#ruffle shoulder straps

[anielskaaniela]

Ruffle Shoulder Straps from Scratch (Free Pattern)

In this post, you will learn how to sew ruffle shoulder straps with free pattern. Ruffle shoulder straps are a fun and easy way to add some flair to your sewing projects. Whether you want to spice up a simple dress, transform a plain top, or create a unique accessory, ruffle shoulder straps are a versatile and stylish option. In this blog post, I will show you how to sew these straps from…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

[hcneymooners]

⋆ beg until i'm in.

ambessa x wife!reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: you and ambessa are estranged wives, but are you really estranged if she refuses to divorce you, and every time you see each other, you can't help but fall into bed?

cw: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, getting back together, top ambessa medarda, dom/sub, dom ambessa medarda, she has soft spot for you, pleasure dom ambessaaaaa, just for you though, strapping, rough sex, rough body play, hair-pulling, name-calling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, she is strapping you down, you will not be walking, cock worship, blow jobs, the strap is the cock in question no men i swear to god, mommy kink, praise kink, mating press, age difference, older woman/younger woman, marriage, she does not play about you, realizing this might have slight primal play, orgasm edging, begging, spanking, impact play notes: i am a FREAK about this woman. also i wrote this for @sheloveschai because she has been bringing me joy through their work and i want to do the same.

“she thinks i’m a monster.”

the words hung in the air, dense as the afternoon heat, heavy as ambessa’s head in your lap. how you’d ended up here—her armor gone, her weight so familiar—felt like one of those moments you’d look back on, trying to pin down the thread that led you here. you couldn’t.

your lives were separate. estranged wives, that’s what you told yourself. she wouldn’t divorce you, and you weren’t exactly rushing to draw up the papers. but estrangement was such a tidy, convenient word like the absence between you both was clean and intentional. it wasn’t. she blurred the edges every time she showed up unannounced, stepping into the space she left behind like it still belonged to her. and maybe it did.

she came today, her arrival marked by the low hum of her car pulling up the dirt road. the ranch was still, caught in that honeyed pause between afternoon and evening. the house she’d bought for you sat perched on its patch of green, neat but unpretentious—a porch for watching storms, white siding that seemed to glow in the late sun. the kind of place that felt like it had existed long before you arrived, waiting for someone to live in it properly. around it, the land stretched wide, unbroken except for the fences hemming in the garden you’d built with your own hands.

you were out there, barefoot and stubborn, locked in a battle with the soil. a carrot clung to the earth like it had something to prove, your hair slipping from its tie as you yanked at it, dirt smudged across your face from an earlier showdown with a deer that had dared to challenge your lettuce. the dress you wore—white, soft, and loose—shifted around you like a second skin, its ruffled straps falling to kiss your shoulders. it was stained at the hem, caught on brambles, but it moved with you, romantic in its simplicity, something that could’ve been borrowed from another life.

ambessa watched from the car. you didn’t notice her at first, too busy flailing after some audacious bit of wildlife, but she noticed you. her eyes followed the sway of your dress, the way the sun painted gold onto your skin, how your body moved with a kind of rawness that had always undone her. she waited because ambessa always waited. but there was a tension to it, like watching something she didn’t want to admit she needed.

hours later, she was here, sprawled in your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. her hand rested against the fabric of your dress, her breathing slow but uneven. you stroked her hair without thinking, staring out at the horizon. the horses were grazing, lazy against the emerald sprawl. the ranch, her gift, felt heavier than it had in a while.

“at one point in time,” you said finally, the words tasting of truth, “every daughter views her mother as her monster.”

her hand stilled. you could feel her thoughts shifting, coiling like a tide just out of reach. she didn’t say anything, but the silence was loud, charged. you didn’t press her.

“you were always so hard on yourself,” you continued, your voice quiet but steady. “you can be… strong, stubborn, cruel. i’ve felt it. i know it. so much of your decision-making is absolute like the world is this black-and-white chessboard you’re determined to win on. there’s no room for anyone else in that kind of thinking. it can be stifling. but—” you hesitated, fingers idly brushing the hem of your dress as you tried to hold her gaze.

“love is always the basis when it comes to the people you care about: mel, kino—”

“you,” she interjected softly, her voice barely audible but so certain it almost startled you.

you hummed in agreement, the corners of your mouth tugging into an easy smile.

“me,” you admitted, your chest tightening at the confession. you sighed, the sound carrying years of ache. “your problem is that you don’t believe we can love you back. not really. you think we can’t be safe with you. so you send us away, like that’s protecting us. you decide things for us—these big, sweeping decisions—and suddenly we’re standing outside looking in, strangers in our own lives with you.”

you paused, thinking of her daughter. “mel’s a teenager. she’s going to buck against you because that’s what teenagers do. you have to let her. you can’t control everything, ambessa. we don’t learn any other way.”

ambessa watched you, her face unreadable but her eyes dark and intent. her voice was indescribably tender when she spoke.

“you’re such a wonderful stepmother.”

the word made you scoff. you pushed her—gently but firmly—off your lap and rose to your feet. she let you, though her eyes lingered on you. she could never let go entirely.

“don’t let her hear you say that,” you muttered, shaking your head.

mel had not taken your marriage to her mother well. and really, who could blame her? you were more than half ambessa’s age. you’d once been mel’s peer at university, brushing shoulders in the same circles without a clue that your lives would one day intertwine like this. to make matters worse, mel hadn’t even learned of the relationship from her mother or you. no, she’d found out by walking in on the two of you in a position that still made your cheeks burn to think about.

what followed was relentless: the icy distance, the sharp words, the careful avoidance. love, for you, had always been hard, but this was a different kind of difficulty. you’d tried to explain yourself to mel, fumbling for words that didn’t sound hollow. you told her you loved her mother simply because you did. it wasn’t about their wealth or their influence. you’d come from nothing—a small town with a crumbling church, miles of barren land, and a quiet resignation to a life of struggle. you were used to living hard and mean, to fending for yourself.

but ambessa… she had swept into your life with the force of a storm. she needled at you, chipped away at your shell until you were belly-up and tender, soft between her teeth. you were an easy kill in her hunt, and she was ruthless, selfish, and she could be so fucking mean. but none of that mattered.

you loved her with the kind of blind devotion that defied reason, and you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. being her wife was your greatest pride, and tending to her was your guiltiest pleasure.

mel couldn’t understand that, and the rift between you grew wider with each passing day. then came the public’s growing animosity toward the medarda family, the rising tensions, and ambessa made one of her absolute decisions. the separation blindsided you. you’d cried so hard you blacked out in the hall, and when you woke, you left without looking back. you thought mel wouldn’t care.

which is why you were shocked when ambessa brought you mel’s request for your perspective.

you turned toward the stove, busying yourself with the rhythm of dinner prep. it was easier to focus on the small, manageable things—chopping vegetables, lighting the flame—than to meet her gaze.

“she doesn’t hate you, [name],” ambessa said suddenly, her voice calm but insistent.

you froze, the knife hovering mid-air before you carefully set it down and turned on the stove.

“you staying for dinner?” you asked carefully.

you heard her shift behind you, felt the warmth of her body as she closed the space between you. her arms circled your waist, firm but gentle, and you shivered, instinctively leaning into her. god knows you were never the strongest soldier. she pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering just long enough to make you melt.

“i admit,” she murmured, her voice low and quiet, “i had other motives for coming here.”

“bessa,” you began.

ambessa held you tighter, her lips brushing against your temple, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. her silence stretched just long enough for you to grow uneasy, but then she spoke, her voice low and thick with emotion.

“they’ve been asking for you,” she said, her hands smoothing over your waist.

you stiffened slightly, unsure if you’d heard her correctly.

“who?”

“mel. kino.” she pressed another kiss to your temple, then let her forehead rest against the side of your head. “they’ve been pleading with me to bring you back. they won’t admit it outright—god forbid they ever say they were wrong—”

you shot her a look.

“—but they’ve missed you. and they hate the way i’ve been without you. they say i’m different when you’re there.”

your breath hitched, your chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

“they don’t even like me,” you murmured, your voice cracking.

“that’s not true.” ambessa’s tone softened, her grip on you tightening like she was afraid you might slip away. “they’re too proud to say it, but they’ve developed a soft spot for you despite everything. they miss you as much as i do.”

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her expression—open, raw, and devastatingly honest. by instinct, you lifted a hand and cradled her face. you hated it when she was sad.

“oh, bessa.”

“i’ve realized,” she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, “that i am nothing without you. i thought i was protecting you by letting you go, but i was wrong. i’m tired, my love. tired of waking up alone. tired of pretending i don’t need you. i do. god, i do.”

you felt a weight lift from the depths of your body. you’d waited so long to hear this—to feel wanted, needed, like you weren’t just a fleeting chapter in her life. tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, hot and fat.

ambessa turned you in her arms, her hands coming up to cup your face as you began to cry in earnest.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “don’t cry. please don’t cry.”

“i don’t want to do this anymore,” you choked out between sobs, clutching at her arms like she was the only thing keeping you upright. you pressed down on the thick cords of muscle, pleading with the strength of your grip. “i don’t want the house or any of this shit. i’m so tired of taking care of myself, ambessa. i just want to come home.”

her expression crumpled, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability in her that she rarely let show.

“i’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight. “i’m so sorry, my love. i never should have let you go. i’ll make it right—i swear to you. i’ll spoil you, take care of you, and keep you forever. you’re mine, [name], and i’ll never let you forget it again.”

you sobbed harder, your face burying into her chest as her arms enveloped you completely.

“i know, baby. you did so well. i’m so proud of you,” she murmured.

she continued to whisper soft reassurances, mantras of “sweetheart,” “my sweet girl,” and “my sweet baby,” until the tears slowed and your breathing evened out. you shuddered against her, refusing to remove yourself from where you were pressed tightly against her chest. she shifted, and you jolted—fingers splaying desperately across her body.

“shh. i’m just making us more comfortable,” she told you.

the two of you moved, a single weeping entity across the floor of the kitchen into the living room. ambessa settled you on the couch, continuing to trace a hand across the landscape of your back.

“come back with me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your hair. “let me take care of you. let me love you the way you deserve, hmm?”

you nodded against her, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline.

“that's all i want. i never stopped loving you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“i know,” she said, tilting your face up to hers.

the kiss she gave you was desperate and all-consuming, a culmination of every time you had woken and found yourself alone. her hands roamed over your hips and your waist, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. you gasped into her mouth, and she deepened the kiss.

“i’ve missed you,” she murmured against your lips, her voice low, rough with hunger. “did you miss me?”

you shivered, your body instinctively pressing into hers.

“yes. yes, i did. i swear, bessa,” you insisted, your voice trembling.

“shh, my love,” she said, her lips trailing down your jaw to your neck to soothe you. “i believe you. a sweet girl like you wouldn’t lie to me.”

with a groan, she lifted you, guiding you toward the bedroom, her hands never straying from your body, her kisses growing more frantic. when your back hit the bed, she hovered over you, her gaze dark, possessive. a hand came down to cup your cunt, firm and promising.

“yes or no?” she asked.

she only asked out of respect. ambessa had long ago perfected the art of taking what she wanted. you found you didn’t mind. it was easier this way, surrendering to her because she knew your body—your needs—better than you ever could. in her hands, the pressure of choice vanished. you trusted her to always know what was best.

suddenly, you were reminded of when she proposed. you felt the same now as you had then—wide-eyed, carnivorous. gently, you pulled her closer, brushing your lips against hers. the room smelled of apple blossoms and her intoxicating scent.

“yes,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

satisfied, she lowered her mouth back to your neck. at that moment, you could have mistaken her for a vampire—hunting for your pulse, for that line of forever-promised blood.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“ambessa.”

“hmm?” she answered, her hand tightening where it reigned on the nape of your neck.

she had you face down with your ass up, her other hand holding you at the small of your back as she thrust into you. you let out a high moan as she began to move faster, her cock moving deeper as you bore down on her.

“you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. so tight and sweet for me. it’s almost as if you haven’t been touched in a long while.”

“bessa—” you choked out, and she let out a laugh.

“oh, baby. i know that’s not true.” bending forward to brace herself on the bed, she began to pump into you. “you were always so hungry for it, so eager. i know you’ve probably stuffed yourself every single night since i’ve been gone.”

you whimpered, drool beginning to spill from your lips.

“but it didn’t feel like this, did it?”

“no,” you answered, squealing as ambessa brought a hand down on your ass. “no, baby. i can’t take care of myself like you do.”

“no,” she agreed. “you can’t. you just get so stupid when you’re fucked. you have no chance of doing this alone. not well, at least.”

“bessa, please,” you mewled.

with a bored sigh, she tightened her grip around your band of hair and yanked your head back, pounding into you with predatorial precision. you moaned as she began to focus on your g-spot, pulling your head back roughly to further increase her control.

“shit, bessa. fuuuuuck.”

“yeah?”

all thoughts were being fucked out of your head. you managed to get a hand on your clit, rubbing furiously to add stimulation.

“uh, uh, uh. oh, fuck. holy shit. ambessa, fuck. please, baby. please don’t stop.”

for a moment, she paused, and you remembered how cruel she could be. tenderly, she turned you over on your back and slid back in, placing your hands on the back of your thighs so that you were holding yourself open. with a grunt, she sunk deep until her hips were once again clapping against your ass.

a strong hand came down, fingers hooking into your mouth and tugging till she could see your teeth. you felt like an animal.

“stop fucking talking,” she told you, and you nodded, spit slicking all over your mouth and her fingers. “good girl.”

the praise settled on you, and you moaned weakly. her next thrust hit you like a line of coke. she was pressing into you, working for something. you weren’t sure what, but you could feel the way she was aiming to break you in.

“come on,” she murmured, retracting her fingers to grope roughly at your tits. “say it.”

your brow furrowed, and she came to a slow, gradual stop. sliding out, ambessa crawled onto the bed and placed a hand on your chest. you watched her, eyes large and glittering with tears. her breasts hung heavy over you, ripe and full with age. you wanted to suck and bite her nipples till she was shaking on the bridge of your nose, pussy-deep into your throat.

carefully, she slipped the holster from her hips and removed the girthy dildo from where it sat, slick with your heat and arousal.

“maybe this will jog your memory,” she said, and you didn’t have a moment to think before her cock was in your mouth.

you choked loudly, but she paid you no mind. with a few circular motions of her wrist, she made you deepthroat every inch, her eyes darkening as you audibly gagged and sucked on it. you ran your tongue over the artificial veins, getting it as wet as possible.

you were tasting yourself, strawberry sweet with a hint of bitterness and slight musk. you could feel your cunt pulsing, fluttering as ambessa’s eyes grew darker. she prohibited you from letting your legs down, and your thighs were burning, sweat garnishing your skin with a light sheen.

you felt so exposed, so debased like this: holding yourself wide and open while gagging like a well-trained whore on the toy.

“remember now?” she asked, and you breathed hard through your nose.

you were trying, bless you, to remember, and she dropped a kiss on your cunt for the effort.

“look at this pussy, sweetheart. fuck, baby.” ambessa lifted from where she’d been dragging her free hand through your folds. her fingers were soaked. “you’re rinsing me.”

something about her tone jogged your memory, and suddenly, you knew what she wanted to hear. in your excitement, you whined, and she met your gaze. she considered you and then removed her cock from your mouth.

“mommy,” you breathed, and she smiled, her face warm and rivaling the sun.

“that’s it,” she said, pride drenching the words. “good job, sweet girl. you deserve a reward.”

you beamed and wiggled your pussy in silent demand. ambessa laughed at your eagerness, bending to kiss you. her lips trailed lower till she was mouthing over the sopping mound of your count. around and around, her tongue wet, her teeth softly grazing your clit. you snapped upward, letting go of your legs and clutching at her braids instead.

“goddamnit, ambessa! fuck!”

she continued to eat you out, shaking her head and sucking loudly. still, she found time to pinch the inside of your thigh in reprimand.

“that’s not my name, sweet girl. i won’t tell you again.”

“fuck. fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, mommy. just—please.” your voice cleaved in the middle. “please, i need to cum. i want to cum so bad for you, mommy. let me. please just let me—”

with a wet pop, ambessa broke away from your swollen pussy and looked at you. you breathed heavily, eyes caught on the way she gazed at you from between your legs.

“nothing is stopping you, my love. do what pleases you.”

she lowered down again and spat right into your cunt. you let your head fall back.

“i told you,” she said. “i plan to spoil you. this will only be your first.”

and with that, she suctioned her mouth around your rosy pussy and sucked, pointing her tongue and slipping inside of you. you came with a high wail, legs clamping around her head as you bowed over her. you felt light-headed, slit open, and destroyed.

and true to her nature, ambessa never stopped.

© hcneymooners.

[d3arapril]

PUSH 2 START | p.b

pushin' on my buttons with no hesitation, gas me up give me motivation

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 5.4k words of pure filth sorry not sorry warnings/tags: sexual content. VACATION PAIGE!!!, they get drunk and nasty FRRR, dom!paige, oral, fingering, strap usage (yes i finally wrote it), squirting, doggy, spanking, overstim - bro i could literally go on and on, just read it lol. (reminder - don't like it? don't read it)‼️ ᡣ𐭩 this idea quite literally came to me in a dream. this wasn't supposed to be full on smut but obviously i got carried away & ended up writing quite possibly the dirtiest thing i've ever written.... i listened to tyla's album on repeat whilst writing hence the random title. enjoy :D as always feedback & reblogs are appreciated x

“Think I have heatstroke.”

You roll your eyes from where you’re sat on the balcony, distracted from the half eaten packet of lays sat in your lap. You shift in your seat to crane your neck around to look at Paige through the glass doors, sun beaming down onto your skin.

“We were outside for like, half an hour.”

The Greek sun was no joke. You'd both decided to treat yourselves to a last minute vacation, frantically booking one of the nicest apartments you could both find a week prior to departure. Seven days on a Greek island was your idea of heaven and Paige had willingly agreed, claiming she needed some sun.

However, what she wasn't prepared for was the sun being the hottest thing she'd ever felt in her 23 years of being alive– her words.

The blonde groans from where she’s splayed out on the bed. The crisp, white sheets are a nice contrast against her newly tanned skin, body wrapped in a white fluffy towel.

You stand up from the chair, grimacing at the sting of your legs unsticking from the plastic. The packet of lays gets abandoned on the small table before you and your toes burn against the hot tile as you hop back into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you.

Paige doesn't flinch when she hears you come in, cheek smooshed against the sheets. She hums in the back of her throat when you scratch at her scalp as you pass her, her hair still slightly damp from the shower.

"You gonna make it to dinner, champ?"

A breath of a laugh leaves Paige as she pushes herself up with another groan, towel loosely tucked around her body. You're busy sorting through the selection of dresses you'd packed when you feel her wrap her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

Her head juts towards the white dress hanging up in the closet. "Wear that one."

It's a fairly simple dress- plain white with a racer style neckline and ruffled skirt. You take it off the rail and hold it up in front of you, head tilting as you study it. "Really? It's kind of boring."

"Nah," Paige's hands rub up and down your sides, nose nudging against your cheek. "S'my favourite." She punctuates her sentence with a kiss to your jaw. It's seemingly innocent, but you know the girl well enough by now.

You slip out of her grip, dress in hand, before she can try anything, grabbing a pair of white strappy heels as you go.

"I'm gonna get ready in the bathroom," you're heading towards said room before she can stop you. "Reservation is at 8!"

You're sat on the couch, impatiently tapping a heel against the flooring. You tap against your phone screen to check the time for what felt like the hundredth time– you only had five minutes to get to the restaurant. Somehow, Paige always managed to take so long to get ready. You'd tried to get into the bedroom to see what was taking her so long but the door was locked so you were forced to sit and wait for her like her chauffeur.

You're scrolling through TikTok when you hear the lock click on the door. You huff, grabbing your bag from beside you. Standing up, you run a hand down your dress to flatten out any creases and when you look up Paige is stood in the doorway.

She's got her hair slicked back in her classic bun and she's wearing a white shirt with a simple black crop top underneath. The shorts she's wearing are black, too and she's wearing the Nike's you bought for her. She stands in silence, hands tucked into her pockets as she watches you take her all in.

You slink towards her, heels clicking against the tiles. You're aware you're probably staring at her like she's a piece of meat but you can't find it in you to car when she looks this good, plus it's not like she would complain.

"You're late," you hum, pulling her in by the belt loops. "What took you so long?"

She shrugs, opting to not respond. Instead, her hands reach out to rub down your back. "You look..." She pauses, leaning back. Her eyes start from your heels, trailing up your legs. Her gaze pauses on your chest for a second before meeting your eyes. "Really fucking good."

The pink of her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes your hand and holds it above your head. "Twirl for me."

You do as she says, giddily spinning in a circle for her. Her teeth pull at her bottom lip as she watches you, the vanilla from your perfume hitting her like some sort of pheromone. You drive her insane.

"You like?"

"You know I like. We're matching."

Before you can respond, the sudden dread of missing your reservation hits you and you're kicked into gear, eyes widening as you cast a glance at your phone in your hand.

"Fuck, we're late!"

You pull Paige by the wrist as you frantically leave the apartment, locking the door behind you and walking as fast as you could in your heels to the restaurant.

Alcohol in Europe is different to the alcohol in America– it's somehow much, much stronger.

You'd had an amazing dinner, followed by some amazing cocktails. What was supposed to only be one or two turned into arguably too many and before you knew it you were both stumbling back to the apartment.

The front door is opened and shut again faster than you can blink and you're pressed against it before your brain can catch up with you. Your head spins a little when you tilt it up to give Paige access to your neck, dazed smile spreading across your lips.

"Mmmm," Paige all but moans against your skin, licking a stripe up your neck. "Tastes good."

"Might be the alcohol." the words leave you lazily, slurred. Paige pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"Nah, s'all you."

You pull her in with a hand gripping the back of her neck, lips slotting against hers. It's hot, messy- her tongue slides against yours and you taste the alcohol on her breath. Ordinarily, you'd make a joke about her needing to brush her teeth but you're fully aware you're just as bad so you remain silent, just kiss her deeper and softly moan into her mouth.

When you part from each other you're both panting, string of spit separating the two of you. You lick your lips and it breaks, clinging to your bottom lip. Paige's thumb reaches up to wipe it away, pad of her thumb pressing against you. She just stares at you as she swipes the digit across slowly, smudging the remainder of your lip liner down your chin.

"So fucking fine," she murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick at her thumb, smirk forming when she lets out a shaky breath. "You tryna kill me?"

"Maybe." you smirk at her, pushing at her shoulders until she stumbles back. You glide past her and head to the lounge, the blonde hot on your heels.

She catches you by the couch, arms caging you in from behind. You let her, of course. The cat and mouse game is usually fun but when you're this desperate, there are plenty other things you'd rather be doing.

"So many rooms to choose from," Paige whispers against the shell of your ear, "So many places to fuck you in."

Your knees almost give out and you're sure they would've if it wasn't for Paige holding you up, her chest pressed tight to your back.

