open post ✧✧

[cyclical]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭
✧ choose a character
✧ call them out: put their name in the comment header
✧ leave a prompt (picture, text, music, quote, etc!)
✧ leave a blank comment if you want to really choose a wildcard and i'll yolo
✧ nsfw and smut a-okay!
✧ assumed cr a-okay

Comments

[brainlessly]

[ fiyero will always, always take pride in mussing up everything about glinda's perfectly complete image. from the little strand of hair pulled loose, the wrinkle he's creating in her skirt letting his hand squeeze her thigh beneath it, the way she forgets to toss her hair and bat her eyes.

he's always been something of a disruption and this type tends to be his favorite. a little escapism, a little fun, a pretty girl with a pretty mouth... ]

What will people think? [ he tips his head like he's going to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth but misses, kissing her jaw softly instead. ]

What do you think they'll whisper? How perfect we look together like this - you unkempt and flustered, me utterly rakish and unforgiving? Use your imagination, Glinda - they'll whisper and say whatever they want. We can tell them anything and they'll be none the wiser.

[ he brings his forehead to rest against hers so that anyone who could see them in the hall might think they're having a sweet moment. it's a good thing they can't see the way his hand creeps, palm teasing between her thighs, palming the soft fabric of her panties. ] What do you think?

[lithes]

[Perfect together, she’d cooed at him the day they met, the day she felt how easily she fit in his arms, the day she’d seen the way he compelled everyone around him with that smile, that voice, that searing heat of his unwavering regard. Fiyero had a way of making anyone he talked to feel they were the only person in Oz, the only one who mattered. Glinda was, of course, too magnanimous to ever be jealous of that.

And yet. And yet here, crowded up against the wall, kissing her jaw, making her eyes flutter and her teeth notch into one full, perfectly-glossed lower lip – the idea of walking into class, flustered and flushed, and feeling the envious stares, the longing sighs, because everyone knows who made her that way… Selfishitude flares up under Glinda’s perfectly-buttoned dress, makes her breath hitch, right as Fiyero’s broad palm settles warm and familiar over the pink silk between her legs.

The classroom gets no more than a dismissive sniff, and Glinda rocking forward (subtly, carefully, sneakily rocking her hips against Fiyero’s hand, teasing him with the drag of satiny fabric, with the sensation of luxury panties, luxury girl, luxury wetness waiting to be coaxed free, to drip like rainfall into his palm) to kiss the corner of that smirking mouth.]

I think that the rose garden looks lovely this time of day. [Back in control, back smug and smiling and sweet, scrunching her nose and twirling neatly out of Fiyero’s grasp, her skirt flipping up as she does so, as his hands slip from her body.] But do you know, I’ve never really taken the time to appreciate them at this hour. [Glinda feigns a thoughtful “mmm”, hips swaying as she starts towards the entirely-vacated, mostly-private gardens, pausing to toss her head, glance back at Fiyero with soft-lidded eyes.] Care to join me?

[brainlessly]

[ fiyero will always feel a flare of pride (among other things) when galinda gives into her body and her whims, when she's fully bamboozled and for a moment caught off guard. everything about her is practiced and perfect, a thing that fiyero knows well and wears like a second skin himself, but to see her miss half a step is a thrill.

so her hips shift and he can feel all the promise of warmth and silk and everything waiting beneath for only a fraction of a second before, as galinda is wont to do, she falls back into time with her own machinations. it's wildly flustering but he lets her go like the ease of a summer wind, laughing softly as she twirls away from his wanting body, his greedy hands.

she is an escape, an outlet, a path to follow and oh he follows, grinning doggishly. ]

Oh? I don't think I've seen the rose gardens at all. I believe my tour guide must have missed it. Ah, I think we got caught up in, oh. What was it called again?

[ he falls into place beside her, offering his arm for her to take and leaning in close to her ear to finish his statement. ]

The book room? Yes. I think that's where we got caught up, indeed.

[lithes]

[Galinda sashays away, sparkling and fluttering, and Fiyero steps easily into her wake, the two of them pulling focus no matter what, a pair of dancing comets, his magnetism improving hers and vice-versa. It's -- easy, simple, safe, and Galinda knows how to play up the teasing, confident girl she'd been when they'd met. But: something had shifted after the Ozdust, something that had a new light in Fiyero's eyes whenever he looked at her or Elphaba.

She wants to ask about it, wants to see if maybe -- maybe she'd done something good, she'd shown him a part of her that was usually harder to find, she'd been changed, somehow. For the better. But she also wants to slip into the giddy, hazy, heated place Fiyero's touch always sends her to, a place where she knows every step, and he tries to make her forget one. He's so good at it, too, offering his arm like a gentleman, then ducking in to murmur against her ear.

There's a shiver, a huff, one perfectly-manicured hand coming up to swat at Fiyero's chest.] I know what a library is, the word just -- escapafied me for a moment. I was distracted. You were very distracting, you know.