#and also its just embarrassing like everything is embarrassing....

[renehall-pharroe]

(Channeling my disappointment over not getting an announcement into little weekly Eluciens.)

Her breath hitched as she felt him, there in her most secret place. Her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching tightly as his tongue slid over her. She gasped, breath coming fast and uneven. She arched into him, into his mouth, his face. His moans reverberating through her body like music made just for her.

She needed this. Needed him.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice breaking with desperation. “Please.”

His hands roamed her body, one sliding up to cup her breast, squeezing with aching need. She cried out, the sound unrestrained, needy.

She wanted him. All of him.

It was building, faster, harder. A tidal wave rising inside her. She couldn’t stop it even if she tried.

“Yes. Lucien.”

His name tore from her lips as—

Elain jolted awake, panting, sweat cooling on her skin, her bedsheets twisted around her. Alone.

“Fucking hell. “

She sat up in bed, kicking off her sheets with a huff. Every night. Every. Single. Night of this entire week and for the past few weeks. These dreams, these thoughts, this endless wanting. And she hadn’t even seen him in months.

Lucien.

She had hoped, prayed, really, that he would ask her to accompany him to Nesta’s mating ceremony tonight. The thought had lingered for too long, and one evening, with cheeks flushed from wine and laughter, she’d confessed it to her sisters in a rare moment of vulnerability.

Nesta, never one to shy away from bold advice, especially halfway through their second bottle, had told her to stop waiting and do something about it. “Just ask him to dance, Elain. Males can be idiots.”

Elain had realized then he wasn’t going to invite her to the ceremony. Of course he wasn’t. He usually just blushed awkwardly when she was around. Whenever she was around, which wasn’t often and that was as much her fault as his. If not more, she cringed.

Feyre had grinned, with a knowing gleam in her eye to speak of Autumn Court males, of the fire that ran in their blood, of how they loved, fierce and consuming and how they…

Elain had shivered, not from the chill in the room, but from the way her body responded to the thought of it. Of him.

It was sinful how badly she needed to know what that fire felt like.

But a true lady wouldn’t ask… right?

Especially one who had barely ever spoken to him. And how in the world was she supposed to converse normally with someone she fantasized about? That would be too forward. Too weird. Too unlike her. And god’s, if he could scent her arousal, she would die of embarrassment.

Still, as the sun began its slow climb outside her window, Elain wondered if Nesta had a point. Maybe, just maybe, she needed to stop waiting for Lucien to make the first move.

Because one thing was clear; he wasn’t going to cross that line.

So perhaps she could be brave she thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the pearl earrings.

The ceremony was lovely.

Everything about it glowed, lanterns floating overhead in soft shades of rose and gold, flickering like stars as twilight deepened into night. Flowers bloomed across every surface, enchantments keeping them fresh and full, their perfume mingling with the scent of wine and bonfire smoke. The music was bold and lively, and laughter carried across the open-air celebration. It was elegant, yes, but also wild and carefree, fitting for Nesta and Cassian. A little elegant, a little feral. Exactly right.

Elain stood by the dance floor, the hem of her soft light blue gown brushing against her ankles, feathers and gossamer drifting with her every breath. Her hair tumbled in curls over her shoulders, pinned just enough to stay out of her eyes, and her lips were tinted with the faintest shimmer. She had never felt more exposed and never more prepared to be seen.

She hadn’t laid eyes on Lucien since Solstice, not since that awful, tangled mess of emotions, confusion, and silence that had followed. But after her failed attempt to seduce Azriel had backfired spectacularly, and she’d been forced to confront the humiliation born from her own stubbornness, the guilt had set in not just for putting Azriel in that position, but for doing it while Lucien had been in the house. The bond wasn’t his fault any more than it was hers. And afterward, after the dust had settled and the ache had dulled, her feelings toward the bond, toward Lucien, had started to shift. Especially as she watched her sisters with their mates, saw how Nesta had found something fierce and grounding in her connection to Cassian. Elain couldn’t help wondering if maybe, there was something real and worth exploring in what tied her to her mate, too.

Her body reacted before her eyes found him, before her gaze lifted from her drink to scan the crowd. A prickle of awareness raced up her spine, like a whisper brushing against her skin.

And there he was.

Tall, graceful, utterly magnetic. He wore a deep crimson tunic embroidered in black and gold, the colors catching the light when he moved. The cut framed his broad shoulders and tapered waist perfectly. He looked a tad rakish but impeccably put together, every line of his clothing tailored to hint at the strength beneath.

Her stomach twisted. Relief flooded her, almost dizzying in its intensity that he was here. Close.

A deep sigh left her lips as she tried to muster her courage.

She downed the last of her whiskey and immediately regretted it. The burn seared her throat, made her eyes sting.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Not to get her legs moving. Not to get her through the storm of nerves and doubt and want roiling inside her.

So she went back to the bar. And this time, she ordered two.

Her fingers tightened around the glasses as she turned, scanning the room until she found him again. He was leaning against a table near the edge of the dance floor, watching the celebration with a look she couldn’t quite decipher, indifference maybe.

He looked so calm. So completely in control. Which was maddening, really, when she was anything but. Did he dream of her the way she dreamt of him?

Heart pounding, she crossed the room.

Her heels clicked softly on the stone. Her dress shimmered around her legs. She knew the moment he spotted her, his head turned slightly, his body tensing almost immediately.

And then she was standing in front of him.

Without a word, she set the two glasses of amber liquid on the table between them. One for him. One for her.

Lucien raised a brow, straightening a little. “What’s this?”

She gave him a small, tilted smile more confident than she really felt. “For courage,” she said, her voice light but low.

He huffed a laugh at that. A real one. A little surprised, a little intrigued. He picked up his glass. She did the same.

He drank it in one smooth motion, throat bobbing. So easy.

She tried to match him but couldn’t.

The liquid hit her tongue and she coughed, choking just slightly as the burn spread through her chest. Why the hell couldn’t she just be smooth?!

Lucien smiled in an almost teasing way, but not unkind.

“You drink whiskey, lady?” he asked, his voice smooth and rich, amusement danced in his sight. That smirk would be the death of her.

She swallowed and tried not to wince. “You drink whiskey.” she winced.

He gave a slow nod, lips twitching. “Fair.”

For a heartbeat, they stood searching each other’s eyes, the music thudding behind them like a pulse. it was loud and the lyrics were improper, definitely a song Cassian had picked.

And then, she reached deep into the bond between them and silently willed her words to him. Will you dance with me?

Lucien blinked, surprise breaking across his features like sunlight through clouds. He stared at her, truly stared But slowly, he smiled. A soft warm smile that, for a moment, stole every thought she’d ever had. She shuddered

Lead the way, he replied straight to her soul.

She walked past him, but in a moment of unexpected courage probably the whiskey , Elain grabbed his hand. Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat, as she wrapped her fingers around his and led him toward the dance floor. The boldness of it startled her, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips as she felt the heat of his skin against hers.

The music was fast when they stepped onto the dance floor. Too fast. She was about to retreat, to laugh it off and try again later.

But the beat shifted.

Something slower, softer began to play. A haunting, intimate melody that melted the noise around them like wax.

Elain turned instinctively and spotted Nesta across the crowd, watching with a smug, knowing smile.

Of course she had done this.

And then Lucien’s hand found her waist.

His touch was careful. Gentle, but firm. He drew her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other wrapping around her fingers, holding her like she was something rare and precious. She reminded herself to breathe.

They began to sway, moving together as if they’d done it before, as if the space between them hadn’t always been filled with silence and missed chances.

The world faded away. The crowd, the music, the lights. There was only him and her. His warmth. His scent. The steady rhythm of his breathing. Them. She inhaled deeply.

And then, his breath against her ear.

“I didnt think you wanted this.”

His voice was quiet. Intimate. The kind of question meant just for her.

“I didnt think I wanted this either.”

