#purple silk corset

[fluffyfaza]

Purple Corset

[elfaen]

Corset overbust : patron victorien légèrement modifié, soie sauvage violette avec dentelle et flossing (= abeilles) noirs.

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing 1890s Day Dress in Doll Scale

I went slightly overboard with this second historical doll project. Here's my first one. The style is from around 1897 and more of a middle class style. As with my first doll outfit, I tried to stick to historical methods as much as possible, but the scale forced me to do some deviations. I hand-sew everything though sewing machine was already widely used, because in this scale it's easier to control the stitch, there's not that much to sew anyway and also I just really like hand-sewing. Here's all the items I made. As said, I went a little overboard. One thing that's missing is the corset cover, but the layers of fabric were creating enough bulk on the waist as is so I decided to not make one.

This time I decided to try repainting the face. I don't have any doll customization materials, so I used acrylics. After couple of attempts I got decent results. Acrylics can't make as smooth and delicate finish as pastels, pencils and gouache, which can be used on vinyl with basing sprays, and I'm not experienced with painting small details on 3D objects, so it's a bit smudged at points, especially with the other eye. I aimed for 1890s very neutral make up and the type of expression that was popular in fashion plates and other illustrations.

Undergarments

Combinations and stockings

The combinations are split crotch as they were in the period. They are from thin cotton voile I have a lot of and is very appropriate. I didn't have really tiny enough lace for this, so it's kinda bulky, but I think it's okay enough. The stockings are cotton knit, which fits well. The garters are not actually necessary for this doll since her legs are rubbery.

Corset

I made the corset from a firm-ish linen and satin rayon pretending to be silk as the fashion fabric. The stitching of the boning channels is not super neat, this fabric is very unforgiving, I didn't have exactly matching thread and the scale made it very difficult. I of course didn't have tiny busk, so I used small hooks, sewed thread loops for them and used narrow metal wire for the edges. I think it looks surprisingly right on the outside. I used the same wire as the boning to reinforce the lacing on the back. I didn't actually use boning elsewhere but the tightly packed linen edges in the boning channels kinda work like lighter boning. I think it keeps the shape pretty ways even with just that. I stitched cotton tape inside to shape the corset further. I also didn't have tiny metal eyelets so I hand-sewed the lacing holes.

Bustle pad

The bustle pad is from linen and stuffed with tiny cabbage.

Petticoat

The petticoat is from the same cotton as the combinations.

Outer wear

Skirt

The fabric is cotton half-panama. It's pretty thin, but firm. I would have liked to use a woven wool, but I didn't have any that's thin enough to work in this scale. I think this cotton looks close enough in this scale to a wool with a tight weave, so I'm imagining it's that. My problem was that the cotton was white, but I wanted light brown. I wasn't going to buy any fabric for this, so I did the reasonable thing and dyed it with red onion peals (I've been doing natural dye experiments so this worked well for me).

Shirtwaist

The shirtwaist is from the same cotton as the undergarments. Yes, I dyed it too. I didn't have thin enough cotton in a color that would fit with the skirt and the purple bow, so I dyed it light blue with fabric color. Since I already went the trouble of dyeing I decided I might as well make a small flower print to it since that was popular in the era. I didn't want it to jump out too much but the lighting makes it even less visible. I made it with a white fabric pen. The collar and cuffs are reinforced with linen. I also sewed small stick-like beads to the cuffs on both sides, so one acts as a button (I sewed a buttonhole too) and the other makes it look like they are cufflinks. The bow is from the same fabric as the corset and the belt is sewn from the same cotton as the shirtwaist. The buckle is from a barbie belt.

Waistcoat

The waistcoat is from the same fabric as the skirt, thought the lapels and the back are from another satin rayon. I tailored the front panels and the lapels by stitching the linen interlining with tailor's stitches (I don't remember if that's the correct word in English) into shape. There is some wonkiness on one side of the hemline for some reason.

Boots

I made the slightly insane decision to make the shoes fully from leather, like they would have been in the period. I had an old broken leather wallet I had saved in case I needed some leather scarps. It has fairly thin leather, so it was workable here. It's light brown though, so I used black shoe polish to darken it. I wanted black or very dark brown shoes. I stacked the heels from glue and leather pieces and carved them into the right shape and sewed the shoe itself to leather shaped as the sole and glued it to the heeled and shaped sole. After I had shaped the shoes and the heels as much as I could I painted the heels black.

[pinksturniolo]

The Candy Room

A blurb from the Switch universe... spooky edition

warnings: mattxreaderxchris [no incest tf], BDSM, smut, bondage with silk, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, roleplay, halloween

a/n: happy halloween!! i highly suggest you read the previous parts. each room has a different kind of style and the story associated with that particular room is written with a different tone, so for more descriptions of each room, please check out the other parts :) masterlist here

the red room ✔︎

the star room ✔︎

the candy room ✔︎ (now viewing)

the flower room ◷…

Red latex, leather and lace, glitter and gore. Spooky and sexy costumes adorn the crowd of people in the club tonight. Couples mingle in the hallway, their wandering hands unashamed. First timers linger by the entrance door, hesitant to wonder further inside. The music pulses and bodies move fluidly, the holiday providing an influx of regulars and newcomers curious to see what the buzz was all about.

Amongst the ambience and crowd, you wait patiently in the candy room. Tonight, blue neon lights bathed the room, making the red painted walls purple. The large king-size bed with black silk sheets rests in its place in the middle of the room and you sit in a decorative wooden chair in front of it. Matt told you to sit here and wait for him, which was about 15 minutes ago and you’re starting to get antsy.

Suddenly, you feel a soft touch on the back of your neck as he walks in from behind you.

"Where's Chris?" you asked quietly, Matt standing in front of you now as you sit on the chair. His hand trails down the fabric of your button-up shirt, softly at first and then he rips the front open, feeling the tight corset you wear beneath it. He stares at your chest, smoothing his hand over the material.

You flinched as he ripped it open harshly and he smirks at the rapid rate of your heartbeat, your breath coming out slightly shaky. "Why are you so nervous?" he asks, ignoring your question. The weight of his body hovers over you as he leans his head down, nose nudging your jaw, so you tilt your head, allowing him access to the soft flesh of your neck.

Once you feel the warmth of his lips press against your skin, you squeeze your thighs together in your tight skirt and stockings, scoffing at his question. "Because I have no idea what you guys are up to..." you answer, and his tongue soothes the love bites he's placing on your neck. "Be patient please." he warns.

Now his rough hands are gripping the tops of your thighs, hard enough to make you wince and he kneels down in front of you, pushing your skirt up suddenly and yanking your stockings down so forcefully that they tear. "Matt." you hiss, your tone bathed with annoyance as you glare down at him, on his knees below you. You feel furious from the teasing he's tortured you with so far tonight, and the destroying of yet another article of your clothing but the excitement that runs through you is hard to deny. And the wetness between your legs confirms just how much this turns you on.

A jolt of fear is added to your conflicting emotions as you suddenly spot Chris over Matt's shoulders, in the far end of the room. You gasp out loud, not expecting to see him there. And… he's wearing a ghost face mask?

Okay, this was definitely the last thing you expected.

But he looks so hot.

You start to wonder if he was there the whole time.

Matt chuckles, clearly amused by your shock. He's kissing and licking at your bare thighs, inching closer to your core as he takes one of your legs and wraps it around his large shoulder. Spreading you open so you’re fully accessible to him.

“Happy Halloween baby. Don’t worry, just do exactly what I say and we’re gonna take good care of you…”

He pulls your panties to the side, dipping his tongue into your folds while his other hand runs up the side of your thigh, caressing your knee that rests upon his shoulder. You moan out, and trail your eyes back up to Chris, who watches you squirm in your seat. It scares you, the way he looks in the dark corner of the room, but the adrenaline pumps through your body and you grow impossibly wetter, the sound of it amplified by Matt’s mouth making an absolute mess between your legs.

He groans, his warm breath fanning over your core, and the scruff of his beard on you makes your legs shake around his head. You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, pull on the roots like he likes, but your hands are bound behind your back, the silk straining against your wrists.

It was his only rule for tonight.

“I wanna take it easy on you tonight. Let Chris take care of you… this is my only condition.” He holds up the bondage silk in his hand, eyebrows raised. “You’re not allowed to touch. Hands get tied behind your back.” You agreed of course, and Matt swiftly did just that, tying them tightly behind you and leaving you to patiently wait for him in the chair.

It was hard to be restricted. You wanted to feel, to hold, to touch. And Matt knew that. But he also knew that frustration was a turn on for you, it turned into excitement. That was the core of BDSM. Pain and pleasure all mixed into one.

Matt slaps the outside of your thigh, signaling for you to stop moving so much. You whimper but obey, relaxing your arms behind you. Your try to calm your breathing but he’s going in circles around your clit, and sucking, then dips into your dripping hole again, repeating the motion several times. “Fuck, Matt!” You’re barely hanging on by a thread when he stops, pulling you up from the chair and placing you on the bed, positioning you on the end.

Before you can start whining, he grabs your jaw harshly, staring darkly down at you. He wipes his mouth with his other hand, licking your juices off his fingers. “You gonna be good for Chris? Hm? Or do I need to cover that pretty mouth of yours too?” He asks and you shake your head no. “I’ll be good, Matt. Promise.” Pleased with your answer, he removes his grip from your jaw and crawls onto the mattress behind you, letting you rest against his chest. He holds your arms firmly, securing you as you finally see Chris appear in front of you, stopping at the end of the bed, the mask still on his face.

He doesn’t say a word, but his presence is strong, and when he reaches out to pull your panties down your legs and off of your body, your pulse quickens again. He spreads his firm hands up along your thighs squeezing at your hips before tugging you closer to him and you feel his hardness press against you. He pulls his cock out, teasing your entrance. You can see the muscles of his neck and underside of his jaw and can tell he’s gritting his teeth. You can hear his sharp breaths and know that Chris is just as eager as you are. He swipes the tip of himself through your wetness before prodding at your hole again, teasing you.

 You gasp from his movements, but Matt keeps his grip on you, scooting closer and wrapping his arm around your torso. He’s completely untied your corset so now there’s nothing but naked skin between you and the two of them.

His breath is against your ear, whispering sweet words. “Shh, ‘s okay princess. Relax. He’s gonna make you feel good…” He tugs lightly on the silk around your wrists, his other hand cupping your right breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. He kisses your neck softly. “Be as loud as you want. I got you.”

Chris can’t wait any longer. The sight of you restrained below him, your legs wide open just for him, is driving him insane. He pushes himself inside you, stretching you out, and his name rolls off your tongue. You can’t see it, but underneath the mask, his face is contorted in pleasure, his lips parted as he breathes out.

You moan loudly, throwing your head back against Matt. Between his words of encouragement in your ear and Chris’s thrusts quickly picking up the pace, you’re in a state of euphoria. You jolt against Matt as he gets rougher, hitting a spot deep inside of you. And then Matt wraps a delicate hand around your throat, making you see stars.

Chris is buried inside you, mesmerized by the way he slips in and out of you. You look up at him and see the sight of the mask on his face and the veins in his arms pop out as he holds your legs around his waist. “Fuck, I’m-I’m- “you struggle to get the words out but you’re already close.

“What was that? I can’t understand you darlin’. You wanna cum already?” Matt says, releasing some of the light pressure he has on your neck, placing it again on the restraint of your hands behind you. You nod, unable to form words. Chris is playing with your clit now, an unseen smirk that you just know is spread across his face. He’s fucked you dumb, and he loves it.

“Aww, you like it that much baby? Does it feel good? You like getting fucked like this?” Matt continues and all you can do is whimper in response. You’re a shaking mess and all you need now is Matt’s permission.

