barely had the opportunity to understand her better before she abandoned him on the dance floor, leaving mid-song. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was abandoned on the dance floor. He scoffed, there's a first for everything. He rose from the bed, throwing off his duvet and grabbing his robe. No matter. He would get several more chances to get to know her. 

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“What did Viscount Bridgerton ask you last night?” her brother scolded her. It was not unusual to have him scold her about her behavior with suitors. Scolding was not what she feared, it was his temper, his hands that quickly lost control when confronted with rage. 

“He asked for my name and my hobbies, brother. That is all. He was kind. I returned the kindness” She replied.

“I recall you leaving him on the dance floor, I hardly see how that can be seen as kindness.” His voice raised at the end of that sentence. Her fingers found the bottom of her palm, rubbing her hand in an attempt to self-soothe. 

“It was nearly the end of the dance and I was beginning to feel uneasy, I apologize for my behavior brother. It will not be repeated.” She said softly, fearing that the wrong choice of words would set him off in a fit of unstoppable rage as he did in the past. He sighed, rising from his seat.

"I have business to attend to, take Betsy as your chaperone to the ton picnic. Be on your best behavior" He warned. Annalise nodded and with that, she was left to herself, like always. 

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Dearest reader.

The Queen’s ball was a smashing success! Her Majesty has named Edwina Sharma as this season’s diamond. Bachelors and mamas, do be sure to pay her a visit as soon as you are able, for she is sure to be booked and busy with flattering suitors crowding her drawing room already. In other news, it seems our beloved Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with many a lady but only one had the gall to leave him standing on the ballroom floor! The season and its scandals are only beginning, my dear readers…

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

The spring breeze kissed Annalise’s skin, pulling her back to reality as she stepped out of her carriage and onto the fields of Stowe Park where the day’s promenading was set to take place. As she walked towards the tents set up for respite from the heat of the sun, her brows furrowed in notice of passerbys looking at her, whispering and nodding as if to say, “yes, she’s the one!” The hairs on her arm rose, where did this newly bestowed attention come from? She reached the tent and saw a stack of papers, grabbing one out of curiosity. Her eyes took in the words, reaching to the bottom of Lady Whistledown’s latest recollection of last night’s events.

Annalise choked on a breath. Her behavior last night with Lord Bridgerton had not gone unnoticed. Of course, it hadn’t, nothing sneaked past the vicious Whistledown. She tried to take a deep breath, recollecting herself before her nerves could get the best of her. Just as she let out a sigh, she heard a deep, velvety voice.

“I see you have read the latest Whistledown.”

Startled, she jumped, “Oh! Yes, I suppose. My apologies, Lord Bridgerton. I had not meant for this to cause any disrespect to you, I simply needed to-” 

He waved a hand, interrupting her frantic apology, “It’s quite alright. I do not care for the busybody gossips and their rumors.” He smiled at her, putting Annalise at ease. His smile was genuine, almost paternal, warm. It made her heart ache for something that could never be.

“I am sorry nonetheless, it was not my proudest moment.” She looked down at her feet, wishing she could escape the warmth of the viscount’s gaze.

“Well, then I suppose this means you owe me.” The lilt in his tone made her eyes snap back at the man before her, he had a devilish look in his eyes. It made Annalise feel rather faint. 

“Care to take a stroll in the park, Miss Carrington?” He offered an arm.

She gently reached out in acceptance. She did not know how to react to this sudden interest in her, by a viscount no less. 

“Is there no other girl that has caught your attention, my lord?” She asked as they walked out of the tent and onto the park’s trail.

“Do you wish to be rid of my attention, Miss Carrington? Perhaps, you would like to remain a wallflower?” He mused, gently taunting her about her wall-sticking habits.

“I-, Well I suppose one cannot be a wallflower indefinitely. But, I’m simply curious. After I left you so rudely last night, I did not expect you would care to see me again.” 

“You interest me, Miss Carrington. As I said last night, you are most peculiar among your peers. One should get to know someone who stands out, do you not agree?” 

She pondered for a moment, gathering a response while the viscount looked at her in anticipation. 

“I suppose so, my lord.” She said simply.

“Back to curt answers, I see. I had hoped we were past that.” He paused but did not give her a chance to respond before he asked her, “Tell me about yourself, aside from your interest in obscure facts.” 

Her lips quirked up at his remark but she had not a clue how to respond. They continued their walk through the park, passing along the riverside.

“I suppose there is not much to say, my lord. My parents passed when I was a child and my brother has taken care of me ever since.”

Anthony nodded, “I am sorry for your loss. Losing a parent is…” he paused, “Difficult.” 

She nodded, “I don’t remember them very much though, all I recall is my mother’s lullabies and my father reading me stories. I suppose my love of reading comes from him. You lost your father as well, it must have been worse, to lose him at the age you did.” She said, deflecting the subject of the conversation to him.

“It was.” He said bluntly, she saw him go elsewhere in his mind. Recalling his father’s death no doubt.

They walked in silence for a moment, passing by the other couples with interlocked arms trying their best to charm each other.

“Do not assume I did not notice you trying to weasel out of my attention, Miss Carrington.” Just like that, his devilish gaze was back. 

“I didn't mean to, my lord.” 

“I’m confident you did not.” He replied, not sounding all too convinced of her intentions.

“What about your brother, I’m sure he dotes on you as you are the only family he has?” 

Her heart sank. She could never prepare herself for questions about her relationship with her brother. He was much older than her, being three and twenty when their parents passed and now nearing forty years of age. She often wondered if he blamed her for their passing or maybe he blamed her for his life being snatched away. Their parents' death forced him to become the sole provider of their family, he no longer had the time to take his studies further, nor did he marry. He became cold, distant and consumed with his work to keep a roof over their heads. Their father was a lowly baron with little land and less income. Her brother had to work the fields himself often since they could barely afford a groundskeeper, much less a staff to man the fields. His stress mixed with his grief turned to anger and Annalise became the outlet. Any disobedience, mischief or grievance became fuel to his anger. She learned early on how to avoid his fits of rage but her efforts were not enough to stay entirely clear of his wrath.