Elain tilted her head back to look up at him. Her heart was thudding in her chest, but she smiled softly.,“until I did.”

Lucien stared down at her. And something in his expression shifted, something deep and quiet and aching.

He didn’t respond. Not with words.

Instead, he pulled her just a little closer. And she let him, holding him even tighter.

And the bond, once quiet, hummed between them like a chord being struck. Not loud. Not demanding.

Just present.

Steady.

Warm.

Real.

[morallygreycactus]

Burnt pancakes

Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story x reader. It‘s also the first story I ever consider posting. Also, please be aware that I researched literally nothing for this fic. The idea just got stuck in my head and I needed to get it out. Plus, English isn‘t my first language. So, sorry for any inaccuracies or mistakes, please be kind, but feel free to give suggestions.

Summary: having unexpected breakfast after a one night stand and slowly things start to turn into more

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!baker!reader

Warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, hints at past sexual activities/implied sexual content (but no explicit descriptions)

Word count: ~2.9k

Part 1 - The morning after

I don’t know how many parts this might turn into in the end, right now I’ve got two more just waiting for the last touches. The plot should be enough to wrap things up without leaving anything open, but maybe I‘ll write some more parts (if my motivation doesn‘t leave me)

When you wake up, the sun is already filtering through the white curtains, filling the bedroom with its light and warmth. Wait. You look again, slightly confused. You don’t have white curtains. And the window isn’t where it’s supposed to be. This is not your bedroom.

Groaning at the realization, the memories start to come back. You went partying yesterday with a few of your friends and a lot of alcohol. Like, really a lot. And then, there was this guy. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn around in this big and really soft bed. Then, you nearly choke. It is really him. You thought, he just looked like him, especially since you were drunk when you met him. But it’s true. You just slept with Lando Norris. And judging by the way this room looks, he even brought you to his apartment, not a hotel room.

Unsure about the meaning of this, you look at him while thinking. He looks so peaceful and comfortable, his curls being a complete mess (partly your fault, if you remember correctly) and his quiet snores telling you that he’s still asleep.

You ponder your options while not moving, not wanting to wake him up. You could disappear, silently leaving him, so you wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of him asking you to leave. Or you could stay, hoping he wouldn’t want you to go, watching him for a while longer, maybe getting to know the real Lando Norris, without cameras or press, and without being drunk. You have to stifle a laugh at this thought, knowing this is only delusion. You were probably just a quick hookup to him, nothing serious.

You take another look at him, still snoring, his face turned to you but eyes closed, asleep. He looks…cute. He is hella attractive when awake, but this side is more sweet than hot. You slightly shake your head. No point thinking about this. You are basically a nobody, what could he want with you besides a little hookup? Even that was surprising, considering he could have basically anybody.

Not able to suppress the small sigh that left your lips, you carefully move to get up. Luckily, he wasn’t hugging you while sleeping, so you just had to move out from under the blanket without startling him. You start looking for your clothes, scattered across the room, some hidden underneath his clothing, but eventually you find everything and put it back on.

“Y’know, you don’t have to leave”, comes a mumble from the bed, sounding like he still has his head buried in the pillow.

Freezing on the spot like you got caught doing something forbidden, you slowly turn to look at him. He shuffles, then sits up, also looking at you while the cover slips down to reveal his chiseled torso.

“Sorry if I woke you up, didn’t mean to”, you stutter, “I was just… I thought it would be better if I leave. Not wanting to… didn’t want to bother you.” You feel heat creeping up your face and know that you probably look like a tomato. With the alcohol gone from your system, the anxiety and self-consciousness come back, reminding you that he is famous and you’re just someone, who used her inheritance to open a tiny bakery in Monaco.

The feel of his gaze still fixed on you brings you back from your thoughts, his eyes soft, looking like he knows more than you.

“I can’t force you to stay, but I could get you breakfast. And please consider that I decided to bring you to my place instead of some shaggy hotel room”, he says, leaving enough room for interpretation, “I’m going to the bathroom down the hall, there’s another one en-suite for you to use, if you want. I hope you’ll still be here by the time I’m back, but I won’t be disappointed or angry if you leave. A bit sad maybe, but it’s your decision.”

His small grin and reassuring words are doing something to your heart, but you try to play it down and just nod, while he collects some clothes and vanishes down the hall.

You need a moment to unfreeze yourself, still feeling glued to the spot. What on earth was that? Did he really ask you to stay? Not sure whether you might be dreaming, you walk to the bathroom, splashing your face with water. Your makeup is long gone anyways and to freshen up never hurt anyone before. The cold water helps to ground you but won’t make a decision for you. You know that you’re not dreaming, but it still doesn’t feel real. It would be easiest to just leave, vanishing while Lando’s still in the bathroom. But a part of you wonders where this could go, why he wants you to stay.

“Y/N, you still in there?”, you hear him calling from the bedroom. Obviously, you pondered so long that the decision is now made. Sucking in a deep and steadying breath, you open the door, facing Lando, who was about to do the same. “You didn’t leave”, he states, a smile tugging on his lips while a flicker of emotion crosses his eyes but vanishes again before you could identify it.

“Yep, still here”, you mutter, basically repeating what he just said. “You…”, your voice breaks and you have to clear your throat before continuing, “You said something about breakfast?”

Nodding, he takes a step aside to allow you to leave the bathroom. “We could go somewhere, order takeaway or I could try finding something in the kitchen. Toast should be there, or maybe even pancake-ingredients, I need to have a look first though, no promises”, he suggests, either oblivious to the awkwardness you feel or simply ignoring it.

“I could also give you something more comfortable to wear.” Without waiting for you to answer this, he starts rummaging through his wardrobe, before offering you a pair of sweatpants and a McLaren hoodie.

Like being on auto-pilot, you take the clothes and thank him, still not knowing what to think or feel about this.

“I’ll wait in the kitchen. You can’t miss it”, he smiles, “I’ll look what I have here, then we can decide what to have for breakfast, okay?” You nod and he walks out of the bedroom, leaving you alone once again.

Finally, you manage to shake off this uncertainty and change into his clothes. Breathing in, you enjoy the way it smells fresh but also like him, the whole place giving off this feel. It reminds you of him actively asking you to stay, reassuring you that it’s okay to be here. Taking in another deep breath, you follow him and find him in the kitchen, a variety of stuff on the counter, anything that could be used for breakfast in some way. Your passion for cooking takes over and you select the ingredients to make pancakes.

Jumping at the sound of you setting aside the pack of flour, Lando turns around to face you, one hand on his heart. “Jesus, I did not hear you coming. Don’t scare me like that.” Then he looks at what you’re doing. “Looks like breakfast at home then, I suppose?”

You nod, selecting more items you’d need. “You said something ‘bout pancakes and I figured, that sounded good. I love cooking actually”, you explain with a genuine smile.

“I’d feel like a bad host with my guest having to make her own food, but if you really want to…probably better than me trying something, I’m not used to making my own food”, he laughs, stepping back from the counter to make room for you. “But I’m more than happy to help, just tell me what to do!”

You can’t help but smile, he looks like a dog eager to retrieve a ball. „Considering that I have absolutely no idea where you have pans or bowls and so on, you could actually be useful. Can‘t make pancakes on your counter“, you grin, causing him to laugh.

„And here I was, starting to wonder whether all that attitude I met yesterday just came from the alcohol“, he says, but starts to retreat everything you need for pancakes from his cabinets.

„Nope, that‘s actually me. I just had to get used to the fact that I‘m now making breakfast for famous F1 driver Lando Norris. Wasn‘t on my 2025 bingo card.“

„Well, I guess there is a lot hidden underneath that pretty smile and shy impression“, he counters, and the playful banter goes on, feeling natural with him, while you make pancake batter.

When the first one is baking in the pan, you turn around, seeing that he now sits on the counter, unable to help any more. But when you wipe a strand of hair out of your face, he snorts, and when you look at your hand only to see flour, you have an idea why. Closing the distance with one long stride, you swipe your hand through his face, smearing the remaining flour across his cheek.