Chris groans as you squeeze around him, your little cries only bringing him closer to his own release. “Please, Matt. Please… ‘so good, feels so good.”

He hums, sticking his fingers in your mouth so he can stop your whining. “Alright, go ‘head. Let go, love.”

As you suck on Matt’s fingers, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes from the intensity, you cum around Chris’s throbbing dick, waves of pleasure rolling through you.

“There you go… that’s my good fucking girl.” Matt reassures you, untying the silk from your wrists and soothing your skin, while Chris releases inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He comes to a stop after you’ve both rode out your high, pushing the mask back, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead.

As much as the roleplay turned you on, the sight of his face, fucked out and cheeks colored a pinkish tint, has your heart skipping another beat. He kneels down, still holding your thighs open and uses his fingers to push his cum back inside you that leaks out, his eyes locked on you.

“Holy shit baby… you’re so fucking sexy…” He praises. “Give me that silk rope Matt. I’m not done with her yet.”

taglist!! <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @christhopersturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @mattspolitank @certifiedstarrr @fratbrochrisgf

[endereies]

ATTRIBUTES AND QUALITIES - MS - BLURB

Pairing: bf!matt x gf!reader

Contains: The details of Matt as your boyfriend, on and off camera

Requested?: yes by @bernardsbendystraws - Request

Author's notes: This shouldn't have taken me so very long to write but neither should almost everything on my platform

Word Count: 1692

╰┈➤ SFW

༊*·˚ You both tended to avoid social situations, this included date nights

You had fixed your dress one too many times for it to slip Matt's conscience. It was adorned with two perfectly symmetrical bows which lined the skin of your shoulders. They barely reached the built in corset line, covered in a soft silk. It was so barely blue to the point where you could only see it in the dim lighting of your room. Pleats curve at your hips and flow to your knees. It was clear how much you were smitten with the fabric. Matt watched you steal glances at the mannequin poised at the front window, hence his insisted purchase.

Delicate touches, traced your hips from behind and as much as you felt unease within the situation, you melted into his touch. "Hi pretty" His voice felt so pure against your neck and you couldn't help but giggle. A few peppered kisses later, he leant back to watch the reflection of you both in the full body mirror. Knitted material covered his arms, covering sections of his darker belt. That was wrapped round his light-wash jeans that became a staple in his wardrobe.

"Hey Matt" It was a timid voice that escaped your mouth, you hadn't meant for it to. It faded into the air but when you finally looked up you were met with Matt's gaze, falling heavily on you. He smiled against your neck, allowing his breath to tickle he skin.

"You don't want to go out tonight do you..?" Guilt filled you almost instantly. You were aware that he had made reservations at this fine dining place he pointed out one late-night drive. It was a high end place but the atmosphere was one to be appreciated. Yet tonight you were dreading it.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I know you booked this fancy place but I-" His fingers quickly silenced you as he pressed them against your lips. He dryly laughed and turned your chin to face him directly. "I was hoping you'd say that..I just want to watch movies alongside you. How'd you feel with that, love?"

You sighed deeply, letting yourself relax onto him. "I'd love nothing more."

༊*·˚ He loved to make you feel safe and loved whenever he could

The last few days had been filled with thunderstorms that stretched into every evening. Tonight was no different. Several hours had gone by and nothing showed signs of the storm easing up. Clouds remained dark and your window was covered in drops of rain that sped down the glass. It wasn't that you hated the way the clouds lit up to reveal the purple hues. It was the way the thunder clapped unexpectedly that made you tense. It was deafening and not even the steady hums of your playlist could block out the sounds.

You had given up the idea of sleep and simply attempted to sleep between the duvet and pillows of your bed. Bunches of fabric were huddled near your chest and practically covered your face.

"Baby? I'm home!" Finally Matt had come home from his filming session that got cut early from the rain. They all agreed it would be better to continue when sounds of water and lightning didn't fill the mic.

He wasn't oblivious to the way thunder made you uneasy, he had seen you more than once feel uncomfortable and refuse to relax. Although never this bad.

Once he was met with silence, you heard him wonder around the house. It wasn't long before he creaked open the bedroom door. You could see the way his expression softened thanks to the bursts of light outside.

"Are you okay..?" The answer was obvious when he saw stray tears lingering on your cheeks. Rustling was quickly caused by the shaking of your head, not trusting your voice to not let you down.

He caught on your feelings instantly and slid under whatever duvet you hadn't bundled at your chest. You felt his body slide next to yours, the warmth welcoming. A sudden crash of thunder echoed through the room. Matt would be lying if he said it didn't feel good when you immediately reached out for him with closed eyes.

"You're okay baby.." Reassuring words slipped past his lips as he caressed your hair gently. "I got you."

༊*·˚ He always managed to slip your name into a conversation

Tara had thrown one of her iconic parties and as per Matt's request, you were by his side. Finally meeting some people you had dreamed of seeing for years, it was safe to say you were happy.

The whole night you were beaming alongside Matt and his friends. Dressed in a light silver dress that has small glitters embedded in the fabric, Matt could watch the way you shined forever.

"Hey baby? I'm gonna go with Nick and see Tara for a moment. I'll be back" It was hard to suppress a chuckle as his brother pretended to gag at the pet name. "Go ahead y/n."

With the lack of vibrant lighting, he easily lost you in the crowd but once he turned around he caught the eye of Jake. "Matt, didn't think you would turn up if imma be honest." His eyes took in his outfit, carefully put together. Laying on his wrist was a bracelet that caught his eye. "Woah, nice bling. How much was that?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, my girl got it for me a few weeks ago. She asked if I could wear it to match her dress tonight." A knowing smile crossed Jakes's face and a slight laughed escaped his lips. "Ahh is that so."

༊*·˚ He hates the way you think so low of yourself and would always defend against any negative thoughts you had

You had been shopping around stores on one of the rare days that Matt had no work on. You had been invited out to an event with your friends so it only seemed fitting to find a specialized outfit.

He was patiently sat outside the fitting rooms with the assortment of bags surrounding his feet. He saw a figure walk out and when he finally lifted his eyes, his jaw dropped. You were wrapped in a gorgeous red fabric that was cinched at the left side of your body. It had laid gently across your mid thigh.

You opened the curtain and revealed your outfit to Matt. "Woah.."

"I know, I'm not really a fan of it, I mean.." Your words trailed off as you looked down towards your stomach and hips.

"What are you on about? I'm obsessed with the way this looks on you, It looks even better when you feel that way too. This dress highlights your best features, baby. All of them."

You placed yourself in front of the mirror and tried to brush down any features you felt mildly uncomfortable with. Matt had come up behind you and placed his hands on your hip while resting his chin on to your bare shoulder.

"My pretty girl." He sighed into your neck and that was enough to pay for the dress with your Matt's card later.

༊*·˚ He would always pamper you whenever you felt unwell / on your period

It had been about an hour since Matt left your apartment. All you asked was that he pick up some chocolate to satiate your cravings, which had been an upset for the past six hours. The sharp pains in your stomach had only gotten worse, even after medication. Every time that Matt crossed your mind it only made you feel so needy, clingy. Like a burden.

Little did you know that Matt was rushing around several stores for more than your sweet treats. Any time you made a comment about something you liked, he made sure that you got it. A bouquet of your favourite flowers had ended in his basket, along with an assortment of treats, a candle with your preferred smells inside, a pink bath bomb and of course, Pads and tampons.

He hadn't meant to take so long but when you finally heard the front door of your apartment click open you were full of relief.

The gentle knocks on your bedroom door spurred you to sit up against the headboard, the hot water bottle across your midriff.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm back" His voice was meek, as if you had barely woken up.

"What took you so long, Matt? Did you get lost" A slight giggle passed your lips, met with a shake of Matt's head.

"No, baby. I just went on a little spree." That's when your jaw dropped. Finally, he pulled the bags from behind the door and placed them heavily at the end of your bed.

"So, at first, I was only going to get you the chocolates, but then I saw these Haribo's I remember you practically stole from me because they were 'too good to resist'." The bags of confectionary rustled on the blankets. "Then I saw this candle and it was blue, which grabbed my attention. Then I saw it was your favourite so of course I grabbed it. I had to get you pads and tampons. I know you alternate so I grabbed both kinds." A small pile began to form at your feet. "Oh! I also saw some fuzzy socks so they went in and i stopped at Lush to get you a bath bomb. They didn't have your normal one so i got a back up one for you!"

His gaze finally met your eyes, staring at the pile with tears forming. It was obvious you weren't blinking so that you didn't cry. You knew if you had tried to speak, your emotions would quickly be revealed. if they weren't already by your expression.

"Y/n..? You okay.. did i do something wrong..?" With an insistent shake of your head, you denied his words.

"You did all this for...me?" You looked up to him in mere disbelief. "Of course I did. I always will. I can tell you needed this."

"Matt...thank you.."

"You can thank me once I've run your bath, okay love?"

© ENDEREIES 2024

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerslover @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @sleepysturnss @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris

[somewhereincairparavel]

What would the seven wear? - Fashion Style analysis ( HOO Girls Ver.)

as a kid I used to want to be a fashion designer so making this post healed my inner child <3 enjoy ~

HAZEL LEVESQUE - okay okay omgg this girl would have the best fashion sense out of all of them (imo) because she is influenced by SO many fashion aesthetics, like her style would be vintage and modern at the same time! I feel like she would love long flowy dresses because it was the most common clothing women would wear in the 40's, she would love floral patterns sm because they are so cheery and it lightens her mood, this would bring out her "adorable" style more. also. JACKETS. this girl is OBESSED with jackets and cardigans, particularly in the colors brown and black. Overall her style is a mix of cheery, cute but she has that pluto edge to her style aswell with the jackets.

PIPER MCLEAN- honestly as much as she would hate to admit it, i feel like Piper would LOVE pink, pale pink takes up the majority of her palette. Her style is very youthful and it's a mix of rebel indie kid and soft coquette core. LOVES LOVES LOVES denim shorts, they are like a must in her wardrobe. Also, She loves jewelry, whether it be tassel earrings, beady bracelets and necklaces, rings etc. like she defo cares more about accessorizing than the actual clothing. she wears baggy white shirts a lot for some reason, but it suits her so well. Crop tops are a must, specifically pink or purple ones with a cute image on it, remember she wore a hello kitty crop top? yeah like that. I feel like her style is the most fresh and childlike without it being over the top, it is so cute. i love her style sm.

ANNABETH CHASE- Annabeth's style is super elegant tbh, she LOVES wearing grey, orange and white imo, also, i feel like she LOVES light blue/dark blue jeans. Ofc Annabeth loves caps, its like super dear to her, she doesn't have a specific "style" she just loves changing it a lot. Annabeth LOVES long dresses especially if they are white/warm brown. Her style is just super chill and modern. Percy is down bad when she wears baggy shirts tho cuz she slays so hard in them Annabeth loves knitted lace jackets because it gives off very homely vibes. Overall her style is super authentic and fresh tbh.

REYNA AVILA RAMIREZ ARELLANO- i have a feeling that reyna would love dressing up. it brings her comfort, she was the hairdresser in circe's island after all, Reyna is just straight up royal core. she likes wearing corsets, and silk gowns, Her color palette is gold, black, white, violet, and dark maroon tbh. Reyna LOVES large gold earrings that just dangle y'know? it makes her feel and look regal. She also loves circlets that you wear on the head. uggh she has got that roman classiness y'know. Super fancy and enjoys wearing long robes and skirts, i love my fancy shmancy queen <3

[luveline]

Hello! Would it be alright to request something where prince!steve and his Princess attend their first formal event together?

tysm for requesting ♡ prince steve au

"Don't spill anything," Steve advises under his breath. "Your corset is alabaster." 