"Could fuck you here," a flick of her head gestures to the couch.

Her hands find your chest, squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your dress. "Or on the counter, on the balcony."

You're abnormally quiet, nodding at whatever she says. She snickers, hands trailing down further until they reach the hem of your dress. Paige knows that when you're speechless, she's doing something right.

"You want that?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"All of them."

She spins you around and you have to grab onto her to steady yourself. Her cheeks are all flushed and she's clearly just as drunk as you.

"Gonna let me?"

You feel like you're going to cry from how badly you want it.

You nod eagerly, gripping the fabric of her shirt. You want to rip it off of her, lick all over her tan lines and have your way with her but you let her have this one; you can tell she's in the mood to take control and you'd never be one to deny her of that.

She wrestles herself from your tight grip and flops down on the couch, legs spread and arms wide across the back cushions. You're still stood in your spot, hands now awkwardly by your sides as you wait for her to tell you what to do.

"Take it off."

You lean down to slip off your heels but she stops you with a cough.

"Keep 'em on, I meant your dress."

"But-"

"Off, c'mon."

You stand up straight again, gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it up and off your body. It's a bit of a struggle and you stumble around slightly but it eventually slides off of your head. It drops beside you and you're left in a simple matching white set.

Despite the alcohol coursing through your body, you still manage to feel shy under Paige's heavy gaze. She's still sat in the same position, eyes raking over your body.

"C'mere."

You toe towards her with careful steps, nothing but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile and both of your heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. You're standing between her legs, much like you were earlier, and she still doesn't move from her spot, fingers gripping at the cushions of the couch.

Paige’s gaze remains locked on yours, her lips curling into a smirk as she leans back further into the couch, making no move to close the distance between you. Her liquid confidence oozes with the weight of her stare and the longer she waits the more your heartbeat thuds in your ears.

“Closer." she murmurs, her voice low.

You inch forward until your shins hit the leather of the couch. You try to stop your hands from shaking, try to act like this is any other time you've been in this situation but there's something about having the entire space to yourself that makes this feel so different, so intense.

"Do you plan to do this all night, or?" your voice comes out quieter than you'd intended.

She lets out a laugh, arms reaching forward to pull you in by your hips. You fall into her lap, bracing yourself against her shoulders to soften the impact.

"I just like lookin' at you," Paige licks her lips, glossy eyes looking up at you. "So sexy, you know that?" Her left hand smooths up your torso, grips at the fat of your chest and squeezes.

You whimper pathetically at the contact, your hands moving from their spot on her shoulders to her hair. You mess with the hair ties and pull the bun free, fingers brushing through the blonde strands. Paige hisses when your nails scratch against her scalp, hips pushing upwards against your own.

Her right hand slides around your back and she pulls you down until your chests are pressed together. You kiss her, open mouthed and messy as your tongue laps at hers, grinding down against her. The rough metal of her zipper presses against you through the thin material of your underwear and you whimper against her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at the feeling.

Paige's left hand finds home on your ass, squeezing and guiding you to rock against her. You whimper into the kiss as she uses her hold on you to grind you down onto her harder, tongue pushing further into your mouth. You can feel the heat radiating off of her, can smell the scent of the shampoo she used in the shower this afternoon and taste the alcohol on her tongue. You're practically drunk on her let alone the alcohol, and she's definitely drunk on you, too.

You're so caught up in the moment you're not prepared for Paige to flip you around. You let out a small ah! as she does so, head spinning from the sudden movement. Your back is now against the cushions, leather sticking to your sweaty skin. The blonde slips down onto the tiles in front of you, now kneeling between your legs.

"Hold 'em." Paige's hands are at the backs of your knees, pushing them up until they're almost at your chest. The heels of your shoes knock together and it's a reminder that you're actually still wearing them. You do as she says, clammy hands gripped tight over hers. You watch with bated breath as she slips her hands from your grip, thumb coming to press against your clit through your panties. It's a soft touch but it's enough to make you gush again; what was once a thick white material now a glossy, sheer mess.

"Fuck," Paige breathes. She moves her thumb in small, gentle circles around the clothed area. Your head falls back against the cushion of the couch, mouth open in a silent moan. "This all for me?"

"Always," you murmur, licking your lips as you move your heavy head, eyes meeting hers. "It's yours."

"Yeah it is," Paige nods, her voice coming out strained. She moves to slide her hands up the backs of your thighs and hooks both thumbs into your panties, pulling them up and off your legs until they're hanging around your ankle, exposing your pussy. "So good." she purrs, leaning forward to press open mouthed kisses against you. You suck in a breath when her tongue laps up your slit, nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

She moves slowly at first, and for a moment you wonder if it's because of her own drunkenness, but the longer she goes on the more you're reminded of just how good she is at this. You feel like you're going to explode at the slightest touch, every stroke of her tongue against your clit sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

"Paige," you moan repeatedly, her name coming out like a prayer. She hums against you, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs to keep you spread open for her.

You gasp at the feeling of her warm, wet muscle pushing past your folds to languidly dip against your entrance. "Oh fuck, fuck- babe."

She's sloppy with it, a mixture of your juices and her spit dripping down between your ass and onto the couch. You'll scold her for doing this here tomorrow but right now it's your last concern.

Your toes curl when she shakes her head against you, tongue flicking against your clit. "Gonna make me cum," the words leave you as a sob, mouth hanging open. You feel the wetness between your thighs increase even more when you hear her moan, the vibrations shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "Feels so good."

Paige's fingers dig harder into the skin of your thighs as she continues to lap at you. She pushes her tongue into you again and then moves upwards, pressing sloppy kisses against your swollen clit.

"Yeah, right there, please-" you choke on your own words, the feeling of her nose brushing against your sensitive skin making you jolt. You can't stop the loud cry that leaves you as she sucks your clit back into her mouth, tongue massaging against it.

The room is spinning and your legs start to cramp from how hard your muscles are tensed, nails almost piercing into your skin when the chord in your stomach suddenly snaps. You're practically crying, eyes rolled back in your head when it hits you. Paige helps you ride it out, keeping you pressed to the couch whilst she drinks up your slick. You're trembling, stomach rippling from the intensity.

You expect Paige to pull away, lean up and give you a messy kiss like she normally would but instead she slides two fingers up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness on the tips before she's pushing them into you.

"Wait," you whimper, feet kicking in the air. "Babe, wait, I just- I'm-"

"You're good," she murmurs, lips brushing against the inside of your thigh as her fingers slowly pump in and out of you. "I got you, just relax."

You mewl, letting her have her way with you. She starts off slow, fingers curling up deep. The sound is obscene, with every flick of her fingers the wet sound fills the air but you feel no shame, if anything it just turns you on more.

Paige definitely feels you flood her fingers because she picks up the pace, thrusting her fingers deeper into you, curling them with each stroke. Your entire body is coated in sweat, droplets beading against your skin. Her other hand moves from its place on your thigh to spread you wider, opening you up to her even more.

It's all too much; the heat, the way you're spread open for her, the pressure building deep in your stomach. She adds a third finger and the stretch makes you sob, legs starting to shake in your grip.

"I can't," the words spill from you, incoherently. "Please, please I can't."

"Shhh," Paige coos, leaning down to kiss the back of your thigh. "You can, gonna make you cum again."

She curls her fingers and the tip of her middle finger brushes against that spot, her palm pressing down against your clit. The feeling is so intense and you can't do anything but whine, thighs shaking around her.

"So good to me," Paige breathes out, heart hammering in her chest. She watches the way your pussy clings to her fingers, the digits now glistening as she pulls them out of you before thrusting back in. "She loves me, hm?"

You nod feebly, tears slipping down your cheeks, head lolling against the cushions of the couch.

Paige is relentless, fucking her fingers into you with such force you can feel the pressure in your ass. Your legs are starting to burn and so are your hips and it feels like a balloon is being blown up in your stomach, pressure becoming harder to ignore with every pump of her fingers.

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Paige-"

You cum for the second time with a broken sob and you hear it before you feel it, the distant sound of a splash against the tiles below you followed by Paige's load groan. It hits you hard, legs quivering as you squirt around her fingers, the wetness coating the floor. She slips her fingers out quick enough for another gush to leave you, trickling down your ass and onto the leather.

She moans, watching it play out in front of her. It's the hottest thing she's ever seen, her fingers now rubbing against your clit in quick motions.

"Again, again."

"Fuck, I can't-"

"Again." she demands but the word leaves her like she's begging, voice a pitch higher.

It's embarrassing how fast the heat builds in your stomach again, and before you can stop it you're squirting all over again, pussy clenching against nothing as you cry out.

Paige leans down, tongue slipping between your folds to drink you up. You're sobbing, trying to get away from her but you can barely move.

"You're okay," Paige mumbles, soothing her hand down your quivering leg. "I got you, s'okay."

A moment passes, Paige's head resting against the back of your thigh as she strokes her soaked hand against the other. You drop your legs ungracefully, stretching your limbs and groaning when your hips and knees crack after being bent for so long.

"That sobered me up." you whisper, heavy eyelids threatening to close. "Did they put viagra in your drink?"

Paige stifles a laugh, her own knees cracking when she stands up. She holds out a hand you to help you up and you take it with a shaky one of your own. You grimace at the feeling of the wet leather sticking to your bare skin, standing up.

"You ruined the couch."

"Says the one who squirted like a fucking firehose." Paige's hand comes up to push the hair from her face, a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. "S'not my fault I do that to you."

You groan, pushing at her shoulder. "Shut up."

Paige laughs and drops her hands to your hips, walking you backwards towards the bedroom. You stumble a little, bambi-like legs struggling in your heels.

"Get on the bed."

You're pushed backwards onto the bed, bouncing slightly when you hit the sheets. Your chest is heaving, heart still thumping wildly in your chest. Paige is climbing over you, caging you in with her arms and legs. Her lips ghost the shell of your ear,

"Still gotta fuck you in here."

She ducks down and connects your lips, teeth knocking against yours as she does so. Her hips grind down against yours and your hands snake under the fabric of her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. Paige pulls back to shrug it off of her and throw it blindly behind her, reaching back to pull her crop top off in one fluid movement. She's braless, tan lines from her bikini top prominent against her now tanned skin. The sight alone makes you moan.

You both shimmy up the bed, lips still connected, and when the back of your head hits the pillow Paige's lips are on your neck. You sigh, hand smoothing down her back. Her skin is damp and so is yours, the smell of sex filling the air.

"Please, babe," you whimper, fingers pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Paige hums, sitting up to push them down her legs and kick them off.

"Hmm," she murmurs, fingers sliding over your cheek, thumb resting against your bottom lip. You part your lips, tongue swiping out to lick the pad of her thumb. "You gonna do something for me?"

"Anything."

Wordlessly, Paige pulls off her boxers with practiced ease and begins crawling over you. Her hand rests against the headboard as she steadies herself, the other reaching down to cup her pussy. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between hers and her cunt.

"Please," the word is soft, leaving you breathlessly. "I wanna taste you, please."

"Yeah?" she tilts her head, the pad of her index finger sliding up and down her slit. You watch her gather her wetness and then bring it up to her clit, circling the bud. "Wanna make me cum?"

"Please, please." you grip at her thighs, nails digging into her skin. Paige moans at the feeling, her own hand now moving faster against herself. "Wanna make you feel good."

Paige's hand leaves her pussy and she hovers above you, holding onto the headboard. You lift your head and stick your tongue out, eager for her to sit on you. You whine when she hovers her pussy just above your mouth, tongue swiping out to lick against her folds.

"Fuck, yeah," Paige moans, head dropping forward. Her left hand grips the headboard whilst her right holds onto her pussy, spreading herself open for you. "Yeah, good girl."

The praise goes straight to your core and you moan, tongue darting out again. She's finally sat on your face and your head falls back against the pillow, licking at her cunt like a woman starved.

She starts grinding against your tongue, the slick sounds filling the air. You're making a mess of yourself, saliva dribbling down your chin as you lap at her, tongue dipping inside her.

"S'good," Paige pants, grip against the headboard tightening. "Yeah, like that-oh fuck."

Your tongue flicks against her clit, your thighs squeezing together as a you feel your pussy gush just from making her feel good. She's so warm and wet and tastes so good and you can't get enough, tongue lapping at her clit in quick, harsh motions.

"Keep- fuck- keep doing that," her head drops forward and her hips cant, her movements becoming sloppy as she chases her high. "Right there, yes-"

Her legs start shaking, the muscles quivering under your touch and her hand reaches down, smoothing against your hair. Her hips move erratically, chasing her orgasm.

"Oh fuck, m'gonna cum." she pants, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her breasts. "Keep- yeah, yeah-"

Paige cries out with a broken moan, her orgasm washing over her. She's shaking all over, groaning as you keep lapping at her clit. You drink her up, moaning against her pussy.

"Please," she begs, her voice high pitched. "Fuck, I can't."

She's cut off by her own sob, eyes rolling back in her head. The room is filled with her moans, the sound bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sounds coming from where your mouth is.

Paige is squirming on top of you, the sensation of overstimulation sending waves of pleasure through her body. Two can play at that game, you think.

"So good to me," Paige manages to choke out between moans, teeth gritted. "My fucking girl, s'so good."

You're drunk off of her, her words of encouragement only spurring you on. You roll your tongue against her clit, nails pressing down harder into her skin. Paige fights against your grip, hips lifting up as she pants heavily, forehead pressed against the wall.

She shakily moves her hips backwards and away from your mouth, now sitting across your hips. You're breathing just as heavily, the room spinning around you. Your chest is heaving and your eyes are half lidded as you stare up at her, lips red and puffy.

"You're so hot," you mumble, eyes drifting across her chest. The words leaving you before you can even process them.

Paige snickers, running a hand through her hair. "I know."

"So fucking annoying."

"You love it."

And well, she's not wrong. You reach up, cupping her tits and giving them a firm squeeze. Her hands reach up to cover yours, leaning into your grip.

"You want it?"

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and figure out what she's referring to but when she gestures down to her crotch with a nod of her head, the cogs turn into place.

Paige spots the excitement in your eyes because she sniggers, tongue kissing her teeth. "'Course you do."

She clambers off of you, slight wobble in her legs as she does so. The moonlight dances through the room and you can see the sweat beading against her back, muscles rippling when she digs through her suitcase.

When she turns back she's got the harness briefs dangling from her fingers, skin coloured dildo fisted in the other hand. She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes back at her, urging her to get on with it.

She stands at the end of the bed, slipping the boxers over her feet and up her legs. She fits the dildo into place, bottom lip pulled between her teeth in concentration when she fumbles slightly.

You watch her with bated breath, squeezing at your covered tits mindlessly.

"Keep that on," Paige mumbles, nodding towards your bra. She crawls onto the bed, stopping at your feet. "Turn over for me."

You flip over with a groan, using what little strength you had left to keep your chest flat to the mattress, ass high in the air. Just how you know she liked it.

She affirms your thoughts with a soft moan at the sight of you, moving further up the bed. You feel the plastic brush up against you and it makes your thighs twitch, ass jutting up higher for her touch.

Her hands smooth against your ass, squeezing at the fat of it when you back up against her again. "Someone's impatient."

"C'mon." you urge, shaking your ass just enough to get her to fold. It works, of course, because she moans again- deeper this time. She grips the base of the dildo and slides it between your folds, blunt head nudging your clit. You're still soaking wet, the plastic glistening before she's even put it in you.

"Damn," the word leaves Paige automatically, pupils blown out as she admires your mess. "Ask me nicely and I'll put it in."

You groan against the sheets, fits gripping the cotton tightly. "Please, Paigey."

The nickname gets you a harsh slap to the ass, the impact stinging your skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth but the smirk grows across your lips despite it all.

"Fuck me Paigey, please."

"Shut the fuck up."

She slides in with one smooth motion, intrusion bringing your brows up to your hairline. It stings slightly but the familiar is welcomed, comforting almost.

"Gonna fuck you now," Paige's hands smooth down your back, coming to rest at the base of your spine. "Gonna make you fucking cry."

You strain your neck against the bed to get a peek at her and you're not sure you've ever seen her this wound up before- her eyes are wide, a red flush travelling across her chest and up to her cheeks. She's fucked.

Her hips draw back and then slam back into you, the sound of skin on skin deafening you. She's unforgiving, nails digging into your skin as she uses your hips as leverage to fuck into you. She's grunting with each thrust, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"Yeah, yeah-" you whine, eyes screwed shut as the blonde ruins you. You can just about hear how wet you are over the sound of her skin smacking against yours, the recognisable squelch of your pussy getting louder when she grants you with another slap to the ass. "You fuck me so go-ood."

"Yeah?" Paige breathes out, slapping your ass again. Her hand tingles from the force but she ignores it, slapping your other ass cheek with the same hand. "Whose pussy is this? Hm?"

You can barely respond, body jostling against the sheets.

"Is it mine, baby?"

You nod against the sheets, helpless.

Another slap.

"Tell me."

"It's yours!" you cry out, fingers practically ripping holes into the sheets. "Yoursyoursyours-"

"Fuck yeah it is."

She pistons in and out of you at an ungodly speed and it makes you dizzy- so dizzy you don't even feel your orgasm approaching until you're on the edge, threatening to tip over.

"Cumming!" is all you can let out, the word caught in your chest as your spine curls inwards, heels kicking up against your girlfriend. It hits you like a truck, legs spasming and arms stretching out against the sheets as you cream against Paige. You see spots in your vision, eyes crossing as the pleasure consumes you. You feel everything, and then all of a sudden- nothing.

"You good princess?"

You crack an eye open to see Paige laying beside you, propped up on an elbow. She's gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, hair now pulled up into a messy bun atop of her head.

"Did I die?"

She snickers, leaning across to press a kiss to your forehead. "I killed that pussy, maybe."

You release the sheets that's still gripped in your hand to shove the blonde back but she just sticks her tongue out at you, reaching behind her for a glass of water left on the bedside drawer.

"Drink some, you need it."

She holds it to your mouth and you chug it down, dry throat welcoming the fluid. "I seriously passed out?"

"Eh," Paige shrugs, rubbing down your back. "You were conscious, just about."

"Wow," you roll onto your front, ache between your thighs making itself evident. "You did a number on me."

"Same again tomorrow?"

Your palm smooshes against her face, pushing her away with a laugh.

"Your turn tomorrow, Bueckers."

[thefandomthings]

5 fluff zuko

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

Fluff prompt #5: "I have to go but-one more kiss."

Pairing: Zuko x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, slight angst, Zuko being Zuko. ¡¡SPOILERS!!

Notes: Bluntest request I have ever gotten (It's from my sister 😶). Takes place in Book 3. Ep 14. @shellbell4

Prompt event

To say you aren't happy that Zuko and Katara decided to go on a 'Revenge mission', is an understatement. You aren't close with Katara, never have been. On two different ends of the spectrum. You both maintain a respectable relationship between each other, BUT that doesn't mean you like one another.

Zuko is completely aware of this. Having this conversation with him multiple times about how she looks at him, or what happened under Bai Sing Sei. But as you know, he isn't to great at reading people and how they are feeling. And it doesn't help that he is the one who suggested it, stings like alcohol on a open wound.

You are currently sitting against one of the dock posts, watching as Katara and Zuko get Appa ready to fly. The nasty look on your face is extremely noticable, Sokka and Aang are both looking at each then between the three of you.

Zuko finishes strapping a few things on Appas saddle and slides down the fluffy sky bison. He might not be the best at reading social cues but he can tell just by the way your eyes burn into his soul, you are pissed and hurt.

He cautiously approaches you and slides down the post next to you, his left arm resting on his knee, his right hand playing with the grass and dirt; picking and prodding.

You don't look at him, your eyebrows are furrowed in anger, you mouth set in scowl. Zuko carefully puts his arm around your shoulders. You don't push him away, but you don't lean into him like you usually do.

"Did you really have to suggest going with her?" You finally spoke, turning your head to look at him. Zuko has a frown on his face as he looks back at you, honey eyes soft and determined.

"She needs closure, Y/n. And Sokka and Aang won't go with her, so I have to." His right hand slides into your own, squeezing it softly. You know he is right, after all he's been through he just wants to make peace with the Gaang, especially Katara.

You sigh finally leaning into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Zukos' pale cheeks burn pink, his arm squeezing you closer. He leans down and kisses you softly, his dry lips molding with yours before he pulls away.

"Zuko, let's go." Katara hollers from her spot on Appas neck/head. Zuko sighs and stands up, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"We'll be back soon, okay?" He ruffles your hair gently and starts to walk away. You smile slightly, already missing him even if he isn't gone yet.

Zuko then pauses a few feet away and you watch him curiously. He turns on his heel and speed walks back to you. Zuko leans down holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb.

"I have to go but-one more kiss." He presses his lips to yours longer, taking the breath from your lungs. "For good luck."

[tiyawnyana]

The idea credit goes to @hell0-ki55y, and tagging @naabbie 🫶🏻

A/N: saw this and 👀 immediately had to write something while it was slow at work tysm for the idea!!

Characters: Sevika x (fem) reader

Warnings: nipple piercings, surprise, praise, dirty talk, thigh humping, nipple sucking, cunt slap, hint of strap usage

Men and Children DNI

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Surprise

You had kept a surprise hidden for months now from your partner; meticulously wearing mesh bras to hide them, only engaging in sex where your shirt or bra stays on (you both were so busy- quickies being the only way to really fuck for the last few months), or straight up complaining about your tits aching.

Granted, the last one wasn't a lie, sometimes they were sore. Because of the new nipple piercings.

Your partner would most often offer to relieve your pain- stepping behind you and smirking into your neck as she cups the underside of your boobs, lifting, but her fingers would get too close to one of the piercings so you'd thank her- by dropping to your knees, tugging her pants down to distract her from your chest.

Finally, you got the okay that your nipples were healed- thank Janna for it only taking a few weeks, so you planned to surprise her.

You're perched up in your shared bed, a new lingerie set bought from the brothel- they had good quality stuff too, besides the workers-

Sevika is showering. You'd made a nice dinner, got her favorite things from the flea market and after, sent her to shower.

You assumed today had been a particularly rough one, the smell of bionic fluids wafting in on her clothes.

You'd washed those for her, too, hung up to dry on the small balcony.

You hear the shower stop, finally, nerves now settling in to your bones before you shake your head.

Sevika will love this. She will!

The door in the hallway creeks open, her soft footsteps coming closer.

She's towel drying her hair, clad in boxer briefs and a loose cropped shirt before groaning at the sight of you.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs eyeing you up and down.

"Hi, Sevi," you smirk coyly, watching her step closer, dropping her towel before she kneels before you, large, rough hands grasping your knees and spreading your legs before moving her hands up your thighs. Her hands trail over the soft fabric, a hum of satisfaction heard in her throat.

"Fuck," she repeats,"This for me?"

You nod, peering down at her,"This- and something else.."

She quirks a brow in question.

"Why don't you take these off and find out?" You manage to speak with a sultry tone.

"Fuck- I want to fuck you with this on-"

You giggle softly,"Then just the bra.."