“He is…preoccupied, typically. He works the grounds himself and has to manage the estate as well.” She said, trying to keep her response short and vague.

Anthony seemed to understand that her brother did not show her much affection. 

“I’m sorry, I assumed he would dote on you. I was fortunate to see the way my own father doted on us and when he passed, I wanted to make sure my sisters did not feel the lack of his love. Or at least I attempt to.”

Annalise looked at him in surprise. She had not assumed the furrow-browed, rakish viscount would be one to dote on anyone. She did not know what to say. Perhaps not all men were of the same nature as her brother? And perhaps, she could find some semblance of safety with a man like the viscount. She quickly pushed these thoughts away as they were replaced with stomach-churning anxiety. All it took was one bad day, a wrong word, or a stressful time at work, for a man to become an entirely different person. She could not let her guard down around any man, much less one with power. 

Their promenade came to an end as they walked back around to the tent and she bid the viscount goodbye, making a mental note to keep her walls risen around the silver-tongued viscount.

[wonjns]

backstage. ࿏

♡° pairing. . .  choi san x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut

♡° summary. . .  just good ole fashion, desperate, needy post-concert sex with san because he was just too much while performing for you to keep it in your pants. fully intentional on his end.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, idol!san, public sex, grinding, finger sucking, slight orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 2.6k

°A/N. . . this really came out of no where,, i just saw so many more concert clips coming out and i just needed to so badly because he is frustratingly sexy. hope you enjoyyy

san was hot.

so fucking hot.

and you absolutely hated him for it.

from the way his gorgeous bronze skin radiated under the stage lights and his razor sharp jaw flexed as he danced, his perfectly styled hair never seen out of place, to his devilishly sexy grin and the newfound bulging biceps that were proudly on display in the slim fit tank top he was dedicated to wearing every show.

ateez was only 15 minutes into their setlist and you were already fighting every urge to palm your throbbing dick under your jeans in front of the busy staff.

you received a number of privileges as the boyfriend, as did all of ateez's partners, such as your backstage access and first hand look at how the idol life was ran behind the scenes.

as a collective, ateez tried to not let too many of their current significant others backstage at one time in order to not disrupt the staff, who were very obviously annoyed by your presence. but you'd be lying if you said that kept a handful of you from swarming together towards the end of each show, horny and ready to jump your mens' bones as soon as they finished their final bow.

but alas, it was just you today - san's ridiculously aroused boyfriend with no company to distract him from holding back moans every time san thrusted his hips towards the crowd.

you probably wouldn't have been so bothered already if san hadn't approached you right before taking the stage, dressed in his black bomb-bag styled crop top, revealing just a teasing amount of his chiseled abs.

as expected, he refused to go on stage without his favorite tradition of a pre-show make out. however this time, it was something about the way he was wantonly moaning into your mouth that had a heat igniting your core faster than usual. the vibrations being sent through your body and into the cool steel beams you were pressed against had your pants tightening in no time. just when he had finally rocked his hips into yours, giving your hardened member pleasurable friction, it all to ended too soon as mingi interrupted to rush his bandmate on stage.

as he was being dragged away, san simply shrugged in your direction, smirking at your desperate expression. he flashed you a wink, along with his familiar i'll make it up to you look.

you were definitely gonna hold him to it.

and now here you were, pupils dilating with lust as you watched the monitor zoom in on san licking his teeth agonizingly slow while staring into the camera. he offered another one of his shit eating grins, and you almost came in your own pants untouched, disguising a breathy whimper with a cough.

you considered sneaking off to the restroom to rub one out so you could at least focus on the concert, but you felt paralyzed, unable to move or take your eyes off of the whorishly sexy choi san.

you needed him in a way that felt more torturous than ever before, but there was nothing you could do besides wait it out.

it was a grueling couple of hours - your cheeks so hot throughout the duration of the show that you actually thought you might melt. you could only handle one more of san's seductive eye rolls or the unbuttoning of his shirt before you finally gave in and went off to satisfy yourself.

but as all storms pass, you saw light at the end of the tunnel as you noticed the concert was finally ending. the boys offered the roaring crowd a bow and began to wave as they fled the stage.

you watched stagnantly as the guys ducked away into their dressing room, before bursting in there yourself.

immediately you spotted san, whose eyes were covered by his black cap as his head was thrown back - gulping down a bottle of water. his protruding adams apple teased you as it bobbed, covered in a reflective sheen of sweat that had you squirming in place. you cleared your throat at the door way, all eight of their heads turning towards you.

as soon as san saw you, he smiled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. he could instantly read your mood - knowing you all too well to miss how needy of a state you were in.

"hey baby," he spoke casually, nearly cut off as you rushed up to him and smashed your lips into his.

you sighed as you felt his plush lips envelope yours in a warm embrace, the need you felt causing him to taste even better than you remember. when he pulled back to disconnect your lips, your hands stopped him in place so you could continue laying a fury of kisses to his lips and honestly anything else your mouth could reach. you felt him smirking at the desperate act, along with the dramatic groans of his members behind him.

you could hear wooyoung grumbling something about how you two needed to get a room as san shuffled you back towards the door, holding you back by the shoulders to pause your insatiable actions. you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed in front of the other members like you usually were. the only thoughts running through your head were the feeling of san finally touching your body, and his somehow still prominent cologne taking over your senses.

"relax babe," he cooed as he shut the dressing room door behind him when you both finally exited. "someone missed me, huh."

