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theostrophywife · 5 months

Text

dress.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: dress by taylor swift.

author's note: can't stop thinking about that anon that called me out on being feral for theo yet soft for my baby boy cutie pie sweetie enzo. they were so right, but can you blame me? enzo is the pretty boy. he invented baby girlism.

“How do I look?”

Beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Devastating.

Enzo blinked away the words that materialized in his mind, shaking off the thoughts that he had no business thinking about his best friend. His honey eyes darkened as you descended the winding staircase, the billowing skirt of your ball gown kissing the checkered floor of your family’s mansion.

The pretty lilac shade complimented your complexion, making you glow underneath the crystal chandelier. Every curve draped in luxurious velvet fabric, like temptation wrapped in a pretty little bow just to torment him.

“Earth to Enzo,” you teased, poking at your best friend’s shoulder with a gloved finger. “Have I lost you?”

Enzo sucked in a breath, relishing in the sight of you. “Sorry. You look…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “You look stunning, Y/N.”

Your smile nearly took his breath away. The action lit up your entire face, crinkling the corner of your eyes in the most endearing way. Enzo was entranced as you straightened his tie, pinching his cheek because you both knew that he secretly loved it.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Berkshire.” The playful tone of your voice made his heart skip a beat, the steady rhythm echoing in his ears as Enzo offered you his arm. “The girls will be envious of my handsome escort.”

“I think they’ll be more envious of that dress,” Enzo murmured softly. The smooth, low cadence of his voice flowed through you like honey. “I don’t think anyone will be able to keep their eyes off of you tonight, love.”

Including him.

The ballroom was filled to the brim with guests from the sacred and influential families, the women dressed to the nines in silk, lace, and velvet, their ears and wrists and necks dripping with diamonds. The men wore impeccably fitted suits with watches and family heirloom rings that cost more than a year’s worth of wages.

All around the room, attendees nursed their cocktails and indulged in the impressive spread of hors d'oeuvres, whispering excitedly about the grandeur and opulence of the ball your family hosted every year, but he barely picked up on their conversations. Enzo smiled and nodded politely, but his attention wasn’t on any of them.

Instead, the entirety of his focus fell on you. Enzo watched as you chatted and charmed the crowd, even going so far as gaining a slight smile from his surly uncle Lucius, who was notoriously unimpressed by anything and everything. Your best friend was entirely convinced that you could’ve charmed the feathers off of a hippogriff.

“What a delightful girl you are. Exactly the type of lady young Lorenzo should be courting.” Lucius drawled. “Draco would do well to follow his cousin’s example.”

Narcissa smiled. “I’m afraid our son is too late. These two are quite smitten with each other already.”

Neither one of you corrected the couple. There was truly no use. Despite the countless attempts at clarifying the nature of your relationship, the adults still assumed that the two of you were together. Sometimes it was just easier to play along. Enzo had no complaints. Especially not when you placed a kiss on his cheek and nodded in agreement.

“Can you blame me, Mrs. Malfoy?” You teased, winking at Enzo. “Lorenzo’s quite the catch. Anyone would be lucky to have such a perfect gentleman by their side.”

Enzo tried not to blush as Lucius and Narcissa nodded in approval. Luckily, his aunt and uncle moved along, allowing you to greet the other guests. Throughout the night, Enzo stayed by your side, chiming in when needed, refilling your drinks when you ran out, and feeding you appetizers in between breaks. The rest of his friends teased him for it, but Enzo was perfectly content with playing the part of escort.

“Mother was right. Y/N has every male in here eating out of her hand,” Draco said, looking over at you in appreciation as he took a sip of champagne. “Can’t blame them. That dress is something else. She looks proper fit.”

“You don’t stand a chance, Malfoy.” Mattheo scoffed as he popped a bacon wrapped fig into his mouth.

Theo nodded in agreement, eyes glazed over from the smoke break that he and Mattheo took in the gardens earlier. “Blondes aren’t Y/N’s type.” His mouth quirked as he glanced over at Enzo. “Isn’t that right, Berkshire?”

“You lot are insufferable,” Enzo said with an eye roll.

He glanced over the top of his champagne glass, smiling softly to himself as he watched his mum fawn over you. She often joked about taking her engagement ring out of the Gringott’s vault despite the fact that Enzo repeatedly told her that the two of you weren’t in a relationship. Along with everyone else, his parents seemed convinced that the two of you were meant to be.

“What’s the matter, cousin? Jealous that Y/N might take a liking to me?”

“She’d sooner snog a rat,” Enzo replied sarcastically.

“A ferret is close enough, isn’t it?” asked Regulus.

“Malfoy might stand a chance after all,” was Tom’s deadpan response.

Mattheo chuckled. “Good one, brother. Come on, lads. We should let Enzo get back to his date.”

With a sigh, Enzo downed his champagne glass before rejoining your side. You were in deep conversation with his parents, but broke out into a goofy grin the minute you caught sight of him.

“There’s my handsome date,” you exclaimed. “I must say, you raised quite a gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Berkshire. I couldn’t have asked for a better escort. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he looks quite handsome in a suit.”

Enzo flushed as you straightened his tie. His father smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I reckon Lorenzo gets that from me.”

“No doubt, Mr. Berkshire. All the ladies seem to think so. Perhaps I should stop hogging him to myself and give the others a chance.”

“Try as you might, Lorenzo only has eyes for you, dear.” Enzo groaned, blushing at his mum’s embarrassing statement. “What? It’s true. You two make a beautiful couple.”

Enzo was about to correct his mother for the millionth time, but you simply slipped your gloved hand through his elbow and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Berkshire. We clean up rather well, don’t we?”

You giggled as Enzo turned red in the face. Completely unaware of his desire to melt into the marble floor, his mother flashed you a pleased smile. “There’s no need for formalities. I insist that you call me Helene. You’re practically family at this point. Though I do hope my son will add you into the Berkshire brood soon enough. Speaking of which, what is your ring size, dear?”

Never in his life had Enzo felt so mortified. It was one thing to have the adults mistake you for a couple, but to have his mother imply marriage was an entirely different beast. One that Enzo had no plans of tackling tonight.

“That’s our cue for a dance. I think you’ve kept our gracious host long enough, mum.”

His mother started to protest until his father placed an arm around her shoulder. “Now, now, my love. Let the children be. Plenty of time to discuss serious matters during Y/N’s next visit, which we hope will be soon. Our grand piano has been feeling a bit neglected lately and we have missed your lovely rendition of the classics.”

“Well we certainly can’t have your Steinway sit idle for too long. I promise to come by for tea before term starts.” You kissed both of his parents on the cheek. A friendly gesture that he had never seen them engage in with any of his friends. “It’s always a pleasure, Helene and Henry. Now if you’ll excuse us, Lorenzo and I are about to put those waltz lessons to good use.”

Enzo’s father clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let this young lady get away, Lorenzo.”

The tips of Enzo’s ears went positively red as his parents departed. “Sorry about that. I’ve tried to tell them that we aren’t dating, but as you can see, it’s fallen on deaf ears.”

You grinned, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “It’s alright. I truly don’t mind. Your parents are quite charming. Clearly you inherited that trait.” You rubbed at the kiss print you left behind and giggled. “Now, I believe you promised me a dance, Mr. Berkshire.”

Enzo smiled, his arm already circling around your waist. “I always keep my promises, Ms. Y/L/N. Prepare to be swept off your feet, love.”

Time seemed to still as Enzo escorted you onto the dancefloor. You beamed at him, curtsying with a silly grin while he bowed in return. The two of you waltzed together as the live musicians played a soft and slow tune. Enzo couldn’t help but admire you as you twirled around in your pretty lilac dress. A few curls fell out from your updo, sweeping against your rosy cheeks while you fell into step with him. As he held you tightly against him, Enzo hoped to Merlin that the music was loud enough to drown out the rapid beating in his chest.

Deny it as he may, Enzo knew deep down that his heart only beat for you anyways.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Ever the gracious host, you personally said goodbye to each guest until the last person left the manor. Given the late hour, you insisted that Enzo stay the night, a request that was quickly turned into a command by your parents. They adored Enzo as much as you did, perhaps even more. Though he doubted that their affection would remain the same if they knew the filthy thoughts that plagued him every time he stayed over.

“C’mon, Enz,” you said, tugging at his hand. “Last person up the stairs has to pick up croissants in the morning!”

Enzo chuckled before breaking into a sprint. You squealed as he gained in on you, gathering your dress up in your hands while slipping your heels off and making a run for it. You nearly tripped on the taffeta, but luckily Enzo caught you around the waist and hauled you over his shoulder.

“I guess we both lose, honey.”

You giggled as Enzo marched into your room before discarding you gently on the four poster bed. He smiled as you sprawled out on the mattress and dragged him down beside you. Scooting up against the pillows, Enzo traced the initials that the two of you carved against your bedpost when you were ten.

“Do you remember the day we carved those in?”

Enzo nodded. “The summer before our first year at Hogwarts.” He smiled as he recalled the memory. “We were both so scared of being sorted into different houses, but you said that if we carved our initials together, then nothing would be able to separate us.”

“Mum and dad were furious,” you said with a chuckle. “But it was worth it. Ten years later and it still stands true. If we’re lucky, it’ll last for an eternity.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Enzo declared. “I’d still be by your side even when the carvings fade.”

You smiled softly and turned over to face him. Enzo brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, those honey eyes flickering with emotion. “Do you really think so? What about when we both get married? I don’t think your wife would appreciate me hanging around, Enz.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Enzo countered confidently.

You traced over his dimple, memorizing the feel of his skin underneath your fingertips. “How can you be so sure?” you teased.

“Because you’re the only one I could ever picture myself marrying.”

The gravity of his words settled between you. Enzo almost wished he could take it back if not for the relief that flooded his entire body now that he had spoken his true feelings out loud. After years of silence and patience, of pining and anticipating, of hands shaking from holding back from you, Enzo felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Whether or not you returned the sentiment mattered very little to him. All Enzo knew was that he loved you and he could no longer sit here and pretend that you weren’t carved into his heart and soul like a golden tattoo.

“Lorenzo,” you whispered softly. If it were anyone else, Enzo would’ve loathed hearing his full name, but the moment you said it, everything just stopped. “I don’t want you like a best friend.”

His heart stopped beating. “Do you mean that, Y/N?”

“Of course I mean it,” you affirmed. “You’re my favorite person. You’re not only my best friend, but you’re my lifeline. We’ve seen each other through the best and worst of times and somehow we haven’t grown sick of each other and I don’t think we ever will. You’re the only person I see myself marrying too, Enzo. You’re my one and only.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he whispered softly, noses brushing close. “Though it’s not nearly as long as I’ve waited to do this.”

You held your breath as Enzo leaned forward, closing the gap between you. The space that signified the boundary of your friendship was nearly nonexistent now, filled with longing looks and shaking hands. Your eyes fluttered close as soon as your lips met.

With a shaky exhale, you melted into Enzo’s arms as he clutched you close. One hand weaved around your waist while the other cupped your jaw. You sighed into the kiss, relishing the feel of his lips against yours. Enzo tasted like champagne, making you dizzy with the sweetness as he deepened the kiss. You giggled as Enzo tugged you into his lap, tracing your fingers over the initials on the headboard before tangling them in his hair.