She looks momentarily confused before reaching up behind you to unclasp it, sliding the straps from your shoulders and tossing it aside before her eyes go wide.

Her mouth is slightly agape, eyes drifting back and forth between both piercings before she licks her lips.

"What-"

"Got them pierced a few weeks ago.. wanted to surprise you," you cup the side of her neck.

She swallows, lifting her hands and carefully thumbing over your hardened nipples and the piercings going through them. A tingle rolls down your spine.

"How did you hide these-"

"With a lot of meticulous effort," you snicker softly.

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head fondly before tugging out the box beneath the bed, ruffling through the various toys before grasping her strap belts and looking to you to choose.

"Hm.. the blue one," you murmur.

She smirks up at you as she places it down beside you before rising, hands place on either side of your legs as she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

"You're too good to me, Baby," she murmurs against your mouth before pushing you back against the sheets.

You giggle softly before quieting down as she hovers over you, admiring the piercings.

"Are they sensitive?"

"Unbelievably so," you respond.

She smirks at that, before blowing over one of your nipples.

You jolt, sucking in a breath before moaning softly as she presses a soft kiss over it, then licks over it boldly. Her other hand comes up to rub over your other nipple, thumb and pointer finger pinching over it slightly.

You're already so turned on, have been since Sevika had walked through the door with water droplets dripping down her body.

"Mmph- Sevi," you speaks softly, head tilting back against the sheets. You grasp her shoulders carefully before grunting as she presses her thigh between your legs, grinding right up against your cunt.

"Think you could cum just from this?" She hums against you, nipping over your flesh,"Or do you need to hump my leg, like a dog?"

You huff, hips bucking against her leg in embarrassment,"Please- fuck," you groan,"Don't tempt me-"

Your cheeks are rosy with embarrassment, desperation evident as you cling to her shoulders.

She huffs out a soft laugh, then leans down to take your nipple into her mouth, sucking with a smirk. Her tongue flicks, curling around the bud and it has you whining breathlessly.

She pulls back and leans in to slot her lips against yours again, tongue pressing in between your lips with a quiet greed.

She's grinding her knee into you, taking delight in your desperate little humps and feeling how wet you were for her.

Her fingers trail up to pinch and flick at your nipples as she tilts her head to kiss you deeper, huffing into you with a satisfied hum.

When she pulls back, she bites on your lower lip, pulling just slightly then releasing with a smirk.

"C'mon, baby.." she hums,"Hump my leg, you can do it- you're always so good to me.."

You release a soft whine, eyes fluttering up at her and watching as she maintains eye contact whilst ducking down to give attention to the other nipple.

Her metal hand moves down to grip your hip, guiding you over the muscle of her thigh, her hold tight and getting quicker by the minute.

"So wet-" she mouths against your tit,"Fuck, these looks so good on you-"

You smile with a soft, breathless laugh before moaning, clit perfectly grinding down on her thigh.

"Sevi, please-" your hands grip her shoulders tighter, eyebrows scrunching up as you buck your hips,"Fuck, touch me already-"

"I am touching you," she smirks, tongue licking broadly over your nipple.

You narrow your eyes at her, panting as you growl out,"You know what I mean-"

"No, I think I like you like this," she lightly bites over your nipple then releases it,"Knowing you're so desperate for something, you'll hump my leg.."

She grinds her thigh into you harder, grip tight and unforgiving as she helps you hump against her, clit rubbing onto her muscle deliciously.

"Mmph- fuck, pleasepleaseplease-" you ramble, face tensing as you get closer to that peak.

"That's it," she coos, leaning closer to your face and brushing her nose against yours,"Almost there, hm?"

"Yes- yes, fuck," you moan, tilting your head up to brush your lips against hers but she pulls back, a cocky smirk on her lips as she pinches over your nipples, reveling in your punched out moan.

Your hips grind harder, whines and moans becoming louder and she just watches you unravel.

"Cum on my leg," she murmurs,"You're so good for me."

Your eyes peer up at her, almost teary at the overwhelming pleasure, both new and usual.

She then lifts her metal hand from your hip and carefully but firmly tweaks your other nipple, the stark contrast of her warm flesh hand to her cold metal hand, along with her thigh pressing against your cunt harder has you crying out, clinging to the blankets below you as you cum.

She admires her work. You're slumped against the bed, a slight blush to your cheeks as you pant softly. Your eyes flutter, gaze settling back onto her.

She pulls her leg from between yours then with a cocky smile, smacks her hand over your cunt, smirking at your yelp.

"C'mon, baby," she lifts up her strap, placing the toy into position in the garter,"We're not done yet, need to repay you for this thoughtful gift of yours."

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

A/N: again ty for the idea!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[alyssasoutfitdiary]

2023 04 01 Saturday

The weather is playing an April Fool's joke today; it is definitely not a day for doing things outdoors. It's warm enough, but there is rain the first half of the day, and there is a high wind warning that goes until late tonight.

My boyfriend suggested dinner and dancing, but was hesitant, knowing I would not really be up for wearing a skirt or a dress with the wind. Yes, I would rather wear a skirt, for sure, but for today's conditions I can wear pants and still dress up. There is also a billiards room at the place he suggested, so we could go there for the afternoon, too, and have more than just an evening date. I have not played pool in a long time, so I'm looking forward to that.

Since Easter is next week, I'd like to put together an outfit with Easter-y colors. I think I have a good combination. The day has me in a dark mood, but I'll wear light, to reflect my pre-Easter mood.

My outfit details:

Weather: Mid 50s (afternoon), low 40s (night), windy, maybe some leftover rain 🌬️ 🌧️

Hair in ponytail

Light blue blouse: Target

Yellow dress pants: Express

White knee high stockings: To Be In Style

Lavender leather heels: Target

Lavender leather belt: Etsy

Blush pink tassel dangle earrings: Me&Hz

Pink faux pearl necklace: Kosmos-Li

Ivory faux pearl bracelet: Kosmos-Li

White watch: Target

White purse: Boscov's

White coat: Target

[aventurineswife]

Gepard, Sampo, Ratio, Aventurine and Boothill react that reader has turned into a child by someone or something

From Giant to Child, You Are Still You

Tags: Gepard x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Protective Characters, Humor, Can be ready Romantically or Platonically, Lighthearted, Transformation Chaos, Caretaking, Humor, Character Bonds.

Gepard stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the sight before him. You—his steadfast companion—had somehow been transformed into a small child. Clutching a plush toy you seemed to have conjured out of nowhere, you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your tiny hand reaching out for his.

“What happened to you?” he murmured, crouching down to your level. He couldn’t hide the worry etched into his features. He was a soldier, trained to face terrifying monsters, but this? This was entirely out of his depth.

You tilted your head, giving him a toothy grin. “Gepard, you look funny! Your armor is so shiny!”

He couldn't help but chuckle despite the situation. “Well, at least your spirit hasn’t changed.” He reached out, gently patting your head, careful not to startle you. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to reverse this transformation. Until then, he swore to himself he’d protect you even more fiercely than before.

For now, though, he’d carry you on his shoulder and let you tug at his hair, your laughter bringing a rare lightness to his heart.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Sampo’s teasing voice broke through the silence as he crouched down to inspect the tiny version of you tugging at his coat. “My favorite customer has shrunk! How did this happen? Was it some experiment gone wrong, or did you just decide being an adult wasn’t worth the hassle?”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “It wasn’t my fault! Someone did this to me!”

Sampo smirked, ruffling your hair in an almost brotherly way. “Relax, kiddo, I’ll get you back to normal…eventually. But in the meantime, imagine the opportunities! You’re smaller, sneakier—this could work in my favor.”

You glared up at him, your tiny stature doing little to make it intimidating. “Sampo, this isn’t funny!”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s a little funny,” he chuckled, scooping you up into his arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. Besides, you’re too adorable for anyone to resist now.” He winked.

Despite his lighthearted tone, Sampo kept a close watch on you. As much as he liked to joke, the thought of you being in danger in this vulnerable state didn’t sit right with him. Whoever caused this had better be ready for a reckoning—Sampo Koski style.

Ratio stared down at you, his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face. “This has to be some kind of joke,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How, exactly, did you manage to turn into a child? Was it a poorly thought-out experiment? Some unstable phenomenon?”

You blinked up at him, hugging his leg for comfort. “I didn’t mean to! Fix it, Ratio!”

He sighed, kneeling to your level. “This complicates things. I can’t have you running around in this state. You’ll break something—or worse, touch my research.” His sharp tone made you shrink back, but his expression softened when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he said quickly, awkwardly patting your head. “I’ll figure it out.” He picked you up, carefully cradling you as if you were made of glass.

While he worked to reverse the transformation, Ratio found himself unexpectedly entertained by your childlike curiosity. You tugged at the straps of his vest, asking endless questions about the glowing gadgets in his lab. To his surprise, he found himself answering, even if the explanations went over your head.

For all his protests, Ratio’s protective nature shone through. He kept you close, determined to return you to normal—but not without muttering under his breath about the trials of babysitting.

The opulent suite was alive with the faint hum of energy panels and the clinking of Aventurine’s rings as he flipped a coin lazily between his fingers. Seated at a velvet chaise, he seemed the epitome of nonchalance, but his sharp eyes flicked over the room with calculated precision. He never truly relaxed.

Until you came bursting in—or rather, toddled in.

The sound of small feet padding across the marbled floor drew his attention, and the coin stopped mid-air as he caught it deftly. His smirk faltered.

"Well, well," he said, sliding off the chaise and crouching to your level. His voice was syrupy, teasing, but there was a hint of genuine confusion behind it. "What do we have here? Did you get lost on your way to daycare, darling?"

You tilted your head up at him, your now tiny face scrunched in distress. "A-Aventurine, it’s me!"

His smile froze. For a moment, his flamboyant mask cracked, and genuine alarm flickered across his features. Then, in true Aventurine fashion, he burst out laughing, though it was an uneasy sound.

"Oh, you must be joking!" he exclaimed, standing abruptly and running a hand through his hair. "No, wait—this isn’t a joke, is it?" His eyes locked onto yours, scanning for some sign of trickery.

"I don’t know what happened!" you wailed, tugging at his pant leg. "One minute I was normal, and now I’m—this!"

Aventurine crouched again, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his chin. "Fascinating. You’re—what? Cursed? Experimented on? Fell into some eldritch goo, perhaps?" His words were light, but his tone betrayed his rising concern.

"I don’t know!" you replied, stomping your tiny foot.

"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No need to throw a tantrum. We’ll figure this out. But first—" He scooped you up with surprising ease, spinning you around as if assessing a new casino trinket. "Look at you! You’re adorable! Almost makes me wish I could shrink down and start over myself."

You scowled, your childlike pout only adding to the adorableness. "Aventurine!"

He sighed dramatically, setting you down on the chaise. "Fine, fine. I’ll help you fix this. But you owe me big time, darling. Babysitting isn’t in my job description."

Despite his usual carefree attitude, Aventurine’s actions were swift and decisive as he began making calls and weaving his web of connections to find out what—or who—had caused this. Every so often, he glanced your way, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"Guess it’s my turn to be the responsible adult..." he muttered under his breath.

The sound of spurs clinking against the metallic floor echoed through the dimly lit saloon-like cantina. Boothill leaned against the bar, his hat tilted low over his white hair, a toothy grin flashing as he polished one of his pistols.

Then the sound of soft, uneven footsteps reached his ears. They were far too light to belong to one of the Galaxy Rangers or any of the usual drunks who frequented the place. He straightened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

When you stumbled into view—half your usual size, your tiny hands gripping the edge of a table for balance—Boothill froze.

“...Sugar?” His voice was rough, skeptical. He crouched slightly, his red scarf brushing the floor. “The fudge happened to you?”

“It’s me!” you squeaked, tears welling up in your now much smaller eyes.

Boothill blinked. “No kiddin’.” He stood straight, one hand on his hip, the other scratching the back of his head. “Well, ain’t this somethin’. You look like a calf that wandered outta the pen.”

You glared at him, though the effect was more precious than intimidating. “Boothill, stop joking! This is serious!”

He let out a low whistle, crouching again so you could see his shark-like grin. “Alright, alright, don’t blow a gasket. Just...how’d this happen? Someone shrink ray ya? Drink somethin’ funky?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, stamping your little foot. “One minute I was fine, and the next—poof!”

Boothill’s grin faded, replaced by a contemplative look as he reached out, ruffling your hair gently with his mechanical fingers. “Alright, darlin’. Don’t you worry none. We’ll get ya fixed up.” He stood, drawing one of his pistols with a dramatic flourish. “But first, let’s figure out who’s behind this. You reckon it’s the IPC? Wouldn’t put it past those varmints to mess with folks like this.”

You shook your head, sniffling. “I don’t know…”

Boothill sighed, holstering his gun before scooping you up in one arm. “Guess you’ll just hafta stick with ol’ Boothill for a bit. Hope you ain’t too squirmy, kiddo.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, Boothill’s protective side shone through as he carried you out of the cantina, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. “Don’t fret,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Ain’t nothin’ out there that can outdraw me. We’ll get ya back to normal in no time.”

You buried your face in his scarf, finding comfort in its warmth. Boothill’s grin returned, this time softer, as he adjusted his hat.

“Reckon you’re lucky to have me, huh?” he teased, spurs clinking as he strode confidently into the unknown.

[shiny-jr]

➸ damnation [ the raven retainer ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

– Note: Hopefully everything transferred over okay from the quiz. Been holding off on this one because I know with the amount of Pomefiore and Vil admirers, posting this is like lighting up a firework by hand and having to run before it goes off.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Vizier's Vassal   |   The Raven Retainer   |   The Praetorian Imp

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall! 

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment? 

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.” 

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! A page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven? 

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending. 

Knowing this brought you some much needed relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be. 

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard. 

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace. 

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing. 

“Thank you…! You saved me!” 

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you may already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?” 

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his worn and tattered attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.” 

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…” 

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you. 

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story. 

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!” 

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason. 

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” 

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass. 

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming. 

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small. 

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!” 

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathers fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow. 

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger. 

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke it caused you to freeze. 

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.” 

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him. 

“Closer.” 

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne. 

“Closer.” 

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.” 

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.” 

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.” 

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear. 

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile. 

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes. 

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!” 

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him. 

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.” 

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two. 

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago. 

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival. 

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.” 

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it. 

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!” 

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.” 

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king. 

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?” 

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess. 

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You replied hastily with a slow bow. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Just from your few moments here, you can already tell that the king was frightening when vexed, and you did not want to stick around to see if that got worse when he spoke privately with his huntsman. And yet, as you turned tail to retreat back into the hallway past the closed doors, you knew the heir he mentioned could have only been the only other person in the room: Epel. 

Epel, much like you, didn’t seem to have any desire to stick around longer than necessary. Once you and the heir were out and the doors were closed shut, simultaneously you both heaved a sigh of relief, although short and brief as the heavy weight of the king's command was still prominent. There must’ve been even more on the young heir’s mind, because his gaze flittered over to you and he began to eye you suspiciously. With a surprising amount of strength for someone of his short stature and delicate appearance, he grabbed your arm and began to drag you down the halls away from the throne room, soldiers standing guards, and anyone else. Until you were in a different setting, by one of the castle’s exits to a dark backside corner of the garden where there was just one big oak tree that provided shade underneath its huge branches. What was this about? Why did he bring you here? 

Those questions were answered when he finally stopped underneath the tree and let go of your limb, only to whip his head back at you with such an angered expression that caught you off guard. The location now seemed like some place he could yell in frustration without being caught, because it was so quiet and isolated here. “That entire time, when that crazy old goon with that stupid metal crown basically kidnapped me from my home and brought me here for his little contest I wanted no part of, you knew he’d want the losers dead, didn’t you?! Hell, you helped him get rid of the bodies! I trustedyou, you big fat lying s––!” 

Quickly clamping your right hand over his mouth to shut him up, you stared at him as he gazed at you wide-eyed, as if shocked you’d even try to stop him. It dawned on you then. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” Just then, you felt a sharp pain in your palm. Hissing, you immediately retracted your hand, shocked to see some broken skin and feel it sting. He just bit you––! 

Epel spat onto the ground, infuriated as he yelled, “Are you daft? All that time in the undercroft made your brain rot or something?” An idea came to him. Still angry, but brightening up substantially, he lifted his head and glared at you. “Rook’s busy with Vil, and if I beat you there’d be no one to take me back to that stuffy prison of a room.” From his hip, he unsheathed a dagger and pointed it at you. “Out of my way, or I’ll make sure you join the rest of those duds you buried!” 

Removing your own weapon, the short sword from your back, that you thankfully were still carrying and was larger than his own blade, you pointed it at him. “You were saying, Epel, was it?” Seeing his confident expression falter, you decided to add quickly just in case he tried to act recklessly and try attacking you with his dagger anyways. “I’ll tell you this because it seems we both want to live and I believe we might be able to help each other get what we want. So let’s get something straight, I am not the retainer you know.” 

You gave him a moment to process what you said as you both lowered your weapons. In the quiet of the brief moment, you listened for any sign of prying ears but there was none. Upon seeing Epel’s confusion and suspicion with his guard still raised, you continued, 

“It’s unbelievable, I know, but I’m not the same person. Where I come from, this place is a lot like a fairytale story but different. I was arrested back home and sent here as punishment. This means my punishment was to take the role of the pet or servant of the royal and face some unknown demise. Now, from what I’ve picked up, it sounds like you’re here against your will too. Both of us might end up dead if we’re not careful.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Epel watching you closely and deciding on what to do, he lowered his dagger completely after he saw you lower yours. “That sounds like a load of crap but… the real retainer would know better than to talk to Neige of all people. You didn’t, which explains that.” Maybe he wasn’t entirely convinced by your narrative, because he proceeded to ask, “You said this was like some kid’s story you read once or somethin’? Tell me what happens to me.” 

“That’s the issue. It’s an old story that doesn’t go into detail, you weren’t even a character and my role is just a raven.” Placing away your sword that you handled a bit awkwardly, since you really had no idea how to use it, but the heir didn’t seem to notice that as he placed away his own weapon. “From what I got, you were brought here against your will and there were others that are no longer here. Now, you’re the royal heir. Care to explain?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Epel demanded, “If I tell you, you have to promise to tell me something. You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?” 

“I do.” Nodding at his words in confirmation, you then answered, “Of course I’ll tell you since we’re helping each other out.” 

After a second, he sighed, “Fine. I’ll trust you, but only because you’re not really the retainer. Ya see, I’m from a small farming town near the borderlands. A few months ago, Vil gave a secret proclamation. He wanted the seven of the most beautiful candidates gathered at his castle, status or talent didn’t matter, as long as they were younger than him and had looks up to his high standards. Rook, you met him already, was in charge of finding these candidates and bringing them in whether they liked it or not, and you, or well… the old retainer, were in charge of taking the loser home whenever someone failed one of Vil’s challenges. At least, that’s what they told us. My guess is that the king doesn’t want his little brother to inherit the throne since he’s so jealous and all. All the candidates had a chance to become the next in line for the throne if they won all the challenges, and if they lost they got to go home. But no matter how hard I tried to lose, you kept me from losing so I guess I owe the old retainer for that because without them I’d be… probably lying face-down in a ditch somewhere.” 

Slowly he shrugged, those words he uttered now being processed in his mind. It seemed to have struck him, because he became quiet. 

“... I was the last one standing, even though I didn’t wanna be. Ever since then, I’ve been stuck here, forced to spend my days with strict lessons being taught by Vil. All my escape attempts were stopped by Rook, of course, that crazy loon…” Gazing up at you, he slowly regained his confidence and nodded, “But now, I’m gonna escape for sure this time and go back home! Screw the crown and these dumb silk clothes!” 

“Easy, Epel, for now we just do as we’re told. I don’t want things to get too out of hand if it isn’t necessary. In the original story, the queen, king in this situation, causes his own death. As long as we avoid angering him AND avoid Neige, we should be fine. But…” You considered your next words carefully. What if something goes wrong? What if things had to change drastically in order to survive? Would you have a better chance at surviving if the protagonist, Neige, were to actually die and the antagonist, Vil, receive a good ending instead? You didn’t truly want to kill the prince, even if he was naive, he seemed like a truly good person. But if it was you or him… “I still need to see how things play out. If it comes down to it and things take a wrong turn, how far will you go to survive?” 

Epel gave you a look before scoffing and taking out his dagger as a reminder, “I was about ready to stab ya just to escape and get back home. I’ll do anything to make it outta here alive, to make sure both of us live. But now since you’re helping me out, and I’m helping you out, we gotta stick together. Got it?”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

For your own safety, you deemed it better to do nothing in the meanwhile as you waited to see if the plot would progress as it did in the story. What you hadn’t taken into account was how long the wait would be. Apparently when Vil instructed Rook to escort Neige out to be discreetly killed, he didn’t mean right at that second. It was something he had planned to happen soon, but not quite yet. This gave you enough time to assess the situation.

One thing you were grateful for was the former retainer’s work ethic. The beautiful king had deemed you had done enough by assisting in his endeavors that included potion-brewing and murder, something you hadn’t actually done, at least not for him. So, your responsibilities included keeping Epel in check as a prince-in-training and staying out to receive enough sunlight as per Vil’s strict orders. 

For the remainder of the first day and the following second day, you and Epel reviewed the lessons he loathed and quietly retreated to garden grooves to discuss possible plans of action including what to do afterwards when you had both gained your freedom. Additionally, you learned from the heir that you were not so different from the character you replaced. Even Epel admitted he was fooled until that one mistake you made of acknowledging Neige. So, all you would have to do was keep calm and be yourself, but also not yourself. You were technically playing the role of someone else that just happened to act like you. 

Your superior had summoned you on the second night. When you arrived, you saw servants around the ballroom decorating the area with fine silk curtains and candelabras. Round tables set up in another section of the extensive room, tables set with sheets and porcelain. Vil stood at the edge of the room, noticing you out of the corner of his eyes as another attendant brought to his attention something about outfits. 

As Vil began to strut towards another room, you could do nothing but follow as he commanded, “Hurry now, my retainer.” 

You did as you were told, following and noting down the little details from the dark colors used in most of the decorations as well as the mention of flowers being prepared. Once in a private room with you and his entourage, he delicately removed his crown from his blonde tresses. “Epel is much more tame with you. I swear, that boy is giving me white hair.” 

No, but you’re going to do that to yourself, you think as you recall the scene from the story where the beautiful queen turns herself into a ragged old hag. “He can be… a little troublesome, yes.” You stand closer to the door as the beautiful young man disappears behind an elegantly patterned dressing screen. 

Judging by the servants there carefully handling various types of clothes, you could only assume he was trying on different outfits for whatever event he was preparing to host. During a review of Epel’s lessons, you were able to learn as well. Despite Vil being a person of great envy and cruelty, he was actually a fair leader that was beloved by most, so long as they didn’t incur his wrath. Reportedly, multiple nobles, knights, and other royals have vied for the beautiful king’s affection, but to no avail. All were turned down. 