"I know. I feel like breathing the wrong way is gonna crack it like papier mache." 

He snorts, adjusting your hand on his arm to the correct position where you stand around a corner from the grand staircase. You wince as rich laughter bounces off the marble steps, the sound wrought with a feeling akin to hounds snapping at your heels. 

"Your nails look nice," Steve says. 

He's already complimented your face, your hair, and your dress. There's not much left to praise, but he finds something anyhow, and a flush of pleasure warms your skin. "Thank you," you say, looking down at your painted nails, a shimmering mother of pearl lacquer coating each one. The cost rivals a month's groceries. "They had so many colours… we started with red, but I thought it looked silly on me. My hands are weird." 

"Your hands are perfect." His eyes shine with sincerity, lips pulled into an amused smile that feels like a well-aimed bop to the chest. "I can get you more. Nail lacquer, I mean. There's a small Sri Lankan boutique by Cordelian House, they have all that intricate cosmetic stuff. It's where Munson gets his kohl sticks." He smiles at you reassuringly. "I'm trying to distract you. It's not working, is it?" 

"I'm going to mess up. Your mom– the queen–" 

"You can call her my mom. That's what she is." Steve nods his understanding of the things you've said without saying them. "She'll be disappointed if you mess up. But I won't be. I'm proud of you for even putting on the dress. I'd be proud of you if you didn't." 

You lick your lips, cherry balm sticky on the tip of your tongue. "Thank you, Steve." 

He says things like this with little regard for how forward it is. Not that subtlety is required. While antiquated in some aspects, the contemporary royal society is loudly lustful. You and Steve could be intimate together now weeks before the wedding and nobody would bat an eye, but you suspect that he's just as unprepared for that as you are, no matter how gently he covers your hand with his. 

There's a short sound like a bird call. Steve straightens his back, his thumb drawing a half circle across your fingers. "Ready?" he asks. 

You nod. You don't really have a choice. 

They announce you together, Prince Steven and his Soul Marked Y/N. It sounds ridiculous to hear his name after weeks of Please, call me Steve, or anything else but Steven. Doubly so to hear you announced as his and not yourself. A simple 'Miss' would have sufficed. Braced for a night of similar small agonies, you hold tight to Steve's arm and begin your descent down the grand staircase and into the foyer. The palace is a structure of white stone that shines silver in some lights, impossible walls of selenite and gauzy silks. The steps are more solid, a plain marble that clicks under the soles of your short heels. 

"Don't let me fall," you say under your breath, the hush of the crowd nearly occluding your voice completely. 

"Never." You can hear his polite smile. "Don't panic." 

You can't not panic, sweat at your naked collar, pearls like beads of ice bobbing with each step you take. The second you reach the floor you deflate with an exhale, your back clicking at the sudden decompression. There's a brief round of applause at your arrival before the cheery music begins anew, the dancing begins again, and the many faces that surround you blur into jewels and elegant clothes, fabrics coloured manilla white, snailshell purple, emerald green, a rainbow of satins swirling this way and that as girls are pushed into spins to the right of the foyer under the ballroom chandelier. 

"You'll dance with me, yeah?" Steve asks tentatively. 

You meet his eyes, all their soft brown gazing at you like you're worth his worry. His lashes twitch as his gaze darts swiftly down and up again. 

"Do I have something?" you ask, lifting your chin. 

"Lipstick. I can fix it?" He brings his hand to your lips before you've answered, using the trimmed nail of his pinky finger to wipe at your lip. You turn still as a porcelain statue, a shiver rushing down your chest at the warmth of his touch.

"You'll dance with me?" he asks again, his knuckle brushing your chin as he drops his hand. 

"Of course I'll dance with you, Steve. We're expected to." 

He throws a glance at the people around you and steps closer. "I want to dance with you because you want to dance. We don't have to do anything. Not this ball, not the dance. Not the wedding." He sighs. "You have choices." 

"No. I don't." Because there glows your wrist. Threads of translucency like spider web and downy feather combined, a sorry hue of blue. 

"Yes, you do," he whispers. "You want to leave? We'll leave right now. I just want you to be happy, and with me." 

You think about it. The weight of hundreds of eyes on your shoulders and the restriction of your corset is making you nauseous. If you left, that sickness would go. But Steve wouldn't get to dance with you.

"I don't want to leave," you say, not sure if you're lying or not. You'd quite like to have his hands on your hips again. And sometimes before the dip he breathes in your ear, says something soft, like Keep going, you got it. 

"No?" he asks, relieved. 

"No. Let's dance. We need the practice…" You offer your hand. He takes it, the smudge of lipstick on his pinky finger like a heart. "I'm sorry. I want to dance." 

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, leaning down to kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Let's dance. If you mess up, I'll mess up worse. I promise. I'll chicken dance in front of everybody." 

[bunni-v1]

Cureé

Chapter 5: Deal Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: None (I think!)

Info: Vil and Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k Words

🍓Unfortunatelyyyyyyyy this chapter had to be split into two! It was getting too long and I knew I had to cut it in half. The second part WILL be shorter I promise! Anyway, this one was a lot of fun to write, and we're starting to get into the meat of everything here! Hope you all enjoy <3

Taglist: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02 @savanaclaw1996 (Lmk if you want to be added)

“This may be the worst thing I’ve ever worn…” you grumble, glaring at the too-fluffy purple fabric of your skirt. The sleeves were a poofy nightmare, flaring out from the top with slits down the center for better arm movement, and to show off your pretty silk gloves. The corset wrapped around your waist did you no favors, only restricting your movements and making it harder to breathe. The only thing the dress did not cover was your chest, draped in the finest jewels your handmaids could find. It likely didn’t help that you had an extra layer of hunting clothes beneath the whole ensemble.

“It’s not that bad…” Deuce tries to soothe, smoothing over the skirt.

It was a very pretty dress but… You felt a bit ridiculous in the wretched thing. Ballgowns were never your favorite, while your brother adored them more than anything. He could pull them off though, looking like a goddess and floating across the floor like a ghost. You… you looked like… well…

“You look like a purple cream puff,” Ace says, better than anyone else could.

“I know,” you whine, “I begged for something more… modest, but appearances and such.”

“You look pretty,” Deuce tries again, and you focus your glare in the mirror on him, which makes him shrink back a bit.

“You do look nice,” Ace jumps in, “just not…”

“Yourself,” Deuce finishes for him, smile awkward and nervous as always.

You sigh, fiddling with the pretty silken gloves. You did not like silk gloves, you always struggled to grab silverware with them on, but they were pretty. They made you feel pretty, despite your favor for leather hunters gloves. 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Ace slings his arm around your shoulder, waving his hand through the air and looking off into the distance. You follow his gaze, though you know you both looked incredibly stupid, “that hunter guy is gonna lose his mind when he sees you all dressed up.”

You roll your eyes. You told Ace and Deuce about your interesting beau shortly after he had left your room, and the two of them had not allowed you to live it down since. You fix your glare up at Ace now, arms crossing petulantly over your chest. While the idea of Rook enjoying your outfit made butterfly wings tickle your stomach, you did not like being teased about it. In retaliation, you poke him hard in his ribs. He whines and gives you space to breathe.

“Don’t make me think about him,” you sigh, “it’ll make this dinner all the more dreadful.”

“At least you’re sitting near Riddle?” Deuce asks hopefully, an encouraging smile gracing his features. You find his smile to be quite knightly, and the nervous part of your brain is assured by it. If only a little.

“At least I have that,” you laugh lightly, giving yourself one last look over in the mirror before the door to your room cracked open, familiar blue eyes sparkling at you.

“It’s time to make your appearance, Your Majesty,” Epel said playfully, practically jittering in excitement.

You let out a noise between a squeak of surprise and an exclamation of joy, then throw yourself into his arms. He spins you around a few times, laughing, then plants you on the ground and straightens any fabric or hair that might’ve fallen out of place. Seeing Epel was quite the pick me up, especially since you hadn’t seen him since those few nights ago.

“You are my escort?” You exclaim, unable to stay still as you bounce up and down happily.

“The Queen specifically requested I be the one to escort you,” he confirms, smiling bright as the sun, “though… I’m unsure why he changed his tune about everything that happened.”

“That’s not something to worry about,” you dismiss, though you are confident your little… argument with your brother was the most likely cause, “I’m just happy to see you again.”

His smile softens into something more gentle, intimate, and knowing. You missed the kind way he looked at you. Like you were his family and he yours. Before you both can get too lost in catching up a throat clears behind you. Ah, yes. Ace and Deuce were here.

“Who’s this?” Ace asks chest puffed out. Was he… sizing Epel up? The idea is so funny that you laugh a little without meaning to.

“Ah, Ace and Deuce, this is my best friend since childhood, Epel,” You turn to Epel, who also seems to be sizing the two men up, “Epel, these are my temporary guards and dearest companions from the Rosedom, Ace and Deuce.”

“You’ve been taking good care of them?” Epel asks sharply.

“Great care,” Ace retorts, just as sharp.

“The best, even,” Deuce remarks as well.

Before the three of them can get into a verbal game of proving who you do or do not like more, you wave your hands in the air and insist that you must not be late for dinner. Your brother’s wrath would be unpleasant to face, especially after having made a big deal of promising to be on time. So, reluctantly, the three men back down and guide you carefully through the busy halls bustling with castle staff ensuring everything was perfect for the day.

When you finally reach the (frankly, too) large doors of the dining room, Epel stops you. Introductions, of course, you are sure all the suitors (actually just your brother, and maybe Kalim) are waiting with bated breath to see you. Hah, the thought is funny. No one really wants to be here, and you know that for a fact.

Epel announces your arrival, the doors open, and you put a pleasant smile on your face. Perform perfectly, and it’ll all be over in no time, you remind yourself. Your brother stands at the end of the table, though he does not make direct eye contact with you the whole time you are walking to your seat. You are to be positioned opposite of him, and as promised, Riddle is standing in the spot next to you. Unfortunately for you, Leona is positioned on the other side of you, and you try not to frown when you realize this.

Next to Leona is, surprisingly, Azul Ashengrotto, who you did not expect to see tonight. He was not exactly someone you imagine your brother being willing to negotiate with, especially not when you are in question… but you have been learning quite a bit about your brother you suppose. Kalim sat next to Riddle, giving you a little wave when you made eye contact. You do not grin, though you wish to do so. Kalim was such a sweetheart, especially to you, even before any marriage was in question.

Idia, whom you had forgotten was even an option for you, was sitting on your brother's left next to Kalim. He looked as though he might burst out crying when you looked at him, so you swiftly moved your eyes to the final suitor. Malleus Draconia, as elegant and handsome as always, which causes a nagging part of your brain to roll its eyes (though you do not). He gives you a confident smile, and you have to resist the urge to vomit. His ever-scary retainer was standing near the edge of the room by the guards after all, you did not want to feel his gaze on you ever again after that one night.

When you position yourself in front of your seat, you finally lock eyes with your brother. He is beautiful as always, as expected. There is a lingering sadness in his face, a stress that you had not seen since your parents had passed. You hate the way satisfaction grows in your belly at the thought that you had caused it. Resentment was an ugly beast.

Vil clears his throat, and a kind, gentle, fake smile comes across his lips. “Welcome all to dinner, we are delighted to have your company on this fine evening. More than that, I am pleased that all of you are interested in trying for my dearly beloved siblings' hand in marriage. This dinner, so to speak, will mark the beginning of the ahem competition for her affections. Do try your best.”