The feel of Enzo was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. This was your best friend. You knew every scar and mole and freckle by heart, but the soft sighs and plush lips were an entirely new experience that you longed to explore.

“I wish you hadn’t waited so long,” you whispered against his lips. “We could’ve been doing this all along.”

“We have all the time in the world to make up for it, my love.” Enzo caressed your cheek with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. “Do you even know how hard it’s been to hold myself back? How many times I’ve had to physically restrain myself from kissing the breath right out of you this night alone?”

“You’re not alone in that. You look so damn good in that suit, it should honestly be considered a crime.”

Enzo chuckled as you straightened his lapel. “If this suit is a crime, then that dress would land you a cell in Azkaban. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire night.”

“Good,” you said with a cheeky smile. “I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

Those innocent honey brown eyes darkened as Enzo toyed with the strap of your dress, kissing every bit of exposed skin available to him. “Allow me to do this properly, then. Now that I have you, I intend to savor every smile, every touch, and every kiss you give me.”

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as Enzo tugged at the laces of your dress, carefully unraveling you like his own personal gift. He helped you wriggle out of the purple fabric, sliding the dress down over your body with such gentleness and care. Your lips met once more as you slid off his jacket, your fingers making quick work of the button shirt underneath as well. When both of your clothes were piled up on your bedroom floor, Enzo lifted his head up to properly look at you. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he drank in the sight before him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Enzo breathed, his voice full of awe and wonder. He tugged at the ribbons in your hair, setting your curls free.

Tenderly, Enzo laid you back on the mattress and captured your lips with his. As promised, he took his time exploring every inch of your body. Slender fingers caressed your skin, eliciting satisfied sighs while Enzo lavished you with kisses. He groaned as your fingers tangled through his hair, pulling him impossibly close until you couldn’t tell where you began and he ended.

You moved as one, the trust and care evident between you and Enzo. He knew you better than anyone. Knew all the quirks and flaws and oddities that made you you. Enzo knew how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to look at you in a way that made you feel like he truly saw you.

Enzo pressed his forehead against yours. “We don’t have to rush. I’m perfectly content to wait until you’re ready.”

It was sweet and such an incredibly Enzo thing to say. Even after waiting all this time, all he cared about was that you were comfortable.

“I think we’ve both had our fill of waiting.” You smiled up at him, cradling his jaw. He leaned into your touch like he was savoring every bit of affection he could get. “I’ve never felt more ready for anything in my life. I trust you more than I trust myself. I love you, Lorenzo Berkshire.”

The smile on Enzo’s face was blinding. It was like feeling the sunshine on your skin after years in darkness. It was golden.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Enzo confessed. “I think I’ve loved you even before I knew what love was.”

“My one and only,” you whispered, peppering kisses along his jaw. “My lifeline.”

With heartbreaking gentleness, Enzo wrapped your legs around his waist. Honey eyes latched onto yours as he hovered over you, his astute gaze flickering over your face as he eased into you. Enzo was slow and gentle, giving you time to adjust to his size and brushing your hair out of your face while lavishing you with luxurious kisses. You moaned into his mouth as his hips met yours, feeling full and content, like joining your bodies together in this way was the most natural thing in the world.

“Look at me, honey. I want to see those pretty eyes.”

Your eyes opened to the most beautiful sight. The candlelit room cast a hazy glow over everything, bathing Enzo with its soft golden light. Your chest tightened as you admired him, fingertips grazing the curve of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones, the cheeky dimples that you loved so much, the perfect aquiline nose, and the dark lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes. In the dim light, they looked like pools of honey and you felt like a fly swimming in liquid gold.

“You’re beautiful too, Enzo. Like a work of art,” you beamed as he flushed. “My pretty boy.”

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. Not unless you want this to be finished quicker than it started.”

You chuckled. “Is that so? Have I found your weakness?”

Enzo groaned, shifting his hips in a way that had you moaning underneath him. “You are my weakness, my love.”

“Yeah?” You asked, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and rolling your hips against his. “Show me how weak I make you, pretty boy.”

The precarious thread of self control that Enzo was desperately holding onto snapped. With a roll of his hips, he set a pace that had you clawing at the sheets. He chuckled darkly as you clambered for control, nails raking at his back before finding purchase in his hair. You tugged hard, desperate for more.

“Oh god, Enzo.” You moaned as he slammed into you, feeling boneless as he silenced your sounds with a filthy kiss.

“You wanted to see what you do to me?” Enzo teased, gripping your hips to hold you in place while he slid all the way out. The head of his cock barely brushed your cunt and you ached to feel all of him again. You whimpered in response as he teased you, taunted you. “You drive me fucking insane, Y/N. I think about this, every second of every day. You’re all I want. You’re all I need.”

“So have me,” you breathed. “Have all of me, Enzo.”

You groaned as Enzo slammed back in. It felt good to be full of him. It felt right. You murmured as much into his mouth, canting your hips to his as he raised your arms above your head and twined your fingers together. In that moment, there was nothing in the world but you and Enzo—the boy you loved making love to you.

Despite the lust swimming in his eyes, something softer reared from underneath the surface. A look that Enzo had given you countless times over the years. A look that was pure love and adoration. Your heart swelled as you squeezed his fingers.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” you whispered.

“Like you’re my whole world?” Enzo murmured against your lips. “You are, you know.”

You kissed him, slow and deep. “You’re mine, too.”

“Don’t take those pretty eyes off of me, honey.” Enzo said as he pushed your body to the brink of pleasure. “I want to watch you come apart for me.”

“Together?” you asked, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

“Always,” he responded.

Enzo pressed your forehead against his, slipping past the edge with you and indulging in the sweet ecstasy of your bodies fitting perfectly together. The orgasm rocked over you first and you panted into Enzo’s mouth as he watched in awe. His own pleasure took over after a few more thrusts, your name falling sweetly from his lips as he chased the high.

Neither one of you made any indication of moving. You were content feeling the full weight of Enzo’s blissed out body on top of yours, smiling to yourself as you ran your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily against your neck and cuddled closer.

Enzo took your hand and kissed your fingertips. He intertwined them through his, squeezing gently as he examined your hand.

“Four and a half.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s your ring size, isn’t it? I’ll have to tell mum. We’ll need to get her engagement ring resized.”

You chuckled. “Engagement ring? You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet. Now you want to jump to being my fiancé?”

“Well, girlfriend is certainly not strong enough to describe who you are to me,” He said, kissing your ring finger. “I prefer the love of my life. My future wife and the mother of my children. Though I suppose I’ll settle for fiancé.”

“Will you at least let me get used to calling you my boyfriend first?”

“Fine,” Enzo huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can call me your boyfriend. For now.”

“How generous of you, Mr. Berkshire.”

You grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. Enzo nuzzled his nose against yours, looking down at you with those innocent honey eyes. “I’ll show the future Mrs. Berkshire how generous I can be. Then you’ll be calling me your husband in no time.”

“I like the sound of that, pretty boy.”

#you guys don't even understand how much i adore best friend enzo friends to lovers is his trope #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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harmonysanreads · 18 days

Text

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholar should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos — he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

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dotster001 · 8 months

Note

If your still doing requests can you do a scenario where in the ghost bride event instead it’s the ghost groom and yuu is the one being captured as the bride

The Ghost Groom

Summary: Fem! Reader

CW: just like the ghost bride, the ghost groom has unrealistic expectations about what a princess is, Fem reader, reader gets kissed, but ooooh by whom?

A/N: figured this one was perfect for spooky week! I always enjoy giving the boys opportunities to be silly

One second you were resting in Ramshackle, the next a blue, and handsome, ghostly looking figure was gazing at you lovingly as you slept.

"Oh my God, is this sleep paralysis?" You whispered.

He giggled and booped your nose gently. "No silly. I'm just admiring my princess while she rests! Is there something wrong with that?"

You stiffened, and slowly creeped your hand over to hopefully wake Grim.

"Princess?" You asked nervously.

"Mhmm. I've searched so long for you. You can't blame me for just staring, right?"

"I think you are looking for someone else. I'm not a princess." Your hand finally reached Grim and you attempted to shake him awake.

He frowned. "Princess is a state of being. It's in the glint in your eyes, the quirk of your smile, your adorable furry companion, and your eccentric living quarters. Why, everything about you says, 'beautiful princess waiting for prince charming to save me!' But don't worry too much about it. Once we wed you will be a princess in title as well!"

"Huh?" You croaked out, hearing Grim groan out a confused sound, as some ghost knights approached the bed and pulled you along with them.

…..

"Headmage, the ghosts kicked us out of the school," Ace whined in Crowley's office.

"Headmage, what is going on?" Riddle asked.

"They took my sleeping spot," Leona grumbled.

"Oh, I suppose it is that time again," Crowley groaned, massaging his temples. "Every four years, on this night, the ghosts rise from the grave in search of a bride for the Ghost Prince. They'll be gone by morning. Nothing to worry about. Although," he paused thoughtfully, "usually they only camp out in Ramshackle. They don't tend to go much farther than the greenhouse. It's odd that they'd commandeer the school."

As if on cue, Grim burst into the room.

"Headmage! Some ghosts stole my henchhuman! You have to do something!"

Plan A

"I can't believe we agreed to this," Epel muttered bitterly.

The task force was made up of himself, Lilia, Vil, Silver, and Jamil. The "prettiest" members of the school.

The ones who could pretend they were women and get away with it.

"You want to save Y/N, yes? Then don't blow this, and remember your training," Vil snapped.

Epel grumbled and hiked up his skirts as he climbed a flight of stairs.

"Epel, the art of disguise is a very useful skill. It's something you can use for the rest of your life," Silver offered.

"Ah, that's my boy!" Lilia grinned, ruffling Silver's styled hair affectionately.

"I wouldn't do that, Vil might kill you," Jamil snickered.

The trip was long, and some of the task force had not walked in heels before, but they soon arrived in the dining hall.

"No, no, no! That is the wrong color! Everything must be perfect for my love and my special day!" The prince snapped at a ghost servant who was laying out a tablecloth.

And that's when they saw you. Dressed in a pearl white gown, a shimmering veil in your perfectly styled hair. You were covered in pearls and diamonds, and wearing an enormous, glowing, ring.

Oh. And you were tied down to a chair.

"Play it cool," Vil hissed to Epel, who was about to not play it cool.

Lilia stepped forward first, practically floating as he walked over to the prince in his large green ball gown.

"Your highness," he curtsied deeply, putting on a sweeter, higher pitched voice than normal. "We hope we are not too late. But we heard you were searching for a princess, and wanted to prove we were the truest princesses."

The ghost looked between you and Lilia, confusion on his face.

"But I've already picked my bride."

"They seem to be truer princesses than I am, Erik. At least give them a chance," you said hastily.

He pressed a hand to his chest in awe. "Your kindness knows no bounds! Truly, there can be no better bride than you! But to ease your heart," he turned back to Lilia. "You have permission to try and woo me."

Lilia curtsied again. "You are so kind. It is I! Princess Lilia! I can offer you a large kingdom, with many riches."