“Troublesome, hah, you’re being much too kind. That wouldn’t be my choice of word.” Vil scoffed as he changed behind the screen. Once he was seemingly satisfied with an outfit after throwing multiple aside, he emerged in a slightly long, dark, and exquisite dress-like garb with large sleeves. Snapping his fingers, he stood straight as his eyes lingered on you as he said simply, “Jewels.” 

Picking up his meaning, you gingerly plucked the intricate golden necklace a nearby servant was carrying on a pillow and assisted him in placing it on. You steadied your breathing as you noticed that he was watching you carefully. Moving in front of him, you placed the detailed and sharp claw rings on his index finger and ring finger as he raised his hand. 

“How is this?” 

You took a step back and looked him over when you realized he was speaking to you, not anyone else in the room. You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn’t help but think that the evil king was indeed…. “Gorgeous.” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he extended out his arm, the tip of the silver claw he wore on his finger at your neck as you instinctively lifted your chin at his gesture to avoid being poked. You weren’t really sure what he was thinking, and it was making you anxious. Had he seen through you as Epel had? Or perhaps he was cross? There were a million different ways to die in this story. There was a reason you were sent here and that was to meet a cruel end. 

“You flatter me, my retainer. I know you don’t sugarcoat words.” Vil tilted his head, analyzing you from another angle as he smiled. Unexpectedly, his soft and pale hand was placed on your cheek. You felt your heart stop, whether from fear or something else, you couldn’t be sure. “You see, proper sunlight and sleep does work miracles. You no longer have those horrid eyebags.” Lowering his hand, his smile was gone as he seemed to recall something. “You’re the only competent and trustworthy person in this entire castle, my pet, besides myself, of course. What would I do without you? Always there for me, even before I ascended to the throne. Even when my father married that awful woman that brought the perfect lovely boy that became my brother and a stain in my life…” 

After a moment of considering your response, you replied quietly, “You have always loathed Neige, haven’t you…?” The prince’s sweet words and shy smile instantly came to mind. 

Upon detecting your words, you watched his expression sour as he instantly commanded everyone, who were too far and busy to hear anyways, to leave at once. All except you. Now, you remain alone with the king. It seems like you hit a nerve with your words, and you feared what he would do to you now that the two of you were alone.

Vil took a sharp breath before raising his head to meet your eyes. Under his intense gaze, you felt small but you merely swallowed your growing restlessness and kept your lips shut as he began, “I’ve always told you that I do not want you to ever utter his name. I lost the kingdom’s people to him, my friends left me for him, even my own father was beginning to favor him! I refuse to lose you too! If that boy takes one more thing away from me––” 

“I’ve stayed this long.” You attempted, interjecting with words that you thought would fit this character you were playing. 

“Because I demanded it.” His response caught you by surprise, but what was more unnerving was what came out of his lips next. “Father accepted my request for you to become my retainer, but the woman he married did not. And so, I concocted my very own poison, more lethal than cyanide, and slipped it into her wine. You are here because I wanted you here. Of course, I never revealed that to you until now.” You were given almost no time to process his words as he changed the subject, lifting his hand to admire his silver claw rings and painted nails. “I must admit, I was beginning to become a little concerned with you hardly leaving the undercroft in recent months. I was afraid you had become dull as I kept you to myself, and you know I don’t exactly like dull people by my side. I didn’t want to toss you aside after all we’ve been through together.”

Pursing your lips, reeling from this wave of new information, you murmured, albeit unsurely, “I don’t believe I’m dull… I like to think of myself as interesting.” 

Amethyst eyes landed on you, the blonde man scrutinizing you as he gibed with a frown, “Was I asking your opinion or stating mine?” 

Staring right at him, your snarky reply is already pouring out before you can even stop it. “Well, are you asking me my opinion…?” It’s silent as his cold gaze instantly lands on you. Shit. You instantly avert your eyes downward and bow your head in apology, knowing you fucked up. This was why you kept everything to yourself. This king poisoned his own step-mother for not giving him what he wanted, he ordered the former retainer to kill six innocent candidates for his competition to become heir, and he was willing to murder his very own brother who admired and loved him. What would he do to a raven with a sharp tongue? Just as possible scenarios begin flashing in your mind and you remain bowing, you clenched your fist, prepared to unsheath your hidden sword under your cloak and fight back if necessary–– when he laughed. Vil laughed. 

It wasn’t a mocking one of ridicule, but rather an amused one. Lifting the back of his hand to his lips to partially cover his mouth, his laughing ceased. There was amusement, a wicked and eager look in his eyes as he hummed, “There’s that plucky side of you I missed so dearly!” Smiling, he reached forward, carefully tugging your hood down as he scolded lightly, “What have I said about wearing your hood around me? Especially indoors. Honestly, you never learn. I should strip you of that cloak you always stubbornly refuse to remove, that way you always show your face as you’re told.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again…” Unsurely you kept quiet, only offering to change the subject once the king had reached over to trail his fingers along the side of your face. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion? I wasn’t notified of these ongoing preparations.” 

“A funeral.” Vil noticed how you went quiet and how your eyes widened. At your reaction, he chuckled, lowering his hand away from your face to tap his sharp finger against his chin. “Why so quiet? Don’t worry, it’s not for you. It’s merely… a preparation in advance.” Oh. You realized who it was for now. The thought of his rival dying seemed to bring the king joy as he smiled so cruelly. How morbid. Then, his attention returned back to you. It seemed he was thinking of something else now once his sights landed on some trashed envelopes in the bin, because his expression had turned to one of mild annoyance. “These suitors from afar are so bothersome. No matter how I refuse their advances, they continue with their gifts and letters filled with flattery, thinking that’ll be enough to win me over. How wrong they are. Love affairs are of no use or any interest to me…” 

You gazed at the bin chock full of paper and shattered gifts. Your voice was quiet, but it carried in the silence of the room. “It must be difficult to be so admired…” 

“Indeed it is.” Vil nodded, continuing to tap his chin thoughtfully. Those eyes on the trashed envelopes slowly made their way over to you, his slight frown morphing to an amused smile. “Although, perhaps I’ve changed my mind…” Extending his hand, you slowly and unsurely slid your left hand into his palm. Vil stepped closer, so close you could smell his sweet perfume and all you could see was him. You felt like a caged bird, cornered, as he leaned just a tad bit closer and continued to smile. However, now his smile was more teasing, but it felt wicked and dubious, “Once Neige is gone, all that time I spent being tormented and pestered by him, can now be dedicated to you. Lately, I’ve been watching you, and there’s something intriguing about you now. It’s as if you’re no longer so absorbed in your work, like you’re finally seeing me as something more than just your superior. You haven’t been brewing potions of passion in the undercroft, have you?” 

By now your face was hot, burning at his implications, by his close proximity, by the look in his eyes that made you think he may genuinely be interested but the tiny voice of reason in the back of your head waving red flags at his notions. When he suspected you were even considering looking away from his intense gaze to avoid eye contact, he squeezed your hands in warning, his nail rings pricking your skin ever so slightly. So you were forced to meet his gaze and reply awkwardly, “Of course not… I’m not you.” 

The king cackled, raising the back of his other hand to his lips again. With a tone of confidence, he did not even hesitate to respond, “Oh, you’re funny. My poor pet… I would say you’re bird-brained, but you’re not that.” He leaned his head right beside yours, until his painted lips lingered by your ear. The proximity was making you dizzy. His voice was like honey as he whispered, “I don’t need a potion to win you over––” 

“Your Majesty, our wondrous Vil!” 

Saved by the huntsman. You resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief while Vil continued to grip your hands and slowly pull away, his head turned to glare at the one who dared to interrupt the moment he was so engrossed in. It seemed he wanted to say something, but he managed to control himself as he merely hissed, “Speak.” 

During the pause, you were able to shift your gaze over to him. The huntsman was at the open window, one foot inside already and hands gripping the sides to heave himself up. Why didn’t he come through the door like a normal person? Wasn’t this room on the second floor? 

“I have to remind you of your meeting with your precious heir apparent.” Rook smiled as he fully entered through the window, seemingly paying no heed to the scene he just stumbled upon or the vexation in the king’s tone. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Releasing his hold on your hand, he sent you one last chilling glance. When he leaned closer once again to whisper in your ear, your breath hitched as he purred, “Later.” Once he stepped away, he gave you one last mesmerizing look before exiting the room. Yes, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with the king until next time, but now you pitied Epel for having to stand his presence for hours of lecturing and scolding.  

Once the king was gone, you felt vulnerable. While he was pushing you on the edge with his advances and you knew any sign of rejection might tick him off, it was a different kind of unease now that you were alone with the huntsman who you eyed warily. By the time your eyes drifted back to him, you felt your heart rate spike as you noticed he was staring. Upon your gaze meeting his own, he merely smiled a little wider as he hummed. 

There was no way you would willingly stick around to be alone with him. 

As you slid your hood back on, prepared to take your leave as well, the huntsman’s sharp green eyes landed on the palm of your right hand that was lifted up to move your hood. For a moment, his narrowed gaze vanished and instead was replaced with a quizzical look and a curious smile. Stepping forward, he took your hand in his gloved grip, but he was careful as the tip of his finger traced the now fading injury caused by Epel’s bite. He gasped lightly.

“My, my, what kind of beast could have caused this damage that tarnished your skin? How dare they, for a creature as lovely as you to be wounded like this, why, it should be criminal!” 

You hesitate, looking down at the mark that had partially healed on its own. It wasn’t that deep anyways. “Dog.” 

Those watchful green eyes flickered up to your expression for a moment, before he chuckled and shook his head. His blonde hair swished back and forth a bit with his head movement, as he removed some gauze from his satchel. There was a hint of amusement that appeared in his smile, and while he wrapped the gauze around your hand, he spoke, “A dog? Ah, I see… But, dogs have much sharper canines that would have cut deeper into the flesh. I’ve hunted an untold amount of wildlife in my time, and encountered nearly every species in the animal kingdom. And this bite mark doesn’t match any creature that comes to mind. It’s truly odd, isn’t it? The shape of the wounds nearly looks like it was formed by something… human.” 

He knows. He knows you were lying. You go completely still, allowing him to complete what he was doing. It felt like he was purposefully taking his time in wrapping the gauze securely, as if he were going slowly just to get some sort of reaction. What was his goal? Seeing his eyes on you as he finished the task was unnerving. Could he hear your rapidly increasing heart rate? Was he able to detect the growing alarm you felt? 

At your silence, he merely shrugs and finally lowers your hand. That cursed gaze travels away as he says in a near-whisper, “Marks such as those aren’t meant for the hand, they’d do nicely elsewhere though.” 

“What?” 

“Ah, forgive me, I haven’t apologized for my sudden earlier intrusion between yourself and His Majesty.” Was he seriously going to gloss over what he said as if it were nothing? Now he was back to his positive demeanor. Although his smile was different now, it seemed more harmless, that didn’t do much to place you at ease in the slightest. “It wasn’t my intention to barge in! But I will admit, while the sight was exquisite and it was the very picture of romance, I did feel a twinge of jealousy.” 

Did the huntsman like the king like that…? For a moment, your heartbeat steadied as you got a hold of your composure. Honestly, that moment with Vil is probably the first and last you’ll ever get to a romantic moment with a gorgeous person. “Oh, was it because of me?” 

You were about to put out a quick and simple apology, but you didn’t get a verbal response. No. Rook only smiled with mirth, his eyes glimmering with amusement appeared to narrow again as he crossed his arms. At his lack of a reply, you feel right on the edge once again, your heart rate picking up immediately again. 

“... You were jealous of the situation I was in with His Majesty, right…?” 

There was no response yet again. However, the bridge of his nose crinkled slightly as his shoulders shook with the quiet laughter that came out of him. Much like before, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to speak as if this were nothing but mere pleasant conversation. “I must admit, it is always a joy to see you. I must have done something favorable by lady luck, because our paths continue to cross much more frequently. Ah, I’d like to share with you something I experienced. Just a few hours ago, I happened across writing and I could not help but be reminded of your being which remains shrouded in mystery. I believe it went something like…” Rook cleared his throat as he recited somewhat dramatically, “This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing. To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core. Ah, those fiery eyes of yours are exactly what I envisioned in my mind as I read those poem’s lines…! To finally be the one who those focused eyes lay upon––” “Are you done? I’m busy.” You interject, managing to keep an even tone and stoic expression, but it was difficult considering that you just could not relax around the huntsman. You did not forget how he didn’t answer the question about jealousy, which made you nervous as you imagined the possibility that maybe he wasn’t jealous of you with Vil. 

Not offended by the curt response, Rook only continued positively. Not only was his reaction, or rather lack of one, very slightly annoying, it was worrying. Most people would have been surprised and maybe even upset by the interruption, but he didn’t appear negatively affected in the slightest. You couldn’t predict his behavior, and that alone was cause for concern. “Forgive me, I’m simply thrilled to finally be holding a proper conversation with you! Normally by now you would have turned heel and walked away, which is why I currently think you are particularly bewitching these past few days. It’s as if the fog around you that you used to cloak your most private secrets and puzzling nature has passed but been replaced by a thicker cloud of fog. You’re an enigma. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

In that moment you held your breath and you felt your blood run cold. Automatically your mind drifted to the weight of the sword on your back. It was heavy, heavier than his dagger and more useful at this proximity than his bow. However, pulling out a sword against him was counterproductive when he was a vital part of the catalyst that sparked the sequence of events that would eventually lead to the story’s ending. 

Considering your options, allowing the villains to live and perhaps even assisting them in the end would weigh in your favor. Afterall, you had yet to see any prince or princess for Neige, which meant things were already changing whether you liked it or not. Say a good ending was achieved where the pretty protagonist prince lived happily ever after. What would this get for you? It wouldn’t be the happy ending you knew in the fairytale if there was no royal on horseback to save Neige after he bites the poisoned apple. Should you somehow help him achieve a good ending, then what? Would he live with the seven dwarves in a cottage for the rest of his life or marry and inherit a crown? What could he offer you? On the other hand, Vil already had the crown, wealth, and power. These living conditions were quite nice when you didn’t have much to do, and if you ever felt threatened, running away with a bag stuffed with gold from the treasury would be easy. 

Perhaps being the beautiful king’s raven wasn’t so bad, all things considered. This was a hell you may be able to adjust to and accept as your punishment. 

“I like when people speak frankly, not in riddles.” You respond calmly, despite the racing of your heart. Responding was a risk, but ignoring his words wasn’t any safer. It made sense as to why he was a hunter, because at the moment you were cornered and he hadn’t so much as removed a single arrow from his quiver. 

Rook, again, only smiled ominously. It didn’t feel like he had malicious intent, but you still felt like you were in danger, you still felt threatened. He could, metaphorically speaking, pull the trigger at any second and you would be dead. As if he saw through you and knew all your secrets. All he was doing now was baiting you for another word, another sentence, another phrase, any slightest sound or action that was a slip-up leading to more information falling into the palm of his hands. Maybe that’s why he didn’t respond. Either that, or you were thinking way too deeply and the paranoia was starting to consume your mind. You wanted to believe it was the former and you weren’t quite insane yet. 

Finally, he chuckled, amused as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered at you with his forest green eyes. You could only imagine how terrifying he was when he was truly in his element, when he shed formalities and used the weapons strapped to him. “Your eyes speak a million words, and your actions paint a most curious story! Tell me, little raven, what words do you have for me?” 

Were you seriously participating unwillingly in this dangerous dance with the very man that served Vil? Rook was his huntsman, he was to hide no secrets from His Majesty and carry out his will. And it felt like Rook knew everything he wasn’t supposed to know.

It could have been the adrenaline and fear you felt in this current moment underneath the composed facade that formed the words in your head. Clutching your wrapped hand to your chest, you took a breath. You really were just like a wounded animal he was seconds from ensnaring. Although you wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. Ravens were known for plucking out eyes. The answer came too fast, “You won’t be able to do it. You can’t kill the prince.” 

Upon hearing your words, Rook appeared surprised, but it was only momentarily. Only a second or two of shock, before his bewilderment morphed into satisfaction. Like he had just won and caught the quarry. “Ah, how wonderful! So, you have decided to impart your knowledge upon me just as you have to Epel! I feel truly privileged!” 

You froze in place. You never once mentioned anything to Rook about what you knew from the story, and you trusted that Epel would keep his mouth shut. So how did he know? 

It’s like that piercing gaze of his could see directly into your mind, as if he could hear your very inner thoughts. As you remained stagnant in shock, waiting to see who would be the brave soul to make the first move, he spoke amicably, answering the question you never voiced. “Even the walls have ears. It is my duty to serve His Majesty in any way I can, so of course no whispers or rumors escape me.” Then, his smile turned sad and disappeared, that jovial tone diminished to a quiet whisper, “But, you are correct. I cannot do it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, processing his confession. Seeing the huntsman with his head lowered toward you, was exactly like in storybook book pages that depicted a humble huntsman bowing before a princess to beg for forgiveness. It's possible that maybe the huntsman wasn’t evil, afterall, he would be the one to spare the innocent royal. Maybe he had a heart, a good one. But you didn’t. 

“Why? You can hunt animals and drag seven innocent people here to involuntarily compete for the crown. And you knew six of those seven were to die, didn’t you?” You crossed your own arms after making sure the black hood was securely over your head. 

Catching a glimpse of his somber frown, you knew his answer would remain unchanging. He did not have the guts to go forth and stain his hands red with the blood of an innocent prince. “I… I did not know they would perish. I truly thought they would be set free.” 

You sigh, contemplating your next actions. You truly didn’t want to harm Neige either, even if Vil despised him with all his heart, mind, and soul. However, the highest chances of you avoiding a terrible fate and achieving some sort of wonderful life, could only be accomplished if the Evil King received a good ending. That could only happen if the prince was dead, as Vil would only be deemed the fairest one of all once his rivals were vanquished. “Fine then, if you cannot do it, I’ll do it myself.” 

Rook, apparently temporarily shocked, was stunned by the resolve in your own words. He searched for any wavering determination before he tried to smile once more. For now he lowered his feathered hat to his chest as he spoke and stretched out an inviting hand, “Let’s not talk such dreary things. Please, there’s a lovely view at the top of the palace where you might perhaps tell me more about this story. I’m awfully curious, and it just might help me finally understand you better.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

It became clear after that fateful evening that Rook knew every happening that occurred in the palace and in the nearby town. There was no possible way to keep it secret, so you told him the basics such as that this was a story and he was a character within the tale, but you decided it best to tell him no more than that. It would be optimal to give him no upper hand at all. It was then promised that he wouldn’t share this information, and you made doubly sure to emphasize the fact that you would make certain that he received a bad ending if he were to betray your trust. However, the eccentric huntsman only laughed in amusement at your threat. What a weirdo. 

Well, at the very least, Rook was not the only one keeping tabs on happenings within the palace. That was what you had Epel for, he was useful in giving up information when it was needed. Even if he was formerly a peasant boy, he was no idiot. He never gave anything for free, it was a trade of knowledge which you didn’t entirely mind. There were lots of useless story details and scenes you could give up, such as the existence of the dwarves and the cottage in the woods. Besides, at the rate this story was shifting, those characters nor settings would no longer be necessary. 

But one day, Epel brought a very interesting account that could potentially change everything. 

Within the private training room where the king’s valued heir took fencing lessons, the door was abruptly slammed open, and there stood the said heir looking particularly ruffled. Manners tossed aside by how harshly he opened the door and flung it shut behind him, he ripped his cloak off his shoulders and chucked it aside as if it weren’t a carefully tailored cloth and instead a wash rag. Etiquette forgotten from his countless hours of learning it, he spoke naturally in his odd and difficult to understand dialect. “Vil’s pitchin’ a hissy fit with a tail on it! I was nearabout ready to come back, figured you’re way better than listening to all them uppity folk––” 

You stopped, lowering the new lighter and sharper sword you exchanged for the old one you carried on your back. He spoke so quickly and said so many words that went completely over your head, you had to give him a look as you interrupted his talking, “English, Felmier.” 

Freezing in his tracks, he groaned and repeated in a clearer, simpler manner, “Vil is mad. There. You happy?” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. Epel continued, but thankfully not in his natural dialect. Although it was evident that he was still peeved about something. “There was some girl that showed up, a princess or something, and she asked for an audience with Vil! I happened to overhear, everyone was raving thinkin’ that it was just another princess asking for the king’s hand, but when she was talkin’ to Vil, she asked for Neige’s hand!” 

The prince. It was the prince, now princess, that was originally supposed to be the one that Prince Neige fell in love with. The arrival of the princess would certainly throw a wrench in the plan. Why had it taken her so long to show up when you had already believed that they would no longer be involved within the tale? 

The lavender-haired former farmer boy, paced back and forth in this wide training space. Usually he’d take an interest in the fencing equipment, it was one of the few lessons he actually enjoyed and took part in without so much stubborn complaints or begrudging behavior. But right now, he was far too troubled to even think about fencing. “When Vil summoned Neige to meet the princess, he turned her down! Said somethin’ about having feelings already for someone within the palace. Well, whoever it was, Vil must’ve known, because he nearly went haywire right then and there!” Stopping his steps, he turned to you and went on accusingly, “You know who it is, don’t you? Spit it out!” 

“It’s me…” This could not be happening–– You never were supposed to gain the affection of that pure-hearted prince! Now, Vil likely figured out who his step-brother had eyes for, and this would not bide well with his envious nature. 

Those big blue eyes of his widened in shock. “What?!” 

Neige had to be gone and fast. But how could one make a prince disappear? It wasn’t as if he could be done with and escape the consequences. The royal was beloved by the citizens far too much, should they learn that he was murdered, things would quickly become problematic. There could be no raising a blade against him. Unless… an accident of sorts was staged. 

Suddenly, you’re reminded of the image of a delicious red apple, a tool to the original plot that becomes the princess’ demise. Perhaps you didn’t have to stray too far from the plot after all. However, someone would have to take the blame once the deed was done. “Is the princess still here?” 

Confused by the inquiry but nodding in response, Epel looked even more baffled than before. “Yeah, but why do you care? What’s she got to do with this? Don’t tell me she’s somebody important.” 

If staying with Vil was the quickest and easiest route where a good ending for yourself was more certain, then you’d take it. No princess or prince would get in the way, and you would use Epel to help secure the ending. Even if some persuasion was needed, since you knew he didn’t have much of an appreciation for the current king. Lowering your blade on the table, you left it behind as you approached him, close enough to place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. Close enough so he could hear the whisper that came from your lips, so quiet that not even a mouse in the walls could detect what was said, only he could hear these words. “We are going to assassinate Prince Neige.” 

Epel gazed at you with pure disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth open a gape in bewilderment. “But that’s Rook’s––” 

“Rook can’t be counted on.” You counter. At the moment, you were unsure if Rook could really go through and murder the prince with his own two hands. You’ve trusted him enough with your own secrets, but you certainly didn’t trust him with your fate.

The heir appeared to contemplate it. The atmosphere had turned somber, like he was seriously considering it. Not just anyone could stomach the knowledge, but he appeared to be processing it just fine. That is, until he suggested something that surprised even you. “Why not just, change the target to someone of higher power and just… you know.” He made a swift slicing motion over his neck. You knew exactly what he meant, and who he meant. “That way, we’d both be free.” 