"oh my god, san. i need you, please." you shamelessly begged, knees feeling weak as his eyes bore down into yours. "somewhere, anywhere, just now. please."

he felt your hands shakily claw against his exposed, muscular collarbones, and you felt the vibration as he groaned. to no one's surprised, he was growing aroused at how pliant you were becoming for him.

before you knew it your back was pressed firmly to a different door, inside of a room you were too dizzy to even analyze as san's lips worked passionately against yours. his large hand laid flat next to your head against the door while you kissed him back with even more fervor, moaning when you let go of his neck to feel along the flexed muscles of his arm.

"so fucking needy for me, hm?" san mumbled against your lips as his free hand traveled up your shirt.

the coolness of his hand sent goosebumps along your body as he gripped your torso - both from the chill and from the excitement of his thumb grazing one of your nipples.

before you could respond, san dipped down to sink his teeth into the sensitive spot of your neck, causing you to moan loudly and nearly fall to your knees.

san immediately returned to your mouth, slipping his tongue inside to muffle your sounds while continuing to devour you whole.

"shhh, don't want everyone to know what i'm doing to you in here, right?" he warned. you could only whine in response, and he chuckled, the low sound causing your cock to harden beyond belief.

san continued to feed you sloppy, opened-mouth kisses, his tongue laving over yours only making you feel weaker. your ravaging hands hastily pushed the black cap off of his head to rake your fingers through his damp raven locks. he pushed his toned body fully against yours, and was most likely the only thing that kept you from dropping to the floor.

san seemed to pick up on the intensity of your erection as ground your hips forward, grazing his own bulge. he hissed at the pleasure, looking down before cocking an eyebrow up at you.

you usually loved san's smile, but you could only squirm whenever you saw it in this context, knowing damn well how much advantage he had over you.

"oh someone's really missed me."

he surged forward to place another searing kiss to your lips before gripping both of your cheeks between with his thumb and index finger, forcing your head to the side as he licked a slow stripe up your jaw while grinding his hardened cock over yours once more.

again, you almost spilled in your own jeans.

"san, san-" you could only repeat his name in a feeble tone.

your boyfriend knew you were begging for more without even needing to say much else, and it was boosting his ego through the roof. he must've also felt you shaking, your poor hands trembling as they needily roamed the patches of his sculpted body that his tank top allowed to be exposed.

your hands dipped underneath his shirt, not minding the sweat one bit as you felt the rippling of his muscles as you attached your mouth to san's neck, sucking salaciously on the thickness of his column as if he were the best thing you'd ever tasted - because he was.

the deep groan that he released in your ear only egged you on, taking the liberty to lick up his own neck before attacking his jaw, nipping to your heart's desires. you wondered how his skin could still be so supple after such a long concert, but he was constantly blowing your mind in all sorts of ways. this fucker really was perfect.

"prince, if you don't stop, i'm gonna have to fuck you right on that couch."

your dick twitched in your pants at his comment, hoping it was a promise rather than a threat. you had been so wrapped up in the phenomenon that was choi san that you hadn't even noticed there was a couch in the lowly dimmed room.

you lifted a leg to wrap around his waist, pressing your bulges together tighter, making you both dizzy. then, taking his earlobe inbetween your teeth, you suckled on it gently before releasing it with a pop.

"god, i don't think i want anything more than that."

the innocence, yet desperation in your feeble tone caused san to snap. within seconds his hands firmly grasped both of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up in his hold while attacking your mouth with his with much more intensity as he walked you over to the old leather couch and plopped you down on it.

san rose up to quickly strip himself of his tank top, hardly giving you time to ogle as his firm abs and chest before you teeth were clashing once more. you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming pace of his lips as he popped open your button-up shirt, yanking it off of your body.

without missing a beat, the black haired idol shimmied down your body, your loud pants turning to whimpers as he tugged one of your nipples between his teeth. he lathered your exposed nub with the warm wetness of his mouth, his cheeks dimpling at the action. he then tapped his fingers against your lips, you latching on to them without hesitation. obediently sucking his digits and swirling your pink muscle around them, you groaned at the slightly salty satisfaction.

san withdrew his fingers from your mouth once they were nice and coated, and began sucking on your other neglected nipple as his wet fingers went on to tweak the previous.

you were writhing underneath him, just like he liked it, not letting up on you until he found it necessary. when you finally felt him come to a stop, you almost whined out of discontent until you heard the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

shooting your eyes open, you observed as san swiftly removed his pants, aiding you in removing yours as well.

"oh my, look at all of this." san hummed once your jeans were discarded, eyes darkening upon seeing the wet patch of precum on your boxers. "did i do that, babe?"

"please san, just fuck me." was all you could manage, hands reaching out to grab him.

he lowered himself into your embrace happily, loving how your hands smoothed down his naked body while he rid you both of your underwear.

"you've been so patient, love. i'm so proud of you. turn around for me." your boyfriend spoke in a firm but sweet tone, hands helping you adjust yourself with your ass in the air.

thankfully, these little excursions of yours were nothing new, so you were practically already prepped for him. still, san didn't fail to knead both of your smooth ass cheeks in his hands, holding them steadily as he leaned down to lick a fat strip over your entrance for good measure.

you called out in pleasure, gripping the sofa arm for stability.

"mmm, taste extra good when needy for me," san groaned. "ready for me, baby?"