"But what is inside your heart, Princess Lilia. Do you have an animal companion?"

"I have a dragon!"

The prince gasped, and shot a bolt of blue lightning at Lilia, causing him to groan.

"A true princess must be rescued from dragons! She would never have a dragon companion!"

"Can't move," Lilia groaned. "Retreat." He hissed from his teeth, but it was too far, too late for them to escape now. Erik's eyes were on them.

"Your highness," Vil gave the most beautiful curtsy anyone had ever seen. "I have no animal companion, for my companion is my loyal hunter and bodyguard, who protects me from all the sins of the world."

"Hmm. That is very princess-like."

"This is so fucked up," you groaned.

"And you are very beautiful. Perhaps you are a true princess," he looked back at you thoughtfully, and your breath hitched. Were you about to be free?

"But Y/N is also a true princess."

"Oh please," Vil snorted. "As beautiful as she is, we all know I am the fairest."

You didn't feel as bad when Vil got struck with the blue lightning. It was well deserved, in your opinion.

"Comparing your beauty to another's is not very princess-like!"

Epel pushed Jamil forward, much to his dismay.

"Um. Your highness, I will bring you great gifts. My kingdom has," Jamil bit his lip nervously, "Jams. Lots of jams. Grape jam. Pear jam. Yam Jam."

"Yam Jam!" You tried to sound excited, hoping it would entice Erik.

"And jellies!"

"Oh!"

"And spoons! Tiny spoons! How did they get so tiny?"

You gave a cough, and Jamil froze. Then you heard, "Snake Whisper."

"You are unworthy of Y/N, and will give them to me," he said smugly.

Erik raised a brow. Then screeched. "How dare you! I am a true Prince. Of course I am worthy of Y/N!"

Blue flashed and Jamil was frozen.

"So, snake whisper doesn't affect ghosts. Got it," Jamil muttered under his breath.

"Panicked, huh?" You snickered.

"A little, yeah," he whispered back.

Epel stepped forward next, giving an unenthusiastic curtsy.

"I'm Princess Epel," was all he offered.

"You are the one of the fairest maidens I've ever seen! Almost as fair as my Y/N. Don't you agree, my princess?" You nodded enthusiastically, but shivered as you saw Epel begin to shake with rage.

"Her petite frame! Her doe eyes! Why if our daughter is half as beautiful as her, I shall be a very proud man!"

"DAG NABBIT SHUT YER FLIPPIN MOUTH!"

Erik froze, you stiffened, and Vil groaned in disappointment.

"Epel," he groaned. But the blue lightning was already flying.

"You're not a princess! You're a man! A crude man at that. You're not worthy of me, or my princess."

"COME CLOSER AN I'LL SHOW YOU EXACTLY WHAT I'M WORTHY OF!"

"Please gag him before he says something my princess shouldn't hear!" Erik cried, covering your ears, despite you having heard far worse from Epel in the past.

Once Epel was gagged, he turned to Silver. Who was, much to your dismay, asleep.

"Oh! This one must be a princess! She has a sleeping curse!"

"Maybe you should try to wake her?" You offered helpfully.

He looked at you, a tormented expression on his face.

"But I love you. And only true love's kiss can break the spell. Perhaps if I kiss you instead, our love will burst out and wake her! Minister, well begin now!"

"No! We can't begin! I, uh, I feel bad having a wedding while she's still asleep. And the dining hall isn't finished being decorated yet!" You cried. You'd been told by the ladies who dressed you "not to worry", that once you kissed Erik, you would be able to join his kingdom. His ghostly kingdom. No thanks.

You eyed Silver, hoping that the man who was typically the knight in shining armor would wake and save you. Nothing.

Erik sighed sweetly, pushing a stray strand of hair off your face.

"You're right. The wedding must be perfect. So where are my scones!" That last bit wasn't a question. It was an angry demand.

Crowley put down the mirror he'd been using to watch what the A team was doing.

"Well that was a disaster," he groaned.

"What a load of rubbish! He's literally looking for a princess from an old fashioned fairytale book! That's the only thing he'll let Y/N go for!" Ace shouted.

"It's kind of sweet, if you think about it," Deuce muttered.

"It's bullshit! No one's like that! It's an unrealistic expectation!" Ace snapped back.

"I know! I meant the part about Y/N!" Deuce snapped.

"Enough, cubs. It's obvious he has no intention of releasing Y/N. So we need a different plan," Leona said with a smirk, implying he already had a plan in mind.

"What were you thinking?" Crowley asked tiredly.

"The ghosts leave in the morning, no matter what. If they don't finish the marriage to Y/N, Y/N stays behind. So we just have to ensure the wedding can't happen."

Plan B

"Everyone understands their roles?" Leona asked.

Floyd, Ruggie, Jack, and Ortho nodded.

"Alright. Charge!" He shouted. The five slammed through the door, dead set on causing as much destruction as they could.

Leona began turning anything he could touch into sand; tables, decor, flowers, nothing was safe.

Floyd smashed every food he could get his hands on, delighted giggles leaving his mouth at regular intervals.

Jack flipped tables, and fought off the guards who attempted to stop them.

Ortho blasted various parts of the hall, having way too much fun doing it.

Ruggie snuck through the crowd to where you and the "princesses" from Plan A were. But your chair wasn't there.

"It's a trap, isn't it," he asked Jamil.

"It wasn't supposed to be," he sighed tiredly.

Ruggie heard an inhuman screech, and felt his body go numb, unable to move.

"Damn," he muttered.

"How dare you? How dare you!!!!" Erik screamed, dragging you along by a rope lead. He must have forgone the chair, and decided to just numb you like the rest.

"You're ruining my special day! Our special day! How dare you!"

He zapped Jack, then Floyd, then Leona, then Ortho. All four verbally protested.

"Shut up! Look what you've done! We'll never finish in time!"

"Initializing death ray," Ortho began.

"No! Ortho! Sevens, please no death ray!" You screamed, quickly followed by everyone else protesting.

The boy pouted, but shut down the death ray anyway.

"I suppose we'll just have to have the wedding now," the ghost groom began.

"No!" You shouted. "I mean, I think my guests and I all agree we at least need a cake, right?"

Erik squished your cheeks together, hearts in his eyes.

"Anything for you, my princess!"

Everyone sighed in relief.

Crowley put down the mirror and looked at the remnants in his office.

"Any other bright ideas?"

Rook bowed deeply, "If he is searching for a fairytale, we must play along. Oui?"

Plan C

Rook lead the march towards the dining hall, his cape and rapier complimenting his outfit nicely. He looked over at his men. The entirety of Heartslaybul. There was no one else he would rather have serve as his knights. Even if they had a hard time getting into character.

"The cape is pulling at my neck," Deuce croaked.

"Then be better!" Ace snapped.

"I will behead both of you this instant,"Riddle hissed, coming off more as mom than knight to the fair Princess.

Cater meanwhile was trying to get a selfie in his knight outfit with Trey, while Trey wanted no part of it.

"C'mon, Trey! We look too good not to post!"

"I'm too focused on the possibility of Y/N dying to look good for a photo!"

They were an unusual group of knights. But still. Rook knew they would more than serve their purpose.

They arrived at the door, but this time, there was a ghost guarding it.

"Who goes there?"

"We're the princess' knights. If you take Y/N, we have to come with." Rook gave a well practiced flourish of a bow, which was mimicked by the men of Heartslaybul.

"Ah!" The guard said. "Of course, forgive us! We should have informed you immediately!" He opened the door, and the men walked through, uninhibited.

Meanwhile…

"Mmm my back hurts. I can't stay in one position for this long anymore," Lilia groaned.

"And I'm bored," Floyd pouted.

"I'm losing out on beauty sleep. My skin will not be forgiving."

"Big brother has been trying to call me home for an hour."

Lilia smiled sweetly at Erik. "Look, forget the cake. How bout you just give her the smoocharoo?"

"What?!?" You shouted. Was Lilia selling you out?

"He seems like a good guy. You'll be fine, Shrimpy."

"I literally won't be fine, that's the whole point!" You cried. But Erik seemed to be thinking. And that wasn't good.

"You'll die, but there's a chance you'll be at the Isle of Woe! Then you have to visit big brother and I!"

"Ortho no! Not you too!"

"I mean, our guests are saying they don't need cake, my love," Erik whispered, his voice husky as he leaned in slightly.

"No!" You shouted.

"Smoocharoo. Smoocharoo." Lilia began the chant, but multiple voices quickly joined in.

The door burst open, interrupting the chant, and the kiss that was getting closer. You heaved a sigh of relief as you saw Rook and the Heartslaybul boys….all dressed like knights?

"Forgive our tardiness, your highness. Your beloved knights have finally arrived," Rook said loudly.

"Ah, yes. My knights. Good," you said, a fake grin filling your face.

"Your highness, the fact that you did not alert the princess' knights to your intentions, brings this whole arrangement into question," Riddle stepped up next the Rook, his eyes narrowed.

Erik's jaw dropped.

"Oh. You see I was so excited, I didn't…"

"You don't even have proof you can protect our Princess! Look at this room! It looks like a war happened here!" Cater gestured around as he joined the line.

"You're taking things out of context! I defended her, which is why she is still here!" Erik was beginning to get angry again.

Trey cleared his throat and stepped forward, "And what's this about no cake? Our princess deserves the finest of baked goods, which I am more than capable of providing. Do you have a kitchen nearby?"

"Yay! Trey approves of operation smoocharoo!" Ruggie shouted, leading to a couple chants of smoocharoo.

"Oh my sevens!" Ace shouted. "You all have zero dignity! No wonder you're frozen! You don't deserve to be moving with those attitudes!"

"What I meant was," Trey glared at Ace, attempting to keep more lightning at bay, "our Princess deserves the best, and I don't believe you've provided it."

They seemed to have finally gotten through to him. Until Deuce's sword belt just…fell off.

"You aren't real knights!" All five were frozen in one blast.

Rook giggled, "Ah well, we tried to save you. And the bitter defeat, and pure sorrow we will feel at your loss will fuel many a work of art!"

"Thanks Rook," you growled sarcastically.

To dig the dagger deeper into your heart, it was at that moment that the new cake arrived.

"Finally! I can be wed to my Princess!" He dragged your rope lead over to an area that had flowers arranged, and stood you in front of the minister. Funny enough, the minister was self aware and never asked for your consent.

"Then by the powers vested in me-"

"I object!" A voice cried out.

Plan D

You turned your head to see Azul, flanked by Jade and Sebek. Azul wore a crown, and was dressed in the very image of a fairytale prince. Sebek and Jade were in full armor.

"You have stolen my Princess!" Azul said authoritatively.

"Y/N's my princess!" Erik hissed, his impatience finally getting the best of him.

"I have a document right here, between the Princess and I, stating an intent to marry, and join our two kingdoms, for love of each other. You may compare the signature to that of the princess, but you'll find it's quite authentic."

Erik stared at the document in his hands, and suddenly his blue glow turned bright red, nearly blinding all of you.

"No! Y/N IS MY PRINCESS! A PIECE OF PAPER ISN'T GOING TO CHANGE THAT!" You'd only been scared of him before because his kiss meant death. Now you were just scared of him in general.