“It’s not guaranteed to work. Killing a king would be more difficult than killing a prince that the king wants dead anyways.” You point out that simple fact. There were constantly guards around the king like worker bees following their queen. However, here on palace grounds, most avoided the prince as they knew interacting with him was a quick and easy way to make the king bitter. This made Neige vulnerable. 

A frown appeared on his lovely face, etched on like a pout. While his look may be an endearing one, his voice did not say the same. By his tone, he sounded unsure, maybe even a tad bit annoyed as he accused, “You forgot, I don’t give a damn about the crown! If that happened, it would mean that I’ll definitely end up taking Vil’s place one day.” 

“I didn’t forget.” You reply instantly, using logic to convince him that this was the best option available. “You forget how vain his majesty is. Vil will never give up the crown willingly. The only time he’ll give it up, is when he’s old and gray and on his deathbed. By then, you’d either be long gone on to freedom, or have figured out some other way to handle the matter in whatever way you want. As for me, I don’t care who’s king, as long as I get to live and be happy.” You could visibly see the gears turning in his head as he heard your words. You add more to pressure him further and make him see reason. “Like it or not, you’re involved. In whatever way this ends, just remember, the citizens of this kingdom will likely not be so kind to you if word ever reached them that you were the chosen heir of the king, a king that abused the precious prince. Even if you didn’t participate directly, the fact still stands that you’re connected to Vil. If Neige receives his happily ever after, everything may end alright, or it may not, but I can’t guarantee your safety in that case. That’s why I suggest getting rid of him now, and placing the blame on someone else.” 

“Someone else… They’ll never suspect us. This is insane, I mean, I don’t care for that guy but… me, you, us––” He slapped his hand over his mouth, moving it up towards his hair. The young man looked so stressed that he was about ready to pull out his lavender curls. And yet, there wasn’t really anger. Mild irritation maybe, but not anger, and something else was there. Something foreign to you. “I’d kill for you, you’d kill for me.” 

Ah, maybe. Maybe not. It depended on the situation, but he didn’t need to know that. Although it was reassuring to hear that he was most definitely an ally that would help to achieve your goal. 

His small hands remained on his scalp, tangled in his hair, gripping his own head as he raved, “Don’t tell me you’ve been learnin’ all that potions stuff from the king! It feels like I’m going crazy, havin’ these unnatural thoughts I never had before–– I’ve been imagining things. I want to get out of this dump, but I imagined runnin’ away with you, showing you my village, introducing you to my ma and everyone else back home! Then forgetting everyone else in this stupid place!” 

Those big blue eyes gazed right at you, scanning your face that he’s come to actually grow fond of. Out of everyone in this hell, he actually liked your company, craved it even. There’s no one else here on palace grounds that he would willingly talk to without grumbling about it. Even if it began with the original retainer, his trust grew with you, the imposter. 

“It’s all your damn fault…! But I’m not mad, I can’t be, even though I want to spit and punch you for this but at the same time I don’t wanna hurt you. Just, tell me right now, to my face. Tell me it’s stupid and I’m actin’ dumb so I quit it!” 

You nod, a bit stunned by the outburst. However, you had other plans in mind. “Keep it up.” 

By now maybe it was giving him false hope at an ending he dreamed of, but he was still useful to you. So for now, you ignored his look of shock and pink on his cheeks as you pried his hand off his head and he lowered his other hand to his side. 

The plan was simple really, it would be far too easy if you could actually manage to pull it off. “I’m telling you this, because you will have to help me guide the princess in the right direction. Talk to her, steer the conversation to romance. If she’s smart, she’ll ask you for advice assuming you know Neige. Suggest giving a gift. Once everything is over, then we can think about your hometown.” 

There was still shock on his face, as if he was still struggling a bit to process everything that was coming out of your mouth. It seemed like it was a lot, as one of his dainty hands held your hand tightly while his other hand gripped part of the cloth of his shirt, his knuckles turning white from the strength behind his grip. “I thought you were kinda cool. Not as annoying as Rook or Vil or anyone else, and I wanted to escape with you…! But this murder plan just makes it seem like you’re exactly like that old raven that you replaced, but for some stupid reason I still can’t not like you.”

“It will technically not be murder. In a way… It’s complicated.” 

There were apple trees at the very corner of the royal grounds. A basket of fruit would be a sweet and kind gesture with unsuspecting maliciousness intertwined. All that was needed was to take the apple that would be picked, poison it as the beautiful queen did in the original tale, and place it back in the basket that the princess would offer to the prince. Poisoning it as it was done in the fairytale, wouldn’t truly kill Niege. It would merely place him under a death like sleep, with the chance that he may one day wake up several years in the future long after we are gone. Because really, Neige didn’t truly deserve death. However, even if he was to never wake up, at least he would be in a dream and avoid a brutal end by his jealous step-brother. 

“But there’s only one person who can make the poison we need for this to succeed…” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The plan had to be enacted before Rook could take Neige to pick flowers. Luckily, or unluckily for you, a request for an audience with the king was not even needed. Before you could even search for him as you were rereading pages of the heavy tome in the undercroft, there was the creaking of the wooden door that signaled someone entering the dungeon beneath the palace. 

Hardly anyone else ventured down here, and by the clicking of heels against the stone floors, it became obvious of who it was. Your theories were only confirmed true when you felt a presence behind you, peering over your shoulder as the delightfully familiar voice that filled you with unease greeted kindly, “My dear retainer.” 

Instantly you felt your body stiff and rigid, feeling uncertain under his gaze. You were many things, but often fearful wasn’t one of them. This story was just filled with characters that made you tense, the king being the one that troubled you the most. Despite all this, you managed to remain polite, only turning your head to nod at him with respect. “Your Majesty. It’s a surprise to see you down here.” 

“I could say the same. Didn’t I specifically instruct you to stay aboveground for the time being?” It sounded like a scolding, but it was nowhere near as harsh as one. In fact, it sounded more like gentle chastising. Not at all like the harsh criticism and stern reprimanding he gave to anyone else. Not another word came about that before his amethyst eyes landed on the pages you were reading. “Poison apple. You weren’t by chance planning to assassinate me with that, were you? That’s not nearly enough poison to eliminate me. Haven’t you heard of mithridatism?” 

Mithridatism? Did he practice that? It’s a good thing that you ultimately did not choose the path of killing him, as he likely would have proven much more difficult than any other target. If you had attempted to take his life and it failed, you could only imagine how frightful the king would become in his rage at your betrayal. The mere thought made you shudder.

It wasn’t easy to focus when he was directly behind you, his chest practically against your back as he continued reading over your shoulder. “Not you… I was considering this for the prince. I believe that I’m the only one that can stomach handling this, not the huntsman.” 

“Interesting… and why did you choose the poison apple?” To think that the beautiful man that currently had his chin on your shoulder, would probably be an wretched old peddler with wrinkled skin and hair white as snow, if the story had stayed on course. It was plausible that the beautiful queen turning herself ugly just to kill her rival was an analogy of sorts for the hideousness of her personality. And yet, when the king who was based on that very character was in your presence, yes he was vile and cruel but he was rather fair to you. Especially when he expressed a sort of tenderness in his smile and looked down at you through his long lashes. 

“It’s a special sort of death.” Upon reading through most of the pages of the thick leather tome, you discovered that a huge majority of the deadly spells had antidotes and ways to be reversed. Many were easy to reverse, some were harder, but the most difficult antidote to receive was for those that ate the poisoned apple. It was no wonder the evil queen originally chose it, as it was only by chance that the prince awoke the princess with true love’s first kiss. “Not easy to find an antidote for.” 

“Hm…” His head continued to linger on your shoulder, his lips and part of his nose buried by the cloth on your shoulder as his watchful gaze remained stuck on you through his half-lidded eyes. At such a close proximity with his face literally inches from yours, you didn’t dare turn your head, but in your peripheral vision you could make out the black mascara and smokey light eyeshadow that accentuated his fine features. Even without the use of makeup, he was sure to be stunning. “As expected, you dally away precious time. However, there’s a princess…” 

“So I’ve heard.” Your response was careful, as this conversation was quickly approaching dangerous territory. From what was told to you by Epel, after the princess arrived, Vil summoned Neige to speak about it when the young oblivious prince admitted he loved someone within the palace. Vil knew who, you knew. As this conversation progressed, you would have to choose your words carefully. It would be like walking in a minefield. 

It started, you realized, as his fond gaze slowly shifted to something a little more cold. While you couldn’t see his mouth due to the position he was in, you guessed he wasn’t smiling lightly in content and intrigue like before. “Then I assume you know of the prince’s… let’s call it, an insignificant crush.” 

“Yes…” A crush may not be the term Neige would have preferred. The prince would have likely used flowery language akin to the type seen in romantic novels read in the middle ages. But you weren’t going to fret over the small details. Stoically you replied, “If you desire it done, I can be rid of both the prince and princess. An apple for the prince, and a jail cell for the princess.” 

Vil raised a carefully plucked blonde eyebrow, his careful vigilance turning to astonished curiousness as he connected the dots with the clues given by your words. He seemed to understand, and take delight in your response as he nodded against your shoulder. “This is why you’re my favorite.” 

Averting your gaze down to the parchment paper in the tome, you placed your palm against the surface and read off ingredients that were needed. None of which you understood. Not that you would even attempt making something so potent. In the middle of your reading, you felt arms snake around your waist, rendering you motionless as if being paralyzed by some other poison he could’ve used. 

By your ear you felt his warm breath, and his arms were surprisingly strong as he held you tightly, preventing you from going anywhere. The words he spoke in his feathery voice felt like they tickled the side of your neck and caused a shiver to go down your spine. Was it fear or was it pleasure? “… You could finally use those funeral preparations you made in advance.”

“True… This type of poison could be made with ease by me, it merely requires patience as the brew seeps through the simmering apple. It will take some hours. There are many different poisons, but one of this caliber that requires magic is most lethal. And yet, it looks so delicious. Entrancing and deadly, my favorite combination.” One of his hands roamed up to your neck, his well-manicured nails and soft fingers casually resting on your throat. There was this creeping feeling that he wasn’t talking about the poisoned apple anymore. Externally you remained cool and level-headed, but internally you felt your breath still in that moment as your heart picked up speed. And it was like he saw all these signs on you, reading you like an open book. “The breath will still, the heart will beat rapidly in those final moments…” 

You know he didn’t poison you, but it felt as if you were sick with something that was worse than poison. You shifted in place, keeping your breathing even. Never once have you prepared for a situation like this. Removing your hands from the tome, you lowered them over his knuckle, one of his own hands still around your waist like a belt. The intention was to attempt to pry off his hands, at least, that’s what you think you were trying to accomplish, but Vil took it as an invitation to continue. 

A hum like a purr came from him as he moved his head closer, so his lips were practically at the exposed flesh of your neck. And yet, he didn’t move. You remained as still as a statue, while he murmured in a quiet and confident tone that slowly morphed into something pleading and desperate. “Nevermore will you, my previous retainer, have to stray from me again. Once he is gone, everything will be made right. There will be none left worthy of your companionship, except for me. I will be your sole companion. So do not leave…” 

You felt a tremor throughout your body as he placed a lingering kiss against your neck, his soft lips by your jaw before he pulled away. Not even far enough so you could see his face, he only moved his head away an inch, as if even the thought of being physically apart right now was too much to bear. 

His arms around your torso tightened, and your back was pressed flush against his chest. His voice was low and intoxicating, this was dangerous. “For now, you’ll assist me in making the poisoned apple. While we wait a few hours for it to simmer and absorb the toxic qualities in the cauldron, we’ll be spending some… quality time together, my pet.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The next morning, you awoke slowly, feeling groggy and tired, until everything came rushing back and you sat upright in alarm. You were in the familiar bedroom that once belonged to the retainer you replaced. However, there was a slight warmth on the other half of the mattress, as if someone had just been laying beside you and left not too long ago. 

On the wall as you sat up, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the messy bedhead and tired looking eyes, but also the slightest traces of red lipstick stains on your neck and across parts of your face. 

You had zero time to process what had happened before you spotted the shiny red apple on the counter with a small note beside it. The note simply read, For your mission. Wash your face once you wake up.

It took almost no time at all to get dressed and prepared, and wash your face. By now, Epel should already be speaking to the princess, advising her to attempt to appeal to the prince by picking fruit from the garden and gifting it to the royal she loved. Your task now was to simply add the poisoned apple when no one was looking. 

As you opened the door, you noticed a shadow and quickly hid the apple in a pocket of your long black cloak, just as familiar blonde locks and forest green eyes came into view. You closed the door behind you, as you were greeted by a welcoming smiling and that accented voice that bid good morning. 

“Ah, petit corbeau! What a fine day, isn’t it?” Immediately your gaze went to his expression and his hands, your ears keenly listening to his tone of voice. It didn’t appear as if he were hiding anything. There was no somberness to his voice, no frown on his face, and no red staining his hands. Although, the good killers always washed their hands clean of the evidence. 

For now, you don’t bother asking why he was outside of your room. Knowing Rook, he’d probably say some flattering words with an unsettling meaning hidden within his ornate speech. Right now, you would much rather not have to dwell on that for too long when a royal was to die soon. For now, all you do is remind him of your previous words towards him, “You couldn’t do it. So, knowing you somehow overheard what’s to happen today, is this your attempt to stop me?” You were quiet, making sure not to be overheard, only so he could hear your warning and see your cold gaze. “Know that if you try to stop me, that will be a form of treason against His Majesty.” 

That smile turned into a more bleak one, as he struggled to keep up the corners of his lips. He knew what was to happen, of course he did. It was as he said, he knew everything that transpired within the palace grounds. “Ah, I would love to see the raven ruffled up.” He joked lightly before adding in a more serious tone, “Ravens are most commonly associated with bringing the unfortunate news of a passing. As much as I dream of seeing you in your element, I just wish it wasn’t… him. I’d much rather it be me than him, even if being the victim was the only way to catch a glimpse into your true nature and to have your attention solely focused on me.” 

You leered at him, deciding not to take out your blade. Rook was a weirdo, but he most certainly wasn’t a killer. You couldn’t imagine him outright attacking you, even now as he knew that the beloved prince would die either way. “I’ll cut you down too if you get in my way.” 

Unexpectedly, Rook removed his hat and held it to his chest. He gazed at you like how an artist would admire the treasured painting of the beautiful Mona Lisa, as he bowed his head to you, exposing the back of his neck as his blonde hair shifted with his movement. “From you? I would consider it the greatest honor bestowed on me.” 

You merely moved around him, your cloak brushing past him. Even after Neige was dead, Rook would be cause for concern. But you would worry about him then, right now you had an apple in your cloak, a princess to frame, and a prince to assassinate. 

As it turned out, planting the ripe red apple at the top of the basket was the easiest part. It was simple, when the princess had left the basket of freshly picked fruits unattended. Perhaps the worst part was waiting. Waiting to hear when it would happen, when the prince would take that bite that would seal his fate. Part of you wondered if he might dream of you. Afterall, he seemed to have this idealized version of you in his head. So it was possible, but it’s not like you would ever know. 

For now, you appeared as you were told when you were later summoned by the king to the gardens where you emerged after exiting the undercroft on your first day here. Now, you were currently strolling through the private gardens of the palace grounds together, as if you hadn’t both planned murder. Any moment now, you expected a servant to come rushing, the palace would be overrun with commotion once the poisoned apple was consumed. If there were any remnants of the fruit left, you had instructed Epel to dispose of it in the midst of the chaos when no one would notice. 

But right now, it was quiet. A peaceful tranquil quiet, where you could look up at the sky and sun and feel its warmth. One where you were free. Even if you could never return home, perhaps living in this world was better. Should you ever need to, you could always escape the beautiful king. But this was a plan you would keep to yourself. 

Vil remained beside you, looking as elegant as ever with his robes and crown perched atop his skull. Like a peacock promenading in the yards of a private estate. There was one thing that confused you in this story. As angelic as Neige was, and as rotten as the king’s personality might have been, the mirror must’ve been blind if it insisted that Vil was not the fairest of them all. 

The King looked over at you, a pretty smile adorning his face when he saw your eyes on him, just as he liked it. Keeping his hands folded in front of him, the pair stopped beside the well. Since he had dismissed his guards to be alone with you, there was no one else to hear or see what went on between you and him. Those amethyst eyes were no longer so chilling but still more than enough to put you on the edge. “Tell me, my dear, how long were you planning to keep me in the dark?” 

You remained still, confused at his words. What was this about? He seemed content, but what did he mean by this? There was a sneaking suspicion and fear in the back of your mind, but you played it cool as you leaned on the well with your arms on the smooth rocky edge. “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.” 

A brief chuckle came from him as he reached over, his thumb rubbing against your cheek and his fingers grazing along your jaw. “You’re amusing.” Abruptly, faster than you can anticipate it, you felt a sharp edge against your throat, not piercing flesh but close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to avoid being cut. It was a knife. 

Your breath hitched. You made no sudden movements, no reaching for your own blade or trying to grab his wrist, because in a single instance he could end you now and that would be the end to your story. Everything you did to get here and set up a decent life, would be utterly useless if you were dead. Taking a deep breath, you purse your lips before holding up your hands to show you had nothing to strike back. “What are you doing, Your Majesty? After everything I did to assist you?” 

The knife was small, compact, decorated with small jewels as shiny as it was sharp. It was small enough to easily be hidden in his robes, but honed enough to easily end you here just as the judges intended for you to go out. “You were useful, but… when it’s just me and my retainer, my trusted retainer refers to me as Vil not Your Majesty.” 

You felt your blood run cold. He knew, this entire time? From the moment you encountered him, did he realize by your use of formalities, or did he figure it out sometime afterward? You’d been played. 

A knowing smile graced his lips once he took in your shock, one of the first clear expressions on your face in so long. Normally you were so composed, it felt like an accomplishment to break that poised demeanor, to see the horror dawn on your face as you were reminded of the judgment that had been cast, of the hell you were in that was veiled by gorgeous folk and the chance at a free life.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and winced, anticipating the feeling of the blade running through your throat, there was a shriek. A shrill shriek from a woman, the sound sent a chill running down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin. You anticipated the red spilling from your own neck, but there wasn’t a drop.

The knife was removed from your skin as Vil hummed, not really paying attention to the distant sound of servants scrambling to check on the source of the sound that must’ve come up from one of the upper floors of the palace. “It appears like it’s finally happened.” 

There was no need for further explanation to understand what he meant. The scream must’ve come from the princess who witnessed Prince Neige collapse after taking a bite of the apple. In seconds, guards of the palace will arrive at the crime scene, they’ll see the beloved prince trapped in a sleeping death on the ground and the princess beside him will be the only culprit. It’s done… And yet now, you now had to grapple with Vil knowing you were not who you pretended to be this entire time. 

“I didn’t know you were close.” The raven should’ve been apprehensive of the evil queen that tormented them. Were you wrong? Was their shared history different from the tale? 

“I lied. Please, I’m no imbecile. I think it’s a bit rude that you never properly introduced yourself, but I forgive you considering the unique circumstances.” Expertly he twirled the dagger between his long fingers, while he didn’t even have to focus on his hand to do so. The entire time he stared at you, a smile on his curved lips. “Did you think me a fool that I could be so easily tricked? I had known them for several years, but I must admit, I like you better.” His left arm was crossed over his torso, propping up the right arm that held the knife and casually pointed it at you. “All they did in recent years was hole themself up in the undercroft, but you, you’re plucky, brave, funny too.”

You felt partially numb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–– Everything was going so perfect! Why did he have to know? Was it too late to escape? Could you try and run now that things were turning south, or was it worth staying? Judging by the look in the king’s eyes, staying was likely not the best idea. A caged raven was not a happy one. 

“If you’re honest to me, I’m honest to you. I only tricked you, because you foolishly believed yourself to be playing me this entire time, hm? Don’t mistake my intentions though, because I am fond of you. All those sweet words, whispered promises, and love I gave you was all real.” The tip of the dagger was against your chin, and the beautiful blonde king peered down at you through his lashes. Raising the fingers of his freehand, he lightly traced his sharp nails over the side of your face. The next words came in a quiet voice, stern and serious, vaguely threatening but also with the promise of sweetness. 

“However, I don’t appreciate the idea of you flying away. Fret not. You’ll be well taken care of, and loved more than any little prince with a crush could love you… You wanted him dead, isn’t that so? Well, we killed him. There is nothing more for you to be afraid of. So now, I want you to tell me about where you come from, why you wanted him dead, and what you wish for. No matter what you desire, I will see to it that you have it so long as you remain by my side permanently. Reintroduce yourself, from the top, my Darling Retainer.”

[covetyou]

howl-o-ween

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: sex toys (a cock sleeve like this one), unprotected P in V, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, creampie, Joel in a dress, reader likes Joel in a dress, teeth as a euphemism for balls, talk of knots but this is not a/b/o, fluff. word count: 6k summary: The light beckons you over like a moth to a flame, and your weary bones follow, taking you across three lawns and up the steps, straight into the arms of Joel Miller.

A/N: a few months ago @missredherring said "how do you feel about those werewolf dildos?" and changed the entire tragectory of this fic. thank you, I love you 💛 this one's for you bb, and that beaut of an oracle card you pulled, position and all.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

The porch light is on when you get home and pull into your empty driveway. It was like a beacon - drawing your eye where it so often drew all of you; across three lawns and straight up the steps to Joel's front door.

Though, this time, it's not lit for you. It's not there to guide you through the darkness and into his waiting arms. And, though you'd never admit it, you feel oddly territorial about it - jealous. That's your light. Except, for today, it's not.

Today, it's illuminated for the swathes of little ghouls and beasties that have been stomping the streets in search for treats, swarming like a plague of locusts on each household until candy buckets were empty and one by one, the lights shut off.

But not Joel's.

You try to push it to the back of your mind as you fumble with your keys in the darkness of your own front porch, and stash yourself away inside to wearily climb the stairs to wash the day away. The shower you take is hot, yet the heat does nothing to stop you thinking of him, wondering whether that light was just a forgotten detail of the day or a beckoning call to the only person who would really understand it.

Even when you step out from the stream of water and stretch, pushing deep into one hip and another, all you can think about his him and how much better he could make all of this. The pains he could soothe, the emptiness he could fill, the ache between your legs he could make so much, much worse.

That's how you end up standing at your front window, face pressed to the glass, staring at the light that's still taunting you, wondering if maybe it is on for you after all.

It's also how you end up halfway down your driveway before you even think to call or text him.

And, as you step onto his porch in mismatched pajamas, unlaced shoes, and a flannel shirt that wasn't your own, you think you're somehow the most strange and yet most normal thing to have climbed up here tonight. There's no witches hat or vampire teeth. No empty bucket in your hand or silly t-shirt.

No, it was just you - tired eyes and all, hoping that the light that had been a signal to them was now a signal to you, and that he'd be happy to see you.