"yes, always ready."

when san bottomed out in you in one long, smooth stroke, you felt your soul practically project from your body.

it was like this everytime, without fail. the entirety of san's girth gliding inside of you, slowly working you open with languid, repetitive strokes was all you needed to tame the hormonal beast that raged inside you.

san's dancers hips never faltered once as he would rhythmically pull out and push into you, hitting that perfect spot in rapid succession. both of his hands held your hips as his strong thighs kept his solid rocking motions sailing.

throwing his head back, san lost his own motive of keeping quiet when he felt how tightly your hole sucked him in. it was hard for him to not lose his sanity with you, when your body consistently responded to him so beautifully.

he finally came back when he heard a meek "babe, i-i'm so close" from your tender lips. quickly, he pulled out of you. not out of punishment, but it didn't cease the frustrated whimpers from you any less. san readjusted hismelf to sit upright against the couch cushion, deliciously spreading his legs for just enough room for you to fit on his lap.

he helped you hover over him, a floodgate of arousal filling his eyes as he watched you bite your bottom lip while sinking back down on to him. you grabbed san's shoulders as you started to tremble once more, rocking back and forth on his lap before you begun to bounce, feeling the stretch at a new angle.

san returned to placing searing kisses on the center of your throat, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. you knew he was reaching his high as well when you felt his hips start stuttering.

"baby, come with me." he whispered, releasing a breathy moan as he thrusted his hips upwards to meet yours.

that was all you needed to hear before rolling your hips forward one more time, feeling the rigid pleasure of his abs as you released your milky liquids all over his chest. you felt him paint the inside of your walls shortly after, a synchronous moan emitting from the both of you.

plopping forward into his embrace, you shakily placed kisses along his shoulder and neck, running your hands through his hair once more as san wrapped his strong arms around you. too satisfied to worry about the stickiness between you too.

"shit, baby. i love you. you were so good, thanks for waiting." he panted, hints of his usual cheerful tone returning to his voice.

"anytime, babe. but god, never make me wait that long again." you replied, exchanging giggles between the two of you.

you suddenly heard a choir of foot steps quickly approaching the nearby door, both of you slightly tensing. neither of you had it in you to move, however, fully fucked and blissed out while enjoying each others embrace.

it was fine, the door was locked.

hopefully.

©𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Am Forever Yours (part 1)

Day 1: Gentleman

Summary: Lucien is his gentlemanly self. Of course, not without being a rake.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1111 (lmao)

Warnings: none, just lucy being a delulu girlie 🤭

A/n: lol it wont be like my if i posted stuff that arent series for character weeks loll. happy @lucienweekofficial to all my fellow lucien simps, i love you all hehe.

(also i wouldnt say he is very gentlemanly in his thoughts, but we all know he wouldnt be 😏)

anyways, ENJOY🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien stood by himself against the wall nearest to the refreshment tables, quietly humming along to the rising tunes of the violins from the opposite corner, eyeing the couples twirling around the dance floor. If he cared, he would have opened a dancing class just to teach the men how to dance. If he were the one dancing with them, he would be so embarrassed.

The women though. They were the embodiment of grace, elegance and poise, so beautiful and twirling like they were born to conquer dance floors.

Alas, Lucien could not do anything to bring them justice except for cursing their partners.

With that depressing thought, Lucien moved away to set his empty glass on the table when someone bumped into him, jerking him forward and making the glass shatter as it hit the floor. Lucien looked at the broken glass, then turned away to look at the perpetrator who led to its demise, and did a double take.

Wide, frantic eyes moved to meet his after surveying the crime scene of the murdered glass, and blinked at him when he did nothing, as if she had expected to be yelled at and he had surprised her.

Her cheeks shimmered lightly under the lights emanating from the numerous chandeliers hanging from the carved ceiling, her shoulders pushed back and enhancing the look of her collar bones. Just the sight of those made Lucien swallow hard.

Who is this goddess?

While Lucien had been busy ogling the lady who clearly hailed from a high family clearly given away by her dressing, an older lady sharing the same hair and eyes appeared, glaring. "Y/n Jade, I cannot believe you would be so clumsy. Do you need to go back to school?"

Y/n?

Definitely moanable-

Fuck.

Pretty, Lucein told himself he meant to say pretty. Pretty name for a pretty lady.

The older lady turned to give Lucien an apologetic glance. "Forgive me, sir, for my daughter has begun to lose her mind." With a scathing glance at Y/n, she continued. "How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you from this city?"

Lucien offered her a polite tilt of his lips. "Yes, though I prefer to travel. I work under my father as his emissary."

Lucien figured this lady did not know of his parentage, and he would love for it to remain that way.

"Oh, that’s wonderful."

Lucien could see the gears turning in the woman’s head, and he wished he had a glass of drink in his hands so he could hide his smirk behind the rim. Even not knowing that he was the youngest prince, everyone wanted their daughters to marry this fine specimen of a gentleman.

And why would they not, Lucien wondered. He was everything anyone could wish for, if just slightly cocky.

Not cocky. Just the slightest bit self assured.

"Well, I fear I must go hunt for my husband to make sure he isn’t making a fool out of himself. Y/n, why don’t you give your new friend some company while I search for your father?"

The lady, who by now was clear was Y/n’s mother, turned away and strode off, leaving Lucien to look at Y/n, who rolled her eyes. It amused Lucien to no end.

This was new.

"So… how old are you?" Lucien mumbled, trying to get rid of the stagnant silence between the two when it became clear that Y/n found the numerous chandeliers and the arguably bad dancers more intriguing than Lucien.

She only spared him a glance before turning her gaze towards the orchestra. "Twenty two."

"I’m twenty five."

She hummed in response.

"Your name is Y/n?"

Finally, she heaved an exasperated sigh and shot him an unamused look. "Yes, I would have assumed that was clear by now."

Lucien blinked. No one talked to him like that, even when he acted like he was one of the lowly townsfolk when he travelled to avoid attention.

"I- I’m Lucien."

"Did I ask?"

He stared at her a moment, eyes widening before dipping his head, fumbling for the first time in his life when talking to a lady. "I… I just thought-"

She snorted. "Stop thinking then."