"Your highness," One of his ghost knights spoke up. "A true Prince would at least look, and honor the document, lest he becomes the villain."

Erik took a calming breath, his color going back to blue, and put on a tight smile.

"You're right. Okay, show me your contract."

Azul smiled, and handed him the golden document. He read it over, then looked at you with a heartbroken expression.

"You truly are in love with this Prince Azul? He is your fairytale Prince?"

Azul smiled smugly at you, and you fought back an eye roll as you nodded sweetly.

"Then I suppose I have to let you go," and suddenly the numbness of your body ceased, and you were able to move. You inhaled heavily.

He looked up into the windows of the dining hall. The sun was starting to rise.

He looked at you sadly, and gently cupped your cheek.

"I wish you every happiness."

And you couldn't help but believe him.

"Before I go again, my princess, er, your princess, deserves her kiss," Erik whispered. You held back a dry heave at Azul's mock bravado.

"Anything to ease your parting, your highness!" He stalked towards you, and you saw Jade snicker over his shoulder, while Sebek turned bright red.

"Princess?" Azul said with a smirk, though now that he was up close, you could see a tinge of pink over his cheeks.

"Ew, please don't," Ace muttered, but he was struck by blue lightning again.

Deciding to suck it up, you grabbed Azul by the collar, and pressed your lips to his. His eyes widened in shock, his face going bright red, but after a moment, he relaxed.

"Get it, Azul!" Floyd shouted, and he immediately separated himself from you.

"There, may you rest in comfort," Azul said, an arm around your shoulders, but his red cheeks showed no sign of fading.

"Thank you," Erik smiled softly at you, and all the ghosts faded one by one.

You and Azul stepped away from each other the second the last ghost vanished.

All the people stretched as they became unnumbed, groaning.

"Well that sucked,"Leona grumbled.

"I'll never get the image of Azul kissing Y/N out of my head," Ace moaned.

Epel gagged next to him, as he ripped off the ball gown he was wearing.

"Now what?" Vil groaned, massaging his neck.

The door slammed open.

Plan Party

"Ha! While you guys were busy, the headmage put us in charge of victory party planning!" Kalim announced, his crew following him slowly. One seemed confused, the other didn't want to be there.

"Absolute nightmare. I got the bad end today," Idia muttered as he hid behind the stacks of food Kalim had given him to carry.

Malleus looked around the venue in full confusion. Then he looked sad.

"Was there a wedding, and I wasn't invited?"

"Don't worry, Tsunotarou, I wasn't really invited either," you said bitterly. This made him smile sweetly, until he saw your outfit, making him confused again.

"But you're the one wearing the wedding gown?"

"Don't worry about it," you muttered. You turned to Kalim.

"What do you mean you were in charge of the victory party?"

"Well, Malleus and I weren't allowed to try and help, and Idia was busy, so after the headmage sent out operation fairytale prince, he told us to start preparing for the after party!"

You blinked a couple times, then yawned.

"Can we party tomorrow? I'm going to bed."

You ripped off your veil, threw it on the floor, then left the dining hall.

"Quick! Azul! Go after her!"

"Shut your mouth, Floyd!"

It was at that moment, Silver woke up. He looked around in confusion, then frowned at Lilia.

"Did we win, Father?"

"That we did my boy! That we did!"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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reidsweetener · 1 year

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i can't stop thinking about spencer reid x bimbo!reader 💓😭😭

she belongs in a sorority and when his job takes the BAU team to her college after a series of serial murders with the women bearing your specific type; the team meets this sparkling ditzy girl.

she's incredibly sweet, with her tight crop tops and flowy skirts, and tight dresses, her dazzling tennis bracelets and pink diamond necklace (because her favorite color is pink and reid bought it for her on the second month of being together!) and kitten heels!

emily and morgan were first to meet her, and they were stunned the first time because she's just so pretty and bright. and when they mistakenly ask her for her major, she tilts her head endearingly with a blank stare; “what does that mean?”

she even has the convertible to match the dollhouse, and a particular remark from morgan has her blinking stupidly; something about being a trophy, when she clearly has not won anything... well maybe, a beauty pageant.

the others were equally amused and surprised when she seems to know reid; throwing her arms around him and giving him plenty of kisses, murmuring phrases coquettishly🥺🥺💖💖💖

reid had to admit that this particular case would involve him emotionally, because the unsub was targetting women of your specific type— and he would rather eat glass than leave you to be prey to the pathetic sonofabitch.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #spencer reid x bimbo!reader

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intergalacticfop · 8 months

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Minoan Kilt

The large, structural skirt worn by Minoan women in art is instantly recognizable, and when I made my own I combined current best guesses with my own personal tastes.

My kilt shape follows the hypothesis laid out by Bernice Jones in her book Ariadne's Threads: The Construction and Significance of Clothes in the Aegean Bronze Age. She describes the shape of that of a labrys, a double-headed axe with apparent ceremonial significance in Ancient Minoan culture. This garment may be depicted in Linear-B logogram *166 + we, we-being the backwards-s-shaped squiggle in the center which identifies the piece as a garment.

See pages 336 and 341 in Marie-Louise B. Nosch, The Textile Logograms in the Linear B Tablets

Actual details on construction and materials below the cut:

Construction:

The top and bottom edges of the kilt are concave, so the sides are longer than the middle. This gives the chevron-shape seen on layered kilts in art. In addition, the curved top half makes the skirt flare out, accommodating the hips and giving more freedom of movement to the legs. My kilt measured from my waist to my anklebone at the longest point, and about 1.5 times around my waist.

I chose to make a flounced kilt, with smaller strips of fabric and trim applied to a large base piece, rather than a tiered kilt, in which multiple kilt shapes of varying length are layered one on top of the other, so you end up wrangling 3 layers of fabric around the waist. The flounced kilt saves fabric and gives you a lot more freedom with whatever trim you might want. Jones' diagram for a flounced kilt is seen below:

Unlike the version in the diagram above, I chose not to attach ties to the garment itself both because the linen I used was very heavy and I was concerned about weight, and also because folding the skirt and securing it with a separate tie worked just fine for my tastes. In total I had four flounces: 2 alternating rows each of fabric and fringe.

The vertical edges of most kilts are left plain, probably representing either the selvage or an edge otherwise finished off to prevent fraying. For my kilt, however, I ended up with a couple inches of self-fringe on either side as I adjusted the fabric to the correct width. At least three examples of kilts with fringed vertical edges are known, all three from the so-called "House of the Ladies" in Akrotiri

Photos from Wikimedia Commons. Image 1. Image 2.

The vertical edges of these kilts are reinforced with a colored band or tape, probably to keep the garment from unintentional further fraying. Accordingly, I did the same on my kilt. I also like that it gave a nice vertical diagonal to counterbalance the horizontal ones.

Materials

I tried to use mainly linen and wool, the fibers most available on Ancient Crete, but some of my trim was cotton because sometimes you just have to use what's cheap and available in the today times.

The base of my kilt is a heavy, patterned linen in what's called a diaper weave, meaning that a repeating diamond pattern is woven into the pattern itself. A lot of the Minoan textiles depicted in frescoes are characterized by repeating geometric patterns, likely woven into the fabric itself, and that was something I wanted to capture in my own piece. My linen is woven with both cream and natural colored threads. The heavy weight is important to give structure to the garment--otherwise it would be kind of limp. My linen was from Burnley & Trowbridge (shameless plug), as was the plain cotton twill tape I used to bind the top and bottom edges of the kilt, and the dark red wool twill tape I used along the vertical edges.

I bought my cotton fringe from a rug supply store. I had to search a while to find a fringe that would work for me, and I ultimately chose fringes with a woven header rather than the more common knotted one, so that it would lay flat against the kilt. I hid the woven header under a layer of cotton fringed trim from Michaels (yes, Michaels) with this really great diamond and dots pattern woven in black.

The blue layers are from a bolt of vintage wool Kimono fabric. Blue appears frequently in frescoes, likely achieved with indigo or woad dye, or even murex/mollusk dye. The fabric is printed with an imitation ikat pattern of diamonds and squares that made me think "the vibes seem right!" because quite frankly, you aren't going to get "historically accurate" Minoan textiles (which there probably isn't enough archaeological evidence to definitively describe) without, like, hand-weaving it yourself or paying someone hundreds of dollars to do it for you (and that price is if the weaver really likes you). Neither of which appealed to my desire to just make a fun, low stress project. Good enough is good enough.

The narrow trim on the bottom of the blue flounces is vintage cotton/poly woven trim. This trim, while narrow, was quite thick and stiff, which was great because it added more weight and structure to the end of my flounces since the wool fabric itself was quite thin.

The top layer is a custom tablet-woven wool trim that I commissioned from MAHTAVAhandicraft on Etsy. I imagined this as the "centerpiece" of my kilt, and I'd arrange everything to complement it.

It's a kivrim pattern, which has itself only been traced to 19th-century Anatolia, but I didn't care. The way it looks like waves reminded me of how central the sea was to life in the Ancient Aegean and Mediterranean and it captured the idea and aesthetic I was pursuing. I mean, doesn't it remind you of these dolphins?

(I like the dolphins)

The whole thing was machine sewn with the exception of hemming and adding trim to the blue flounces. If you were to look at it from the back, you'd see lots of zigzag stitches, because i wanted to be fast! and have fun! not chase some unreachable ideal of "accurate."

As for wearing it, I chose to wear it with the top part folded/rolled down over a belt, so I have a thick tube of fabric around my waist. Many images, like the frescoes above of women with fringed kilts, appear to just show the kilt being tied closed. Other images are so fragmented or stylized that it's unclear what kind of skirt closure was used. Sculptures and figurines definitely show some kind of SOMETHING around the waist, whether this is folded fabric or a kind of belt is unclear. Different art could show different things!

I think I see evidence of a continuous line from the skirt to the waist-roll on the figure on the left, found in Troas, which I think indicates some kind of skirt-folding situation. The woman on the right, found in Crete, looks more like she's wearing some kind of long coiled belt, or perhaps snakes. Who knows? I don't! For my own part, I found the combination of rolled waist + tie belt the most secure for doing things like kneeling, stomping around, and wading into rivers to rescue bees. I also liked that it gave me the bulk around the hips that gives Minoan figurines such a powerful silhouette, and proportionally gives more of an hourglass shape. If you wanted to do something more firmly grounded in the sources, stick just with the waist tie or belt, wrapped around a couple times and tied in back. If you want to be like me, just say "well we don't KNOW it didn't happen" and just do whatever you want. Have fun! Whatever happens, it should be fairly easy to move around in the kilt--this is not a restrictive garment, just a heavy one.

#minoan #minoan crete #historical costuming #bronze age #reference #resources

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solbaby7 · 6 months

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Burn Baby Burn (pt.2)

Cassian x reader

warnings: flirting, some angst, violence, maybe a little smut and a jealous Illyrian baby—i got a little carried away but i had a vision

summary: Cassian’s been busy and you come up with a plan to get his attention back—no matter how toxic your tactics may be

—

“Now remember, we just need a rough estimate of their troops.” Rhysand had already gone over the details of the mission three times, his violet eyes stern when regarding you. “The second you feel danger, you leave.” The words hold no room for defiance, hands curling around the fleshy parts of your arms as he continues, “I don’t need you being a hero, I need you to get back in one piece. That is an order.”