There's a shuffling stomp behind the door after you knock. Then, it's swinging inward so suddenly you jump back as something distinctly Joel-sized growls from behind a black net, only to stop with a surprised cough when you stare at it with wide eyes. One large hand tugs the net down and tosses it to the side, and the toothy grin of a dark eyed wolf greets you in the doorway.

It's undoubtedly Joel. You'd know those shoulders anywhere, even if they are beneath the prettiest pink dress you've ever seen. You look him up and down, eyes darting from the bonnet on his head, the stifling plastic mask strapped to his face, before pulling down his chest, following pink all the way down until pink turns into the gray of well worn sweatpants.

With a huff, he tugs at the mask, yanking it from his head to reveal ruffled hair, rosy cheeks, and a bashful look in his eye that says he's almost embarrassed to see you.

"Thought you were a trick-or-treater," he says, with a nervous rub to his neck.

"And I thought you were my Grandma."

"Very funny," he says, rolling his eyes and pulling you in toward him, closing the door the second you're in over the threshold. "Been waitin' for you."

If that wasn't the confirmation you needed, it is when he snaps the porch light off and leans down to kiss you against the wall, pinning you there with one broad hand to your waist while the other latches and locks the door.

"Joel, what about Sarah," you say after a moment, turning your head from the heat of his kiss.

"Little Red ain't here. Last minute change of plans. Her mom came to pick her up for some party her neighbor was throwin' for the kids. Been on solo door duty all evenin', killin' time waitin' for you."

You kiss him then, tugging at the curls at the back of his neck while his hands roam under the flannel shirt you'd stolen from him some weeks ago, feeling up and down the curve of your spine as you arch into him. Where you had felt so exhausted moments ago, you now feel energized, ready to leap at him and let him do as he pleased with you, even if it was right here against the door.

"So..." you mumble into his mouth, through soft kisses neither of you seem to be able to resist pressing to each others mouths. "You've been by yourself... for four hours... in a dress?"

Joel stops kissing you the moment he feels your lips twist upward into a smile.

"What if I have? Problem with that?" he says, with a quirk to his eyebrow as he stares down at you, still pinned to the wall.

Briefly, you consider if you really do have a problem with it. Mostly because you realize, as you look at him and the dress wrapped around him, that you really, very much, do not have a problem with it at all. Even in swathes of pink and frills, he's beautiful, and you can't stop thinking about the shape of him hidden beneath the loose drape of fabric.

"No," you say with a shrug, trying to keep the heat out of your cheeks. "You look great. Pink suits you, Grandma Joel."

A growl makes it's way up Joel's throat and he nips at your lips, tilting your head back with one strong hand and grabbing your wrist as your fingers plays idly with the fabric of his dress with the other.

"Do not call me Grandma," he says, pulling your hand down to the front of his skirt. "Feel like a Grandma to you, darlin'?"

"I can't say I've ever felt a Grandma before but - Oh, my," you say with a smirk, catching Joel's eyebrow raised in warning. You grind your palm gently against him, wiggling your fingers down and down, cupping the heft of his balls, feeling as the blood that was reddening his cheeks pumps to his cock, thickening it beneath your hand. "What big... teeth you have. Very big teeth."

"You sure about that?"

You nod into the cradle of his hand, his fingers scratching gently at your scalp as you tease and taunt him. "Uh-huh. Biggest teeth. Best teeth. My favorite teeth, actually."

"Never had any teeth you like better, huh?" he says, holding back a laugh.

"Never," you say, grinning back. "Question is, are they still your own teeth, Grandma?"

He growls again then, spinning you from the wall and scraping his teeth against your neck. He moves you back - further from the door and further into his home, guided only by the flickering light of the TV. He sucks the blood to the surface on your neck, bruising you while you sigh and turn to putty into his arms and then, with a sharp pinch to your ass and a swift smack that sends the muscle jiggling, he's pulling back and pushing you toward the stairs.

"Get your ass upstairs. I'll give you fuckin' Grandma."

You practically squeal in delight, cackling as you kick off your shoes and make a run for the stairs, legs quaking as you try to take them two at a time, give up half way and scramble up the rest of the way with your hands.

At the top, you turn to look at the smirking figure of Joel.

"Are you gonna come eat me, Grandma Joel?"

You can hear as he cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, clicking his tongue against his teeth. You can barely hold in your giggles as he tries to look menacing in that pink dress, slowly ascending the stairs and staring daggers into you.

"You're lucky you're so damn cute, or there'd no fuckin' chance I'd be getting hard enough to give you what you're actin' out for," he grumbles, having to lift the skirt above his knees to stop himself from tripping.

"Is Were-Joel better?" you say through a laugh, taking a step back as he finally towers above you again when he reaches the top of the stairs and drags you toward his room.

Pulling you inside, he claims your mouth with a bruising kiss, cradling your head in his two massive hands while his tongue licks into your mouth.

"Were-Joel is stupid, but yeah," he mumbles into you, "Were-Joel is better."

Together, you make quick work of your own clothes. The flannel is the first thing to go, tossed straight onto Joel's laundry hamper for him to deal with. You'd steal another soon anyway. Your pajamas follow - t-shirt dumped on the floor and shorts pulled low enough for you to wiggle them the rest of the way down and kick them off the end of your feet. You moan the moment Joel's warm, rough hands connect with your bare skin, grabbing every part of you he can reach. He gropes your breasts in both massive hands, puckering the flesh with the soft grip of his fingertips, while your hands find his neck and scratch. He groans, stretching into the itch of your nails across his skin.

The front of Joel's dress has started to tent. You can feel it every time he grinds forward, pushing you back until you're forced to hop up onto his bed, legs spread so he can slot between them.You hold yourself to him, scratching through the pink fabric while his soft bulge stiffens with each roll of his hips into your clothed core.

Then, when he goes to yank the dress over his head, you stop him, gripping tight to his hands and sheepishly shaking your head.

"Leave the dress on? Just for a little bit."

Your face is hot as you say it, and Joel's inquisitive look turns to a laugh, then a smile, crinkling his eyes just before he gently bumps his nose into yours.

"Yeah?" he says. "You really like it, huh?"

You shrug, "Pink's your color."

"Really? S'the color that does it for you."

"Careful."

"Careful?" he taunts, licking his tongue across his teeth and looking you up and down. "Or what?"

He's still between your legs. He's still hard, he's still looking down at you, and he's still between your legs. Taking a deep breath, you try not to let the heat of him distract you, or the way he looks at your near naked body as you straighten your shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "Or I'll... huff and I'll puff and I'll blow you...r house down."

You hear his eyes as they roll in his head, and you have to stifle a laugh with a hard bite of your bottom lip.

"Come on. Ain't even the same fairytale any more, darlin'."

"So?"

"So, as the only wolf around here, and given you ain't got anythin' for me to blow, I best get to eatin'."

You fake gasp and clutch a hand to your chest, giving him a scandalized look as you try to mask the not so subtle way you feel the muscle of his arm flex beneath your other hand.

"No, Gran- Were-Joel, don't eat me. I promise I don't taste good."

"Now that's a damn fuckin' lie," he says just as your world is tipping on it's head, your legs pushed back and toppling you back onto his sheets in fits of laughter. "Best pussy I've ever tasted."

Forcing a deadpan look onto your face, you sit up on your elbows while he tries, and fails to grab hold of your panties. "Oh," you say. "Oh, we're talking about that kind of eating?"

One long, slow blink from Joel later, and you're laughing again, curling in on yourself, while he gives up with your panties and instead pulls down his sweatpants beneath the dress, and kicks them away.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you realize that, right?"

The touch of his lips to your thigh calms your giggles in an instant. Then, when the scruff on his cheek brushes your other thigh, you let your legs fall apart.

"There she is," he murmurs between your legs. "You gonna stop playin' around and let me take care of her now?"

You nod down to him, breath suddenly stolen from you as you look down at Joel, pretty in pink.

"Good."

With that, he presses a kiss to your clothed mound, taking a deep breath and mumbling something you think sounds like "so fuckin' good", before working fingers under the waistband and pulling them off your legs, leaving you totally nude.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he says, as he lowers himself to the floor between your legs. "Get more beautiful every time I see you, y'know that?"

His lips suck at your inner thigh then, nipping the skin before he trails kisses up higher and higher, tugging you slightly to pull you down the bed and closer to his waiting mouth. You're in half a mind to joke about your pussy being flattered, but you know the time for jokes is over, and that what he said he very much means, when you look down to see his dark eyes staring straight back at you before he makes that first, delicious swipe of his tongue across your cunt.

He starts softly. Kitten licks to your labia, slowly tasting all of you, before kissing around your clit were it waits for him, less and less patient as his teasing goes on. His thick fingers rest on your thighs, kneading and stroking the delicate skin while is tongue flicks out to make a tentative, soft lick over your clit. Then, he's sucking it into his mouth, releasing, licking, and kissing it before starting the cycle all over again, making out with the sensitive nub and suckling away at it while you start to moan and sigh beneath him.

You were right. This was the exact kind of ache you wanted him to give you. Throbbing, deep, and desperate. Each swipe of his tongue making you want more. A self fullfilling prophecy of tongue fucking you into oblivion, and you wish you had the patience to stay here forever, to not want to be pushed over the edge by him and his wicked tongue.

He parts you with his thumbs, spreading you wide and using the digits to dip inside ever so slighty, igniting your core and making you whine for more. He gives it to you - one finger slipping into his mouth and coming out slick before tentatively dipping into your hole, fucking you with the tip until he can sink it down to the knuckle.

Sliding another finger in, he circles your clit with a soft tongue, fingers moving slowly as they stretch you. You arch your back into him, already feeling the tightness in your belly coil, ready to snap the second he picks up momentum.

"Two good?" he murmurs, breath ghosting over your twitching clit.

The noise you make is neither a yes or a no. Two is good, but you're not really sure two is enough. There's a stretch you're craving, you think, and you don't quite know how to put words to it, so your vague "ungh" will have to do.

Somehow, despite not even really knowing yourself, Joel does.

"Want more? I can give you more, darlin'," he says, slipping in a third finger, letting the stretch ease as you groan through it, before pumping them gently and returning to his steady, measured licks over your clit.

That's it, you think, and your eyes are closing, sending you away with the sensation of Joel between your legs, fucking his fingers deep and flicking his tongue against your swollen clit again, and again, and again.

Your fingers are gripping the sheets, your head is turning from side to side, your back arching as you whine and quiver, begging Joel for something, anything, and then the pace picks up, the delicate circles of his tongue turning firmer until your feet are pressing into the mattress and you're pressing into his face, the orgasm you were chasing smashing into you while you fuck yourself against his fingers, his mouth.

Then, he's pulls the wet heat of his mouth off of you, kissing all around your dripping pussy as it pulses around his fingers, your legs now floppy and boneless.

"Y'good?" he pants, sliding his fingers from your core and giving you one final lick, tasting your slick hole and nudging his nose into your clit, humming a laugh when you twitch with sensitivity.

"So good," you slur, watching him stand up, pink dress creased at the knee, and a distinct darker pink spot right at the tip of the prominent tent in the fabric.

You're very awake suddenly, when you see it.

"You can take it off now," you say, not bothering to look him in the eye when something much more important has your attention.

"Can I?" he teases, wiggle the dress up to his knees before dropping it down again.

"Take off the fucking dress, Joel."

You can't explain how much you want him in this moment. Your slick is still on his fingers and his chin, and he's rock solid for you beneath the dress and you think that, somehow, he's never looked better. Only, you think - no, you know - he'd look better with the dress off now, wearing nothing but you sheathed around his cock.

He grabs at his crotch through the dress, gripping around his length so you can see the outline of him clear as day, a trail of wetness pulling up from the bigger patch that had been forming.

"It's Were-Joel," he teases.

"Take it off, Were-Joel."

He does. One second its around his broad shoulders and the next it's off, thrown somewhere behind him, and he's completely naked, cock standing to attention in front of him, the tip slick and shiny with pre-cum.

"This what you after?" he says, holding the thick shaft by the base and shaking it toward you.

"Just give me your werewolf cock already, Were-Joel," you joke, reaching for him and spreading your legs shamelessly for him. "Or I swear, I'm gonna start howling."

You can practically see the lightbulb flick on above his head.

"Oh, I got somethin' to give you alright," he says, and you watch his work-toned back as it retreats into the bathroom, ass wiggling with each step.

"Don't you dare, Joel," you say as the door pulls closed, leaving you there on the bed. "Joel!"

Of course, you could get up and follow him. You could throw yourself back and get frustrated with being left so suddenly.

Instead, all you feel is excitement as it creeps up your toes, wiggles its way through your belly, and settles at the back of your throat in an excited, stifled, giggle. You hadn't had a surprise from Joel in some months and, while the sex was excellent, there was something thrilling about not knowing what he'd come out with next. You already knew there were some secrets he was keeping - he never did let you into his toy drawer unsupervised - but knowing you were very likely about to get treated to one of the many weird and wonderful toys Joel had was making you giddy.

You just about stop the excited vibration of your legs when Joel comes out of the bathroom. You're not sure what you expected, but at first glance, you don't see much of anything wrong.

Even when he tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed behind you, you can't see anything different. It's only when he turns to the side before climbing up beside you that you see the seeming deformity to his cock - a large bulge near the base that definitely wasn't there before.

Then, you see the silicone ring hugging his balls, and it all clicks into place while Joel looks at you with amusement.

"Oh my god," you say, staring at it with your mouth open.

If it wasn't clear silicone, maybe you would've seen it more easily. The lump is sheathed over his dick on a cock sleeve, held to him with a cockring fitting snugly over his balls, and sat right at the base of him where you so liked to sit yourself.

"Wanted a werewolf cock, didn't you?" he says, grinning lopsidedly while you stare. "Remembered I had this thing."

"There's no way I can take that, Joel," you say, finally looking up at him now that he'd climbed beside you, hands skating over your body again now that he was finally close enough.

"Don't have to take all of it, darlin'," he says, kissing your shoulder. "Can take it off right now if you really want. Though I do remember a certain someone takin' both my balls in their tight little cunt not too long ago."

You swallow thickly, his mouth sucking gently at your neck while his hands stroke softly across your belly, your thighs. "That was different, I... fuck, Joel."

In truth, you do want it. The whole thing, weird Were-Joel knot and all. So, you turn to him, catching his mouth with yours, and reach for that bottle of lube, steely determination in you when you finally grip his cock with your free hand.

"Give it to me."

He lights up, fire in his eyes, and pushes you down, grabbing and kissing you as you try to push him up, hook your legs around him, pull him in closer, to line him up with your core so you can feel the rippled bulge of the silicone knot as it slips up and down your slick pussy.

Joel drizzles lube over the top of his cock, gasping when the cold liquid hits him, before turning the bottle to you, watching the clear fluid dribble out over your cunt. It's cold when it hits, trickling down your seam to wet the bed beneath you. Neither of you care, not when Joel's fingers are swiping through the mess and pushing in, other hand on his own cock, stroking the head as he fucks fingers into you and feels you flutter around them.

"Don't think you'll have a problem takin' all o' this, darlin'," he says to you. "You want it fuckin' bad, don't you?"

You haul yourself up to kiss him while he finger fucks you and fucks his own fist. If you didn't know about the thing wrapped around his dick, you'd settle for tonight ending like this, his fingers knuckle deep while he spurts ropes of cum all over you. But, you want it, so your fingers snake up his leg to squeeze gently at his balls, slick with lube and taut from the ring around them.

"I always want it bad, Joel."

Legs splayed, he pushes you back, and swpies his cock through the mess between your legs. He wastes no time pressing his broad tip into you. You gasp the second he breaches you, your hands finding purchase on his golden shoulders while he teases the tip in and out, before pressing in deeper.

"How do you always feel so good," you say in breathless amazement when he's half way burried in you. "Every time."

You both groan when he pulls out and pushes back in, deeper still, until you feel the edge of the toy nudging at your entrance, and he stops.

"Magic dick," he jokes, voice low and husky. "Maybe I shoulda been a witch this year."

"Not a wizard?"

He shrugs, moving onto his forearms to kiss you without pressing further in, beyond the rim of the knot strapped to his cock. "You liked the dress."

There it is. That feeling that'd been pushing down for months, blooming in your chest again. He so often said things like this - little things that meant not much of anything to most people, but meant the world to you. It wasn't about the dress, if you thought about it. It was knowing that there was someone in the world that was happy and willing to do something, just because you liked it.

You're still and staring at him with glassy eyes when he nudges your nose with his own.

"Think you can take more?"

"Yeah. I want it, Joel, please."

He's gentle when he presses forward next. He reaches a hand between you, pulling you open as he pushes in, checking the toy strapped to him is lubed up enough to not feel dry as it spreads you wider than you'd been in some time.

Because, despite what he said, it is bigger than his balls. They were pulled tight into a ball-torpedo that day, and while the girthy stretch of it was amazing, it was nothing compared to this. This one felt like him.

You could feel his head push deeper, while the solid slickness of his shaft parted you wider, and then the stretch of the silicone knot - firm but yeilding, and as warm and wet with lube as the rest of his cock. You could barely tell where he ended and it began, and you didn't really care to work it out. Even when it stretched you to the widest point, pressing into your entrance with the rest of him to finally slip home with one more press forward of Joel's hips. It filled you - he filled you - and you groaned at the stretch, the feel of yourself clamping around down his cock, the knot, moulding your insides to this new shape of him.

You're breathing heavy when he stills inside you, murmuring in your ear words that you don't hear until he's gently squeezing your cheeks. 

"Y'ain't all fucked out already, are you?" he says, looking into your dazed eyes.

You aren't. Well, you are. The ridges and ripples of the toy lodged inside you along with his cock are pushing against just about every sensitive spot you have, and you don't quite think you have words to say anything, let alone explain it all to Joel.

So, you just nod dumbly at him, whining and grabbing at him to make him move.

The first rock of his hips barely shifts him inside of you, but you can't help the deep groan that pulls out of your chest. It's like he's locked so impossibly deep inside of you that every movement of his cock nudges deeper.

He's careful not to pull the full width of the knot out of you for a while. He just moves, slowly, checking your face where your brows draw tight together and your mouth quivers with the intensity of it all.

Then, when you finally adjust enough to kiss him again, he pulls out, swallowing down your gasp when the knot stretches your sensitive entrance.

Tears spring to your eyes when he pushes back in. It doesn't hurt - not even close - but it's so fucking much that you can't help it, your entire body alive and burning with each movement he makes.

"Joel," you wail, biting into his shoulder as you quiver and quake. You're entirely out of control of your body now, but it doesn't matter. It's safe with Joel - it always has been - and you grip him as best you can while the last dregs of your self control slip away.

"I got you," he says his hands sliding under your ass, and up your back, hugging you to him. "C'mere."

You're bonelessly hauled into his lap, Joel grunting with the effort and the feel of how you clench around him with the shift os his cock rooted deep in you.

"Fuck. There we go. Y'feel that?"

You do. He must know you do by how babble and whine in his ear.

However the toy felt before, it feels even more intense like this. You're sat with your legs wrapped around him, perched on his lap while his thighs are splayed wide to stablize both of you. His cock hasn't moved from it's place deep inside you, but the shift of your body is making the knot nudge that spot inside you usually only his fingers can find.

"Fff-uck, Joel. Joel," you manage to warn, before a tear spills over your waterline. "Don'tstopdon'tfuckingstop."

The flash of concern on his face is only brief as he swipes away the tear, but then he hears you, listens, and rocks against you, pubic hair grinding against your swollen clit as the knot lcosk the two of you together.

It's overwhelming how deep he is and how full you feel. So overwheleming, you just can't help it. That's your excuse, anyway.

"I lo- " you gasp, choking back your own words when he fucks particularly deep.

"What was that?" He asks, groaning as you pulse around him.

"I - I like you," you say into his neck, wincing at your fucking stupidity for letting anything slip, for being too fucked out and cock drunk to think of a better cover than you like him.

"Yeah?" Joel says, a smile in his voice. "You like me?"

You're about to answer, when he pulls back, the knot popping from you before pressing in deep again, making you scramble to grip hold tight of him with the feel of it.

"Ye-es! S-so much."

"Really?"

He does it again, this time pulling you up too, practically making you bounce and fuck yourself onto his knot, and you suddenly don't give a shit what comes out of your mouth now, just that it makes Joel keep doing whatever it is that's happening right now. You feel so wet, you're certain you're dripping, making a mess of his cock, his balls, his thighs, his sheets.

"Yes."

The knot slips out and you pull yourself down onto it this time, groaning when you bottom out and he holds you to him, fucking up into you in shallow movements that are so deep you can feel it in your belly.

"Oh god, yeah."

Wrapping his arms around you, he grinds deep then, pulling you down onto him with each roll of his hips, the friction of his pubic hair against your clit making you howl into his chest.

It feels like panic, but you know it's not. You know it's not because it's as much in your cunt, in your belly, in your spine, than it is in your throat. Still, it bubbles up just the same, frantic desperate words coming out in a stream of nonsense before you know what's about to hit you.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, Joel - I - uhhnng -"

But Joel knows.

He keeps grinding deep, keeps pulling you down, murmuring in your ear filthy encouragement. Your hands struggle to grip him now, the sweat on his skin making him slick as he holds you up, pulls you down, fucks you deeper than you've ever been fucked before.

And then, like a dam, it breaks. You silently scream into his chest, tears spilling down your face, your pussy throbbing and clenching and gushing all over him while he never, not for a second, stops fucking you through it.

Even when you slump in his arms, whining and still coming, flooding his cock, he keeps going.

"That's it," he growls. "That's it, come on it. Come all over me."

You wish you could see him. You wish you had the energy to pull yourself off of him and look at his beuatiful cock and the mess you'd made of it, how throbbing and desperate it was for you, balls gripped tight by the ring and base held stiff by the knot. You'd fuck yourself onto it, if you could. Instead, you just pant in his arms, nodding into his chest, kissing and licking at just about any part you can while he ruts into you.

"You want this?" he grunts, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks, letting you somehow slip further down him with the spread.

He grunts loudly in your ear then, panting deep breaths while his chest heaves. "Fuck - fuckin' thing on my balls, not gonna last, say you want it," he begs. "Tell me you want it."

"I want you, I want you, Joel, I want you," you babble into his neck, grabbing his face, kissing him as he grunts into your mouth, cock throbbing where it impales you, balls tight as he comes as deep in you as he's ever been. You think it might just be the hardest he's ever came in you, with how still he goes, and how long he groans - the deep sound of it turning into a desperate whine while his hips cant and rock and fuck you like he's possessed.

And, when it's over, he holds you still, unconciously rocking the two of you gently, bodies so slick with sweat and come that it's a wonder you can even keep yourselves held together.

It's with a groan that he lays you both back. Then, gingerly, he pulls out and tugs the toy off his cock and balls, throwing it to the floor. With delicate kisses to your sweaty chest, he milks the last drops of cum from his cock, smearing it over your used, swollen cunt, as more of him dribbles out of you onto the sheets.