Lando goes quiet and time seems to freeze for a moment. Suddenly you are afraid that you took it a step too far, but then he bursts out laughing, almost doubling over. The sound‘s infectious and you can‘t help but join until you are both wheezing. That is until you smell something burnt and immediately turn to the stove, gasping, the pancake already smoking slightly. You try and flip it, but it‘s already black.

„Beyond saving, I‘d say“, you hear his voice directly behind you, teasing, „Thought you love cooking? Expected more than a burnt pancake from that.“

You whip around, glaring at him, the spatula raised like a weapon, actually causing him to jump back, hands raised in surrender. “This”, gesturing to the black crust, now rested on a plate, “Is entirely your fault. Obviously. And if you say one more word, I will make sure that you won’t get to try one that is actually good.” With that, you turn back around, trying again and not leaving the pancake out of your eyes this time.

You feel Lando’s gaze on your back, but ignore it, focused on the pan in front of you. The man behind you is quiet now, maybe you scared him, you’re not sure, but you also don’t dare to face him since that would mean taking your eyes off the stove. It doesn’t take long though, until you take the pancake out of the pan and put some fresh batter in. It looks perfect, golden brown and fluffy, and when you set it on a plate, it gets snatched away almost immediately.

“Sorry, but I had to make sure I get to try some”, Lando mumbles, already chewing on a big bite. Then, his eyes widen and he practically moans before taking another bite, even though it looks like he’s almost burning his tongue. “These are the best I’ve ever had!”

You arch an eyebrow in best told-you-so fashion and ignore how your body wants to react to the sound he just made, before turning to make sure the next pancake is just as good. It takes a little while, but Lando refrains from stealing another pancake and by the time you are finished, the last drop of batter transformed into a perfect piece of golden brown deliciousness, he already prepared the table.

“I’m sorry that I ever questioned your cooking skills. I swear, I won’t make this mistake again”, he tells you while you are both indulging in your breakfast. “I could eat so many of them my trainer would quit out of pure desperation.”

You huff out a laugh while your mind stopped at the second sentence. „Again, huh?“, you can‘t stop yourself from asking, not allowing yourself to fall into a spiral of thoughts about what he just said. Even when the playful banter with him is easy and feels natural, it’s just too easy for you to fall back into your shyness and self-doubt, especially around people you don’t really know, to which he definitely counts.

“Yeah, why not? I’d love to have to eat something that delicious regularly”, he grins, though it looks a bit like he is hiding some emotions underneath, “But only if you promise not to kill me with a spatula.”

“Can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep”, you reply, earning a shocked glance from him, “I will defy my food with everything it takes!”

He starts to pout and looks at you with big puppy eyes. “How could you damage this face?”, he asks, gesturing to himself, “I have never met anyone who didn’t fall for this perfect smile, let alone someone ready to hurt it!”

You snort and he looks like you just insulted him.

„You‘re mean!“, he pouts, „But not mean enough to make me abandon your pancakes. Is this like a special talent or can you make even more delicious things like that?“

You smile, but shrug your shoulders. „Maybe you‘ll find out.“ You don‘t really know why, but you don‘t want to tell him about your bakery just yet. Even though you can already imagine him there, probably pretending to help you but in reality only stealing the things you bake. The thought makes you happy, but only until a mean little voice in the back of your mind tells you that Lando Norris would never be happy with a simple baker, not when he can have basically anyone. His mischievous grin while he grabs the last pancake says something else though.

„You should be glad that I‘m not hungry anymore“, you chime, sounding like pure innocence. Of course, you‘d never seriously hurt him, but the way he always looks so shocked is simply amusing. He almost looks genuinely scared, while his gaze flickers between you and the pancake, before he dives in.

You watch him finish the last bite, trying to memorize the whole scene. It’s quiet now, the kind of quiet that is heavy and uncomfortable.

“I should go,” you say, gently pushing back your chair and fidgeting with your fingers. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

He straightens up, a flash of something - concern? disappointment? - crossing his face before he takes on the same look he had this morning when he tried to convince you to stay. Then hides it behind a practiced grin. “Big day?”

You nod. “Something like that.” You don’t say more, and he doesn’t ask.

It’s not that you want to keep it a secret. It’s just… yours. The bakery, the cake you need to finish for tomorrow, the early mornings and the scent of cookies constantly wafting through your home. It feels too delicate to hand over just yet, especially to someone whose life is all cameras and speed and headlines. Fame. Maybe later. Maybe next time - if there is one.

You walk to the door, where your shoes sit, then hesitate. Looking down at yourself, you see Lando‘s sweatpants and his hoodie.

„Don‘t worry. I wouldn‘t mind you keeping them. Or… I mean, suits you better than me anyways.“

You look at him, uncertainly. „Actually, um… do you mind if I change back? It‘s just… it would feel weird leaving in your clothes.“

He nods, hiding whatever he might think. „Of course. You already know where the bathroom is. Take your time.“

You smile gratefully, then vanish down the hall to gather your clothes and change back into them. Folding his stuff neatly, you set it down on his bed, gently, before walking back to the door, finally slipping on your shoes.

At the door, he lingers, the handle already in his hand but suddenly awkward in his own space. “So… will I see you again?”

You glance up at him, heart beating a little too fast in your chest. “Do you want to?”

He huffs a breathless laugh, almost like he can’t believe you’d ask. “Yeah. "I mean… yeah.”

You nod, feeling the weight of a thousand thoughts swirling behind your eyes. “Okay.”

Just that. One word. Like it’s easy. Like it’s not hiding the fact that he’s always on the move, that people know his name, and you spend your days covered in flour. Like your brain isn’t already spiraling with doubts - that he’s out of reach, his life loud and fast, and you’re just someone who bakes in a small, quiet bakery.

But then he smiles at you, soft and real, and it makes you believe - just a little - that this might turn into something.

You reach for the handle, then pause. “Hey, Lando?”

“Yeah?” He shifts a little closer, not too much. Just enough.

“Maybe… you should have my number. Just for, you know… logistics.”

His expression softens in a way that makes your breath catch, an amused sparkle in his eye. He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to you. “Only if I get yours too.”

You type it in, quickly, before you can second-guess yourself. Then you pass the phone back and meet his eyes one last time.

You don’t wait for anything else - you just step into the hallway, casting a smile over your shoulder as the door clicks shut behind you.

And for the rest of the day, as you pipe frosting and box orders and brush flour off your apron, you catch yourself thinking about his face. The way it lit up when you gave him your number. And you wonder - just a little - if he’s thinking about you too.

[sandywritesfics]

Dance To My Heart

After joining a dance class, the star dance student catches your eye, and she's grateful that she did.

Mina x Fem!Reader

Fluff, Light Angst, Panic Attack, Anxiety

4,254 words

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I sat at a traffic light, resting my chin on the steering wheel as I scanned the world outside my car windows. My eyes caught a building advertising dance classes on the second floor. The prospect of learning to dance seemed like a fun way to fill my free time with some sort of exercise. "I should go check it out tomorrow," I said to myself as I made my way home from work.

The next day, I walked into the dance studio to inquire about its classes. I opened the door during the middle of a class and was invited by the instructor to sit on the side to watch. I bowed as I took the opportunity to watch how the classes were run. I scanned the room and saw a window that displayed some of the trophies the dance studio had won. I was impressed by the number of trophies on display. Many of them read 'Ballet' on the base where a plaque was placed, but there were a variety of dance categories engraved on each trophy. I sat on the ground to watch the students as they practiced a dance routine.

That's when I saw her. She was extremely immersed in the routine. Her strong yet gentle gaze went over her own movements in the reflection of the mirrored wall they danced in front of. My eyes were glued to her, and I couldn't help but stare. As she looked at her reflection, her eyes caught mine. I looked away, embarrassed, and played it off by watching the rest of the students go over the routine with the instructor's help.