He nodded dumbly, trying to focus on the strings of the instrument that was leading the song currently playing, the shine of his boot, the crunching glass under his toes, anything to stop himself from focusing on this lady who was thoroughly uninterested in him.

It made him want to interest her even more.

"You’re from which family?"

"Oak."

The favoured advisor of the king would be her father then.

"Y/n Jade Oak? That’s a pretty name."

"I know."

Lucien inhaled, deciding that if he wanted to get a reaction out of this ethereal creature who seemed to not know how to give any reaction other than unbothered, he would have to tell her something she wouldn’t expect. "I’m from the Vanserra’s. The king’s youngest son."

And as Lucien watched her, his eyes unwavering in hopes of catching even the tiniest bit of reaction, he almost nearly cried in joy when he spied her lips twitching at the corners.

"Look, I can do nothing about that. I’m not the one you should be complaining to. Maybe try your mother?"

It took Lucien a moment to comprehend those words, for he was too busy staring at her lips that still retained that slight tilt. And when he did, an unexpected laugh burst out of him. Once he finally got himself under control, he met her surprised eyes, and she blinked at him, as if him laughing was something that had not even crossed her mind.

"My, you’re funny." He grinned, shaking his head. "Are you by any chance engaged?"

She still watched him as she shook her head. "No. They usually decide they’re way too good for an uncultured lady like myself."

He raised a brow. "Well, as much as I want to give my condolences, I simply cannot say I’m sad for you, considering they have just made me courting you easier."

For the first time, Y/n’s composure faltered. "What?"

He offered her a lazy grin as he extended his hand to her, and after a moment of consideration, she placed hers in it. "I would like to court you. If that’s okay with you, I will like to talk to your father right away."

She searched his eyes, then dipped her head in the barest of nods. Lucien smiled, brushing his lips against her knuckles before he straightened.

"Then let’s go find your father, my lady."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Count Alexei Vronsky x gn!reader

Summary: When your previous courtship fails, Vronsky is quick to save you and provide his service.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: honestly none

~ @loonfull-sonnetzz hi love! thank you for requesting <3 i hope you like this! i'm sorry it's so late but it was on my mind for a while and i was trying to do it justice lol ~

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

You're anxious.

You despise that your mother insists you attend these dances, and almost worse, you resent that you always end up going, regardless of your own opinions on the matter.

Just like a dutiful child should, as your mother often reminds you.

But you're no longer a child, and you feel utterly out of place, standing to the side as people swirl around in their fancy suits and dresses. Their movements are graceful and fluid while you stand in silence, watching as the man you've been courting dances with another.

To his defense, he had granted you the first dance, his calloused hands entwined with yours as you attempted to follow his lead. However, you've never been very coordinated, and you ended up stepping on his shoes more than once.

Understandably, the gentleman became visibly annoyed with you, and as soon as your dance concluded, he scurried away to find another partner without so much as a second glance in your direction.

Your heart constricts in your chest at the memory, hot tears stinging your eyes. You recall the disdainful look he had given you, and you can't entirely blame him.

You catch your Mother's disappointed expression as she turns to you, and you can't bear the humiliation.

So, instead of another confrontation, you pivot and walk to the nearest balcony you can find. The cool air hits your skin, and you grip the railing with such force and pain that you feel your muscles tense.

"Good evening," a smooth voice suddenly interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes snap upwards toward the sound.

Of course, the most handsome man you've ever seen is standing next to you, his hip casually leaning against the balcony as he pulls a cigarette away from his pink lips and smirks.

You turn, fully recognizing him now, and your breath catches. "Count Vronsky," you whisper.

Count Alexei Vronsky's eyes sparkle with amusement, their light blue hue contrasting against the night sky as he revels in your surprise.

He isn't entirely surprised by your reaction, considering that everyone who is anyone around here knows him. His smirk takes on a devilish quality.

"Ah, it seems you've found an escape from the chaos of the ballroom."

You offer him a small smile, grateful for the distraction from your embarrassment, as he seems completely harmless. "It can be overwhelming in there," you say, gazing out at the dark sky and the brightly sparkling stars.

Vronsky nods in understanding and then looks out as well. He exhales smoke from his mouth and tilts his head. "Yet, despite all this chaos, there has always been a certain allure to it, wouldn't you agree? The spectacle of it all," he pauses, "it's almost like a dance of its own."

You turn to him, your expression contorted. "I suppose so. But alas, I seem to lack the skill to truly join in," you admit, forcing a small smile. "I seem to have been born with two left feet," you chuckle, though genuine embarrassment lingers beneath the sound.

Count Vronsky extinguishes the cigarette on the tray in front of him and crosses his arms, turning to you. "Ah, but skill can be learned. I wouldn't mind teaching you, if you'd like?"

You blink in surprise. "You would want to do that?"

Vronsky's blue eyes shine, and he offers one of his charming smiles. "Of course. I know better than anyone how dull these events can be if you don't find the right dance partner."

You're aware of his reputation. How could you not be? It feels like a mistake to accept, as if you'd be damning yourself and throwing yourself to the wolves. Yet, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness simmering inside you as you accept his offer.

Vronsky takes your hand with uncharacteristic gentleness and undeniable confidence. He places his hand on your waist, guiding yours to his shoulder. You inhale, staring at him as his closeness feels overwhelming.

While you're acutely aware of your initial clumsiness, you find yourself slowly improving under his guidance, his encouraging words spurring you on as he looks down at your shoes and explains the steps.

"There, just like that," he whispers, his cheek close to yours as he observes your feet and movements. You stumble, but Vronsky's grip on your waist remains firm, and when you look up, expecting to see disdain on his handsome face, you find him grinning and chuckling.