"Marking your territory are you, Were-Joel?" you say with a sleepy, contented smile up at him.

"Not much o' one for pissin' on people, so," he says with a lopside shrug and a soft smile, "Yeah." And he wipes the last drop of cum onto your clit, before kissing you and falling beside you, pulling your legs over his and cradling your spent body against his chest.

You cuddle for a while, falling into a sleepy doze as your hands wander. Then the warmth of him is away, kissing your hairline, and back not a moment later with water placed on the bedside table and a damp towel for between your thighs.

The wet patch is whisked away, dragged off the bed by Joel and replaced with a different comforter as you crawl into his bed, waiting for him beneath the fresh sheets, where he flicks the room into darkness and holds you to him once more.

When you're both settled, your heartbeats calmed and your breaths shallow and sleepy, Joel clears his throat.

"You do know Were-Joel is just man-Joel, right?" he says, his voice rumbling in his chest and straight to your ear.

"Mhm," you yawn. "I told you ages ago I like man-Joel best of all. I'd take him over any of the other Joel's any day."

"Hm," he says with a smile. "That so?"

"Yep."

"Nothin' else?"

"Nope," you mumble into his chest, sleep coming for you quicker and quicker now that his voice is right there soothing you to sleep.

"Alright then."

And you think that's it, that that is all he has to say, that you can both drift off to sleep, warm and safe in each others embrace.

"I love you too."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the dark. He pushes your hair from your face, and you laugh, suddenly giddy and silly and with too much energy and nowhere to put it. "Joel!"

You can see a sliver of his gentle smile in the dark, feel it as he presses it to your forehead, and your laughter dies down knowing that it's not a joke, that he heard you, that he knows, that he accepts your silence not as rejection but as something else, something you know to be true but can't name, even to yourself, even here so safe and warm and content in his arms that it could never be anything else.

"G'night, darlin'."

And as you fall asleep you just hope that maybe, in the morning, you'll be able to say those three little words too.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather

@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

[kkuzushi]

Aaaaaaa thinking about fking scara in the Public restroom after a photo shoot And scara scolding us because we still have alot more photo shooting to do.... AAAAAAAAGHHH you can skip this if you're not comfortable, but if you do plan on taking this, THANK YOU I LOVE YOU SO MU—

“ 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: bratty & model scara, handjob, frotting, fingering (giving), agoraphilia, public sex, either cock or strap !

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.501k

✦ 𝗻otes: I enjoyed this a bit too much that this became my longest work.. Also, hoyofair Scaramouche reference! Enjoy, dearest anon, I love you as well. <3

After working since 6:30 in the morning for back-to-back photoshoots, Scaramouche finally gets an hour of rest. It wasn't nearly enough, but that's the life of a model. In his private room, a few snacks were laid out on his desk as he scrolled through social media, where all he saw was his own face and fans praising him—not that he minded.

But that brief moment of peace quickly disappeared when he found himself in the company’s public restroom, with you—his impatient lover.

"Cut it out, you idiot!" Scaramouche whispered sharply, pulling away from you, though the resistance was half-hearted at best. He was enjoying it too, though he'd never openly admit it. "I still have more photoshoots to do..!"

Scaramouche tried to keep his voice steady, his hands pressing lightly against your chest as you leaned in closer, teasing him further. "I don’t have time for this,” he hissed, though his body betrayed him as he didn’t make much of an effort to stop you. His face flushed slightly, betraying his cool demeanor as you smirked in response.

You pulled him closer by the waist, one hand going down to tug his thigh garter. “You still have an hour, don't you?” You pouted, kissing the side of his face and trailing down to his neck.

“Yeah, an hour of break. Not for this nonsense!” Scaramouche hissed, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to keep his composure.

As you pepper his neck with kisses, you can feel him gulping and hitching, desperately trying to suppress any noise that might come out. His hands travel up to your shoulders, pushing you away though not with his full strength.

“This is a break. Just let me take care of you.” You whisper as you ruffle with the buttons of his cropped jacket, which soon falls to the ground, revealing his highneck undershirt along with the fishnets that surround his collarbones.

“My jacket–” Scaramouche’s eye twitched as he snatched it from the floor and threw it over the door hook. “Could you at least try not to mess up my clothes?” he huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

That glare of his, you could never hate it, and especially when you knew you were the reason for it. “Sorry, sweetheart,” You apologized halfheartedly before pushing his back on the bathroom door, reaching in for a passionate kiss.

His protests are soon muffled, and everytime he'd open his lips, you'd just take the opportunity and invade his mouth with your tongue.

As you pull away, you're met with a flick of Scaramouche's tongue. “You're smudging my lipstick,” He complained, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb, the lipstick smearing onto his skin in a faint stain.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “If it's swollen enough, there won't be a difference, ♡” you teased, leaning in closer as his eyes narrowed at the remark, though his blush betrayed him.

“Loosen up a little, Scara,” Your voice dripped with playful affection. Your fingers played with the waistband of his black shorts, the fastened belt already removed before Scaramouche could even notice.

You could practically hear your lover scrambling and still protesting yet all you responded with was a smirk as his shorts slid down along with his garments, sagging over his feet.

All those complaints just for his tip to already be leaking with precum, the entirety of it just begging for attention. The tint on Scaramouche's cheeks increased, and even more as your palm came in contact with his shaft.

“Fuck–[name]..! ♡” The indigo haired whimpered, his fingers instantly gripping your shoulders. Your thumb swirled the fluid on his tip, smearing it across his length to create a steady pace as you stroke it.

“Look at you.. already a whimpering mess after a few strokes,” Even with his eyes closed, he could hear the smirk in every word you spit out. “S-Shut–mnnh! Shut up..” Scaramouche prompted.

Luckily for the model, the ventilation in the bathroom muffles the wet squelching sound along with his soft moans. He won't live it down if somebody comes in and hears his humiliating sounds, the industry won't react well with a scandal about him..

But with your proximity, those sounds are nowhere near soft. It's sultry; tempting. If it wasn't for your impatience, you'd keep him here and leave him writhing just with the touch of your hands.

Alas, the need was too much—your own trousers joined Scaramouche's on the floor. Your cock slips free, and you entwine it with his in one hand, stroking them simultaneously. “M-My clothessngh.. don't stainhAh♡..~” Scaramouche mewled with his eyes almost rolling back.

The extra sensation increased your lover’s sensitivity, legs shaking. If it wasn't for his tight grip on your shoulders, he'd collapse on the bathroom floor immediately.

Still, you have an extra hand, don't you? It isn't so busy now after Scaramouche feels the digits creeping up to his ass, teasing the entrance.

“No.. [name].. don't touchAH♡♡ngh?!” A whine leaves Scaramouche's lips, his hips bucking forward, making his cock stick closer with yours. This just seems like a trap now—if he moved back, he'd just feel your fingers deeper inside; if he moved forward, you'd be able to rub his cock with yours more efficiently.

As if reading his mind, you took the initiative and pressed against him further. With your lengths together and his hole stretched with your fingers, his head leaned back on the door. Biting his lip wasn't even working anymore, all he could do was moan and hope nobody would walk in at any time.

“Too mucshh.. hah–♡” Scaramouche breathed, his voice trembling as his body tensed from the pleasure. Your actions slowed to a stop, your arms snaking under his legs to his hips, lifting him up with his feet dangling up in the air.

Scaramouche looks at you with a confused look until your grip tightens, and you pressed him firmly against the door, the new angle causing his face to flush. His confusion fades as he feels your cock teasing his entrance.

“Wait– [Name], don’thngK–♡♡!” His disapproval fell short as you've already pushed your tip inside, a soft cry leaving your lover’s lips. “Bastard..! N-Not herenn..”

You fully bottom out and a gasp collectively leaves the both of you. His walls clenched as he felt himself being stretched to make way for your length.

“We'll be quick–”

“We'll be quick my ass!”

A grin appears on your lips—even when filled to the brim, Scaramouche still has the guts to dispute you. Your hips start to move, thrusting into him. His body bounced from your hold, whining every time he feels your tip hitting his prostate.

Scaramouche's back arched off the door, his hand instinctively gripping on your hair, while his head fell to your shoulder, muffling the soft sounds escaping his lips. At this point, the state of his lipstick didn’t matter—it was completely smeared, his makeup now a mess. The tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, mixed with the dark streaks of his mascara. Next time, waterproof mascara might be a better idea.

“I’m goiing to cumhnn..♡” He prompts. “Already?”

“Fuck you–!”

“Quite the opposite, isn't it?” You grinned.

It was evident that his climax was approaching, the way his breaths became shallow and uneven, each exhale mingled with soft whimpers that escaped his lips. You could feel him clenching around your cock, his body writhed against you, seeking more as he instinctively gripped tighter on your hair, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“Close.. ‘m closenh♡hn,” he gasped, eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting as he chased the sweet release that was just within reach.

You quickened your pace slightly, reveling in the way his body reacted, the desperate moans spilling from his mouth urging you on. “Cum for me, pretty boy ♡,” you whispered, your voice coaxing him toward the edge.

He bit on your shoulder, trying to stifle the cries that threatened to escape, but it was futile. “‘M comi–hngGH♡♡♡!” His eyes shot open and rolled back, ropes of cum shooting out and staining your clothes. With him tightening around you, your own climax follows.

The stall is filled with heavy breaths as you both come down from your high, Scaramouche's legs twitching in the air, now folding on your arms. His skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and the aftermath of your shared moment hangs in the air. You gently lower him, letting his legs wrap loosely around your waist.

Scaramouche leans back against the door, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure.

“This is the last time we're doing this,” he mutters, a hint of playful annoyance in his tone as he wipes a tear away, smudging more of the black cosmetic across his cheek.

You laugh, the sound echoing softly in the small stall. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This was definitely not going to be the last time.

[anielskaaniela]

learn more here

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more of nox's hypotheses

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[repulsiveliquidation]

Rain || Alexia Putellas

warnings : smut (18+), somnophilia (consensual sex while asleep), anal sex, rimming, strap-on sex, choking, spanking, fingering, rough sex)

a/n : hii! just a little something i whipped up while at work today :)

There was rain pouring down outside, the sun hiding behind dark clouds. The pitter-patter of raindrops slowly begged Alexia to go back to sleep but she fought hard, the warmth beside her was way more tempting than a few more hours of sleep. 

She scooted over, arm slipping under the sheets to pull at the smaller form that was softly snoring beside her. She felt the heat of your skin, chest rising and falling steadily in your sleep. 

Soft kisses along your nape and shoulder lulled you out of your snooze, a grumpy groan already dragging through your voicebox. 

“Ale, it’s Sunday, go back to sleep…”

“Sí, sí, sleep.”

The captain wasn’t going to let you off that easily. She’d gotten back late from Sevilla last night and crashed almost immediately, staying awake just long enough to shovel food into her mouth. Now, with the whole day to waste with you, she didn’t want to miss a second of “personal time.” 

You’re snoring again, this time much louder and much clearer. Alexia sat up looking annoyed, staring at your back that faced her. Her eyes, having the mind of their own, wandered along the shape of you. There was a little skin showing along your back where your shirt was riding up, toned back teasing her intentionally. 

“Fuck mi amor, how am I supposed to resist you?” 

Alexia, in her stroke of genius, pulls the covers off gently and climbs out of bed. She tiptoes to the closet, rummaging quietly for her strap. She finds it and quietly runs back to get it on. 

Alexia stands beside you, clothes stripped off and strap hanging low from her hips. Very carefully, Alexia pulls the blanket off you, the pattering of rain now much softer as it stops. You’ve got the prettiest lace underwear on, a deep maroon that was secretly her favorite. 

You were fully on your stomach now, your snores an abbreviated version of what they were earlier, muffled by your pillows. 

Alexia lifted your matching lace top, the ruffled edges seemingly turned her on even more. There was a pause when you shifted under her and she quickly stood on her knees, taking her weight off you. You simply pushed a leg up towards your chest and sighed, nuzzling your face into the pillow. Alexia gently sat back down, softly kissing your exposed back as she fought to keep her hips from involuntarily grinding into you. 

“Mmh, you’ve always been so fucking beautiful princesa, even when you were sleeping.”

She slowly pulled your panties to the side, exposing your already soaking cunt. Her mouth waters, jaw aching as she scoots down to taste you. 

Her tongue is warm and flat against your pussy, lapping gently at your sticky folds. Her eyes make sure you’re still asleep, fingers very very gently pulling your thick thighs apart. You give Alexia no indication of knowing what she was doing, so she gets a little brave. She spreads your ass and watches your asshole pucker at her, practically asking her to have a taste. 

When she does, she watches as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. You always were a little anal whore, the feeling of her tongue on your ass never failed to drive your arousal up. 

Alexia spat on your ass, thumb gently rubbing it in. It caught on the edge a few times and Alexia had to stop herself from clenching her own thighs together. Your pussy was dripping, the gentle throb of your heartbeat was delightfully obvious to Alexia. 

“Ale…?” 

“Bon dia, princesa,” Alexia whispered sexily, helping as you gently turned onto your back.

“Más, por favor,” you whined, legs draping wide open over her shoulders. Alexia grinned maniacally, nodding gently at your sexy request. 

A dainty finger slips into Alexia’s mouth, the noisy slurping that reaches your ears only makes the throb between your legs all the more intense.  

She pushes it into your ass gently, gorgeous eyes meeting yours as she gently fingers you open. You feel the stretch just a little more than usual, a pleasant ache plastering a satisfied grin on your face. Alexia pulls away to suck on her fingers a little more, pushing two digits into you when they’re wet enough. Your hips grind down into her slowly, fingers gathering a little spit from your mouth to use to play with your clit. Alexia audibly groans, watching as you double your pleasure. 

She gets that manic smile on her face again, pulling her fingers out of your ass before kneeling between your legs. You’re still playing with your clit when her fingers jam themselves into your mouth. You’re taken aback and gag loudly, Alexia’s eyes rolling into her head when you keen. 

Alexia fingers your mouth while you touch yourself, your fingers aching to slip into your pussy and mimic her fingers in your mouth. You can taste yourself on her fingers and that only spurs you on, your first orgasm building up hard and fast. 

She pulls her fingers away from your lips when you begin to gurgle your warning, soaking wet fingers expertly finding your pussy before slamming in to send you into your first orgasm. 

“Ale!” you moan, muscles spasming in pleasure. 

“Sí, buena chica,” Alexia praises, fingertips jabbing your sweet spot with no mercy. 

Alexia doesn’t bother to give you a little heads up, pulling away for less than a minute to prep her strap. She lubes it up and smears the rest on your asshole, pulling your thighs over hers before she’s pushing into you. 

“Taking me so well, beautiful,” she coos, thumbing softly at your swelling clit. 

“Ale,” you beg, “Ale, por favor.”

“Sí, te lo daré, cariño, I’ll give it to you.”

Give it to you she does. Her hips pound up into you, shoulders barely touching the bed. Your long manicured fingers can’t find material to hold onto. Blood rushes to your head and you can feel the world of pleasure consume you. 

Alexia bends you in half, thighs pressed tight against your chest. Her skin slaps yours, hips thrusting into your ass rough and hard. Her teeth are gritted together, eyes dark and lustrous. 

“Is this what you wanted, cariño?” 

“Fuck, yes!” 

Alexia turns you on your side, pounding right into you deeper this way. She takes a breast in her mouth, suckling hard as she fondles the other. You can barely moan, everytime you relish in a sensation she gives you a new one to drool about. 

“Hold yourself open, my pretty little slut,” Alexia leans by your ear to whisper, watching as you do as she says. She lubes her left fingers up just a touch, warming the gel up before slipping them into your pussy.

Now stuffed in two places, Alexia’s hips thrust in while her fingers pull out, repeating this sequence like a well-oiled machine. It was utterly dizzying; you were seeing stars. 

The captain, seemingly impressed by her own handiwork, now moved her freehand wherever else she could. She dragged her nails along your tummy, kneading your breasts one after the other. She gave them a few love taps that rattled them deliciously, making her eyes roll into her head just a little before they reached their final destination. 

Your neck loved Alexia’s hands. They wrapped around your throat so perfectly. Her thumb and index finger always pressed the right spot to deprive you of just enough air to give your vision a few black spots. 

“Fuck!” you choke, the tug behind your naval intensified as Alexia fucked you harder and faster. 

“Coming, my love?” 

“Can’t Ale, please–”

“Come, slut,” Alexia spat, hips pounding you into the mattress so hard the frame was shaking. 

You come and she lets go of your neck, the breath of fresh air that fills your lungs somehow intensifies your orgasm. You’re shaking and moaning her name, body trembling and twitching from the shocks. 

Alexia draws the hottest bath she can, gently climbing in with you in her arms. The steaming water soothes your aching limbs, bringing relief. 

She holds you close and leaves the softest kisses along your shoulder and neck. You giggle and settle into her arms, feeling safe and sound. 

“I missed you,” you mutter after a while, looking up at her as she smiles.

“I missed you too, princesa,” she whispers, tilting your head a little more to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, filling both your hearts with love. 

“I love you,” she whispers when she pulls away, strong arms wrapping tighter around you as the sound of more rain fills the room. 

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ PRETEND HEARTS 𖤐. — nishimura riki

↺ CONTENT: non idol+university+fake dating au, reader is female, riki and reader are roommates, heeseung and sunghoon are partners in crime, riki is kinda a loser+lover boy here, slight angst, hurt with comfort, faint mentions of insecurities, kissing scene.

↺ FROM HYE: i wanted to try writing fake dating with heeseung but uh, i ended up choosing riki instead... this has NO business being this long though... @kazuhaiku and @riekiss (thanks for proofreading bff mwah)

The moment your ears picked up the dreadful familiar footsteps approaching you was enough to set off the alarm bells in your mind. You did not bother turning around, choosing to busy yourself by scrolling through your phone as you waited for your friends to be dismissed from their class. You did not raise your head even when his shoes appeared in your sight. If anything, you desperately wished for a hole to appear and swallow you whole so you could avoid your current dilemma. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked, and you turned a deaf ear to his question. However, it seems like your ignorance only pissed him off. 

To your mixture of annoyance and disgust, Yeonjun had the audacity to reach out and grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. Goosebumps form on your skin and your hair shoots up at the skin contact. You boldly met his gaze, arching an eyebrow as you cocked your head to the side. Your seemingly scandalous position earns curious whispers from the students walking past the two of you and thankfully, some have not pulled out their phones yet. 

“Oh hello Yeonjun, I didn’t see you there?” You flashed him a smile, a smile that was anything but sweet and friendly. 

He scoffed, leaning in slightly but you did not budge, not wanting to show him you were intimidated by him. “Stop playing hard to get, (Name). Or are you doing this because this is the first time someone gives you this much attention?” 

You barked out a humorless laugh, eyes flickering to the side before back to him. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of attention and I don’t need it from the likes of you.” 

“You’re such a-” 

Cough cough. 

Yeonjun and you looked over his shoulder to see your roommate; Riki and his friends standing behind him. Riki’s eyes flickered between your faces and furrowed his eyebrows. He was not oblivious to how Yeonjun had been persistent to get you to date him, having witnessed the daily scenes of the boy chasing after you like a desperate dog. 

“I believe you were saying something?” Riki asked, taunting him to finish his sentence. 

Yeonjun clicked his tongue, moving away from you. “Never mind.” 

“I didn’t know your mother raised a coward!” Riki calls out to Yeonjun who was leaving, earning a round of sniggers from his friends. Once he disappeared from your sight, Riki turned to you, doing a quick scan and was relieved to find no physical signs of injuries. 

“You alright?” He asked, voice softening and you nodded, adjusting the strap of your bag. 

“I’m fine, thanks for stepping in, though I had that handled,” you replied. 

Riki shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You squawked, slapping his hand away and patted down your now messy hair. “Sure, (Name). Come on, we should get going to the cafeteria before it’s too late.” 

~

“You know, if he keeps bothering you, how about you do something to stop him from doing that?” Heeseung asked, once everyone had grabbed their food and settled down by their usual table. 

Riki plopped down on your right while Jake sat on your left, already reaching his hand out to steal a few of your fries. But you were quick to pull it away from his reach, eliciting a groan of protest from him. You hummed, shoving a mouthful of food into your mouth as you chewed while pondering over what he had just said. 

“And what do you have in mind?” You questioned, pointing your fork at him, not catching the secret glimpse shared between him and Sunghoon. 

“Well, for starters, you can date Riki,” Sunghoon proposed. 

The moment you heard that, you choked on your food and burst into a coughing fit. You thumped your chest while Riki sympathetically rubbed your back, in hopes of calming you down. The others however, burst out laughing at your reaction. You managed to down your water and glared at the culprits seated opposite of you. 

“Damn, I didn’t know that you dislike me that much,” your roommate teased, earning a light shove from you. 

“To put it specifically, I mean fake dating. All the two of you have to do is to pretend you’re in a romantic relationship and maybe once Yeonjun sees how lovey-dovey you two are, he might leave you alone,” Sunghoon briefly explained. 

You purse your lips, risking a glance in Riki’s direction, only to find that he was already looking at you with an expectant look on his face. “Well… when you put it that way, it does make sense but why him?” 

“I’m sorry, but is there something wrong about me?” Riki retorted, pointing at himself. 

“Yes, especially the part where you refuse to do the dishes,” you retorted and Heeseung stepped in, acting as the meditator before the two of you started squabbling amongst yourselves. 

“Both of you are roommates and you’re close with one another. If it were any of us, Yeonjun might not buy it and no offense, but you’re not my type,” Heeseung teased, only to yelp when you kicked him in the knees under the table. 

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual. I won’t want to date someone who’s horrible at League,” you cheekily replied, earning an offended gasp from Heeseung and a snort from Riki. 

“You take that back!” He demanded. 

“Well, she’s speaking the truth,” Sunghoon chips in, giving you a high-five when you wordlessly raise your hand. 

“I can’t believe everyone has turned against me…” 

~

The day of back-to-back lectures finally came to an end and you face-planted onto the couch the moment you retreated to the safety of your dorm, not bothering to remove your shoes and bag. Riki on the other hand, sighed as he closed the doors, dumping the keys in the bowl nearby and walked to your direction. 

“(Name), at least remove your shoes and bag,” he gently reprimanded you, getting to his knees to help you do it instead. 

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt your shoes being removed, making you look over your shoulder before you pushed yourself up to remove your bag. “I can do it myself, you know. I’m not a princess or anything.”

“Well, the way you act is different from what you said,” he replied, earning a huff from you as you leaned back into the couch, head tilted up to the ceiling. 

Riki moved to sit beside you, stretching his long limbs and placed his feet on the coffee table placed before the couch. You scrunch your nose, shooting him a disgusted look and he rolled his eyes, making himself comfortable and pulled out his phone. 

“And pray tell, how do I act differently then?” You asked, already regretting asking after the words slipped out of your mouth.

Your roommate smirked, shooting you a mischievous smile. “You act like a gangster- Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me!” 