The music stopped as the instructor clapped to gain everyone's attention. She was going to teach the next part of the routine. My eyes fell on the student again. She stood up straight, shifting her weight to one side as she listened to the instructor's directions. Step by step, the instructor went over the motions, and she followed along immediately.

Again, they practiced the moves and after the class had the moves down, the instructor played the music to accompany the dance.

"Alright, here we go. Five, six, seven, eight," she counted off as she began dancing along, with the students following her moves.

I watched as some of the students fumbled or missed a step, wondering how I would compare to them. Then my eyes found her again. Her movements were precise. Her transitions, smooth. She nailed every move as the instructor had taught it. I snapped my head away, not wanting to get caught a second time. As the dancers stopped, so did the music.

"Alright everyone, let's take a break and we'll go over everything again before moving on." The instructor announced to the class. They dispersed to the side I was watching from, taking their water bottles to rehydrate and converse amongst each other.

The instructor waved me over. I got to my feet to meet her.

“So, what do you think of the class? Is it something you’re interested in?” She asked.

I looked back to the students, who mostly seemed younger than me, except for a few others, the girl included. “Is this an all-ages class?” I asked.

She smiled at me, “This one is our general class, which, yes, does include some middle school-aged students,” she explained to me. “It has a mixture of students with different experiences and levels of skill.”

I nod in interest, responding to her explanation.

“These classes are usually held Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at 6 pm for the school kids, but we do have some classes for older students, whichever fits your schedule. As you can see, there are older students in this class, like Mina.” The instructor motions to the student I had been staring at. “Mina is also in our advanced classes, so if you want something more challenging, that’s an option for you.”

“Oh no, I’m just a beginner,” I waved my hands to decline the offer, “I was just curious about this class.”

“Well, just know there are options,” she explained, “But I do suggest you start with this class if you are just starting.”

I nodded in agreement. “So when can I start?”

“I’m glad you’re so eager to start,” she smiled at my enthusiasm, “You can start this Thursday if you’d like.”

“Alright,” I bowed eagerly, “Thank you so much. I’ll be here on Thursday.”

The instructor smiled, “Of course. Oh, and if you want, you can watch till the end of this class.” She began to make her way to the front of the class, “Granted, you have the time to stay and watch.”

My eyes widened, “I would love to, but I should get going.” I bowed and started to head out. I drove home excited to start something new.

Thursday dragged on longer than usual as I excitedly waited for my shift to end. Nearing the end of my shift, I looked at my bag, which I had packed some gym clothes into before work. The clock ticked down the minutes until it hit 5. I clocked out quickly and headed to the bathroom to change into my gym clothes. “This should be fine, right?” I asked myself as I looked over my gym clothes.

I psych myself up as I stand at the foot of the stairs that lead to the studio. I walk up the stairs and stand at the door. My first day. It’s always the most exciting and nerve-wracking day. I walked into the studio and saw the students sitting by the storage cubbies in the nook by the door. They seemed more interested in their conversations than in the new face that walked in. I was relieved that I wasn’t being stared at and set my bag down in a cubby.

I noticed that the girl, Mina, if I remembered correctly, was sitting with the older students, already stretching. She nodded as they spoke to her and smiled as they conversed, seemingly enjoying themselves.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself as I waited for the class to start, so I just sat in an open area by myself. To my relief, the instructor gathered everyone moments after I sat down.

“Alright everyone, I’m sure you’ve noticed the new face in the crowd,” she motioned to me. “She’ll be joining our class as a beginner, so please make her feel welcome.”

I bowed as the students turned to face me with smiling faces. I felt less intimidated when I saw the friendly faces greeting me. The introduction was brief as we went right into warming up with stretches.

I was amazed at the varying levels of flexibility, all surpassing mine, which was to be expected. But I couldn’t help but compare myself to everyone else. Some, like Mina, were doing full splits with ease. Others were closer to the ground than I was. As we proceeded with the stretches, I found myself stretching muscles I didn’t know I had.

After stretching our bodies out, we went into a freestyle dance warm-up. I looked around the class, confused, not exactly sure what I was supposed to do. I felt a tap on my arm and turned around to see a young girl.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures me, “It’s really easy. Just move your body however you want.” She shook her arms out.

I looked over to Mina, who, instead of focusing on her reflection, smiled as she bounced along to the beat of the music. My heart fluttered when I saw the joy on her face. Hers was contagious, and I bobbed my head with her. The instructor counted down and the studio was filled with various movements. Some sharp and precise, others smooth and flowy. I stuck with sidestepping while watching everyone else dance out any stress or frustrations they had. Just by watching Mina, I knew she genuinely enjoyed dancing. Her smile never left her face as she moved effortlessly to the beat of the music, getting lost in a trance. Only once the freestyle ended did her face slowly return to the serious one I had seen a couple of days before.

The instructor was very helpful and easy to follow. She would help the students who weren’t getting the moves down and walked them through the movements. Since they were practicing a routine that they had already been working on, she paired me up with Mina to catch me up to speed.

“Hi, my name is Mina,” she extended her hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”

I shook her hand and gave her my name. “Nice to meet you, too. Thank you for your guidance.” I bowed.

She waved her hand, “Oh, no need to be so formal.” She brought me up from my bow. “We're about the same age, right?”

“Still, I’ll do my best.” I made a slight bow and welcomed her instruction. She led me through the motions and tried her best to simplify the movements. I caught on quickly, but my moves needed work.

“Alright everyone, let’s break for 5 minutes.” I went to get my water bottle when the younger students took interest and began to introduce themselves. Their curiosity compelled them to interrogate me. I happily answered, taking a glance at Mina, who also had her own flock of children surrounding her. She smiled warmly as the children rambled on.

“She’s really good.” One of the younger students stated as she noticed my gaze, “All those trophies by the window have her name on them, or well, most of them.”

“Is that so?” I look back at the student, “Well then, I’m in good hands.”

“Sometimes I think she gets overwhelmed and overworks herself too much.” Another student joined as she let out a heavy sigh, “I just wish she would take better care of herself.”

The younger student added, “But that’s why she’s the best we’ve got. She works so hard.”

I look back at Mina and also start to worry about her. The instructor calls us back to resume the lesson.

After the class was over, we were dismissed. I grabbed my bag and pulled it over my shoulder. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. This could become a good pastime. Before I left, I noticed Mina asking the instructor if she could stay a bit longer to practice. The instructor seemed a bit hesitant to allow her to stay, but ultimately agreed. Being the star student must be tough.

After a month of attending the classes, I felt as if my flexibility was improving with every practice. My coworkers even comment on how I seem to be losing some weight and how much more energetic I seem. My plan to find a fun exercise worked out. Not only that, but I have gotten closer to many of my classmates, including Mina. She always seemed to push herself to perfection, and the more I watched her, the more apparent that became. Her seemingly unexpressive face hid a hint of joy in her eyes as she danced. Whenever she would help me with the choreography, she had a hard time simplifying it so that I could follow along. Fortunately, I learned quickly and would happily accept her help, but the way she demonstrated the moves was precise and detail-oriented. I could tell she took pride in getting every detail correct. During breaks, I would sit with her and entertain the younger kids who would flock to us.

“Alright,” the instructor called everyone over, “As you all know, if you read the group messages, we're having a performance next month. We’ll be holding a class on the Sunday before the event to go over the program and run it through in its entirety.”

I looked over to Mina, excited when I noticed her face remained serious. I could see the excitement in her eyes. I smiled as it seemed I wasn’t the only one looking forward to the event.

“Make sure to take note of the dress code as well. I expect everyone to be here on time,” the instructor clapped to dismiss us.