The air around you becomes tense at his words, even though your brother continues to speak, and you don’t believe it’s solely because of your distaste for the idea. There is a real drive in (some of) these men to prove themselves to you. They all have stakes in this ‘friendly’ competition for your hand — well, more like their kingdoms do. While each of them has little personal gain, their people would greatly benefit from a marriage between their kingdom and the most powerful human royal line in the current times.

You are a prize to be won, as much as you do not want to be, and it makes your stomach turn. You are so discomforted with the feeling, that you spend the rest of your brothers pleasantries ignoring his words and trying to calm yourself. You only tune back in when everyone sits and food is brought out.

You fiddle with your silken gloves, nerves shot. You hated feeling like prey. You were not a deer in the forest, you were the hunter. So why did you feel like you were stripped of that pride? Why did you feel the burn of seven eyes on you? Lost in your mind, you nearly spiral, until a gentle tap comes from your right side, and an awkward smile from the prettiest cupid bowed lips your eyes had ever seen pulls you from your stresses. Riddle’s gray eyes are strangely… understanding as he quietly asks “Are you okay?” You nod, and he relaxes just a bit.

Some of your suitors have already begun to engage each other in conversation, and you realize you must’ve been quiet and unmoving for a significant amount of time. Your face heats at the idea. You do not feel yourself right now, thank goodness for Riddle’s uncharacteristic kindness.

He seems to notice, again, that you are floundering and decides to converse with you. You think he may be an angel sent by the seven to save you from your idiocy.

“Trey gave me those tarts you made last week,” he begins, “they were delightful. Raspberry is surprisingly delicious.”

You are pleasantly surprised to find that Riddle was the recipient of your leftover treats. He didn’t strike you as the sweet kind, but perhaps that was because you only knew him to be sour. Was Trey trying to get you some bonus points with him? Or maybe it was him with you. Regardless of Trey’s intentions, both you and Riddle benefited.

“Yes, my mother's recipe,” you speak in hushed tones, not wanting to draw attention, “I didn’t know you liked sweets.”

He frowns a little, biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brows. You briefly imagine a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and smile a little, which seems to ease his mind a bit as his face relaxes.

“I’m not… supposed to eat sweets like that,” he admits finally, “they’re too fattening and not good for the health.”

You shake your head at him, scoffing, “A little treat once in a while is a good thing. Anyway, I am glad you ate them. I didn’t want all of our hard work to be wasted.”

His pretty pink lips curled up into a smile, which makes butterflies flutter around in your rib cage. Riddle is handsome, which you knew from your encounters beforehand, but you hadn’t taken the time to study why that was before. His face was slender, cheeks still soft with not yet lost baby fat. His skin was pale from how much time he spent indoors being pampered by his maids and serfs, and his cheeks flushed a pretty rosy red – you believed it was natural, which only made him more handsome in your opinion. 

Despite the soft, childlike look he had, his features were sharp and trained like a true ruler. Steel blue eyes pierced into every aspect of your being, framed by soft, long eyelashes. And, of course, those damned pink lips. The dip of his cupid's bow gave them a heart-shaped look, which only added to how pretty he was. Sevens, you were jealous of just how effortlessly beautiful your – tentative – friend was.

“I’m inclined to agree with you after eating those tarts,” he laughs, ending your ogling.

You give him a pleasant smile and move to eat your meal. You were the only person in the room that had hardly touched the food, which was delicious, and so entirely unlike yourself. You made up for that in record time, still managing to look and act like you were royalty while you did so. (After seeing Ace and Deuce eat earlier this week, you were very conscious of how you looked while you ate).

You noticed the, in lack of better terms, impressed face Riddle makes when he finally looks back at your plate and half of it is gone. He does not say anything though, and you are grateful for it because explaining how much you like food to someone as slim and pretty as him fills you with hot shame just thinking about it. You give him a gracious smile, lightly patting your lips to be rid of any food that might’ve escaped you.

“You eat like a monster,” comes a grating, gravely deep voice next to you.

Riddle scoffs, a glare hardening his soft, boyish features. You lift a hand before he can defend your honor. Your eyes slide over to Leona, annoyance already clear on your face. You do not feel the need to hide your dislike for him like you might with the others. Leona sure doesn’t hide his. Still, you can’t just be cruel the way you want to.

“If I am a monster for enjoying the food my staff slaved so tirelessly over, then let the kingdom’s best hunters come and take my head as a prize,” you reply.

He grins. A slow, lazy one that is more attractive than you want to give him credit for, and holds his hands up in defense. “I’m just letting you know. Not very attractive – oh, and you have something in your teeth.”

Your face heats up, hands shooting up to cover your mouth with an indignant huff. You quickly wipe at your teeth, feeling humiliated. You were no match for Leona in a game of downright meanness. 

Riddle settled his glare at him again, “You could stand to be a little kinder if you want a chance at their hand.”

“I don’t want a chance at their hand,” Leona shoots back. Despite how that should relieve you, your humiliation only grows at the idea that you are not desirable. (You did not want to be desirable, especially not to him, but you cannot control your emotions when they are already high.)

“But your family does,” Comes the cool voice of Azul, sudden and jarring compared to the other competitions. A deceivingly kind smile grows on his face, and he waves his hand in the air as if dissipating your embarrassment like smoke with it. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, the three of you were just so… amusing that I couldn’t help myself.

You sigh, again fiddling with the fingers of your gloves. His words rang in your head, again faced with the fact that you were nothing but a chess piece in the larger game of politics right now. Suddenly, Riddle’s gentle kindness from earlier felt a little more… sharp.

Azul’s lips relax into what you’ve come to know as his deal-making face – though you are sure that if he were to try and make a deal here your brother would execute him without a second thought. “A little kindness to our dearest benefactor couldn’t hurt. They are, by all means, the key to our future success. They deserve at least respect for that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona drawls, slumping into his seat, “I’ve heard the whole song and dance. Being a suck-up isn’t gonna help your case any more than me though. Credit where credit’s due, they’re damn perceptive for being so sheltered.”

Something more akin to a sneer than a smile climbs its way onto your face, “Oh, thank you so much. How kind, Prince Leona. I’m flattered, truly.”

“Is something the matter down there?” Your brother called. Your side of the table fell quiet, a chill running over you all (except Leona, who was never bothered by your brother's icy demeenor). 

Used to the cold feeling climbing up your spine, you recovered the fastest, a sweet smile gracing your face, “No, not at all Your Majesty. We were just discussing the arrangement between ourselves.”

He hums, staring you down. You do not break, like you know he wants you to. You would not bend. You could not. You had to show him you were capable, now more than ever. 

Finally, he smiles, “Perhaps that would be good for all of us – to discuss why you are participating in this game for my beloved younger sibling’s heart?”

Your lips pull up into a lopsided smirk. So this was the game your brother was playing at. Force them to lay their cards on the table to start, while yours stayed close to your chest. It explained why he was so secretive about everything, and while you did not like being a pawn in his scheme, you could understand his methods. Masterful planning, as usual. Your frustration at his lack of communication is watered down by how impressed you are. 

“Well, Princess, since you are the hand to be won, who would you like to hear from first?” Vil asks, all smiles as if he wasn’t playing a game of mental chess this whole time.

If you wanted to succeed in this whole… suitor business, you had to be smarter. Faster. More precise.

“Ah, there are so many lovely options here. Where shall we begin?” You hum, feigning thought as you gazed across the table, then finally landed on Leona.

“Well… since I was already discussing it, I’ll start with these three gentlemen!” You exclaim.

Leona sighs, annoyance clear on his face. The other two seem to accept their fate rather willingly, ready to come up with their noble (or not-so-noble) reasons as to why you should give them the time of day. ‘The princess is kind, pretty, intelligent– blah, blah, blah’ the usual. You had no intent to actually let them speak to start. So you tutted at them.

“Don’t worry, I won’t put any of you on the spot,” you hum sweetly, “See, I did a bit of digging, just to see what I could find, and did I find.”

You decide the least noble of the three would be put on the chopping block first, “Leona has no real stake in this fight for my hand. He does not like me, he does not have any real bearing on his kingdoms welfare, and quite honestly there’s very little gain that the Sunset Savannah can earn from an arrangement between itself and our kingdom… except political prowess. To marry into our family would give them even more power and control than they already have, but they don’t need it nearly as badly as others at this table. Is that right, Leona?”

Leona huffs out of his nose, clapping slowly at you, bemused by your straightforwardness. If there was one thing you did like about Leona, is that he acquiesced when he knew he had to. He was prideful, but he did not let it get in the way of his presentation, and that was refreshing compared to other royalty. “Spot on, princess.”

“Now… Riddle,” you say thoughtfully, “You are a political pawn for whatever your mother wants, and right now she wants power. Much like Leona, you are here to better your standing among the other kingdoms and give your cabinet more moving room in this metaphorical game of chess. The Rosedom is already incredibly close with us, however, so I can only imagine the lack of movement stems from low funds?”

He nods, eyes narrowed in something akin to embarrassment and annoyance. Unlike Leona, Riddle’s and his Kingdom’s pride was everything to him, and you are afraid you might’ve squashed it – along with any friendliness that had been there earlier. “That is… true. We are going through a horrible economic depression, and this arrangement would, hopefully, help us climb out of it.”

“Speaking of money…” you point to Idia, who looks like he might’ve pissed himself then and there, “your family owns STYX?”

He nods, eyes watering and wide, like you were pointing a gun to his head. He is nothing like the man who borderline threatened you in the library some weeks ago, and the power rush you get from scaring him is a little too satisfying.

“I’m not exactly sure what you do there. I assume it’s magic-related, knowing your family history, and it likely isn’t cheap. I also understand our… ahem… former magic research team was one of the best in Twisted Wonderland. I can only imagine that your family sent you here for money and better resources?”

He whimpers, and you take that as a resounding yes, shifting your focus to Kalim, who greets it with a wide grin. It makes you wonder, briefly, why there is even a debate about who you might marry in the first place. Kalim is kind, generous, rich, and incredibly handsome. Not to mention that servant Jamil of his is rather… charming. (The romanticist in you cannot help but imagine midnight trysts and forbidden love). Then you recall the horrible tales of attempted assassinations and remember why you never visited the Scalding Sands to begin with.

“I remember reading somewhere that your father was looking for more direct trade routes?” You ask aloud.

He nods, confirming it with all the delight in the world, “The route Father has takes nearly two weeks, and many of the goods can easily be stolen in the dangerous territory on the outskirts of our kingdoms.”

“It would half the travel time and double profit,” You add smartly, “not to mention it eliminates the worry of marrying you off to someone who might want to kill you and your family. On top of that, we are already friends, so we could skip the pesky getting to know each other part of all this.”

His grin manages to widen, which charms you in a way only someone like him could. If only there were no major risks to your livelihood…

Your eyes flit over to Azul, who gives you a kind, placid smile. Fake, you think. Azul Ashengrotto was a mystery to you, despite knowing he had his claws (or, well, tentacles) in your kingdom's marketplace for years. He came out of nowhere from the deep sea with his two lackeys, and you hadn’t been rid of him. However, he had never bothered you until now.

“You are… an unexpected suitor, Azul.” You state plainly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to inconvenience you,” he hums back, disgustingly kind.

“No, no, it makes things more interesting,” you dismiss with an equally kind smile, “the only thing I can imagine you would want is connections and power. Marrying a royal makes you one by default which means you can expand your business in ways that you could never do beforehand. Though, I’m sure you could find a way without me.”

His smile cools into a more tense one, though he does not do anything more. Finally, you are faced with Malleus, who is smirking in interest at your tirade. You know very little of Malleus. You know very little of Fae. You do know, however, too much about politics. With this, you can reasonably infer a few things about this arrangement for your horned suitor.