Poor Riki could barely finish his sentence when you wasted no time in jumping on him, grabbing the nearest pillow and repeatedly whacking him with it. The previously quiet living room was now filled with your laughter. He shielded his face with his hands, phone slipping down from his chest to the couch but none of you paid it any mind. Riki then wasted no time in switching your position with ease. You squeaked when you landed on your back with him pinning you down against the couch. 

The last warning you received was the way his eyes twinkled with mischief before he ruthlessly tickled your sides. Your entire body was trembling as you swayed side to side, pushing Riki away but it was obvious that his strength overpowers yours, like it was nothing. Tears were already formed in the corners of your eyes and your stomach was starting to ache, due to how hard and long you were laughing to your heart’s content.

“N-No, enough! Pft, Riki, I-I swear- hahaha!” You barely managed to choke out words when your roommate was persistent with his tickling attack. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He snickered, amused with your current state but he decided to take pity and ceased his attack; much to your relief. 

You remained laying on the couch with your legs now dangling off the edge, panting as you catch your breath. Riki sat cross-legged near the edge, with a cushion resting on his lap. You were fully aware of how his eyes remained on your figure.

“I can tell you’re thinking about something. What is it?” You asked, breaking the brief silence that had engulfed you.

Riki averted his eyes, fiddling with the rings adorned on his fingers. The cold metal surfaces proved to be useful in grounding him to reality. “...I was thinking about what you’re planning to do about Yeonjun.” 

Humming, you ran a hand through your hair, hissing when your fingers got tangled in a few strands but you slowly untangled them from your hand. “I might actually listen to Sunghoon and Heeseung’s advice.” 

“You will?” Riki’s face lit up but he cleared his throat, calming himself. You chuckled at his reaction, finding him adorable. 

“At this point I’m desperate to get him off my back and if you think about it, between choosing to be in a fake relationship with you compared to dating him, I’ll rather take the first option,” you replied, oblivious to how your words made Riki feel like he was floating. 

“So, is that a yes then? Yes to being my girlfriend and having a relationship with me?” He asked, praying that you will not be able to hear how his heart was practically pounding against his chest. 

“Fake girlfriend and fake relationship. And that’s a yes from me, So I hope you’ll take good care of me, Riki,” you pushed yourself up, flashing him a grin.

“Likewise,” he returned your grin, mentally doing somersaults in his mind. 

~

Everyone’s eyes were on you the moment you stepped onto campus. To be more specific, they were looking at you and Riki’s intertwined hands. Due to Riki being a popular student, it was safe to say that his fanclub had discovered something so devastating that you could hear their hearts shattering into tiny pieces. You tried your best to ignore the chorus of whispers and murmurs heading your way, involuntarily tensing your shoulders and even looking down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Riki gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, making you look at him. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I got you,” he reassures you.

And for a moment, you wondered if he was a magician for his words seemed to have an immediate cooling effect. His words allow you to straighten your back and you face them head-on, unaware of how a certain student was observing the scene from the sidelines, fists tightly clenched with jealousy gnawing away at his heart and mind. Riki walked you to your class, showing no signs of releasing his hand. He did not care if there were students already taking videos of him. A part of you wonders if he has gotten used to people constantly staring and fawning over him. 

Eventually, you arrived at your lecture room and you mentally heaved a sigh of relief when Riki was the one to move away. You were about to enter when he stopped you, hand shooting out to grab your wrist. His action made you look at him, bemused. 

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” He smirked. 

“What am I forgetting?” You owlishly blinked your eyes. 

“You’re forgetting this,” he laughed, tugging you towards him. 

You stumbled over your feet, taken aback by the sudden force used. You would have crashed into his chest if Riki did not steadied you in the nick of time. Due to the height difference, you have to tilt your head up towards him. You hated how your heart fluttered when you saw the way he was looking at you. With nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes. 

“What on earth are you do-!?” 

Your voice dies in your throat when Riki leans down, gingerly brushing your bangs back with such tenderness that one might mistook it as love. You swore you stopped breathing for a moment when you felt him kiss your forehead. Perhaps you were overthinking, for you swore his lips lingered against your forehead longer than five seconds. He moved away, unable to hold back the laughter at the sight of your flushed ears and cheeks. 

“You’re so cute,” he teased, affectionately poking your cheeks with his index finger. 

“R-Riki, stop!” You hissed, your ears turning a darker shade of red when you noticed how some students were looking at the both of you. 

To them, they might view you as a regular couple who could not keep their hands off one another. But that was not the case. What they did not know was that everything you do was nothing more than an act, a show with you and Riki being the main lead of the performance. Riki sniggered, dropping his hand and pointed at the closed doors behind you. 

“You should get going now. Wouldn’t want the best student to be late for her first lecture, do we?” He said. 

“And I wonder whose fault is it,” you rolled your eyes, bidding him farewell and entered the lecture room, immediately locating Heeseung and Jake seated at the back. 

The two boys were waving their hands in the air, gesturing for you to sit with them and you obliged, plopping down in the empty seat between them. You already knew what they were going to ask the moment you sat down, placing your bag on your lap. 

“So, did you actually listen to Heeseung and Sunghoon’s advice?” Jake whispered, although it was barely a whisper considering how the people nearby were able to hear him loud and clear. 

You shot him a warning glare and he instinctively lowered his voice. “Yes, I did. Why are the both of you so surprised anyways?” 

They shared a glance and this time, Heeseung was the one who replied, adjusting his position when the lecturer had entered the room. “To be honest, none of us thought you would actually do it.” 

“What? Did you think I would continue letting Yeonjun follow me around like a lost puppy?” You asked, disbelief written all over your face. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jake chipped in. 

“Putting that aside, we saw the both of you outside. That was hella cringe,” Heeseung teased, playfully nudging his elbow against yours. 

Your face turned as red as a tomato when you heard that, already knowing what he was referring to. Instead of responding, you choose to busy yourself by pulling out your laptop when you see the lecturer entering the room. 

“Shut up, you and I both know that was merely an act and he doesn’t see me that way,” you replied, unaware of the knowing look Heeseung and Jake shares. 

“Sure (Name), whatever makes you happy.” 

~

The next few days passed with you and Riki maintaining the couple's facade. The more you continued, the more things you learnt about your roommate. A prime example would be finding out he has a talent for dancing. It happened when you were heading to campus after making a quick stop at a nearby cafe, only for you to feel your phone vigorously vibrating about in the left pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out and answered it, without even looking at the caller ID. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey (Name), where are you now?” 

You moved to the left when a cyclist rode past you, granting them enough space on the pathwalk for them to move past you with ease. ‘I’m heading to campus now. Why?”

You could pick up faint music coming from the other line. 

“Uh, I was wondering if you could head back to the dorms to grab my bag? I’ve forgotten to take it before leaving this morning,” Riki sheepishly answered. 

“What? And you’re only telling me this now? I’m going to be late for class,” you groaned. 

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

You were thankful that Riki was not physically there, for he would not be able see the smile you had on your face, amused with how desperate he was. “Fine, but please don’t say that ever again. You sound like a child.” 

“I’m going to let that slide since you’re doing me a huge favor. I’ll text you where to find me, thanks (Name)!” 

And just like that, he hung up. Sighing, you make a slight detour back to where the dorm is located. You entered, closing the door behind you and headed to his room without removing your shoes. You pushed the door open and it was at that moment that you were reminded of how you have never been into his room before. The first thing that piqued your interest was the Nintendo Switch resting on his table, followed by the expensive-looking PC setup sitting on his desk. 

You stepped closer to the desk, smiling when you saw three framed photographs placed on the left. One of it was with his family, taken when he managed to return home during the school break. Another was with your shared group of friends, when everyone impulsively went for an overseas trip together. The final picture however, took you by surprise. It was a picture of you when everyone was having a picnic together, celebrating the end of their final examinations last year. 

You were not sure how he had taken the picture without you knowing but you did not want to waste anymore time, not when Riki was awaiting your arrival. Eventually, you found the item you were looking for: a black bag that had his clothes. Sparing his room one final glance, you closed the door and sped walked back to campus, making a mental note to give him a good scolding once you met up with him. 

As always, there were people staring at you when you arrived. You knew they were curious to know about the identity of the bag you were carrying but you paid them no mind. True to his words, Riki had already texted you where to find him. It did not take you long to reach your destination. As you got closer, you could pick up muffled music from the other side of the closed doors. Unsure if they could hear your knocking, you were about to pull out your phone to give Riki a call when the door was opened from inside. 

“Oh, (Name)? What are you doing here?” Sunghoon asked, surprised to see you standing there. 

“Riki called and asked me to bring him his stuff,” you grudgingly replied, raising the bag. 

He laughed, pushing the door wider and gestured for you to enter. You obliged, thanking him and heaved a sigh of relief when a strong and cold gust of air kissed your face. You remained where you were, watching as four figures were moving effortlessly across the floor of the dance studio. Despite how their backs were facing you, you were able to identify your roommate, considering how he was the tallest as compared to everyone else. 

Somehow, seeing the way Riki moves with plenty of experience combined with the focused look on his face leaves you in awe. As far as you were aware, you had never seen Riki this focused, until today that is. 

“Careful there, one might think you’re actually in love with Riki,” Jake teased, entering the dancing studio after going off for a quick break. 

“What are you talking about? I told you we’re only doing this because-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. And I heard you loud and clear,” Jake interrupted, already regretting opening his mouth in the first place. 

“(Name), you’re here!” 

Jake took this chance to slip away as Riki jogged over, his hair flopping up and down reminds you of a puppy. You raised the bag, to which he gratefully accepted it. He unzips it slightly, checking the content and a satisfied smile appears on his face. He walked to the table located on the left, placing his bag down and returned to you, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

“So, what do you think?” He asked. 

“What?” 

Riki laughed. “I saw you looking at us when we were dancing earlier. You weren’t being slick at all.” 

Huffing your cheeks, you crossed your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, I should get going. I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Oh.” Riki’s expression drops for a moment but before you could point it out, he was back to his usual self. 

“I’ll see you during lunch, good luck with your class,” he grins and before you could react, he leaned in to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Ew, get a room!” Heeseung called out. 

Riki turned, flipping him off and the older man gasped, dramatically resting a hand on his chest. Their interaction made everyone except you burst out laughing. You quietly made your exit, fanning your face once you were out. You leaned against the wall, eyes looking out the window before you and sighed, running a hand through your hair. 

What’s happening to me? 

“Well well well, look who it is. Today must be my lucky day.”

Groaning, you looked to your right to see Yeonjun approaching you, with his signature infuriating smirk on his face. You made a show of rolling your eyes, ready to walk off but he was faster. Yeonjun reached out his hand, grabbing your wrist and pinned you against the wall. A pained hiss left your lips when your back hits the wall with an audible ‘thud’. Raising your free hand, you wanted to push him off but he beat you to it, also grabbing your wrist and roughly slammed it against the wall. Your face burned in pure humiliation at the scandalous position you found yourself in.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, venom evident in your voice as you glared at him, trying to hide your pounding heart. 

He chuckled. “Drop the act, princess. I know you and Riki aren’t a thing.” 

Your heart dropped when you heard his response. Your first mistake was to stare at him, disbelief written all over your face. Your second mistake was to remain silent, rendered speechless. Seeing this, Yeonjun smirked and that was when he knew you were in hot soup. He leans in to whisper into your left ear. All you could do was to press yourself further against the wall, hoping you could be swallowed up whole. 

“Anyone with eyes can tell Riki isn’t interested in you. I think you should stop acting all high and mighty just because you got the popular kid dating you. Out of everyone, he has to pick you and I pity him for that.” 

“What are you saying?” You bit back. 

Yeonjun pulled away, allowing you to see the chilling smirk on his face. “I’m saying that he only does this because he pity you.” 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?”

Both of you turned to see Riki standing outside of the dancing room. The air around him thickened with an unspoken fury. He clenched his jaw, taking in the scene— the way Yeonjun’s posture loomed over you, and how your body language screamed for space. His voice cut through the air, sharper than he intended and he marched forward, gaze locked onto Yeonjun. 

“Back off,” he demanded, the command hanging heavily in the air. 

Riki easily stepped in between the two of you, roughly shoving Yeonjun back with one hand as he protectively positioned himself in front of you, his taller figure nearly shielding you from his sight. You internally heaved a sigh of relief, lowering your wrists as you rubbed at your left wrist that were feeling slightly sore as compared to your right wrist. 

Yeonjun stumbled back, caught off-guard with the sudden force but managed to steady himself. Surprise flickered in his eyes but the cocky grin did not fade. “What’s the problem, Riki? We’re just having a little fun.” 

Riki’s fists tightened at his sides, a storm brewing within him. “That’s not fun for her. You need to get it through your head and I’ll say this once again.” 

He paused, stepping forward until he was invading Yeonjun’s personal space. The air crackled with tension with every step he took. Riki’s eyes narrowed, and the warmth that usually defined his demeanor had transformed into an icy glare.

“Stop disturbing my girlfriend,” he said, voice low and steady, but laced with a barely contained threat. “I mean it. Or else…” 

Yeonjun’s confident smirk faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Or else what?” he challenged, though there was a tremor in his voice now, a hint that he might be second-guessing his bravado. 

Riki leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a fierce whisper that only Yeonjun could hear. “Or else you’re going to find out exactly how far I’m willing to go to protect her.” 

There was a weight in his words, a promise of consequences that hung heavy in the air. The atmosphere shifted palpably, and Riki’s intensity forced Yeonjun to step back slightly, his confidence wavering. 

“What, you think this is a joke? You’re making a mistake if you think she’s just another game to play,” he pressed, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow tauntingly. 

Yeonjun glanced between Riki and you before scoffing. “Whatever man, have it your way.” 

He made sure to roughly shoved his shoulder against Riki’s before leaving, muttering a wonderful string of curses under his breath. None of you said a thing until he made a turn and his figure was completely out of your sight. Only then did your shoulders sagged with complete relief, leaning against the wall as you closed your eyes for a few seconds. Riki turned to you, silently approaching you and stopped, maintaining a respectful distance between the two of you. 

“...Are you alright?” He murmurs, looking hesitant on whether he should grab your hands or not.

His eyes trailed down your figure, pausing when he saw how you were rubbing your wrists and the look darkened slightly. You followed where his eyes were looking and when you realized where he was looking, you quickly hid them behind your back. But Riki shook his head, closing the remaining distance and gingerly grabbed your wrists, treating you as if you were a piece of fragile glass. 

“Don’t hide from me, please,” he softly pleaded, eyes softening. 

You remained silent, allowing him to examine your slightly red wrists. You pointedly ignored looking at him but from the corner of your eyes, you saw how he furrowed his eyebrows and how his lips were pressed in a line. You were tempted to just kiss him right there and then but you stopped yourself, feeling stupid for having such a thought. After all, there is no way your dear roommate will have romantic feelings for you, right? 

“... Do you want to head to the nurse’s office to have it checked out? I can accompany you,” he proposed, but you shook your head. 

“It’s fine, this isn’t that big of a deal.” 

Riki blinked, still holding onto your wrists. “But it is that big of a deal to me. I can’t stand the thought of you being injured.” 

The pure sincerity of his voice combined with the words made your breath hitched in your throat. You wanted to savor the moment but the words Yeonjun told you had already planted itself in the depths of your mind. You wordlessly nodded your head, unable to find the will in you to speak. Riki took your silence as agreement and brought you to the nurse’s office. None of you said another word during the walk to the nurse’s office. When she was done, you mumbled a quick excuse and left, ignoring Riki’s piercing gaze on your retreating figure. 

~ 

The next two to three weeks passed with you trying your best to avoid Riki as much as possible. It was already a difficult task, considering how you are practically living under the same roof as him. You had to take a drastic approach: leaving the dorm earlier than usual, taking a longer and more inconvenient way to campus and back to the dorm, taking a shower before or after him and even eating in your room. Everytime Riki opened his mouth, you were already retreating to the safety of your room, closing the door shut behind you. 

You knew your action was hurting him, judging from the pained look on his face but you could not bring yourself to look at him, not when you were already like this. Currently, you are lying on your bed with a pillow tightly hugged against your chest, your back facing the door as you absentmindedly stare at a random spot on the wall. 

Knock knock. 

“(Name), I know you’re in there. Would you please come out?” Riki’s muffled voice echoed from the other side of the door. 

Silence.

Riki kicked the door open with a loud thud, the sudden impact echoing through the room like a heavy slam. The forceful sound sent a sharp jolt through the air, startling you and you shot up from your bed, heart racing as the door rattled slightly in its frame from the force. You stared at him, rendered speechless with what he had done to your door and you were relieved to see it was not ripped from the hinges. The relief was then replaced with anger and disbelief, shooting him an incredulous look. 

“What the fuck was that for!? You would have broken my door!” You exclaimed. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I can pay for it, but that’s not the point. I’m worried about you. And it’s not just me, the others are too. Now will you be willing to tell me what’s been happening to you?” 

You gulped at the seriousness in Riki’s voice, gripping onto the pillow as if it was your final lifeline. “I’ve told you before; it’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. You hated how such a simple action made him more attractive than he already is. “(Name), stop lying to yourself. And why wouldn’t I worry about you? You’re my roommate and friend. Of course I’ll be worried about you.”

You bitterly chuckled; the noise gaining his attention. “Is that it? Am I really just a roommate and friend to you?” 

Riki paused, looking remorseful at what he had said. “Wait, I-” 

Your frustration boiled over, your voice escalating with every word. “I don’t know what to think anymore! This whole fake dating thing was supposed to be simple: just to get Yeonjun off my back. But now, it’s a mess, and I’m a mess! Because the more time we spend together, the more I realize I’m actually falling for you!”

Your hands flew to your hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. “At first, it was easy. Pretend dates, fake smiles; it was all supposed to be an act. Like, when you kissed my forehead, when you kissed my cheek and when you protected me from Yeonjun, it felt real and it’s messing with me. And then Yeonjun—” 

Your voice wavered as you recalled the conversation, a knot forming in your throat. “He said you’re only doing this because you pity me, and it's just—” 

You faltered, wrapping your arms around yourself as insecurity crept into your tone. “I feel so stupid for thinking there might be more. Like maybe you actually—” 

Before you could finish, Riki closed the distance between you in five long strides. His hands cupped your face, silencing you with a sudden, firm kiss. Your breath hitched, the warmth of his lips erasing your words and leaving your mind blank. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were bright with amusement, and he laughed softly, shaking his head. 

“You’re so stupid,” he said, still smiling, his thumb brushing over your cheeks to wipe the tears away. 

“W-What?” You stuttered.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” He murmured, eyes locked with yours, sincere and unguarded. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. This whole fake dating thing? I didn’t do it because I pitied you, I did it because it was you.” 

He continued before you had the chance to speak. 

“It’s you— your strong personality, the way you never back down. You’re always so real with me. You’re caring and gentle. You’re yourself, and you don’t care about impressing anyone, least of all me. And I fell for you because of that.” 

His hand moved to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze softening even further. “I fell for your cheerfulness, the way you light up a room without even trying. But more than anything, I fell for the way you’re just you around me. No games, no pretending. Just you. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

Riki let out a breath, as if releasing something he’d held onto for too long. “So stop thinking this was ever about pity, because it’s not. It’s always been about you.”

You stood frozen, Riki’s words sinking in like waves crashing over you, overwhelming and impossible to ignore. You had spent so long convincing herself that this was all just an act, that he couldn’t possibly feel the same way. Yet here he was, laying it all bare in front of you.

“But... why didn’t you say anything before?” You finally whispered, your voice shaky. “Why go along with this whole fake dating thing?”

Riki let out a small sigh, his hand trailing down your arm, gently taking your hand. “Because I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way,” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. 

“I figured if I could be close to you, even if it wasn’t real, it was better than nothing. I thought I could handle it, just pretending. But being with you, even in this fake setup… it made me fall even harder.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, as if seeking comfort in the touch.

“And then you started feeling things too,” he continued, his gaze locking with yours again. “I saw it—the way you’d look at me, like you were afraid it was becoming too real. And I realized I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I didn’t want to.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart pounding. “But Yeonjun—what he said… it made me doubt everything,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Riki’s expression hardened for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening protectively. “Yeonjun doesn’t know a damn thing about how I feel. I don’t care what he told you. He can say whatever he wants, but that’s not the truth. I’m here because I want to be, because I love you. Not out of pity, not out of obligation. Just because it’s you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice cracked something open inside you. The room felt smaller, quieter, like it was only the two of you.

Riki smiled softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek again, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this, you know?” His voice was soft but firm. “And I don’t want to fake it anymore.”

The silence hung between them for a moment, charged and heavy with unspoken feelings. Then, with your heart in your throat, you leaned into him, closing the space between you once more. 

“I don’t want to fake it anymore either,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

Riki’s breath hitched, and then he kissed you—soft, but full of all the unspoken emotions that had been bottled up for so long. It was real, and it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

[cottonlemonade]

Practice Makes Perfect

“Alright, quick water break and then onto round two.”

You froze in the doorway of your apartment when you heard your boyfriend’s voice carry through the corridor from somewhere near your bedroom. His determined footsteps letting you know he was about to round the corner and your heart dropped when a second set of lighter steps seemed to follow him. You clutched your bubble tea and the strap of your bag, ready to run.

“Baby! You’re home early!”, Kotarou stopped in his tracks. He was only wearing sweatpants and… a … bra? Your bra to be exact.

Behind him peaked a head of fiery hair.

“Shoyo?”

“Hey, y/n-san!”, the red head called happily, offering a small wave.

“So uhm, Bo… and I mean this with every ounce of love. But are you cheating on me right now?”

Kotarou looked appalled at the thought. “What? No! NO! Of course not!” He hurried over to give you your Welcome Home kiss. You looked past his broad shoulders to Shoyo who gave you a thumbs up.

“So… care to explain?”

“Hm? Oh! Right! Well Sho has a date tonight and he wanted to practice getting a bra off.”

“First of all, scandalous.”, you teased, “But also, Shoyo, you hooked up before. Why the need for practice? And with one of my best bras no less.”, the last words you said a bit under your breath, letting the strap snap against your boyfriend’s shoulder. He only grinned apologetically.

“The girls that took him home so far all had sports bras.”, Kotarou explained with a shrug, “None had a clasp. But this girl’s a dog walker. So the possibility of a … not… sports bra(?) is very real.”

You nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of bubble tea, fishing out the one you had picked up for Bo and handed it to him, while considering Shoyo whose cheeks got more color by the minute.

Bo skipped to the kitchen to grab a metal straw, then joined you two again in the hallway with his own drink, slurping contently. He gave you a Thank You kiss on the cheek, then wrapped his arm around your chubby waist, facing his teammate as well.

“Did you two consider putting the bra on a pillow?”

“We did but that’s not quite the same.”, Kotarou said as if that was obvious, “And let me tell you, these things are a lot harder to put on than to take off.”

“Tell me about it.” Shoyo ruffled his hair and beamed.

“Well then, go practice some more, I guess, and I’ll get dinner ready.”

“Thank you, baby.” And with yet another kiss they went back to the task at hand.

a/n: Bo just can’t get enough of you so he has a lot of different kinds of kisses.