During the month of the recital, everyone began to take practice more seriously. In the blink of an eye, the Sunday rehearsal came. We went through each number as if we were performing. The ballet number that came next included Mina and two other older students. They made their way to the center of the studio, getting into position. The music started, and the girls sprang to life. They elegantly moved, gliding through the space in the studio. I watched in awe, despite having seen the number multiple times through practice. I could see that Mina, despite concentrating on the number, was enjoying herself. It seemed like things were going smoothly until Mina rolled her ankle during one of the jumps.

“I’m fine,” Mina responded as she got back up and went back into position before wincing at the weight put on her ankle.

The instructor stopped the music and pulled her to the side, “You won’t be able to perform if you don't rest. Your injury will just get worse. Now, please just take a break, Mina.”

“I said I’m fine,” she firmly stated again, “I need to keep going.”

The instructor sighed, “I can’t let you perform. You’ll rest or you won’t be able to perform at the recital.”

Panic set into her eyes as she looked around the room. Worried and concerned looks greeted her, and, for a second, we made eye contact. Mina ran out of the practice room, clutching her chest. Concern drove my body to follow after her, scurrying down the stairs to be by her side.

She hunched over on the sidewalk, her breathing was panicked and heavy. Both hands were gripping her chest as she fell into a ball at the bottom of the stairs. I immediately grabbed her tensed hands, pulling them to my chest to get her to face me. When her eyes met mine, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping she would do the same. "It's ok, just take a deep breath and slowly breathe out. Just look at me and think about your breathing."

She began to follow my breathing, her clenched hands relaxed a little, and her wide, panicked eyes began to settle down.

Noticing her calming down, I continued to comfort her, "Mina, it's alright, you're alright."

Her voice barely above a whisper, "You saw my mistake, didn't you? How I rolled my ankle. I can't perform." Mina's voice wavered.

My brows furrow, "Mina, you’ll be able to perform. You just need a bit of rest."

"I don’t have time to rest!" She blurted out. "I’m the star student, I can’t get injured now."

"Mina," I was startled by her outburst. Her face was the most expressive I’ve seen.

"I’ll ruin the performance if I mess up." Her head hangs low.

I gently caress her hands, hoping to calm her down, "I'm sure you won't ruin the performance."

"How could you know that?” She takes in a deep breath, “If I mess up on stage, the audience will whisper among themselves. Wasn't she the one who won those competitions? How could she mess up a simple performance? I can hear their comments in my head."

"No one thinks you aren’t one of the best dancers we have." I firmly gripped her hands. "One mistake isn’t going to change that."

She let out a deep breath. "You weren't there, this isn’t the first time I’ve made a mistake."

"But I was just here, Mina.” I try to comfort her. “I saw you make that mistake in the studio, and not once did those thoughts cross my mind."

“You don’t have to lie to me,” She pulled her hands out of my grasp, “I saw everyone's disappointed faces.” She holds her head in her hands as tears begin to well in her eyes.

I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m concerned for you. And luckily, this is just the rehearsal.”

"This rehearsal is how we are going to perform on stage!" She started, her frustration threatening to let her tears fall free, “Yet I still-”

"Mina!" I shouted.

She looked at me with wide eyes, not expecting me to raise my voice.

I lowered my voice when I got her attention, “When I first saw you dance, I was mesmerized. You made dancing look so easy. I thought, how can someone look so beautiful while dancing? Then, I saw all the hard work you put into improving your skills and how much you enjoy dancing. Of course, it looks easy when you put so much work into something you love. So please, don’t continue blaming yourself. One mistake is not going to define you.”

She looked down at her hands.

I wrap an arm over her and gently rub her shoulder, "Not everyone is out to get you. I promise. I’m worried about you.” I got embarrassed by what I said, "And so is everyone else." I rubbed the back of my neck nervously.

A small smile grew on her face as she slowly stood up, “Then I guess I need to stop feeling bad for myself.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I can’t let the people supporting me down.”

I smiled when she picked herself up, “That’s the spirit.” I could still see the doubt and worry behind her expression. How could something she enjoyed so much bring her this much pain? Was there any way I could help her? All I could do was to stand by her.

The day of the recital came in the blink of an eye. I met up with some of the others and gave them a ride to the venue. The venue was packed with family and friends who were invited to watch and strangers who saw our advertisements on social media. I even bumped into some coworkers I had invited to come watch. I made my way backstage, my nerves getting the better of me. I was greeted by everyone, and we all talked to calm our nerves before the performance. I saw Mina repeatedly going over the movements, mentally preparing herself for the performance. I got up and joined her.

“Mina,” I called to her, “How do you stay calm before a performance?”

She looked at me, seeing my tense movements as we practiced the moves. “I’m glad you think I’m calm.” She grabs my stiff hands, hers slightly shaking in mine. “I’m just as nervous as everyone else. But once I start dancing, my nerves seem to disappear.” She lets go of my hands and returns to practicing, motioning me to join her.

The instructor called everyone to get into position, the event was starting.

The lights dim as the audience begins to quiet down. I sneak a peek at the audience and feel the sea of eyes anticipating the opening performance. The daunting feeling of being watched sank back in as we were then queued to take the stage. I took a deep breath and decided to take Mina at her word. I’ll just dance. The music started as the lights illuminated the stage. I looked to Mina as she began to move the the rhythm. I could hear the count in my head and stayed on time. My body moved rigidly as I looked back at the audience. I concentrated on the count, and slowly I began to feel relaxed, dancing as my body told me. I looked at Mina, who looked back with a slight smile on her face. This is fun.

We received a loud and excited applause as we exited the stage for the next performance. My nerves settled as I began anticipating my next appearance.

After finishing the next dance number I participated in, I made my way to the side of the stage, brushing by Mina and the other dancers. I gave them a thumbs up, wishing them good luck. They elegantly made their way to the marked positions and waited. As the music cued, they began their routine. It was going smoothly, their form was perfect. Every arm movement was in sync, down to the way they seemed to glide across the stage. Their eyes were focused and gentle at the same time. Everything was going smoothly.

They jumped across the stage. Mina landed, almost rolling her ankle, stumbling instead. She regained her balance and continued with the dance. When she jumped for the second time, landing on the same foot, she fell to the ground as her ankle gave out under her. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the audience, whose concerned looks bore into Mina’s thoughts. She felt her chest grow tight as panic started to drown her. The whispers in her mind told her they were against her.

I cupped my hands around my mouth to yell her name, "MINA!"

Her head snapped in the direction of my voice.

I gave a wide smile and thumbs up with both my hands, mouthing the words, 'Don't worry, keep going.'

Mina looked back toward the audience when she saw that they were watching, waiting for her to get up to continue the performance. So she did. She got to her feet and caught up to the others, resuming the routine and finishing strong. The audience applauded the performance with cheers and whistles as if they had forgotten about the mistake she had made earlier. A smile grew on her face when she realized that no one in the crowd looked disappointed. She looked at me off stage to see my smiling face.

They hurried off stage, and as soon as she was out of the audience's sight, she hugged me tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, “I’m glad you were here with me.”

I was shocked for a moment when her arms wrapped around my neck to embrace me, but after the initial shock, I hugged her back. “You don’t have to thank me. Give yourself some credit, you pushed through.”

“If you hadn’t shouted my name, I don’t think I would have been able to continue,” she said, turning her face away from my shoulder to flash me a smile.

The sweet moment of appreciation was cut short by the next number, which everyone participated in. Everyone rushed out to the stage and finished off strong, receiving loud applause from the crowd.

After the performance, everyone met up with their friends and family, being congratulated on their performance. I met up with my coworkers, who were also impressed with my skills, joking about also joining. I graciously accepted their compliments, getting a little shy. I excused myself as I went to search for Mina. I spotted her talking with some acquaintances. Her smile radiated as I’m sure they were praising her. Her eyes caught mine, and she bowed to her friends, greeting me with a smile. I jogged to her.

“Hey,” I stopped in front of her.

“Hey,” she replied with a smile. "I know I already told you this, but thank you.”

“I was just doing what anyone else would’ve done,” I replied to humble my actions.