“Prince Malleus Draconia of The Valley of Thornes is, perhaps, my most interesting choice among you all,” you begin, rubbing your chin thoughtfully, “From what I know, your Kingdom has plenty of influence, more than enough money, and a very strong army. You don’t need our connections, you have no benefit economically, and human soldiers would be a laughable offer to you. So, what, could you want from this?”

The table is silent as you mull it over, many of the men equally curious as you are. (Sans Leona, of course, who would rather die than think about Malleus for more than a few seconds at a time). You cannot think of anything Malleus or his kingdom would gain from an alliance with humans, but he must need something. Your eyes glance over your brother and you notice, for just a second, a moment, something akin to nervousness crosses his face. Idia, you realize, also appears to have a knowing nervousness in his eyes.

Then, all at once, you connect it. It’s magic. It’s those monsters Rook is hunting. Malleus needs human help, for some reason, with those monsters. You can’t voice that, of course, because your brother can’t know that you know. So, you come up with something on the fly.

“You need connection. Not for power, but because you want it,” you say finally, “not to say you are lonely… perhaps you just wish for a different kind of connection? Human connection?”

His smirk slides into an impressed smile, posture somehow more straight, and eyes lighting up in delighted approval. You hate to admit that he is quite handsome when he is charmed like this. “Yes, exactly. You are very observant, and much more thoughtful than I have given you credit for.”

“Ah… thank you…” you say slowly, doing your best not to show your annoyance at the unintentional jab to your intellect.

“I have read many books about humans and their behaviors. Their social habits, interests, abilities, and their kingdoms all fascinate me. I wanted a chance to come here and befriend some of you,” he admits rather willingly, and you find it rather cute how honest he is. Oh- wait, you’re supposed to dislike him! Stay stubborn!

“Well, I am honored that you chose me,” you say kindly, an overused platitude that always seemed to say enough when you needed it.

“Your observations are impressive,” your brother finally speaks up, and you can tell there is a thing of worry deep in his eyes, “truly… I have no idea when you had the time to gather this information.”

“People talk. In the city, the castle, the courtyard. If you listen, you learn,” you state simply.

You know you are a prize to be won, you understand that you cannot stop that. What you can do is make it as difficult as possible for everyone else involved, and that is exactly what you will do. Kindness is a weapon in this game, and you will not be cut by soft words and gentle gestures. 

So the dinner continues on, now with the knowledge that you are also playing their game. That you, perhaps, are several steps ahead of them. The tenseness does not subside, but neither does the conversation. You discuss politics with Riddle, your love of board games with Azul and Idia, food with Kalim, and even snark back and forth about your families with Leona. Malleus, for all its worth, discusses his enjoyment of your castles architecture, and you promise to show him the gargoyles near the south exit sometime during his stay.

It is… pleasant. Normal. A relief from all that has been stressing you. Despite the looming thought that all of this is for the show, you enjoy yourself as much as you can afford. Once all of you have eaten your fill, your brother gives another delightful speech, and you are all dismissed back to your quarters for the night. Except, your company this time is Riddle, not Epel.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, those horse riding lessons, are they still on the table?” you ask excitedly.

He blinks, clearly taken aback, but recovers quickly, “Ah, yes, those. Of course, I would not offer something and not mean it.”

You smile, “How gentlemanly.”

“It’s common courtesy,” he rebukes.

“Not many people around here know what that means, so it’s refreshing to see that you do,” you state simply, enjoying the way his face heats up, “Would you… like to meet my horse?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you had no expertise?”

“I don’t, but I do have a horse,” you laugh, “she’s my mother’s horse's daughter – a little confusing, I know.”

He laughs, a genuine one, “You want to introduce me tonight? Is it not late?”

You frown a little, evading your gaze, “I… rarely sleep well anyway. It would be a nice distraction if you’d allow me?”

He does not say anything else but nods as if his mind is made up. You walk to the stables side by side, comfortable quiet overcoming both of you. You’ve realized you do not need too many words with Riddle, which is nice compared to how many words you’ve come to need with everyone else. He is quiet as he slides open the door to the stables, and he is quiet and you lead him to the stable you know holds your girl. 

You know that she is spoiled and well cared for, her glossy black coat and braided mane enough to tell you that. She is ridden frequently enough by visitors and trainers, so she is well-behaved when you reach in to let her sniff your hand. It takes her a moment, but somehow, she recognizes you and presses her nose against your palm. 

“She is beautiful,” Riddle mutters, clearly not meaning to say it out loud.

“I know, such a shame that I can’t ride her,” you laugh, “humiliating actually. What princess doesn’t know how to ride a horse – her own horse even?”

He tuts at you, moving to slide the stable door open, excitedly observing her physique. She does not jerk away when he touches her, which only seems to excite him more. It’s cute, you think, but you don’t want to ruin his moment by voicing it. Finally, he sighs and turns to you with a… pitying look.

“It is not… a secret that you are sheltered – even more than I was. I can’t blame you for not living a normal life when you were not allotted it, and I think you should be kinder to yourself as well,” he responds.

You don’t know what to say to that. What could you say to that? You knew your childhood and life as it was, was not normal. Not even normal for being the princess of a powerful kingdom. Other royals were afforded more freedom – even Kalim who constantly had a bounty on his head was allowed to do more, to see more, to be more than you. You just never liked to think about it, and you still didn’t want to. Not yet, anyhow. Not with everything else on your mind.

“I appreciate the advice, Riddle,” you sigh finally, which relieves him of the tension that was steadily growing in his shoulders.

He rubs the side of your horse, patting her affectionately. She huffs, turning away from him. It’s a funny sight, to see such a big thing cower from a small man. You do not hide your amusement this time, stepping into the stable with him. He smiles softly at you, beckoning you closer, and then he hands you a brush from a bucket.

“A good way to build trust between rider and horse is to spend quality time together,” he explains, “while you don’t have much time together yet, we can start tonight by brushing her.”

He positions himself behind you, keeping a respectable enough distance between your bodies, then guides your movements across her strong body. You try not to pay attention to the warmth emanating off your bodies, or how his touch is so gentle on top of yours. You try to convince yourself that this positioning is necessary for the task at hand, that he is just being kind. (You are certain that Riddle is not the type to lead unsuspecting young princesses into dark stables for nefarious purposes.) You glance back to look at his face, which is red hot and does not make you feel any better.

“Are there… benefits for brushing a coat so short?” you ask, trying anything to take your mind off your predicament.

“Several.” his breath is hot against your face, “despite the coat being short, it helps keep the skin healthy and removes any debris that could harm the horse in the long run.” you despise yourself for speaking in the first place, “It also allows the rider to do a checkup to ensure everything is fine physically.” You curse the Seven for allowing you to be so stupid, “And, of course, it is often used as a means of strengthening your bond with the horse.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Fascinating.”

He steps away after you are thoroughly hot and bothered, sighing to himself about something or other. You were too caught in your head to eavesdrop this time. Eventually, you set the brush back where you saw him grab it from, brushing off your silk gloves, then groaning as you realized you were still in the dress. The bottom of it was covered in dirt, and your gloves had bits of horse hair stuck in it.

“Perhaps the stables were not the best idea…” you sigh, pulling at the hair in your gloves.

Riddle grins, “I think you’re right. My shoes are disgusting.”

“I don’t even want to check mine,” you groan.

You share a laugh, hearty and good, then dust yourselves off and wander your way to the fountain which is not too far from the stables. You discuss your love for sweets and learn of his affection for the guards he had brought with him – including Ace and Deuce, which surprised you with how harsh he was on them. It was tough love, of course, because contrary to popular belief Riddle Rosehearts was not a monster.

Reaching the fountain, the two of you settle upon its lip. From here you can see the exit where you’re meant to meet Rook. Your heart stutters at the thought. Because you were seeing Rook again or because you were meant to learn magic under your brother's nose… that was yet to be decided. Maybe it was both.

“You are a hunter, yes?” Riddle asks suddenly, gaze following yours.

“I…” You hesitate, no you weren’t. Not anymore… not technically. “Not really. I used to be, and I was good. But these past few years my brother all but banned me from doing so.”

He hums, “From what I’ve heard, that hasn’t stopped you at all.”

You feel your face heat up. What happened on your birthday was sure to get around, but no one had been bold enough to bring it up to you yet. You should feel proud of your little rebellion, but you felt almost shameful. “It was… a last hurrah. That's all.” Besides, you think, after seeing the blot monster you’d rather not go hunting. Not without magic, at least. Ah, yes, magic. You were meant to ask him about that, hmm?

Truthfully, the idea of asking about magic was scary, because your brother had made it that way. But… all of your suitors were powerful magicians. Magic was natural to them, which helped ease their worries a bit. “You’re… a magician, right? Ace and Deuce mentioned it once.”

He hesitates. Clearly, he was aware of the rule your brother implemented and withheld, but he was not a liar. “...I am. I’ve been practicing since I could walk.”

You nod, pulling at the fabric of your dress, “Is it… does it hurt? To perform spells and such?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost incredulous at the suggestion, “Magic is harmless – not harmless, I suppose, but it does not harm the user.” He huffs in disbelief, “I was aware you didn’t practice magic, but I assumed you knew the basics.”

You shake your head, “What I was taught I’ve practically forgotten.”

He sighs, “I can’t believe that… how long has it been since then?”

You shrug. You don’t know. One day your parents were gone, and with them your magic professor and most other magic-related items in the castle. “My brother…”

“Is a giant prick?” A voice came from the bushes nearby, and with it emerged Leona. Does he… never sleep in his room?

“What in the world are you doing?” Riddle questions before you can.

“Wasn’t feeling like going back to my room yet,” He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “I was enjoying my nap until you two interrupted.”

“This is my garden, Leona.” You state, and he shrugs. “Also, don’t talk about my brother like that.”

“He is a prick. A royal asshole,” he repeats, “everyone thinks it. I know you do too.”

Riddle nods, surprisingly agreeing with Leona, “While I wouldn’t put it like that, your brother is… unpleasant most times.”

“Too much influence and power got to his head,” Leona emphasizes with a sharp point to his head, “he makes everyone around him miserable, even his own family.”

You huff, glaring down at the muddied edge of your dress. He was right. You were miserable and the only one to blame was your brother. He’d conditioned you well too, wanting to defend him. Though… part of that was just because you wanted to argue with Leona.

“And since we’re talking about it, his thing with magic is… insane!” He exclaims, with the most emotions you’d ever seen from him. “I don’t need magic to function, no one does, but to withhold that from an entire kingdom might be his worst offense.”

Riddle adamantly nods along to what he says, “It’s incredibly hypocritical as well. He uses magic all the time, but he keeps it from everyone except a select few. Even sending raids to rid the city of magic every few months. It’s the most extreme abuse of power I’ve seen, and I’m my mother's son.”

You… were not aware of these raids. Sure, magic use was prohibited, but… how many of your citizens had been put away and punished for it. None, you hoped, but hope hadn’t gotten you very far recently. Sevens, you could feel your blood boil. 

“The only thing worse is that he invited that stupid reptile Malleus,” Leona growled, “No one likes him, he’s not wanted.”

Something about his attitude makes something… click in your brain. You could use this. You needed more allies you could trust within the castle walls. Their disdain for your brother was proof enough that they were not under his thumb. 

“He’s up to something,” you declare, drawing both sets of eyes to you.

“Well no duh–” Leona starts, but you cut him off quickly.

“No. He’s doing something far more dangerous and serious than usual,” You clarify, “And he’s using me – my hand in marriage – as a cover-up. A reason to get powerful people here.”

“Oh yeah…?” Leona quirks a brow.

“If he… was planning something big, and he wanted powerful people, why wouldn’t we know about it already?” Riddle asks, suspicious of the whole idea.