"Careful," he murmurs, guiding you again and humming the music, creating a comfortable rhythm as the cold night air dances around your bodies and the stars twinkle overhead in silent applause.

"I'm sorry," you mutter as you accidentally step on his shoes.

Vronsky's lips brush against your cheek. "Sorry admits defeat, darling," he says, twirling you around and executing a fancy motion with his hand, which you dutifully copy, earning another whispered praise. "You're a natural," Vronsky adds, his grip tightening on your waist.

He pulls you close. You're chest to chest now, both breathing heavily as you gaze into each other's eyes. Warmth floods through you, and you wonder if the feeling is mutual as Vronsky's cheeks take on a faint pink hue.

"Thank you, Count Vronsky," you say formally.

"Please," Vronsky's hand tightens even more as he smiles, "call me Alexei."

[starlightrosa]

Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)

[velvetcloxds]

'Be my mistake' - Carlisle Cullen and "tell me"

If you're still doing it

COLD | C.C.

word count: 0.7k

warnings: a smidge suggestive

summary: cuddling with carlisle in the middle of winter is not as romantic as you hoped

Carlisle was cold, no matter the time of the year or the time of the day, he was freezing, a welcoming trait to aid your favourite guilty pleasure of cuddling him in the summer, but it was a nightmare in the winter and you thought he’d have put that together being so obsessively observant over your every move but alas, he was lovingly unaware.

You were in the kitchen, coated with so many layers it was almost impossible to move, you were paddling around in your fuzzy socks, cold hands fixing another cup of coco to aid your search for warmth. The Cullens were out hunting, it felt like they always were lately, you realized it was less in favor of staying fed and more in favor of allowing you some time with your partner, none of them all that fond of seeing their adoptive father acting so terribly whipped for someone their frozen age.

You were impatient as you waited for the milk to boil, not even aware of the pout that tipped into your lips as you looked out the open windows, the glass house of theirs not at all helping your case, you could hear the music streaming from Carlisle’s office, the open door a silent invitation for you to come to join him while he worked, you were never one to deny yourself some time balled up on his lap- but you were stalling and could only do it for so long.

“Sweetheart,” you weren’t expecting him to come to search for you so soon, biting the inside of your cheek to fight back an amused smile at how quickly he got used to you being around constantly, something feeling amiss when you weren't at his side.

"Over here," you breathed, not looking to find him just yet as you finally poured the steaming milk into a mug, it was more of a bowl according to Edward, but it was perfect for the winter, big enough to warm both of your hands while you held it. "I was coming up in a second, just needed to procure the goods," you explained and you weren't all that surprised when he planted himself behind you, touching you just as soon as his feet stilled, and you hoped he'd mistake the shiver that ran down your spine as a reaction to him and not the cold that ran through your body as it was pressed against his.

"Have you eaten something today?" a silent reprimand as he hummed his question, looking over your shoulder as you plopped a handful of tiny marshmallows into the chocolate goodness. You nodded in reply, bumping him with your bum for the silly question when he was really just trying to make sure you'd had something other than cups of sugar to sustain you. "Just making sure," he continued and when you turned around carefully with the mug in your hands and a raised brow he couldn't help a smile. "You've been spending more time in this kitchen than in my arms," he added, and had he any less restraint, you were sure he'd have paired the words with a pout, but he offered you a simple shrug instead.

"I have not," you argued, hoping he'd be distracted enough by the little sigh of approval as you savored your first sip that he'd not push you for the truth- a futile hope, really.

"Oh, you have, if I didn't know better I'd say that you were avoiding me," smart man, you realized, yet not smart enough to not let his thumb slip under the hem of your shirt while he brushed his hands up and down your waist. "Why are you hiding down here?" he wasn't one to dance around the point, eyes soft to encourage you to talk to him. You weren't all that keen to do so, you were freezing and it was definitely not something that could be helped by being held against him but being the old-fashioned fool that he is, you knew he'd be weary to cuddle you again if you told him what was wrong. "Tell me," he breathed and you couldn't stay strong under normal circumstances, let alone with him looking down at you like that.

"I'm cold," you admitted and it took him a second, eyes crinkling as he frowned. "I'm very cold and usually cuddles would be the very best solution for that but-"

"But you're freezing and your partner is frozen," he tried and you smiled, nodding guiltily, no reason to feel guilty at all with him being who he is but it still wasn't the best feeling telling the person you loved that you didn't want them to hold you. "The fire isn't helping?" he quizzed and you shook your head, knowing he had lit the fireplace and turned up the heat through the whole house as soon as the winds turned cold and still it didn't help. "Well, then there's only one other thing that I think might help," he was being vague, suggestive if you've ever seen it on him and your cheeks were burning at the simple thought.

"And what's that?" foolish question, he was already stealing the mug from your hands, throwing your blanket from your shoulders, and robbing you of a layer of warmth.

"A warm bath perhaps," it sounded like he was merely presenting an option, yet he was moving you into his arms, tucking an arm under your knees as he picked you up, already very pleased with himself as you giggled.

"Everyone will be home soon, Carlisle," you reprimanded but it was no use, the vampire set out to make it all better, and more selfishly, he knew you'd not deny him holding you when you were soaking in nearly boiling hot water.

"We'll close the door," he argued and you felt almost silly for not telling him sooner if this was his way of fixing it. "We have to get you all warmed up, sweetheart," he was placing you on the counter by the sink, warm water turned on and room-filling quickly with steam as he held a hand under the stream to make sure it was perfect.

"You're only doing this because I'm cold, huh?" you pressed, folding your arms around yourself as your body missed your blanket. "No other reason?"

"Well now, my love, who says we can't solve two problems at once?"

[lilmoonbunny]

Balls and Questions; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft has a question.