She shook her head, “You don’t need to be so modest. You were the only one who let me know that you were supporting me instead of letting me assume everyone was against me.” She fixed her duffle bag on her shoulder. “If you keep that up, I might fall for you," Mina teased, chuckling to herself as we began to walk out of the venue.

I felt heat rise to my face, "W-well, if you don't mind, maybe we can go somewhere after class together," I took the opportunity to ask. "You know, to celebrate."

She looked at my red face with a quizzical look on her face, "Like a date?" She asked.

Our eyes met, and already being overwhelmed from asking her on a date, my eyes shot away to avoid eye contact, "Yeah, I guess it would be like a date." My eyes slowly found hers again.

Her eyes squinted as a warm smile grew on her face, "I'd like that." She pushed the door open and walked out the door.

I stood wide-eyed at the exit, completely dumbfounded. "She said yes," I said to myself, "Wait, she said yes?" I burst through the doors to catch up with her.

She laughed as I ran to ask her if she really agreed to a date. My face lit up with excitement when she agreed. I annoyed her with questions so that I could figure out where to take her.

“Did you not have a place in mind already?” She questioned, amused at my persistence.

I thought for a second before replying, “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, so not really.” I answered honestly.

She giggled at the honesty in my answer, “Well, you don’t have to think too hard. I’m sure wherever you take me, I’ll have a good time.”

“That’s unfair,” I saw her puzzled face after my statement, “You’re giving me too much hope.”

She let out a chuckle, “In all fairness, giving you hope would only try to repay the strength you gave me.”

As we walked to my car, I made sure to let her know that I would always be there for her, “If you let me stay by your side, I’ll give you all the strength you need.”

[snail-day]

i keep thinking about being kidnapped by yan stsg,,, the sheer horror of being brought somewhere by two man who youve never met but apparently know everything about you. one of them is cuddling you like youre a puppy he got on christmas and the other is scolding him like his mother telling him not to squeeze you so hard or he'll hurt you. you get to a mansion in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and they double team restraining you so they can get you inside. then they bring you to the most luxurious bedroom youve ever seen, but the closet clearly has sex toys in it, theres an expensive looking leather lingerie set in the corner on a mannequin with your exact proportions and a dog crate. that you have a terrible feeling isn't meant for an actual dog.

the panic attack id have right on the spot. its ok though. theyll calm you down (feed you xanax and fuck you until you fall asleep) introductions can wait until tomorrow. you've had a long day <3

tw: drug usage, dubcon, captivity, yandere

I'd also be panicking but… y’know what? I think they’d save the sexy fun stuff until the next day, just because Suguru is one sadistic bastard.

So you’re on edge the whole freaking time, thinking something’s about to happen, but instead your face is buried between Suguru’s tits all night after he pops a child’s melatonin gummy past your lips. Meanwhile, Satoru’s clinging to your other side with a very obvious hard-on, but he’s really, really trying to be good for you :( and for Suguru, because Suguru gave him the talk beforehand.

“It’s like a fish tank, Satoru. You have to acclimate them first before you move them in. Think you can be patient for me, pretty boy?”

So in the morning, Suguru’s casually putting an aphrodisiac in your eggs while you sit at the big oak breakfast table, trying not to squirm too much as heat curls low in your stomach. He’s just smiling at you from across the table, all calm and polite, violet eyes narrowed like a fox, watching you press your thighs together as he says:

“Need anything, sweet girl?”

And you do. You really, really need one of them between your legs, but you’re too embarrassed to admit it, so you just nod, biting your lip. Satoru’s already bouncing on the balls of his feet, like, “I can help! I can make her feel real good - ” but of course…

Much to your disappointment (and Satoru's), Suguru has a thing for edging and toys. So now you’re tied up, flushed and frustrated while he’s murmuring softly, asking you to review the products like he’s running some twisted, unboxing. You're just lucky he's starting with the vibrators and not that sweet little package he got from Bad Dragon.

“Let’s see how this one fits, hmm? Be honest, sweet thing. I want your feedback.”

Everything is recorded for quality feedback, of course! <3

[towasdandelion]

Hehe... Me again... Sooooo.... I was gonna ask for,reverse hickey? Thıs time Reader is the one who left hickey! But its not like a part two. Pls? With Vagastrom Sinostra and if its not too much Frostheim?

Reverse hickey hm? Sure, why not! Let's see how the ghouls react (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠) (I did Vagastrom and Sinostra for now, I promise I'll include Frostheim boys next!)

Sinostra and Vagastrom ghouls when you leave a hickey on them

Leo is Leo so the most possible scenario is that he'll just make fun of you, calling you possessive and all. Though deep down he's so smug about it. Doesn't mind the bite at all and won't even bother to cover it up. Why would he when he can let everyone see how much his girlfriend loves him? This brat won't even hesitate, he'll even take a picture that would "subtly" highlight the mark, tagging you right on it.

Sho is pretty chill about it, but the thought of you being so embarrassed now is too amusing. He can't resist teasing you just a little. He also won't bother with covering it up, letting everyone see who he belongs to. Plus he's going to openly ask you to do it again anyways, so really no point in hiding. If someone else tries to tease you about it, he will simply tell them to grow up. Teasing you is the right that only he has, he says...

Alan doesn't see what the big deal is, but the sight of the bite peeking from underneath his collar makes him smile. It makes him think of your warmth. And he really wasn't trying to embarrass you, so you'll have to forgive him okay? He was simply stating a fact. Well like he said, feel free to enjoy him as your personal canvas? You can do whatever as long as it's with love. He trusts you a lot.

Romeo is so silly I'm sorry. He will complain how rough you are and how you're ruining his skin he takes so much care of, only to get his ass exposed by Taiga. Everyone now let's say thank you to him for helping to decipher what Romeo really meant! Don't even try. Don't even try bringing it up. His face will get all red, not from anger but embarrassment. Also, he will cover up the mark. No one deserves to see how you express your love to him. It's for his eyes only.

Ritsu and his work mode... He works a lot so just go easy on him pretty please. He will literally take a picture of the bite and file it under 'evidence'. What evidence you might ask? What if someone tries to steal you away, claiming you don't really love him? That's right, he needs solid proof! Anyways. The mark is not a very professional look but since it's a form of expressing your love, he won't mind too much. Will try to subtly cover it up but at the same time, he hopes it will happen again..

Taiga loves it. Well he loves pretty much everything that involves you being close with him. He's so into you being a little rough with him, so there really is no need for embarrassment or second thoughts. Just turn off your brain and match his freak. Though to him, playing innocent does have a certain charm to it. As long as you don't overdo it. Covering up the bites? Hah, what for? He doesn't care. You're just going to leave more of them tonight anyways.

[atricksterproblem]

Trial By Fire

Link to AO3

Papa V Perpetua x Original Character (any gender)

Tags: ENM, EUM, CFNM, Embarrassment, Situational Humiliation, Teasing, Blushing, Love, Lust, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Collars, Safewords, Aftercare

Summary: V's partner has arranged a particularly challenging scene for him. Tonight he's been collared and taken to a house party full of strangers. He knows his partner's going to spring something on him, but as pre-arranged, he doesn't know precisely when or what.

When the time comes, he'll have to follow his exhibitionistic desires farther than he ever has before, and he may even learn something about himself in the process. Assuming he doesn't die of embarrassment first.

Headcanon Notes: Quick note on the headcanons used in this AU: V is half-demon. His demonic father belonged to House Lilith. Her House is devoted to the sin of lust. Terzo's demon-sire also came from this House, by the way, but Terzo's sire was an incubus. V's father was one of Lilith's enforcers (the guardians and assassins of Her court).

V was questioning his sanity. It was far from the first time he’d done so tonight.

His partner, Satan bless them, was full of ideas. This was more than a little terrifying. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to this. Except that he was sure, really, if he were being honest with himself. It felt like madness, but he couldn’t seem to resist. He was filled with some combination of sick dread and excited anticipation. He wasn’t at all sure which one was uppermost, but here he was.