“Because he needs you to make it look more natural.” You answer simply.

Leona chews on the idea for a while, and then smirks, “Clever bastard. She’s right.” Riddle hums curiously, “Think about it. If he just invited Malleus or Idia, it would’ve been suspicious. We’re all cover-ups for whatever the hell he’s planning.”

“Exactly!” You exclaim, standing and turning so you can face both of them, “And, I have an idea of what exactly he’s up to.”

Riddle watches you intently, and Leona gestures for you to go on. Your chest hums at the approval. Finally. Respect you deserve.

“Now, Leona, you’re going to laugh and I’m going to ignore you,” You express, “You know those ink monsters from our fairytale books, it has something to do with those.”

Leona rolls his eyes, “I told you, those aren’t real. They’re kiddy tales to scare people like you off.”

Riddle, to your shared shock, hushes him. “Let them speak, you oaf.”

You take a deep breath, smile at him, and continue, “I know they’re real because I saw one. I killed one myself the night I stood Malleus up at my party.” While you didn’t exactly kill it, you decide the details are trivial, “Whatever’s going on, it has to do with those… things. I know it, and I have to figure out whatever it is without my brother knowing.”

Leona scoffs, but Riddle thinks it over, deeply, “You really believe her? Could’ve been a big scary bear.” 

“May I remind you of the grizzly head in our library? Who do you think did that?” You snap back. Riddle is quick to end the argument before it gets too intense.

“Many of our hunters, our very best come back with stories of inky beasts. Some are so taken by their fear that they refuse to step foot in the forest again,” Riddle explains as he thinks it over, “So, with that in mind, they very well could be real. It would be too convenient for it to be mass hysteria, and I doubt so many hunters would come back with the same description of these monsters if it were some elaborate lie.”

Hope blossoms in your chest. Yes.Yes! Someone is listening. Someone understands! Leona sighs, not quite defeated, but not as skeptical as before. He seems… annoyed more than anything as he speaks.

“One of my retainers back home – Ruggie, you know him,” you do know him. You like Ruggie. “He came back one day whining about some… inky… thing he saw out picking dandelions or something. I thought he was just losing it… but- Anyway, even if they are real, what can we do about it?”

“Magic,” you state simply, “it can only be defeated by magic. You can widdle it down with physical attacks, but the only way to kill it is magic. I have a feeling the situation is much more out of hand than we expect, which is why my brother is being so hush-hush about it.”

Riddle nods in agreement, “Inviting Idia should be proof enough of that.”

“Okay, so we got that figured out,” Leona interrupts, “what benefit is it for us to get in the way of your brother? He’s got it under control.”

You frown. Sure, it looks like that, but knowing your brother… it probably was far out of control. That's why he was doing what he was doing, to get control. But diplomatic relations can only get you so far. A little selfish part of you also just wanted to prove yourself too.

“The more people working on a problem the better,” Riddle saves with precision, “the more angles we come at the issue with, the less likely it is to get out of hand. No matter the methods.”

You smile at Riddle for the millionth time that night, and nod in affirmation, “And, if you help me, I can help both of you.”

“How’s that?” Leona scoffs.

“First, I can essentially make any semblance of this marriage thing disappear for you, and give your family what they want,” you explain, “You don’t have to work, and you don’t have to deal with your brother scolding you. Riddle will be given sufficient funds and resources to help the Rosedom get back on its feet. You can’t lose.”

He tenses his jaw, flexing it back and forth as he thinks it over. With Leona, there’s no promise he’ll say yes, but there's no promise he says no either. Finally, he sighs, “Alright, fine. I’ll help you, but only when I want to.”

“Deal!” you exclaim, “Riddle?”

“I’ll help you. It benefits both of us, regardless of any reward you give me after the fact,” He answers.

You grin, and as if the world itself was bending to your whim, the clock tower tolled midnight. Perfect timing for an escape.

[rosenkranz-does-things]

Gill!Master for your consideration

[id: a digital painting of Mandip Gil as the Master and Jodie Whittaker as the Thirteenth Doctor from Doctor Who, shown from the knees up. The Master is grinning at the Doctor and  has a finger on her chin. The Doctor is scowling at the Master and holding her wrist. The Master has her hair partially braided, it’s the rest in a long ponytail she’s wearing several gold earrings, a black lace corset top, and a red silk suit. She’s holding the Tissue Compression Eliminator. The Doctor has her usual hair and outfit, except that the cuffs of her coat are purple and the stripes on her shirt are of the non-binary flag. The background is a yellow, green, and blue gradient with a starry effect. End description.]

[isagrimorie]

Really great Kathryn Hahn interview!

Some great quotes:

If I look at the book of my life, [Agatha]'s like on the spine — I'm hoping in the middle.

[snip]

It’s remarkable, really, how Hahn carries herself completely differently, seeming to have the mannerisms woven into her DNA. Hahn credits the comics with helping her develop this. “Traditionally, she's shown much older with this fabulous gray hair up, this Edwardian look with the corset, and there's hardly any skin showing. That's my favorite Agatha,” Hahn gushes. “There are definitely Agathas in which she’s in the bustier with just a strip of gray, which is fantastic, but I love the Agatha that's very 'from another era.'”

[snip]

Hahn also shouts out her movement coach, whom Elizabeth Olsen originally hooked her up with back on WandaVision to help differentiate their magical hand movements (“her is chaos magic; mine was learned — it was important for us to develop our own vocabulary”)

I LOVE, love how Kathryn Hahn put emphasis on Agatha being more of a 'Wizard' (DND 5e) flavored Witch. Agatha loves Magick (with a K) and the craft of it. She treats Magick like a scientist/academic.

It makes me go back to what Agatha was accused of, in the first place. Learning Magick Above Her Station.

It's very informative because it tells me that her mother and coven forbade her from learning anything above the fundamentals of Magick.

And, she's never filled up that gaping hole her original coven left her.

On a more personal note, however, the purple coat we see in Agatha All Along holds a special place in her heart. “That coat was made with so much love by so many hands, and you could feel it when you put it on — how many hands were on it, how much power was in this garment. There were hand-drawn runes on the silk on the inside — protection ruins. It really did feel like a sacred garment.” Viewers will often see Agatha dramatically flipping the coat like a cape as she turns, which is no accident. “That was definitely for Daniel and for those amazing seamstresses that worked on it,” Hahn admits. “I was like, ‘I gotta give him a twirl because this is too good.’”

Shout out to our beloved purple coat! I hope Agatha gets to retrieve it! Also, I would love to see the inside of her coat! It sounds lovely!

Kathryn Hahn: “There's big, big feelings and big stakes already in there. I understood her bravado and her masking and her layers on top of it — her shell that's centuries old. Who can get in there, and who can't, and why? It's kind of like the spell at the beginning of the show. It feels like she's underneath her own protection spell.”

I love how Hahn put it-- Agatha is under her own protection spell!

While Hahn and Plaza didn’t hang out much, they sent each other poems and songs relating to their characters to prepare. When I press for details, Hahn pulls up the top of her shirt to cover her mouth. “There’s a lot… maybe we'll have to come out with some of those songs and some of that playlist. There definitely was one between us and the producer that we kept adding to as the show went on. Maybe one day we'll have to.” She tugs on her collar, fanning herself. “I'm getting sweaty thinking about it because I don't want to spill anything, but there are some really fab songs.”

She might not be able to reveal much about that just yet, but she does share a funny anecdote about talking to Plaza regarding a film that's not on their character mood boards. “I remember once, I was like, ‘Have you seen Fire of Love, that documentary about the two volcanologists?’ I remember she said she was looking at it and trying to find clues, and I was like, “Oh, no — I just thought it was a good movie,” she says with a laugh.

I love that in between making their character histories together, they have this funny anecdote.

 Considering Agatha is 350 years old, I’m curious as to what Hahn thinks she listens to. She ponders this thoughtfully. “I think she loves a really long Wagner,” she finally decides. “A long opera. And then, I think that she also loves a pop song. I think she would love a rave. I think she would be really fun to dance with — she would definitely be dancing by herself, though. And I think that she loves a chant. She loves old little ditties that mean something to maybe some old guys, but she's kind of taken them over and made them her own. And I think she loves anything that's practical — any sort of wailing in the woods with a fire going. I think she would love Eurovision. I think Eurovision, she would be in the front row.”

Of course, Agatha's a fan of Opera and Eurovision. Love that for her!

She’s excited for eagle-eyed fans to try and spot it — along with all of the details that will become meaningful after the entire show is out. “Agnes' house was so witchy, and there are so many Easter eggs in there. I can't wait for people to see that again after watching the whole show. There are so many little things that pay off later.”

What this tells me, is we should comb through Agatha's house and see the clues that might pop up!

[fluffyfaza]

[bebemoon]

look for the name: DELIA

@hollykittyfan

penny green ivory quilted satin corset-style waistcoat, c. 197o's

vivienne westwood cotton boucher print mini skirt

fringed gauntlet gloves of british origin, c. 168o-171o {"the extravagant fringe on these gauntlet gloves features purple silk, gold cord and gold tassels."}

edwardian-era diamond stack and pearl drop choker necklace

y/project appliqué brown denim knee-high boots

creed "aberdeen lavender" eau de parfum

valentino brown leather gold-studded headband, s/s 2o14

[radiantteacup]

ੈ‧₊˚ 𝐀𝐇, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

༊*·˚ It's Leopold's birthday and the day of his Coming of Age Banquet. After three years of being together you're both finally adults! The two of you spent the banquet lost in each others embrace, and stay that way long after its over. When your dance nears it's end the two of you begin to explore each other more, ad not in an innocent way. (Ps. I suck at writing summaries :p)

˗ˏˋFeaturing ´ˎ˗ Leopold Vermillion

˗ˏˋWarnings ´ˎ˗ Fem + AFAB! reader, Virginity loss, tongue sucking, Cunniligus, getting caught, Vaginal penetration, foul language, overstimulation, light dacryphilia(?), nipple play, licking, fingering, tongue-fucking, edging(?). Not Proofread (I’m tired lol)

˗ˏˋAlso includes´ˎ˗ Spoken Consent! (Queen shit), lots of fluff, very very sweet.

: ̗̀➛I was listening to this while I wrote this.

His heart is hammering in his chest, the thought makes your tummy flutter. Even after three years of dating 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 still gets nervous when he's close to you like this. Looking up at him you can't help but smile, he'd grown to be handsome young man. Man. That's right, your sweet boy friend is a man now, he's officially 18.

You're pulled from your thoughts as 𝐋𝐞𝐨 dips you down, his hand cradling your back as you dance across the ballroom floor. His coming of age banquet ended hours ago with only the two of you still remaining but the music still played, though now the candles burned low, leaving the room dimly lit. The ballroom left a mess, gift wrapping, wine glasses, and platters of food scattered across the hall. Yet you two still danced, lost in each others embrace. It's like time stopped for the two of you, for two hearts that beat in a harmony for each other.

When 𝐋𝐞𝐨 pulls you back to his chest you let go of his hands, instead standing on your tip toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. He seems to understand as he leans down, both of his arms fall to your waist, his feet swaying the two of you side to side as he presses his forehead to your own. You close your eyes basking in the gloriousness of it all, nothing could be more perfect than this, than him.

When your eyes open again you find 𝐋𝐞𝐨 staring at you. The loving look in his eyes makes your heart buzz in your chest. You leaned closer to him, ghosting your lips over his own, smiling when he chased the kiss. His slightly chapped lips pressed against your own with such fervor it left your head spinning. His warm tongue slipping into your mouth and dancing with your own. Before too long he took your tongue into his mouth sucking on it gently. The sight was nothing short of erotic and it left your heart pounding almost violently in your chest. Even more so when 𝐋𝐞𝐨's lips slipped from your own down to your neck, sucking pretty purple bruises into the delicate skin there.