“Yes sir.” The term of respect sounds foreign on your tongue when regarding a male you’d looked at as family but something in his tone forces you to understand that even while a huge part of accepting the mission in the first place was just to piss off Cassian, the true danger of the situation never changed. Silly games aside, you’d be in the Autumn Court, filled with males with fiery gifts and even more heated tempers to match. Rhys had went over it twice, stressing how little regard they had for their women and for you to be twice as cautious as usual. “Get a number and get out. Should be easy enough.”

He runs an eye over you, taking in the dress Mor had chosen with a sigh. “Has Cassian seen you yet?”

“Cassian doesn’t seem to have much time for that sort of thing lately.” There’s no hiding the bite in your words or the little frown at tugs at the sides of your mouth as you run your fingers over the glimmering gems on your dress. It covered enough—the material thick and sturdy as it moulded to the shape of your breasts. It took some getting used to have so much midriff exposed, the cut out slicing at an angle from one side to another, the two pieces of fabric at your hip connecting by thin gold chains adorned in more diamonds.

It was classy enough but the sex appeal was unmistakable and while none of the important bits were exposed, the material of the dress made it seem like you were wearing nothing but your skin. Rhysand sighed, fighting the urge to buy into affairs that technically weren’t his own but the two of you were family and seeing you both fighting threw off the feel of the house. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t think you should be going if you’re only doing this to get back at him.”

“Not everything is about him, Rhys.” You take a step back, willing your anger to contain itself as you fixed yourself, a painted finger running over glossy lips and curls that Nesta had promised would last all night if you just stopped running your hands through them. “I meant what I said. One night where someone will actually notice when I walk in a room and compliment me—even if it is Eris and his stupid, disgusting mouth saying it.” Tears well in your eyes at the embarrassment that swells from the confession and with a sharp breath, it’s all gone and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes pulls across your cheeks. “I should go—I promised Nesta I’d say bye before I left.”

“Just Nesta?”

Your heels stop their clicking on the floor, the skirt of your dress held in your hands when you turn your head to look up at him. “She’s the only one who asked me to.”

You walk away before you can see the look of pity you’re sure is settling into his eyes and you don’t turn back when you walk down the hallway until you’ve reached Nesta’s room at the end of the hall and slipped inside.

She’s in bed; hair wrapped in tissue paper curlers, book nestled in her hand and you notice that she still refused to touch the fireplace, the oil lantern burning in its place to her left. “You headed out?”

You nod with a little smile, offering a little twirl when she admired your dress once more. “Right after this.”

“You visit your general yet?”

Nesta had always been good at that—prodding at sensitive topics while appearing uninterested, steely grey-blue eyes returning to her books pages as if she’d never said anything at all. There’s a pause, a gulp as you swallow and she doesn’t miss the nervous cracking of your knuckles at your sides. “No.”

“You going to?”

“I don’t see how that would be helpful.”

Finally she looks at you, a brow raised in faux confusion as she pointed a finger at you, your clothes, the hair and makeup that she and Mor had spent a little more time than necessary on—silently picking their sides without rattling the stability of their home and its structure. “Oh?” It comes out a little bored, as if you should’ve been clued in already. “Forgive me, I had just assumed that you’d understood that we didn’t take such time on you for no reason. I said get his attention—can’t do that without showing him what the hell he’s missing.”

A beat of time passes, you mouth a little wide as you look down at yourself once more before staring at the eldest Archeron sister. “Where did you learn about all of this?”

Nesta shook her book a little, her face finally morphing from its permanent cool expression to a content smirk. “I read. Now leave, I’m just getting to the good part.”

An incredulous laugh passes your mouth and it doesn’t subside until you’re in the hallway, the door not even fully closed before you’re slamming into a body much bigger than your own. Hands wrap around your waist before you fall back, profanities mixed in with apologies until you recognize that smell—those hands. The dark hair hanging at his shoulders. “My bad, I was just—“

“You’re actually going.” It comes out no louder than a whisper, hazel eyes widening at the realization, hands tightening their grip on your waist as if pure brute strength alone would be all it took to make you stay.

A few seconds pass and the house suddenly seemed too small even with its many rooms and wide hallways. All rational thought scrambles with his hands on you, warmth radiating on the skin exposed at your left hip. He’s so close, the smell of his soap, the conditioner he’d no doubt used more than necessary because he liked how soft his hair felt afterwards. You take a shuddering breath, hands on his forearms, fingers curled around, unsure if you wanted to tug him closer or push him off. “Yes, I am.”

For the first time he seems to take in your attire, the sultry eye makeup, your pouty lips covered in shiny gloss and something like anger flashed in his iris as he seemed to remember who’d you claimed you were wearing it for. The warmth on your body retracts in an instant, a sneer on his mouth and you can’t help the pang that digs into your chest.

Your arms cross over your body, insecurities on overdrive at the disgust that radiated from him the longer he stared. You blink away the tears that burn at your waterline and after a sharp breath, you square your shoulders and straighten your spine. “If you’re quite finished—“

“As a matter of fact, I’m not.” Your brow quirks at his raised voice, your hand settling on a poked out hip at his outburst. “What was that back there?” Cassian questions, tone settling down to nothing but barely a whisper as he stood before you more so resembling a young boy rather than a great commander of armies. “The things you said—were they.” He stops himself, eyes closing briefly before clearing his throat. “Did you mean it?”

“Which part?”

“Which part?” He repeats as if you’ve said something stupid, hands smacking at the sides of his thighs. “All of it. You—“ Cassian stops again, eyes squinting a little as if he’d called a council meeting in his brain and the whole sleuth of determined soldiers gathered, firing off a million different possible sentences. “You want another males attention?”

You sigh, anger beginning to subside when he spoke so softly, eyes so wide and vulnerabilities beginning to make themselves known. “I do if it gets yours.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Cassian snarled, hand waving the words away as if it were smoke in the air and you force yourself not to notice the tight fit of his sleep-shirt; sleeveless and snug, the grey color doing little to hide every dip and hard ridge of his body. The sharp ‘V’ peeking from the loose sleep pants have you sucking in a harsh breath, a blush fanning as you tear your eyes away from him.

“Is it?” You sound a little distracted, mainly because of the growing need that ensued from such proximity with the Illyrian and when you begin back down the hall and towards the foyer, Cass is hot on your heels. “I mean have you even noticed anything at all this week? I’ve been practically throwing myself on you and I’m certain you don’t even have a single clue on what I’m talking about.”

There’s no need to turn back to face him, you’re positive his silence is his filing through every second that had passed since returning home, every rejected attempt at spending a second of time together, every dejected sigh, every unreciprocated declaration of love and for a split second, you think he finally gets it when a softness settles into hazel eyes. “I am the General Commander of all armies for the Night Court.“

The ember of hope dies just as quickly as it burned to life and a snarl pulls from your throat. “Obviously, I know that.”

“—I am busy.”

“I know.”

“There’s just not enough time in the day for me to complete all of my responsibilities and then come home and baby you—“

Your steps halt to a stop, body freezing in place and the rigid line of your spine seems utterly unnatural. “Oh?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Cassian waits for the yelling, maybe some tears,braces himself for a few well placed smacks before showering you in apologies. “I really didn’t mean that.”

But the yelling never comes.

“I really should get going.” Your steps continue and this time when Cassian reaches out a hand to curl around your arm, you rip it away, steps faltering in your heels as you stumble to create distance between the two of you.

“Please—“

“Save it.” The eerie calm lacing every syllable is enough to make him flinch. “I’m busy and there’s just not enough time in the day to complete my responsibilities and baby you so just fucking save it.”

Words died on his tongue, mouth still parted with the intent to explain but you’re already gone, winnowed away without so much as a glance and Cassian can’t stop staring at the spot where you once stood. His jaw clenched when he hears a sigh emit from his right and none other than Nesta stood in the archway, tissue paper curls still tied in her hair, shoulder leaned against the wall with arms crossed over her chest as she peered at the soldier. “Idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

She scoffed, glare never faltering and if Cass was being honest, she didn’t look intimidated by him in the slightest. “You heard me then, so hear me now. Keep up what you’ve been doing—keep pushing her away, neglecting her to the point where she’s skipping meals and guzzling down half her body weight in alcohol or when she looks in a mirror and stares at herself like she’s the scum beneath your shoes—“ Nesta’s voice catches and the soldier doesn’t dare comment on it with her arms now hanging in fists of rage at her sides and the growing fire in that blue-grey stare is enough to have Cassian’s fingers twitching for the hilt of his sword. “You keep that up and I’ll show you exactly what I devoured when Hybern threw me in that Cauldron.”

—

The Autumn Court certainly knew how to throw a party and after a quick scan of the attendees, your previous nerves about your revealing clothing immediately subsides. Remaining aware is an easy feat with so much to look at, bright balls of golden flames floated in the air around the room casting their romantic shadows over the crowd.

One half of the room was dedicated to food, giant tables filled with refreshments, cheeses and breads, fresh fruits and cured meats. Giant flower arrangements beckon you closer, bending at the waist to take in the smell of blushing roses and golden azaleas. “A beauty admiring beautiful things,” A voice sounded from behind you , the arrogant aura washing over like the nights tide. “That’s not something you see very often anymore around here.”

“Eris,” You greet, a picture of professionalism as you refrain from smacking him clear across his face for what he’d done to Mor alone. Instead you offer a smile when he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I’m sure you say that to all the pretty ladies.”

“That may be true,” Eris held a glass of champagne casually between two fingers, his suit such a dark shade of red it appeared black in certain lighting, a fitting contrast with his crimson tresses. “—but you’re the only person I’ve said it to tonight. Stole my attention the second you stomped through the door.”

A blush begins to burn at your cheeks at the complement, face turning to the side and you busied your hands by stealing a champagne flute of your own when the waitresses in flowing auburn dresses glided by with trays full of drinks. “I did not stomp.”

“You did,” He insists over a gentle chuckle, staring down at you over the rim of his glass. You’re too busy skimming over the assortment of food to notice the way the eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court is taking in your figure like you’re one of those sculptures carved from marble that resided in the museum—its beauty forever persevered for others to observe. “I looked over because I thought one of the horses had wandered in.”

The laugh that emits isn’t exactly pretty, a quick bark of a thing but Eris still smiled because it was real. “Prick.”

“That’s definitely true.” The glass of champagne is finished in one gulp, shirt unbuttoned so low you could see the entirety of his firm chest flexing as he reached out a hand. “Dance with me anyway?”

Your eyes squint up at him, taking in the offered hand carefully before copying his actions and downing your glass, hand sliding into his own when you’d set the flute down. “I had a few glasses of wine before I got here,” You say without thinking. “Don’t complain if I step on your toes.”