The collar his partner had locked around his neck tonight felt tight, and he ran a finger under it nervously. Again.

It was a measure of duration, in this case. For as long as it was on him, he was liable to experience…something. At some time while he was wearing it. He wouldn’t know when, and he wouldn’t know precisely what, until it happened. His partner was the one deciding that, although he had a pretty good idea of the sort of thing it was likely to be.

Which is why he had agreed to this in the first place. For this one night, he would permit himself to take an unknowable risk. He’d still have his safeword, but he knew himself well enough to know that it would take an awful lot to make him use it, and he believed his partner had a fair idea of his limits.

He hoped.

He’d been brought to a late night house party full of people he didn’t know, but his partner did. People from outside the Abbey, not familiar with the band or the Church. Perhaps 20 to 30 people milling around a few common rooms, drinking and talking.

So far, everything had been normal. There had been introductions here and there, and small talk. Not his favorite activity, but nothing he hadn’t had to put up with in the past.

The anticipation was sickening.

What would they do to him? He was half-expecting to get pantsed, except that he doubted he’d be let off that easy.

Knowing his partner, they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble for something as simple as that. Hell, they hadn’t even warned him when they stole the towel he was wearing and locked him out of their hotel room.

The thought of these things was a little more interesting than he should probably linger over in public, though. He liked wearing tight pants, but there were some things they simply couldn’t hide.

Which he also liked.

His mind continued its well-worn path, spinning in circles. His stomach was in knots.

What would they do to him? And when?

The party went on. It had been quite late when it started, now it was later still, and most of the people there were at least a little tipsy. The main common room was pretty loud.

And then, suddenly, his partner was louder.

“Attention, people! I have an announcement to make.”

The conversations died down as everyone looked their way.

His throat went dry. Oh fuck. This was whatever they’d been planning, he just knew it. His palms were sweaty. He felt his heart begin to race.

Whatwasitwhatwasitwhatwas--

“My lovely partner here,” they went on, gesturing in V’s direction, “made the mistake of losing a little bet he had going, and now he has to pay a forefeit. This will require an audience.”

They smirked. “Who wants to watch?”

Nobody left the room. Several of them were snickering and elbowing one another. Clearly something entertaining was in the offing, and they didn’t mean to miss it.

Roughly 15 to 20 people, men and women both.

His partner turned to him. “All right, love.”

The evil grin they gave him then made his hair stand on end.

“Strip.”

His heart skipped a beat.

Oh, Satan. How would he make himself do it? This was so much more than any of his little games had been. He’d known he was in for something like this, but now it was happening, now it was real. He swallowed hard.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. Pretend you’re alone. Don’t look.

He couldn’t. There was no ignoring it. Everyone was looking at him now, waiting to see what he would do. Some of them just looked amused. Some were squirming a little. A few looked like they’d been given an unexpected gift.

All he had to do was unwrap it.

His hands were shaking. It was difficult to manage the buttons of his shirt; he had to pull off his gloves first to do it. He could already feel the weight of their attention. He gritted his teeth, forced himself to finish it. Tossed the shirt aside.

Had the room gotten colder? His nipples were hard.

He pulled off his boots and socks. There was no more stalling he could do. This was it.

Moving his hands to the laces of his pants was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, they were so tight anyway and he was already hard and everyone could see it so would it really be so different?

He couldn’t fool himself. It was different. His face was flushed. His heart was pounding. He was going to have to do this. He was going to have to pull his pants down in an entire fucking roomful of strangers.

He undid the laces. The feeling of all those eyes on him was nearly unbearable.

Now or never.

He took hold of the waistband and slid them down in one quick motion. Stepped out of them.

Looked up.

That was a mistake.

Everyone was focused on him, some laughing, some blushing and giggling. He heard a few wolf whistles.

He squeezed his eyes shut and automatically covered himself with his hands as quick as he could, even though he knew it didn’t matter, everyone had seen him, and worse, they’d seen how achingly hard he was. His face felt like it was on fire, the rest of him felt cool air where it usually wasn’t and the unbearable weight of so many stares. He couldn’t stand it. He was dying of embarrassment, he’d never done anything like this, never deliberately exposed himself in front of so many people. He could hear their comments, their laughter, and Satan help him, he could feel their lust. It was agony, but it was so deliciously exciting.

All of this had been a matter of moments.

“No, sweetie. Eyes open. Hands down.”

Oh, Satan. He forced himself to look back at the crowd, to meet those stares, drinking him in, enjoying how embarrassed he was, some just openly longing. It was like being licked by tongues of flame on every inch of skin.

Moving his hands to his sides? That was even worse.

He’d always at least been able to cover himself that way. However pathetic a shield it might have been, it was something.

He was already blushing so much he thought he might faint. His self-consciousness was nearly unbearable.

When he forced himself to do it he had to dig his fingertips into his thighs a little just to keep his hands where they were, the urge to cover up was so strong.

All this time, there had been whistles and catcalls. Now there were more. It was bad enough to be forced to let strangers see his cock. The fact that he was painfully hard let everybody know how much he fucking loved it.

He bit his lip. Nothing in his life had ever been so humiliating, and it felt so incredibly hot that it just embarrassed him all over again.

He realized his partner was speaking.

“See how much this turns him on? Such a cute little slut. Don’t be fooled by those blushes, he craves the attention.”

Oh god oh fuck the shame of it too much he couldn’t he COULDN’T--

He felt his cock twitch, felt a bead of pre-cum form at the tip. Right out in the fucking open. Nowhere to hide.

“Tsk. Poor boy. You’re dying for it, aren’t you? You’d better take care of that.

Do it. Make yourself come.”

The room erupted. Some people were calling encouragement through laughter, some were red-faced, some were catcalling louder than ever.

His eyes flew open, went wide. He turned to his partner, gave them a wild-eyed look. Were they serious? Did they really mean--

“It’s that or your safeword, V. You decide.”

Unimaginable.

He was sure it would kill him. He was horrified. He couldn’t.

But he wanted it. Satan’s name, he did. It made no sense to him, but the worse the idea made him feel, the more he felt driven to do it. Fuck, the thought of it, stroking himself in front of a roomful of people, letting them see just how he liked it, letting them hear him--

He’d been through so much, so overwhelmingly much, that he was burning inside. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of minutes, but it felt like years. He’d taken all he could handle; he was a bundle of nerves. And still, despite the agony of it, despite his unending blushes, there was this. The core of this thing that he coveted despite himself.

He realized something, in that frozen moment.

He had an audience.

This was performance.

And no one, no one in the whole of the Unholy Church understood performance quite like he did.

He almost wanted to laugh.

How many nights had he been on stage in front of a crowd, teasing them for all they were worth, channeling every lustful impulse that was the birthright of his House just to make them scream his name?

If you follow me, I’ll give you everything you want, he’d told them.

Oh, yes. This he could do.

And wouldn’t his fans lose their fucking minds if they could see him now.

He knew he was still flushed. He bit his lip, lowered his head a little.

Looked up through half-lowered eyelids. Let his mismatched eyes burn, let them smoulder.

And then, slowly, he smiled.

His audience stilled a bit, at least the lustful ones did. He’d made them a promise with that smile.

Now he meant to deliver.

He arched his back a little, head thrown back, and ran his hands slowly down his chest. He lingered, teasing his nipples, let them hear his breath catch. He moved his hands down, bringing their gaze with him, highlighting the treasure trail, the soft curls below it. Everywhere he touched felt like it left a spill of heat in its wake, magnified by the feel of eyes on his every move.

Yes, he thought. Oh, yes. This. This was what he wanted.

He ran a hand slowly over his cock, stroking upward, lingering. Let out a moan, felt a shiver. He held nothing back. He heard a few gasps and caught breaths, and he knew he had them now.

They were his.