A soft sigh escaped your mouth as you tilted your head to the side, giving him more room to work with. You let yourself bask in the feeling of 𝐋𝐞𝐨's affections as his tongue peeked out of his mouth, slowly licking a line down to your breasts. You flinched in surprise when you felt one of his hands begin unlacing your dress. Looking back down at him you could see the raw hunger in his eyes and feel the warmth gathering below your belly right before his recaptured your lips with his own. Slipping out of your high heels you deepened the kiss, letting your tongue dance with his once more.

When his hands got to the last lace of your dress he broke the kiss, his eyes looking to you for permission to remove the gown. Your shy nod was all he needed to drop the silks from your body, leaving only the tight corset and your panties to cover your figure. He wasted no time continuing his assault on your neck, making sure there was no way you'd be able to hide them tomorrow. You were pretty sure he hadn't even thought about that, too lost in marking you as his to consider the aftermath of your rendezvous. Especially if his older brother saw them. Fuegoleon still saw 𝐋𝐞𝐨 as his sweet innocent little brother so you can only imagine what he'd say if he saw you, Leo's girlfriend, covered in hickies. You're sure his reaction would be nothing short of hysterical. But you couldn't find on yourself to tell him to stop, not when you were so focused on the feeling of his big hands pawing at your clothed breasts.

Your thoughts were interrupted by one of 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝's warm hands traveling to the back of your corset, and the other to the hem of your panties. "C-Can I take them off? Please baby? I'll make you feel so good. I promise!" The desperation in his voice had your tummy doing flips but you couldn't say yes. yet.

"Not here, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝. Lets go back to your room, I'd like to avoid any unwanted interruptions." He looked a little disappointed, but it faded quickly as he slipped his long, red cape off his shoulders and over your own before picking you up into his strong arms. Quickly but quietly he carried you to his room, setting you down on his plush mattress. You let yourself sink into the deep-red, satin bedding which cradled you gently while you watched 𝐋𝐞𝐨 strip himself of the luxurious suit you'd chosen for him, for this occasion. By the time he crawled on top of you, he was bare before you and you were even needier than before.

"Can I take them off now? I wanna see you baby. All of you. Pretty please?" The way 𝐋𝐞𝐨 pleaded with you had you growing wetter, god he sounded so hot when he begged. You, again, gave a shy nod before flipping over and propping yourself up on your elbows. Wasting no time, he got to work untying the laces on your corset, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder every now and again as he worked.

When 𝐋𝐞𝐨 untied the last lacing you tried to shuffle out of it but, he stopped you. "Turn around baby, wanna see your pretty tits." You blush at his words but obey nevertheless, turning over and laying on your back. Licking his lips, he slides the loose corset up and over your head, groaning at the way your breasts jiggle as they're freed from the constricting material.

Then, without warning 𝐋𝐞𝐨 attaches himself to one of your pebbling nipples. The sudden, unexpected feeling of his warm tongue on your sensitive tits has you moaning into the back of one of your hands, the other burying itself into his hair, tugging gently on the roots. You can feel goosebumps rising on your skin as one of his hands slowly slides down towards your panties. He looks up at you, asking for permission once more, but this time he doesn't take your half-assed nod as an answer.

"I wanna hear you say it, baby. Tell me you want this, that you want me." His voice was low and husky as he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

Cupping his cheeks in the palm of your hands you pull his face close to yours, his lips mere inches from your own. "I want you, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧. I want to be yours, and for you to be mine. I want you to take me, and for us to be one." Your voice wavered towards the end of your confession, the intimacy of the moment flooding you with warm emotions. The look on his face told you he was feeling the same way, and your suspicions were confirmed when he kissed you.

The kiss was sloppy and rushed but it was still perfect, because it was him. When you parted, both of you were panting loudly, out of breath from the passionate kiss. But, with one final peck to your lips, 𝐋𝐞𝐨 began kissing down your body again, taking his time to worship every inch of your skin. Then, gently, he slid his finger under your panties, gripping the hem of them delicately. With a comforting kiss to your navel, he slowly slid your panties off before tossing to the floor.

You felt your face grow red as 𝐋𝐞𝐨 sat up from where he was on top of you, admiring your body with a look of awe on his face. Gently, his rough hands traveled your body, just taking in your beauty. Then, he took one last look at your face before he backed off of you, grabbing your hips carefully and pulling you to the edge of the bed. For a moment you were confused, but the realization hit you as he kneeled on the floor in front of the bed.

"L-𝐋𝐞𝐨 don't do th- mmh!", you were cut off by a moan as he licked a long stripe through your folds. You could feel your back arch as he continued to lap at your clit, the stimulation sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. One of your hands buried itself in his hair, the other covering your mouth, desperately trying to muffle your moans. Gently, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles on the little button before burying his tongue in your sopping cunt.

Your eyes rolled back, the feeling of his warm muscle wiggling around inside of you was enough to make you go dumb. 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 groaned as he basked in the taste of your juices bursting on his tongue. Loud squelching filled the room as he messily tongue fucked you towards your high. You tried so hard to muffle the lewd moans that escaped your mouth but it your attempts were fruitless, especially when the sounds your pussy was making were just as loud. Whines began escaped your puffy lips as you got closer and closer to your high, your resolve dwindling more and more with every passing moment.

Suddenly your entire body contracts, and your mind goes blank as a blanket of euphoria crashes over you. You feel 𝐋𝐞𝐨's left hand pin your hips down to the bed before one of his fingers pushes into your warm cunt. Tears roll down your face from the overstimulation as he pumps his finger in and out of your gummy walls. Before you know it he's adding a second finger, and then a third, until he's satisfied with how stretched out you are.

Then he's crawling back on top of the bed. You can feel him plant a gentle kiss on your forehead before he picks you up into his arms. Then, crawling his knees towards the top of the bed. 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 gently rests your head on the pillows before laying you down completely. He plants another kiss on your cheek before crawling between your spread legs. His big hands slide underneath your thighs, placing them over his shoulder before he leans down, whispering softly in your ear, "you 100 percent sure you want this?" You nod, a warm smile gracing your lips as you cup his face in your palms. "I wouldn't want to do this with anybody else, my love."

𝐋𝐞𝐨 feels his heart swell at your words, how did he get so lucky with you? With a final kiss on your left eyebrow he begins slowly pushing his already-hard-cock into your gummy cunt. You hear him groan as your hands gently grip his shoulders. He continues pushing into you until he's buried to the hilt inside your warm pussy. He pauses for a moment, drunk on the feeling of you, of him inside of you.

It isn't until you mumble a soft, "please", that he comes back to his senses. When he does though, he sets a slow pace, drawling his hips back and pushing back in, savoring the moment as much as possible. After a minute or two, he's picking up the pace, thrusting into with more fervor than before. You begin moaning again, that feeling of euphoria drawing closer and closer as 𝐋𝐞𝐨's big cock pounds into your pulsating cunt. "Mhhh, Leo. Fuck, please!" You're so close to cumming, so close to that slice of heaven when you feel your heart drop and you blood run cold.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧! Open this damn door at once!" This booming voice of Fuegoleon sent both of you into panic mode. What was a romantic night of love making, had turned into the two of you trying to get dressed in a hurry without even a moments notice. You slipped your underwear on, desperately trying to find your dress. Then, the realization hit you like a cold bucket of water, your dress was in the ballroom. You turned to look at 𝐋𝐞𝐨, but the look in his eyes told you he'd realized it too. Rushing to his armoire he grabbed a T-shirt and some pants he'd outgrown ages ago and tossed them to you.

By the time the two of you opened the door it'd been a good 5 minutes, but whether it'd been 5 minutes or 5 hours no amount of time would prepare for the pure mortification you felt in this moment. Fuegoleon, your captain was glaring at you like you'd just killed his dog with your dress in his hand, and Mereoleona, the strongest woman you'd ever met, was laughing her ass off behind him.

After 2 painfully long minutes of silence Fuegoleon spoke while tossing you your dress, " I trust that you both know how much trouble you're in." You both nodded too scared to speak, as he stood there staring angrily at both of you. Sure, it was going to suck later, but you didn't regret what you and 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐝 shared, not one bit. Even if you weren't able to finish, just the feeling of being one with him was enough for you.

[achaotichuman]

Imagine a white dress. long and flowy. Floor length with a minimalistic corset. A small tightly curled up buds of flowers and dying vines wrapped around it. Barely there, just noticeable against the pure white fabric.

Then when Spring Magic is released, it blooms, the buds unfurl, the vines come back to life, the dress is spilling into the earth itself, as it moves little petals of light are floating away from it. The flowers are curling up into the hair of the wearer. The greenery, the reds, the blues, the yellows, the purples, they are spilling down the side of the dress, and curling over the fabric like fungi creeping over fallen wood.

Yeah, this is the kind of fashion I think is in the Spring.

Then a suit to match. A large floor length jacket weaved from vines and leaves and flowering petals, that shimmers with magic. The shirt is weaved from spider's silk. Decorated with lines of raw, uncut gemstones.

Feylin rocking up to the High lord's meeting in this getup is way better than anything the Night Court could have ever done. Rhysand can keep his half-assed sparkly rags, I want this shit.

[anjelicawrites]

When he is first given his pretty outfit, Maid!Aegon sobs and wails because the skirt is too short and you can walk by and pinch his thighs or ass whenever you want. Also, it’s entirely too easy for you to sneak a hand under his skirt and grope his bulge or ass. When he bends over to clean something, it’s like he’s begging you to hold him down and peg him against whatever surface you can bend him over!

-🪴

I would like you to envision him in his pretty outfit and the vest part (what he would wear on his torso), is a nice corset that you tie for him, tight, but loose enough that you can play with his tits whenever you want.

NSFW and 18+ please

He stutters and blushes so much while you help him wear it, until the soft silk sits perfectly on his body and he can see in the mirror how skimpy the outfit is!

"Do you like it?" You ask, hugging him from behind, putting your hand possessively on his tummy. "I'm naked!" He stammers, the blushing spreading to his chest. "You can grab me whenever you want!"

You giggle and kiss the side of his neck as you let your hands wander down his front in order to grab the short skirt to bunch it up to his hips and show him his half erected cock.

"You seem happy enough, my baby. I thought you liked when I have my hands on your body." "I do." He whines. "But the skirt is so short it will never be able to cover myself when I bend to pick up something!" "You're so cute, Aegon. That's why I love you." You smile at his reflection in the mirror. "Me having free access to your lovely arse, or be able to enjoy how the chastity belt sits on your cock, it's the reason you'll be dressed like this from now on. Fucking your tight, little hole is the cherry on top, my baby." You smile.

You let the skirt fall from your hands, loving how it tents on his full erection.

"And your cock seems to like the idea. You're so hard, my baby, and I have barely touched you."

You grab his manhood in a gentle hold, cooing when his hips kick in your hold.

"Please! If you don't stop..." He begs, his voice high pitched and pathetic. "I know, I know. You can come whenever you want. Go on, come all over my hand!"

He needs a couple of jerks and explodes in your hold, whining and begging when you don't stop milking his cock, until his knee buckle and you have to help him lay on the floor, with his legs spread.

"What is that?" He whines when he sees that you're hiding something behind your back. "This?" You ask innocently, showing his the small plug and lube. "What you're going to wear with your pretty dress." "All the time?" He whines, his spent cock twitching at the thought. "Yes my baby. How do you expect me to fuck your arse whenever I want, if you're not always ready for me?"

You can see the array on emotions play on his handsome face, he looks unsure, with his pretty purple eyes trained on yours.