The grin that smears his face is purely mischievous, interlocking your arm with his own, one hand resting over yours where he’d placed it on his bicep, he leads you through the thick of the crowd. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Eris spares a seconds worth of a glance towards the group of pristinely dressed people with all sorts of instruments in their hands, music changing on cue and the bouncy tune shifts into something slower—more sensual. He faces you fully, the distance between you no more than a few inches and the burning warmth of a hand that settles low on your waist is borderline unbearable. It had been so long since you’d been this close to a male—to any male other than Cassian and Baron’s eldest son seems to notice. “Just relax,” He croons, decades worth of entitlement evident in the smooth glide of his dancing, the movements fluid, second nature as if he’d done it every morning since the day he could stand sturdy on two legs. “I’ll protect you if your big, bad Illyrian soldier comes looking for you.”

Your head jerks back at the taunt, fingers gripping tighter where they’re loosely resting on his shoulders, the lingering smell of cedar wood and bonfire smoke, freshly cut grass and the nights breeze in the middle of August present on Eris’ skin. “Trust me, he won’t be.”

His brow quirks at the underlying heat in your tone, the flicker of upset in your eye that he nearly mistakes for a shadow from the burning balls of light above. “In that dress? He’d be an imbecile not to.” You squirm under the attention, unable to keep eye contact as doubt crept in. A finger curls under your chin, forcing your head up gently and the undeniable hunger in Eris’ eye burned hotter than the crackling flames of the bonfires outside. “You’re the most beautiful thing in here.”

“It’s not kind to lie.”

His tone shifts, a frown pulling at the corner of full lips and abruptly he stops dancing. “I have never claimed to be a kind man,” Eris informed, words firm and it takes little time for you to realize that this was now the first born heir of the Autumn Court addressing you. “Hundreds of thousands of soldiers suit up for battle and die by my command.”

Hundred of thousands?

That was certainly a higher number than Rhysand had anticipated after the war with Hybern.

“I have never claimed to be a kind man,” He repeats, his hand never leaving its spot on your hip, his finger still remained curled under your chin, thumb tracing against the line of your jaw. “But I am honest and you are the most beautiful thing in this room. The fact that you don’t already know that,” Eric lets out a gentle scoff, seemingly transfixed with your mouth. “—I should waltz through the Night Court and steal you from him myself.”

Your breath catches and you pray he can’t hear the hammering of your heart against your chest. Your lips part to say something back. What? You’re not yet sure but a familiar scent fills your senses before you can figure it out. “I’d say she’s just about done here.”

“Oh look,” Eris all but purred, lids going lazy as his gaze dragged from your face to the towering man behind you, wings pulled tight behind his back and swords sleuthed between them. “It seems your Illyrian did come after all—we should’ve put money on it.”

“I’m not much of a gambler.”

Cassian’s hand clamped around your arm, grip firm when he pulled you from Eris’ grasp and tucked you under his arm, wing fanning out to completely block you from the eldest son’s line of sight. “If you ever touch her again—“

Eris shrugged casually, an amused smile on those sharp features. “Someone should be. If you can’t get the job done then let her be with a male who will.”

It all happens so quickly, you being gently moved to the side before Cassian threw a punch right at Eris’ face. “Shit,” You snap into action, quick to use yourself as a shield between the soldier and the High Lords heir, hands firm on Cassian’s shoulders as you use all of your strength to push him back. It takes a second but he finally allows you to move him, retreating from the crowd of gaping citizens too drunk to comprehend what had even happened.

But Eris only laughs, blood staining his teeth as he watched you leave.

—

Rhysand is already at the front door when you return, jaw set and eyes dark in your anger as you stomp into the house, hands reaching down to rip your heels off as you pass him. “I take it, it didn’t go well.”

“It was going perfectly fine until that fucking overgrown pigeon showed up.”

The High Lord hides a laugh behind the back of his hand, face returning to its original expression at Cassian’s sharp glare. “So you got the intel.”

“Oh, I got it alright.” You snap as you bound through the office doors, throwing your shoes to the side as you immediately start for the High Lords liquor cabinet. “He’s got hundred of thousands of able bodied soldiers at his command.”

Rhys and Cass filter in behind you, shutting the door with a click and both keep a healthy distance from you. Rhysand watches the drink you pour, the harsh grip on the glass and the way you barely flinch at the eighty year old whiskey. Cassian is no better, hands shaking, blood smattered across five knuckles and chest heaving like a bull preparing for battle. “Alright, well then what happened?”

“Everything was going fine,” The words break from you like a dam, a mix of frustration and anger, embarrassment for all those eyes on you while Cassian caused a scene, the burning need that pulsed between your thighs watching the Illyrian punch at Eris like the sand filled bags they used at the war camps. “—we were just dancing and Eris was telling me everything until he showed up acting like some white knight and fucking punches him in the face.”

Rhysand’s lips purse into a straight line, violet eyes filled with disappointment when he turned to regard his brother but Cassian wasn’t having it. “His hands were all over her! I mean seriously Rhys, you should’ve been there—you’d have done the same shit if it was Ferye.”

There’s a pause, a moment where Rhys’ eye glaze over and Cassian remained rooted in place, hazel eyes never leaving his High Lords as he bared his mental walls and broadcasted the entire scene like a motion picture movie. “Oh,” The High Lord murmured, hands settling into his pockets after leaving Cassian’s mind. “Well since you’ve returned safety in one piece as promised, I’m going to go anywhere else but here.” He backs out of the room, a smug little smile on devilish features. “Keep it down though, people are sleeping.”

You scoff at him, intent on grabbing your shoe and throwing it at his head but Rhys is gone before you can even get it in your hands. “I’m going to bed.”

“Like hell you are,” Cassian stops you with an outstretched wing, arms crossed around his chest and stance rooted in place as he regards you firmly but there’s something in those hazel eyes that compels you to listen—to stay. “We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about Cass? I had orders, I followed them and you nearly ruined everything because you don’t want me but another male wanting me is somehow much worse.”

The Lord of Bloodshed raised a brow, utter confusion lacing hard features. All the fight seems to dissipate at once and he’s quick to fill the space and take the drink from your hand. “Why would you even say that? I love you, you know that.”

“Do I?” You say but it sounds more like a whine than anything remotely worth respecting and it’s pathetic how easily your body gravitates closer to his radiating warmth. “I can’t even remember the last time we’ve even talked for this long without you disappearing off.”

A stressed sound claws its way from his throat and suddenly his hands are on you. Cupping your cheeks to keep your eyes on him, sliding down to where Eris had touched near your jaw, down the length of your neck and collarbones before stopping at the dip of fabric near your chest. “You’re right.” You’re prepared to need to explain further, to plead your case to the stubborn General but the low drag of his voice catches you completely off guard.

It feels as through he’s robbed you of breath when he continues his exploration down your frame, thumb grazing over a jewel near your heaving breast and the little whimper that it pulls from you makes your head fall down. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not,” He assures, palms sliding slowly up and down the length of your arms before finding their home around your waist, long fingers splayed out at your hips and for once the warmth there feels right—comforting. “You’re right.” Cassian murmured softly as he lifts you up and sets you down on the giant work desk.

Words escape you when those hazel eyes are finally on you, large body towering over your own as he rakes in your dress and it doesn’t take much to know he can surely hear the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. “I got too caught up in the work,” A finger goes with the gem lined chains at your hip and the touch sends goosebumps down your flesh. “—forgot about my duties at home.”

There’s a pause and when you look up from where his hands are touching you, you realize he was waiting for an answer, a brow raised expectantly. You nod slowly, voice barely audible. “Right.”

“Right,” His finger trails down further, down the slit on that side and his touch is greedy when feeling the soft skin of your legs. Cassian steps closer, hips caged in by your thighs and a breathy sound passed glossy lips when you feel the hardness of him press right there. “How foolish of me.”

“Cass—“

The bottom of your dress is sliding up before you can even comprehend that this was really happening, everything you’d been hoping for all those nights you’d spend stuffing yourself in those corsets and flimsy underwears for a second of this kind of love and affection. You can’t even remember what you were arguing about when you’re gently nudged to spread out for him and then the General Commander of the Night Courts armies knelt down before you. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

“I—“ But the response get stuck when his mouth begins pressing kisses into any skin he can get his hands on, suckling gentle marks on the inner parts of your thighs until you can feel his breath fanning over the flimsy pair of underwear covering you. “Fuck—I can’t think.”

“I’m sorry baby,” He croons and it’s supposed to be soothing but with his hands all over, his mouth so near to the place where you’d needed him the most for weeks now—your body is on overdrive, squirming and desperate for a breath of air that isn’t laced with Cassian’s seductive words and eyes that were telling you everything he planned to do to you before he’d actually done it. “Such a pretty thing like you should never have to wait so long to feel good. Could you ever forgive me?” It comes out so soft, almost patronizing when he pulls your undergarments to the side and pressed a kiss to your weeping cunt.

A string of profanities tumble past your mouth and your hands are grasping for purchase at your sides to brace yourself but you can’t focus and every single inch of your body felt like it was being kissed by lightening. “Cassian, please.”

“Don’t beg me baby,” He’s not even looking at you anymore, too focused on running his fingers through the sloppy mess between your thighs. “Command it—I’m at your mercy.”

The words pull something out of you, a moan that can’t be contained and your hand digs into thick dark hair to guide his face back to your pussy, voice cracking with want when you pant out, “Show how sorry you are and don’t stop until I tell you.”

Cassian’s tongue is lapping at your dripping sex before you can even finish your sentence, words replaced by broken moans as he fucked you with his tongue like those sweet ice creams Elaine always had in the freezer. It’s instinctual the way your hips buck up into his mouth, legs shaky and toes curling around the edge of the desk as that tight coil in your belly grew tighter. He only groans when you cum on his tongue, fingers breaching past your clenching hole while he worked you through it.

Nothing can tame the ravenous moans that emerge, breathless gasps and hands that rip the dress up higher just to watch him work. “Cass,” His name breaks on your tongue, head thrown back and the gravely groan that rumbles through his chest is enough for you to begin to pull away; legs too shaky and body too boneless to hold yourself up but the grip around your waist is too tight. “Fuck, I can’t—“

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hear you or maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck because once he’s started he really wouldn’t stop and you worried that if he’d ripped another orgasm from you so soon, you’d pass out. “Cass, please.” Your legs won’t stop moving, toes spreading and curling at his shoulders and you suck in a greedy breath. “Need your cock—I want it Cass please.”

His movements slow to a halt, fingers retreating, mouth dripping and chin glistening when he stands to his full height, wings spread out behind as stiff as the fat cock straining under his fighting leathers. “That’s all you had to say.” Cassian doesn’t even bother fully taking them off, just undoing the buckle and sliding it down enough to fish out his length and tap it gently between your thighs. “I really am sorry, you know.” He confesses, his cock sliding between your slick lips and when the thick head of his tip catches your clit your eyes flutter shut. “So, so fucking sorry.”

The emotion in his voice makes you chin wobble a little and you push away the need to say more when his tip teases your entrance. “I know.” Your hand raised to caress his cheek, to tuck back the dark strands of hair that hang hear his shoulders and the your comforting tone shifts into something different—slower and filled with need as you spread your legs wide, dress sliding from your shoulders and neither of you move to pull it away from where it bunches at your middle. “But, if you fuck me real good, I might just forgive you.”

A glint shines in those hazel eyes. “Is that an order?”

Your hands brace yourself on his neck, grin matching his own. “It’s a command, General.”