He took himself in hand, now, just the way he liked it. Slowly at first, drawing it out, all but edging himself, and fuck, it felt so good, it was so much more intense like this, sharing it with strangers. He heard himself making soft, pleasured sounds, he couldn’t help them, didn’t want to.

He couldn’t wait anymore and he stroked himself harder now, felt his breath go ragged, let it build. He was so close, he’d never felt like this, not alone, not even with a partner watching, this was beyond all that, amplified by every lustful gaze. He felt them wanting him and it broke the last of his restraint. He came hard, crying out from the force of it, spilling over his hand, breathless in its wake. He let his breath slow, and he opened his eyes.

His audience was a mess.

Some of the men looked pretty uncomfortable, but hadn’t looked away all the same. Some of the rest of the people there must’ve been taking care of themselves or each other, judging from the flushed faces and the hands that had been under skirts or down pants, only now being withdrawn.

Only the devil and he himself would ever know exactly how much it took to restrain the smug, shit-eating grin he’d otherwise have had on his face right then.

He turned to where his partner had been standing before all that. They were still there. They were just looking at him, slightly awestruck, judging from their expression. They shook their head and went to get him a towel for cleanup. He dressed calmly after that, saying nothing. Went to wash up a bit, and followed his partner out of the house without a word.

Only once they were back in the car did he permit that grin to show. His partner just gaped at him for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“Oh, you motherFUCKER. That’s what you were up to, huh?”

“Only at the end. I think-- I think I went through so much at first that I came out the other side, somehow. Like it burned out of me.”

“Satan’s name, V. That was…I don’t think I even know what that was. Actually no, I think I do. That was all you, wasn’t it? Your inborn House magic. You used it instinctively.”

“It’s part of me. I wouldn’t know where it ends and I begin. It was just-- my perspective changed. It was very strange. But very good.”

“Damn fucking right it was. I’m going to take you home, my love, and then I’m going to make a few demands of you myself if you don’t mind. You may have gotten off but I still haven’t, you know!”

He smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry, angel. You will.”

[everfolk]

like bro all people do is cancel on me 😭😭

[solarasteroid]

weimar doodles since ive been wanting to develop him more, also it unintentionally sounds like he has gender dysphoria so? i guess thats canon now?? male to male transition.. very proud of him

[daily-hanamura]

[b4kuch1n]

yay! I drew these quite literally three years ago. dragonheart!milo and raihan! a knight on a doomed dragon hunt being lifted out of his station by a small village medicine man. together they become magic lawyers and overthrow the government

the main details in these do survive into the iterations I’ve drawn (instead of these actual designs I spent time to make el oh el): the “leaf” diamond quilt/gambeson and the plaited coattail for milo, the “atypical” weapons, long coat, and large number of scattered fake gold trims and accessories for raihan. I think I lost raihan the hat and added a cape for milo further down the line because like this their general silhouettes are too similar for my liking lol

[socksracoon10]

look i am not a lando norris fan at all but for the lando fans pls have SOME decorum we're all stressed about the race coming up, we all have our favorite drivers that we want to win I get it, this is a crucial part of the race. At least on my views, i don't want Lando to crash or DNF like yeah it would help max but i wouldnt wish that on my worst enemy so at the same time stop wishing it for max, dont wish that for any driver imo because that's childish and rude on top of all this, lemme clarify max will NOT try to crash into lando on purpose (ive been seeing posts like that)... i fear people keep forgetting that max has matured a lot more than people give him credit for. He raced clean in Brazil, the worst he's done as of late was his classic pushing them off track limits move but any other driver would do the exact same thing at the moment in order to secure their championship. at the end of the day, it's so funny how a number of people that the drivers have never met will go on long rants to tear down another driver. I have my thoughts about lando, I get mad too and I say stuff not ONLINE where others can read. i think we all need to calm down keep our thoughts in our head and if your argument is "b-b-but other people are - but other people are doing it they're saying mean stuff!" THEN BE THE BETTER PERSON??? dont stoop to their level thats all i wanna say at the end of the day youre not their parents, youre not their gf/bf, youre not even an acquaintance... you are a person on tumblr... that they don't know... dont defend them to death, dont whine about them to death just watch the damn race, pray your driver does well and if they say or do something wrong accept that they did something wrong and move on with your life thats literally it ok im done ranting lol (i mightve gone crazy in the tags lol)

[athanatosora]

managed to log back into my acc for it and was reminded abt obitofic bc of comments. i fr cant ever post the rewrite bc 1) that thing ended up soo different bc i just straight up couldnt bring myself to reread my old writing so it just ended up being a whole new thing LMFAO 2) the characters. if i could id tell the me from a decade ago its ok to want to blow up certain characters w my mind its not “unfair” to them they are fictional characters. they are dolls to play with and beat up and chew and spit out like dog toy. 3) the tone. its uhmmm a bummer

[ghostingcrows]

I don't know if I am going to explain this in a way that makes sense, but something I have noticed in the past few years with newer fandoms like Deadpool and Wolverine, ATSV, and Arcane is that like-

Those fandoms were "babies first fandom" for a lot of people. And while being new to fandom is not inherently a bad thing, you and I were new to it as some point too, I've noticed that because of the way the internet and thus fandom treats art and writing and creative stuff as "content" now a lot of it doesn't really stick all that much.

I've complained about "popular media of the month" stuff a few times in the past but I think the reason for that happening is just that like

New fandom people didn't learn about fandom the same way older fandoms did. They don't want to and they aren't going to engage with creatives works because they see it as content they are entitled too and not fun fan works that are a gift from the community.

They didn't learn fandom etiquette and they don't want to learn fandom etiquette because they don't feel like they owe the people making the fan works anything in return for the stuff they make.

People refuse to leave comments on writing and art, they get pissy about keeping fan artists and writers strictly contained within canon (wether it be for stories or ships or whatever), and they call things like cosplay cringe and just generally are so not supportive of the people MAKING the stuff for the fandom.

The internet in general has always kinda been a dick measuring contest just because of how likes and stuff work, but I have not been hit with it nearly as bad as I have with ATSV.

This fandom, and the ships I am in especially, have always felt so cliquey. It felt like when I joined this fandom I got shoved into a popularity contest that I did not want to be in and that I was constantly losing.

In a way I had never felt in the transformers, or any other, fandom.

And as much as I would like to act like I am above that mentality it can be a lot, especially for a kid, to feel like they are constantly competing for just general acknowledgment of the works they are making much less active support from people in that community who allegedly also like the movies.

It almost made me quite art and is part of the reason I haven't written anything in months.

It took the ATSV fandom one and half years to undo almost 10 years of passion for art simply because of how poorly the fandom acted and how unsupportive the people in it were.

And as far as I know it hasn't been all that much better in other popular medias that have come out in the past few years and I know of a handful of other artists/writers who also express the same feeling of discontent with the way ppl act in fandom nowadays and treat their work.

People (aka you) need to start engaging with and actually acknowledging the people in fandoms making the fanworks.

If you like something TELL the author or artist. Leave a comment, an anonymous ask, literally ANYTHING to show you enjoyed it.

The collective refusal to do so is actively killing fandoms and making the people who's art and writing you are enjoying not want to fucking MAKE that art anymore.

[floorpancakes]

funny thought that just came to me do you think watanuki would start crying getting spooned for the first time because he's emotionally overwhelmed

[sarioh]

ethubs

shoutout to you and all the other ethubs warriors who have been here with me in the trenches since 2021. we were right about everything ever since the beginning of time but in the worst possible ways and no one can ever take that away from us . amen

[fvckw4d]

The concept of queerbaiting annoys me. I was told that it refers to a work of fiction pretending to cater to a queer audience but then pulling back from it to avoid alienating homophobes, which is an incredibly specific thing. But a lot of people seem to think that it instead means "any time there's any gay subtex, metaphor, or ambiguity" or "whenever something from 1995-2012 was being a normal amount of homophobic for the era."