There was nothing Y/N hated more than attending balls, but alas, it was mandatory in her workplace. Being in the cyber security sector of the government was nothing short of exciting, at least until you factored in that the digital safety – and perhaps physical also - of the country was essentially in her hands. Socialising had never been her forte, least of all dancing, so combining the two was a nightmare which is likely why she stuck by her close friend Mycroft Holmes.

“Do we have to be here?” Y/N whispered, being careful as to not be too loud that others around them would here.

Frankly, Mycroft did not care about being heard and replied in his typical voice. “Sadly, yes. I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”

With a sigh, Y/N turned to face those dancing, watching her friend Anthea dance with a man she had been approached by moments prior.

“I don’t know how people dance so much; I couldn’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mycroft asked, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N smiled. “A bit of both. I don’t think I’d be a good dancer.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment, seeming as though he was about to say something before turning back to facing the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be having fun except the pair stood off in the corner of the room, both praying that nobody would approach them, although, Mycroft did have a question on his mind for the woman beside him that he was not yet willing to ask.

Truth be told, he had harboured feelings - a ‘silly crush’ as Sherlock called it - for her for the last year, having worked together for three, yet no matter how many times Sherlock told him that she reciprocated his feelings, he did not believe him nor wish to approach her romantically. He didn’t believe that he could be a good partner to her and did not wish to hurt her in any form.

“Maybe we can leave early? Say I feel sick or something.” Y/N chimed in with her idea.

“That does not get me out of this, I’m afraid.”

“Just say you’ll take me home or something,”

“That would start rumours.”

Y/N smiled sadly, taking a sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head when Y/N turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile, a giggle falling from her lips.

“I’ll take your word for it, Myc,”

There was that nickname again, the one that she had been calling him for the longest time when they were alone; the one that always had his cheeks flushing. It gave him confidence, well, downing his drink also helped.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, avoiding looking towards the woman, despite wishing to see her reaction.

Y/N smiled to herself. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. And not just a single, slow dance, I just want to have fun and dance with you for the rest of the night.”

Maybe balls weren’t so bad after all.

[tokiwarcube]

How They Celebrate Your Birthday

All the boys + Charles for this one!

Charles Foster Offdensen

Taking care of the boys is a full-time task, but that doesn’t mean he misses your birthday — not by a long shot. But be careful not to let your birth date slip — the guys would be all too happy to use it as an excuse to take all seven of you out to some insane party. Or you know, do, if that’s your style. A birthday is an excuse to celebrate, and there’s very little they won’t do to see Charles get sloshed — with his partner, nonetheless.

Otherwise, he really makes you feel loved throughout the day. Little notes in the morning, littered around the house — on the nightstand, the bathroom counter, by your morning mug. Among those are a request to let him know when you wake, so he can order in for you. He wishes he could stay for breakfast, truly, but he’s not going to wake you up at 4:00am on your birthday. God knows you work hard enough as is.

He checks in throughout the day, seemingly just a little more eager than usual to talk with you, and hear your voice. Call him sentimental, but he really wishes he could spend the full day with you. Alas, work calls.

Another note — Check under the sofa, be ready by 6:00. I love you, happy birthday.

He really shines when he comes home, though. A hand on the small of your back, adjusting the nonexistent imperfections in the perfectly-tailored outfit he had left for you, purely for the sake of touching, of holding. And from there, the night is yours. Dinner, dancing, a show… it’s all so cliche on paper, but he really makes you feel loved. A classical romance. He makes the cliche seem new, seem real, seem genuine.

Charles is a very, very attentive man, so it’s really no surprise when he brings out your real gift at the end of the night, and it just so happens to be the perfect thing. Although surprisingly, it’s not something you’ve ever asked for. Perhaps never even thought of, or seen — and yet, it’s so clearly tailored to your tastes. He’s good like that.

As the two of you are falling asleep towards the end of the night, he can’t help but check in — Did you have a good time tonight? As though he didn’t serve you your very own Hallmark moment. Again, he’s sweet like that.

Nathan Explosion

You know, for a man, who hates the media, he is pretty adamant on having a big party for you. Like yeah, he hates the publicity, but it’s you. And you deserve the darkest, most brutal birthday party of them all.

He knows you very well, don’t get me wrong, but he’s liable to overthink things a little. He could benefit a bit from some hints as to what exactly you’d like to do for your birthday… he’d like to avoid another Rockzo incident, if possible. But even if you do drop a few hints, he likes to surprise you with the results. You’ll have a lot of fun, but you might have a little heart attack first. He makes up for it, though.

Most of the heartfelt things are done earlier in the day, and the real party is reserved for night time. The boys already give him enough shit for how whipped he is for you, so a live performance is basically out of the question (lest the two of you be subjected to a healthy amount of ribbing from your peers), but that’s not to say he doesn’t attempt something similar. Instead, he writes, and has everyone record their parts individually — never quite saying what it’s for — and compiles it himself, solo. It’s not the usual production quality, but that’s not what you’re looking for — it’s sweet. Steeped in ichor and shadow, sure, but sweet nonetheless.

He’s usually pretty insatiable with PDA, and that doubles when drunk. But when drunk, on your birthday? You have to pry him off with a crowbar. He usually doesn’t talk actively about you in front of the cameras — God knows the media already knows way too much about the two of you — but tonight, he can’t seem to stop talking about how fucking awesome you are, and how it’s your birthday, and—

You’ll have a good time teasing him about it in the morning, once the hangover dulls.

Pickles the Drummer

Just when you think he’s partied as hard as he can, he finds a way to outdo himself. And your birthday is quite the opportunity, no?

Listen, if you want to have a nice, quiet day in, he’s happy to oblige. It’s your birthday, and he’s damn determined to make it the best one yet. And if that’s your version of a good time, he’s ready to get some takeout from that random place on the corner that you like — even though there’s a perfectly good Michelin 5-star restaurant in their house — and just hang out. Yes, really.