"We can stop if you want, Aegon." You tell him with a gentle voice, your hand caresses his trembling tight. "It's OK." He sniffs, his fingers find yours. "Will you stop using it if I ask?" "Absolutely! You know your word is my only law."

He smiles at you, the sides of his mouth tremble a bit.

"Please, do it. Put it in me. Help me become perfect for you."

You position yourself between his splayed legs to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue invade your mouth, until the need for oxygen becomes too great.

You put your hand on his soft tummy and caress the rich material of the corset.

"Thank you my baby, for trusting me. I love you."

[ohtobealady]

I saw that you were asking for one-word prompts... my suggestion is:

Accident

However you want to interpret that.

Thank you!

Well I am sorry. This is angst, pure angst. Season 1 terrible awful angst.

Missing scene from S1E7.

—————-‘,——————

Accident

“I’m alright,” she softly insisted again as she tied the dressing gown sash loosely around her still-damp body. Beneath it, the chemise the woman had dressed her in stuck to her back. She’d not dried herself well enough.

“Milady—“

“I’m afraid I’ll look a-fright come tomorrow. His Lordship will suspect I’ve taken up boxing.”

“Please, milady,” Cora could feel O’Brien untie the silk she’d wrapped her hair in before the bath. Half of her hair hung from it now, anyway. Had she fallen that hard? “If you’ll only let me send for Doctor Clarkson.”

Cora let her hand probe softly at the places she’d hit—her hip, her elbow. And her stomach. Now that the shock of it had gone, her entire body felt immediately bruised and tender. Her hand lingered at her middle. “No. Really. I don’t think there’s any real damage done.” She wasn’t even certain if she believed herself, and she glanced at her maid and sighed. “My clumsiness is no reason to disturb him. After all, he can’t mend embarrassment.”

She forced a small chuckle, but stopped short: her abdomen was immediately too sore to laugh that way. She cleared her throat and shook away a quick sting of fear.

When she glanced up, O’Brien stared at her without blinking.

“Truly,” she lied to her maid. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have a lie down, and I’m sure that’ll sort it. Now go. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have.”

She turned away from O’Brien to appear to search for the book on the small table beside the chaise, and her pantomime achieved what Cora had hoped: with a small “Very well, milady,” the woman left her.

Looking behind her at the click of the door, and determining O’Brien had gone, Cora turned slowly back toward her mirror and gently pulled up the dressing gown and chemise under it to inspect her left hip. It was as she expected: a red and already purpling oval. And then swallowing, she lifted her clothes higher and to her stomach. She’d hit it there against the rim of the tub—nearly in the center—as her foot had slipped as she stepped from the bath. Her middle had caught all her weight, and it had nearly knocked the wind from her before she fell upon the floor. She looked closer, to find the evidence of the accident, and in the morning sun, found a faint pink blotch below her navel, but nothing more. It was only the little swell O’Brien could still tug into her corsets, but that she and Robert had chuckled at last week.

Cora smiled at that, and dropped her hems. Yes. Everything appeared well, and this settled her fear enough for her to really retrieve her book.

She slowly settled onto her chaise. She slid her book from her little table and into her grasp. She leaned forward and reached behind her to straighten her pillow, but stopped. She inhaled at the quick tenderness of her belly. She blinked, still, and then forced herself to exhale. It was only a bruise; she’d inspected it herself. If the injury was worse, then it would’ve looked like her hip and, she assumed, her smarting elbow. Wouldn’t it have?

Yes.

So she opened the cover of the book; she flipped through a few pages to find her place; she tried her best to make her eyes read the words printed there, but found she could not. The soreness she felt when she leaned forward to adjust her pillow, it hadn’t subsided. Her abdomen felt tight. And then tighter still. And then her muscles—-those muscles low in her belly—-began to burn as they tightened.

Oh.

The fear Cora managed to assuage earlier prickled back again, and reminding herself to be calm, she pushed out a small exhale through pursed lips. She was alright. She was bound to feel a little sore, to have a small cramp; it was quite a blow. And perhaps she was thinking of it too much.

She made her eyes look back at the novel. They scanned the letters and words, dutifully, line by line as she worked her way down the page. But she couldn’t make her mind pay attention. For there was another tightening pain. And this time, it lasted longer than before, as if making itself known.

Cora closed her eyes and evened her breathing. If there was another, she told herself, she’d ring for O’Brien.

But there won’t be.

Her self-reassurance was weak however, and she let her fingers go to her middle, cradling the little life there. She indulged herself by looking at the small mound beneath her housecoat. She let her fingertip touch it. And, quite suddenly, she felt emotion begin to choke her.

“Of course I’m pleased.”

He’d been so happy; shocked, yes, but Robert had been so happy this last month.

And the letters. He’d written so many letters. Telling Rosamund. Shrimpie and Susan. Dickie. Murray. Jarvis.

Cora was sure that Lady Shackleton knew. Harold. Mother. She’d wanted to come over.

She closed her eyes. Please move, she pleaded. She willed it. Move, she prayed. She’d felt it last evening. Yesterday. She’d been able to feel it for a few weeks now, since right after Clarkson had confirmed it, the little flutters and then soft bumps inside of her. Just two nights ago, she’d taken Robert’s hand and pressed it to her middle. “Can’t you feel it?” she’d asked. His face had gone pink, but he smiled

Oh. Oh, it was another. She pulled in a deep breath and held it as the lowest muscles in her abdomen tightened, burned. And then—-Her eyes opened at the sensation of something—fluid—coming in a small gush between her legs.

There was no more suppressing the fear. She waited for the pain to pass, tears threatening her vision, and she moved to the pull to ring for her maid. Her head throbbed —-had she hit her head?—-every muscle now felt sorer than before, and she felt her stomach begin to roll as if she may retch.

She took deep breaths, and she pulled the cord again. Then, her fingers trembling, she made herself pull the fabric of her chemise beneath her dressing gown toward her, the back to the front, and she looked at it.

Wet. And pink.

She took calming breaths, but she knew better. She knew what was happening.

Another pain. More fluid with it, but this time it ran down the insides of her legs. She moved her eyes to her bare feet and waited for the little rivulets to stop.

Pinker than before. And then as the rivulets lingered on, there was red.

It was that, the bright color, that moved her to the truth at last. Her head felt too light, there was a ringing in her ears, and Cora fumbled her way to sit upon her bed and waited. The pain kept going this time, only growing tighter and burning more—sharp and twisting—and Cora clung to the side of her bed and did her best to breathe. The minute it let up, she moved to the washroom. She needed a towel. She needed water.

“Milady?”

She heard O’Brien, but she couldn’t make herself call to her.

“Milady?” She heard her nearer and then as she pushed open the washroom door.

And all the composure she tried her best to have vanished when she saw O’Brien, her maid whose face had gone white as a sheet, and Cora began to weep. “Oh.”

“Come,” her maid ushered her, but Cora could hear the emotion in her voice—high and wavering—even through her own. “Come and lie down.”

“Wait, oh.” She felt another pain creep itself into her belly. But this time there was no small trickle of fluid. This time it came quickly. “Oh, no. No. No.”

She heard O’Brien begging her to lie down again. She heard O’Brien leave her room as she did so, and then, through a blur of pain and the tears she blinked back, she saw as Mrs Hughes rushed into her room.

•••

“Nearing six now,” Robert watched as Doctor Clarkson closed his pocket watch and replaced it. The metallic click reverberated around the gallery, and it sounded strangely too loud in the quiet. “The bleeding isn’t stemming as much as I would expect. It is difficult to say if her injuries don’t go beyond the delivery—“

“She—“ he managed to begin, even if he felt his throat was too tight to move a single word from it. There was blood on Clarkson’s oversleeve. “But she isn’t—”

“No, your lordship. At least not yet. ” His voice interrupted, sparing Robert the word, but it lacked the quick pace of before. Robert felt the doctor eyeing him, and the gentle interlude felt like thunder before rain.

“But?” he asked, though the question made him afraid.

“At the stage of her pregnancy, it is important to know that her recovery may be as difficult as if she’d given birth at nine months. She will need rest. And her body may experience the…changes, for lack of a better word,” Robert felt his face flush, “that it would in ordinary circumstances.”

He wasn’t sure what Doctor Clarkson meant, but he wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t. His mind kept going back to Carson’s words two hours ago.

“My lord, there’s been an accident since you’ve been out. It’s her ladyship.”

“I am happy to speak with Mrs O’Brien and Mrs Hughes about what to expect in the coming weeks. And I can provide a list to Mrs Hughes of items that can be helpful.”

His good manners listened though every other thought was elsewhere—-in the room with her—-and he nodded his head. He thanked the man.

“And, please forgive me, Lord Grantham, but there is the matter of …”

Silence. Enough silence for Rober to pay attention. And he lifted his eyes at the doctor’s pause.

“Of the body.”

Robert blinked at him. “The … body?”

Doctor Clarkson nodded slowly. Solemnly. “I am sorry.”

But Robert couldn’t make himself comprehend. “Cora—That is, her ladyship is well? That is…I apologize I’m not sure—-“

“Of the child, my lord.”

“Oh.” He felt all at once foolish and ill, his stomach turning over itself. “Of course.” The child. Their child.

Clarkson spoke so softly. Too softly, but her room was just there. Her door was opened a crack. Robert could see light filtering in from where she lay. “In these situations, the hospital does offer to arrange burials in the churchyard amongst the others—“

“Others?”

“—though, should your wishes be different…yes.” Again, Doctor Clarkson paused. He lowered his voice again. “The other stillbirths and infants, Lord Grantham. Of the village.”

Robert shook his head, again his mind whirling, not understanding. “But it wasn’t as far along as that? It couldn’t be—“

“Not fully there, no. But …” He didn’t imagine the way Doctor Clarkson grimaced. “She’d made it to her fifth, nearly her sixth month. The child did—“ He stopped, and he quieted. “It did live. For a moment.”

In the following quiet, Robert felt as if he’d somehow grown smaller. There was no other feeling. Only that.

“I know that this is very difficult, and you have my sympathies, Lord Grantham.”

“Yes,” Robert blurted, strangely relieved in a painful way, as if the doctor’s words were a sort of excuse to let his chin tremble the way it needed to. To let his eyes sting with tears. “Thank you. I will speak with her ladyship about the—“ he took a small breath. “Burial.”

Clarkson, however, opened his mouth but didn’t speak. Robert watched him move his jaw, as if searching for the words.

It frightened him. “Yes?”

“Only, I’m not certain it best to—-” The doctor shifted his weight from his left to right foot, and Robert stood straighter, dread gnawing away at his nerves. “It may be best to make the decision on your own. She isn’t…”

“She isn’t what?”

The doctor nodded again, though at what Robert didn’t know.

“She is going to be alright, isn’t she?” Robert heard the waver in his voice, but he didn’t care. “You mentioned the bleeding, but otherwise, she’s not in any danger, is she?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. It’s only … well, it may be too distressing for her to speak of the burial.”

Robert furrowed his brow.

“You may consider making the decision on your own.”

“I—“ he shook his head. He couldn’t. “I don’t believe I could keep that from her.”

Doctor Clarkson drew in a long breath, and Robert watched as the man looked to the door behind them and then back to him. He frowned. “I did my best to hide the child from her sight, but …” another dreadful pause. Robert clenched his jaw.

“What is it?”

“You had a son, Lord Grantham.”

He stood still. He stared at Clarkson who spoke on, but Robert couldn’t hear what he said. The doctor nodded at him as he returned through Cora’s door, but though Robert’s heart ached to see her, to hold her and press a kiss to her head, he could not.

Robert walked from her door and into his dressing room. He stood at the window. And he stared.

Outside the afternoon was golden.