Taglist:

@justdreamstars @star611 @wallacewillow0773638 @amara-moonlight @beezusvreeland @aroseinvelaris @naturakaashi

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #cassian #cassian acotar #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian smut #cassian angst #nesta archeron #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #feyre archeron #acotar x reader smut

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rupymerwar · 3 months

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Diamond Skirt for Women Redefining Women's Clothing in Canada

Introduction:

In the realm of women's fashion, certain pieces transcend trends, embodying timeless elegance and sophistication. One such gem is the Diamond Skirt from Pure Collection. In this blog post, we delve into the allure of this exquisite garment, its unique features, and why it's a must-have in every fashion-forward woman's wardrobe in Canada.

I. A Sparkling Addition to Women's Fashion: Introducing the Diamond Skirt

A. Crafting Beauty: The Essence of Diamond Skirts for Women

Elegance meets versatility in the Diamond Skirt. Explore how this stunning piece seamlessly transitions from daytime chic to evening glamour, making it a wardrobe essential for women of discerning taste.

B. Unveiling the Pure Collection: Curating Quality Women's Clothing in Canada

Discover the ethos behind Pure Collection, a brand committed to crafting premium garments that epitomize sophistication and style. Learn why their dedication to quality makes them a beacon in the world of women's fashion in Canada.

II. The Allure of the Diamond Skirt: Features That Shine

A. Diamond-Infused Design: A Touch of Luxury

Dive into the intricate design details of the Diamond Skirt. From its flattering silhouette to the exquisite craftsmanship, every aspect reflects Pure Collection's commitment to excellence.

B. Versatility Redefined: Styling Possibilities for Every Occasion

Uncover the endless styling possibilities offered by the Diamond Skirt. Whether paired with a crisp blouse for a professional look or with a sequined top for a night out, this skirt effortlessly elevates any ensemble.

III. Women's Clothing in Canada: Embracing Timeless Fashion

A. Canadian Fashion Landscape: A Melting Pot of Style

Explore the vibrant fashion scene in Canada, where diverse influences converge to create a tapestry of sartorial expression. Learn how the Diamond Skirt from Pure Collection seamlessly integrates into this dynamic landscape.

B. Quality Meets Comfort: The Importance of Women's Clothing in Canada

In a country known for its varying climates, the significance of quality fabrics cannot be overstated. Discover how Pure Collection prioritizes comfort without compromising on style, making their garments ideal for Canadian women.

IV. Styling Inspiration: Elevating Your Look with the Diamond Skirt

A. Effortless Elegance: Daytime Chic

Unlock the secrets to achieving a polished daytime look with the Diamond Skirt. From pairing it with a classic knit sweater to accessorizing with statement jewelry, discover how to exude sophistication effortlessly.

B. Glamorous Evenings: Nighttime Glamour

Transform your outfit from day to night with the Diamond Skirt. Explore glamorous styling options that ensure you stand out at any soirée, from sleek blazers to shimmering tops.

V. From Runway to Real Life: Testimonials from Fashion Enthusiasts

A. Real Women, Real Style: The Impact of the Diamond Skirt

Gain insight into the experiences of women who have embraced the elegance of the Diamond Skirt. Hear firsthand accounts of how this garment has become a staple in their wardrobes, effortlessly enhancing their style quotient.

B. Influencers Speak: Endorsements from Fashion Influencers

Discover the influence of fashion bloggers and influencers who have fallen in love with the Diamond Skirt. Explore their styling tips and see how they incorporate this timeless piece into their signature looks.

VI. Making the Diamond Skirt Your Own: Shopping Tips and Recommendations

A. Finding Your Perfect Fit: Sizing and Styling Advice

Navigate the world of online shopping with confidence, armed with essential tips for finding the perfect Diamond Skirt. From understanding sizing charts to exploring styling guides, ensure your shopping experience is seamless.

B. Elevate Your Wardrobe: The Timeless Appeal of the Diamond Skirt

Invest in a garment that transcends seasons and trends. Learn why the Diamond Skirt For Women is a timeless investment piece that promises to add a touch of glamour to your wardrobe for years to come.

Conclusion: Embrace Elegance with the Diamond Skirt from Pure Collection

In conclusion, the Diamond Skirt from Pure Collection epitomizes timeless elegance and sophistication. As a staple in women's fashion in Canada, it offers versatility, quality, and undeniable allure. Elevate your style quotient and make a statement with this exquisite piece that shines bright in every setting.

#Diamond Skirt for women #Diamond Skirt #women's fashion in Canada #luxury designer clothes for women #women's clothing in Canada #designer gold skirt #Long Skirts For Women

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inkwell-intermission · 5 months

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skirt and debutante toxic girl yaoi? evil yuri? its something

#distant debutante #strident skirt #homestuck intermission #hs oc #diamonds droog #spades slick #genderbend #ssdd #hs intermission #t4t evil bisexual women. yea

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thexfridax · 3 months

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D.E.B.S. at 20: a Queer Cult Classic

Bessie Yuill Photo: Sundance/WireImage

There is a secret film hidden within the shadowy sapphic corners of Letterboxd. Some call it escapist trash, some call it an underrated cult classic, fools call it a male fantasy. It calls itself D.E.B.S. As other early-2000s chick flicks like Charlie’s Angels and St. Trinian’s have been reevaluated and embraced for their candy-floss aesthetics and campy wit over the years, the lesbian community was quietly reclaiming its own equivalent with 2004’s D.E.B.S.

The precursor to contemporary high-concept lesbian films like Bottoms, the spy flick is filled with something that queer female moviegoers still often yearn for: fun. That includes Jordana Brewster and her era-defying eyebrows as the impeccably named supervillain Lucy Diamond, John Woo–style fight scenes that parody the action genre in the same way as Charlie’s Angels, and a cheerfully cheap aesthetic where spies run around in plaid schoolgirl skirts.

D.E.B.S. was written, directed, and edited by filmmaker Angela Robinson. While “unapologetically queer” might be an overused phrase, it does apply neatly to Robinson. The Chicago-born director’s first project was a short film called Chickula: Teenage Vampire, calling on the long history of vampiric queer women that began with 1872’s Carmilla.

Her love of playing with genre led her to later put a lesbian spin on the movie musical by writing the underappreciated Girltrash: All Night Long and exploring polyamory in a period biopic about the creators of Wonder Woman, Professor Marston and the Wonder Women. On the small screen, she also burnished her lesbian credentials by working on several episodes of The L Word.

When D.E.B.S. started life as a short film, Robinson described it as “a story about a trio of superspies who are all chicks. I love all the comic-book characters: Charlie’s Angels, Batman, Josie & the Pussycats … But I always wanted them to be gay and they never were, so I wrote my own.” Success at Sundance led to Sony snatching the short up and deciding that D.E.B.S. should be a full-length feature.

Two decades later, the joy of this movie lies in the details. The tone is immediately set by a gravelly voice-over telling us that there is a secret test hidden within the SAT to recruit young female superspies (and establishing that, like Bottoms, this is a film aware of genre archetypes and willing to push believability). Our main character Amy (Sara Foster) is an academic overachiever — like many lesbians overcompensating for their perceived failure to live up to social norms. Her perfect score on the secret SAT test makes it even more scandalous when she falls for the aforementioned supervillain Lucy Diamond.

Queer friend groups may delight over the nostalgic frosty eye shadow and lip gloss worn by the D.E.B.S. (which stands for “discipline, energy, beauty, strength,” naturally) at all times. Flip phones, CGI holographic screens, and Goldfrapp’s appearance on the soundtrack will also remind you that you’re watching a film made in the early 2000s. And many will squeal when they spot Holland Taylor, over a decade before she came out, as the academy’s head.

Admittedly, the special effects are goofy enough to cross over into comedy, especially when our girls are abseiling into a restaurant or climbing walls with plungers, and the lighting could be charitably described as resembling teen soap operas of that era. But the chemistry between Amy and Lucy is crackling enough that YouTube compilations of their scenes have racked up hundreds of thousands of views online. Their fun enemies-to-lovers plotline begins with the pair pointing guns at each other and quickly progresses to a whirlwind romance (the other D.E.B.S. think Amy’s been kidnapped and launch a national manhunt, just as many friend groups have had to organize rescue missions for lesbians on weeklong first dates).

You could argue that espionage serves as a metaphor for the closet and that Amy is such an effective spy because she’s used to lying to herself about her sexuality. But that almost seems like too much weight to put on this meringue confection of a genre spoof: Its campiness liberates the characters to inhabit a fun, exaggerated universe with no serious homophobia or consequences. Guns are used, but the so-called superspies have such consistently terrible aim that there are no real casualties. And Lucy Diamond’s supposedly nefarious crimes are all reversible — the murders pinned on her are revealed to be misunderstandings, and she returns all of her stolen goods in order to win Amy back.

When this live-action Totally Spies with a lesbian twist debuted, it only made $97,000 and was dismissed by critics. But there were enough moviegoing gays impressed by its snappy dialogue, fun romance, and stunning supporting cast (including Meagan Good, Jimmi Simpson, and Devon Aoki with a French accent) for its reputation to grow online over time. In forums and YouTube comment sections, young girls were asking, “Are there any lesbian films where they just fall in love and have fun and don’t die at the end?” Their answer was D.E.B.S.

#D.E.B.S.#2004 #Angela Robinson #LGBTQ+#Film #Queer joy #Criminally underrated #Cult classic #How is it #already 20 yrs later

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

foot locker manager!sukuna x executive black!fem reader

content warning: banter, reader is kind of bougie, sexual tension, finger sucking, oral/fingering, hate fucking, panty stuffing, throat training, cumshot, pet names (miss, sweetheart, baby), Sukuna has an accent (he gives me Houston idc 😫)

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

sukuna, who had been working within the mall for a few years now, had worked his way up to manager of the Foot Locker within it.

sukuna, who never took life too seriously, applied the same approach to his leadership style. His store was by far the most fun in the district. Always blasting music..bumping everything from Moneybagg to DMX (and trust, he knew every word).

everybody wanted to shop at his location. The men saw him as their homeboy; talking about basketball and women as he helped them find the perfect pair shoes to compliment their fit. And the ladies because the handsome, hilarious manager makes them smile. Greeting them with a ‘miss’ or calling them ‘gorgeous’. Smooth and fast talking, laying the charm on thick.

helping single moms find their babies the perfect shoes or the kid going to state championships the perfect basketball sneaker.

“Little man starts second grade this year. We gotta have him looking right.” “You’re going to state this year, bruh. Can’t be playing on worn out shoes. Trust me, did that and almost threw the whole tournament for us. I’ll use my discount, don’t even worry about it, lil bro.”

sukuna, who was always laced; Diamond stud earrings, a gold watch, matching necklace and the latest sneakers. Tattoos littering his muscular forearms and chest. Not to mention his signature Dior scent. Looking good and smelling even better. Any girl that he had come in contact with instantly folded at the slightest bit of flirtation. All the Sephora and Victoria’s Secret Workers were in love.

“Good morning, ladies.” “Girl, that’s Ryo I was telling you about. He fine ain’t he?”

every woman except the newest regional manager, (y/n) (l/n). Who was notorious for your no nonsense attitude and authoritative style was shocked to see how he ran his store and even more so how he greeted you as if you weren’t his boss.