But if you want to get fucked up? Babe, we’re partying around the world. Fuck it, let’s go for a week! Best birthday ever, right? Whatever you say, goes.

It’s not all drugs, mind you — he’s got other things planned, too. The schedule just allows for a bit of inebriation in-between… or during. Listen, if you can deal with crowds while high, it’s real fun to go to a show or two. Everything is just so vibrant, so fluid — whether you’re up front with wide eyes or twirling in the back, Pickles makes it a very, very fun experience. And as much as he would like to get trashed beyond belief, the high tolerance does come in rather handy in moments like these — he’s happy to babysit you a bit, if it makes you feel more secure.

Surprising noone, he is a very, very good gift giver. After everything is said and done, and you’re both blinking awake the next day, that’s when he shuffles around to find the gift he set aside. He wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost in the haze, after all. Despite everything, he’s a fantastic listener, and somehow, he always seems to find that one special thing you’ve been looking for.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Complete royalty treatment — so long as he’s there (or, perhaps more aptly, the Klokateers are), you won’t be lifting a finger. He’s such a diva about it — you thought he was bad when it came to him, but with you? Beyond words. Consequently, this also means that everybody within a 50mi radius will know that its your birthday. He’s very embarrassing about it too, with how he takes the chance to coo about it whenever he gets the chance. Very saccharine — borderline patronizing, if you didn’t know him so well to know its the opposite — with an undertone of something you just can’t place. Although despite the embarrassment, you can’t lie — it does make your heart flutter just a little bit. You can’t tell if he’s getting off on it, or if he’s just excited to have a day where you have to let yourself be pampered.

He is very adamant about getting you an actual gift — not just sex, surprising everyone — and he’s really rather thoughtful about it. He listens a bit more aptly than usual in the months leading up to your birthday, and does his best to actually keep it a secret… with varying success. But it’s the thought that counts. When morning comes, he’s already at the foot of your shared bed, gift in hand. He doesn’t like extracting himself from your hold in the morning, but today, he’ll make an exception. Hard not to, when you tiredly paw at the gift — he places a quick kiss to your forehead before the gift is fully unwrapped, just out of softness.

He’s generally up for anything you want to do, and with the seemingly unlimited funds that come with stardom, nothing really bars you from fucking around on the daily… but now, he’s especially game for whatever you want to do today. If there’s anything you’ve been begging to drag him to do, now’s the time — he’ll do it for you, with only minor complaints.

To that end, while he does have the Klokateers wait on you hand and foot, you’re in charge of where the day goes. It’s your big day after all.

But yes, the birthday sex is phenomenal. That’s a given.

Toki Wartooth

Every birthday Toki’s had since joining Dethklok has been nothing if not extravagant — he makes it a point to live every day like it’s his last day on Earth, but birthdays? Birthdays go above and beyond — no holds barred. So with his partner, the love of his life? You may as well be royalty.

Although, in typical style, Toki strikes a perfect balance between heartfelt and lavish. He’ll buy you the world if you only ask — or perhaps, even if you don’t — but interspersed are his own, handmade gifts. This year he planned a worldwide adventure, but he also slotted in your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants into his scheduling. His planning abilities are lackluster for the average event, but he really puts his all into it for birthdays. (Although if you walk into Charles’ office at just the right time, you do gain a little bit of insight into who did the actual “organizing” part. Toki has the ideas, and Charles organizes it into something that won’t give you whiplash.)

He’s honestly so excited for your birthday, you’d think it was his own. He lets you wake up on your own, despite his own eagerness — but he can’t help placing a kiss to your lips as you blink the sleep from your eyes. Light, still floating on the ghost of your dreams, it’s a very sweet moment. That is, until he’s tugging you upwards to go on your adventures for the day.

One tradition he is very insistent on, is birthday cake. Very adamant about having a candle for every year of life — the number candles do not count — and making a wish. He always asks what you wished for, but don’t answer — it’s a trap. He’ll actively cover your mouth if you try to tell him, scolding you — didn’t you know the wish doesn’t come true if you say what it was?

William Murderface

Birthdays fucking suck — it’s another year closer to death, and nobody will fucking leave you alone, they give you all this shit you don’t want, and—

Yeah, that’s all bullshit. He loves birthdays, he’s just… never really celebrated them in a way that’s fun to him. Growing up it was all about going to the shitty little community park in town, with the hot metal slides that always managed to burn him, and if it wasn’t that, it was going to the run-down minigolf place on the outskirts that always reeked of stagnant water and old cheese. Boring. A chore. But recently, his tune has changed a bit. I mean sure, the boys aren’t always great at showing that they care, but they certainly make birthdays fun. Worth having. So despite having very little frame of reference, he really strives to make every one of your birthdays memorable, too.

Except again, he has… no idea what to do. Sure, he knows what you like to do, but you do those things every day. And it would be weird to ask, because isn’t it supposed to be a surprise? He spends night after night, quite literally, googling ideas on what to do. Unsurprisingly, Google isn’t very helpful in this department, considering the mass amount of wealth and time William has. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t been caught in planning.

But he really does put so much thought into the celebration, and is very, very particular about getting everything just right. He really takes the “diva” crown from Skwisgaar, on this occasion. This color is not the same shade he sent them, he’s certain of it, and it will be corrected before you have the chance to see it. Wh- yes it matters, this isn’t your favorite color, the one he sent was. Jeez, some people.

You’ve always known that he loves you, but it really bleeds through in all of the little decisions he makes for your big day. He’s more inclined to go big and flashy — and if you’re the type, he really does go above and beyond — but if you’re the quieter type, he sets the atmosphere perfectly. And he might be sweating a bit beneath the collar in the latter case, but it’s the thought that counts.