“How we doing, miss? Can I help you find sum’?” “Yes, the manager. Ryomen Sukuna? Is he the one who runs this location?” “You’re in luck, baby. You’re looking at him.”

sukuna, who carried on with business as usual, watched you give glances and eye tolls as you jotted down notes on your clipboard. Strutting around in that short pencil skirt, tight shirt and tall heels. Wet and wavy flowing down your back and face done up. He hadn’t seen a bitch as bad as you in a long time, if ever.

sukuna, who couldn’t help but to stare and ogle as you followed him around the store. Completely puzzled by how someone so fine could be so damn mean..listening to you spout off orders about how this shelf should be organized and how that display was against regulation. And especially how the music was distasteful.

“No disrespect, miss. But I run this store so let me do my job and stay out of the way. I do the best numbers in the district every month, I don’t see the problem.” “You won’t be for long if I have anything to do with it. This is a business, Mr. Sukuna. Not a nightclub.”

the week went on with you monitoring the store and making notations for final review. And after almost seven days together, you were at odds and each others throats.

(Y/N), who was taking notes and auditing in the office during closing when you were interrupted by an irate Ryomen.

“Yes, Mr. Sukuna. Can I help you?”

sukuna, who had spent years building a repertoire with his customers, was upset that a lot of loyal buyers refused to come back until the ‘mean bitch’ was gone.

“You’re ruining my store, that’s what! When the hell are you leaving?” “Correction, I’m fixing this mess and you better be grateful because corporate is two seconds from getting your ass out of here.”

the two of you got into a bit of a quarrel, resulting in rising tensions..in more ways than one!

sukuna, who had you cornered against the desk couldn’t help but to laugh at the stark difference in your height. Especially when you began to rant and rave about how unprofessional he was.

sukuna, who had seen your type before and knew exactly what you needed to quell that horrible temper, ran a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up mid sentence. Causing you to stutter over your words and become flustered.

“Why don’t we stop all of this fighting and settle it then? Tell the truth..you don’t really want me fired, do you?”

sukuna, who puts that charm to good use by mumbling into the crook of your neck..moving his hands up your body and smirking against your ear. Seeing as clear as day how much you liked it.

“What are you trying to do, bribe me?” “Bribing only works if I want something out of it. I’m just tryna’ make you feel good, sweetheart.”

sukuna, pulling you into a deep kiss, shoves his fingers into your panties and works you around on the tip of his digits as the two of you make out. Making certain that the door was bolted and the store was empty so that no one could disturb him or what he was about to do.

sukana, who had you exactly where he wanted, sets you atop his desk, pulling your skirt down and panties to the side. Only after you got him out of his shirt; admiring that sexy body and countless tattoos..along with the third leg he was hiding behind his work pants. Playing with it as he kneels down to devour your pussy. Working his thick fingers around in that juicy cunt, lapping up juices and letting them dribble down his tongue.

“Oh fuck…”

sukuna, who lets you suck his fingers clean as he slides inside of you, starting off with slow thrusts because he knew you couldn’t take it all at once. Watching it press into your skin.

sukuna, who had a week’s worth of tension and lust built up took out every bit of his frustration on you..pounding your shit into oblivion.

“Ah shit! Right there, Ryo..fuck that pussy. Take it!” “That’s it..that’s why you need, baby. That lil’ attitude fucked out of you. Some of that good dick, isn’t that right?”

sukuna, amazed by how creamy you got for him only a couple strokes in couldn’t restrain himself or his strokes. Making you tug your own panties between your teeth and bite down to withstand it as he folded your legs up.

sukuna, who had enough of your bitching, decided to put you on your knees and fuck your throat. “Much better use for that pretty mouth, don’t you think?”

making you touch his abs with his forehead by the time he finished.

sukuna, unable to hold back, painted your face and titties with a warm stream of nut, releasing loud groans with it..really loving when you proudly put it on display with your tongue out and a smile.

sukuna, who kisses you after filling your mouth up, knows that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his job or you after this. Knowing you’ll keep the dirty little secret as long as you can come back for another ‘inspection’..anytime you’d like.

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blingblong55 · 8 months

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Obedient thing-Alejandro Vargas NSFW

Based on a request: Pet play with Alejandro 👀 --- F!Reader, MDNI, smut, 18+, pet play, dom!Alejandro, Sub!reader, rough!sex --- A/N: not too smutty but hope you like it and its an HC

Absolute fan of you riding his thigh as he keeps you collared to the leash he wraps around his calloused hands.

Can't convince me this man doesn't occasionally put you on a naughty step when you don't wear the pink panties he commands you to wear

He loves to have you sit on his lap when the men of his team are around and likes to parade you around like the pretty pup you are.

One time he had to bend you over his lap and choke you by the pink diamond collar because you were too needy that day

Another time he made you cry whilst slapping your ass over and over because you played with yourself without his permission.

He likes to breed you, cum inside your pretty cunt and whisper how pretty you'll look with a belly of his kids

Makes you wear tight dresses when out so everyone can see the bite marks on your thighs.

He makes you wait on your knees for him by the door or at times he makes you stick your tongue out whilst on your knees so he can cum in your mouth.

Your collar has 'Princesa' on it or if you have been naughty he takes it off your neck and denies all your pleas.

He hates to see his pup cry so he rewards those needy tears with kisses and cuddles.

When you are sick though, you are the centre of his universe, never lets you out of his sight and takes the collar off so he can kiss your neck and cuddle you.

Best believe that there are days when he makes you crawl around the house for him. After all only good girls listen to his every instruction.

Always makes you understand that you are his and his only when he makes you ride him.

No one can tell me that this man's favourite position isn't cowgirl. He loves to watch you play with your tits as you ride him.

Your ass has his mark mainly because when he takes you to the beach, all men and women know that you are owned by someone.

As much as he loves to fuck you senselessly if his pretty pet uses her safeword, this man is the most gentle human ever!

One time he made you scream out his name whilst he spanked you and also made you kiss him saying how much of a dirty slut you were.

It's rare, but he LOVES to make you wear a skirt and no panties on and wants to know that if you were washing the dishes, he can bend you over and fuck you from behind.

Not once has he ever gone over the board, he knows what triggers you and what are your turn-offs and I best believe he will never ever touch those subjects.

"Say it, mi amor, say who owns you." his fat cock deep inside your drenched cunt.

Fucking him has always been the best, that's why at the moment you are getting fingered and thrown around the bed. "I said, Dont. Fucking. Disobey. Me." he bites your inner thigh, your pink collar on the ground, your ass all ready and raw. His spit is already mixed within your cunt. You cry and beg. "You know you can stop it, you fucking whore," he chokes you with his bare hands, his cock now back inside of you. Your drool all over his hands and face. Mascara-stained tears smeared on your face. The pretty skirt and shirt you wore ripped and on the floor. All your holes getting abused by his meaty cock.

Tags: @liyanahelena @alxexhearts @saoirse06 @simpforfic @warningofeve

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moris-auri · 10 months

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Diamonds on the water

Summary: As one of Queen Alicent's ladies, she went undetected, a shadow at the back of the Green Queen. Most of the time. That is until she caught the eye of the Queen’s One-Eyed son.

What happened after, well no one would ever truly know, would they?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x unnamed

Word count: 4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+, oral (m receiving), smut, slight age difference, sub!Aemond, minor spit kink, praise kink, overstim, teasing, fingering, use of she/her, angst, spoilers for Fire and Blood (A Song of Ice and Fire)

A/N; just a little something i came up with at 4 am, and i hope whoever reads it likes it :)

The sun began to lower, dragging a slow trail down the sky as it was obscured behind the clouds, but not before it cast a glow onto the stones, rising just far up enough to catch on the Queen’s rich auburn hair, igniting the curls into a halo that framed her face.

Alicent let out a sigh of relief, the tension plaguing her fading bit by bit. “You have a healer’s hands," she said gratefully, the furrowed lines of her face smoothing as her eyes closed, a deeper sigh leaving her mouth.

She had quickly risen to the coveted position of being the Queen’s confidant and main handmaid after Talya had vanished in the dead of night. Her past was of little consequence in this place, and despite the curiosity of the other servants, she intended to keep it that way.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, placing the bottle of scented oil back down after rubbing it into her temples and stepping away. Alicent smiled at her, brief and half-distracted, as she was more often than not, ruling the kingdom in her ailing husband’s stead. "Is that all, my Queen?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, thank you, my dear. You may go." Rising from the chair, Alicent Hightower nodded, that same distant smile on her mouth.

“Of course, Your Grace.” She bowed her head, snuffing all but one candle on her way out. She had barely taken a step or two past the door when the faint taps of the heel of a boot sounded behind her.

"Wait," a voice rang out behind her. Her skin prickled as she froze, skirts twisting around her legs as she spun around, eyes alighting on the tall figure of the Queen’s second son.

“Prince Aemond,” she acknowledged, brow furrowing, curious as to what he was doing out here at this hour, more often than not breaking his fast with his mother, before or after he trained with Ser Criston.

Anxiousness slithered up her throat, knowing full well what happened if someone were to stumble across them. The knowledge that despite her status as the Queen’s lady, her word was nothing compared to his. The scores of other serving women who had left, all after having an unfortunate encounter with the Queen's eldest son proof of this.

His good eye focused on her, unsettling enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“You are attending my mother late,” his voice reverberated off the stone walls as he spoke quietly. “Is she well?” She nodded, glancing backwards.

"She is," she said, carefully keeping her voice low. He hummed in response, casting his eye over her head as he scanned the corridor behind her.

She stiffened as his eye locked on her once more, the previously impassive expression he seemed to wear day in and day out changing to something a hairsbreadth more smug.

Her uneasiness returned the longer he stayed silent, searching her face for something. She blinked in surprise as instead of speaking, he slid past her, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, wafting under her nose as his arm brushed hers, letting out a sigh of relief as she watched him slink into his mother’s chambers.

A day passed. Then two, her days a loop of the same over and over, their encounter slipping from her mind as she attended to the Queen.

The ratty, worn book slithered from her grasp, falling to the side as her head jolted, a pain forming in her neck, gaze fixed on the door, another rap sounding, a low muffled voice slipping under the bottom. She was thankful for the lateness, the darkness obscuring the color in her cheeks as the guard led her through the empty corridors, the directions he took as familiar to her as the back of her hand.

Dread began to coil in her, settling like a stone low in her stomach. She didn’t look twice at the nameless guard in Targaryen heraldry as she stepped past him into the bedchamber, the lock of the door as loud as thunder as it closed behind her.

"You summoned me," she said flatly.

His head turned towards her as he let out a hum in the back of his throat but made no move to stand, turning his eye back on the flames dancing in the hearth, “I did.”

“At the Hour of the Bat,” she retorted, the tension in her back loosening slightly as the fear of discovery lessened. "Could it not wait?'

"No," he said, letting out another low noise. An amused twist formed on his lips, fingers spread wide on the pages of the book balanced on his leg.

Her ire grew, his silence only making her more agitated. She clasped her hands behind her, eyes moving around his chamber curiously. It was richly decorated, the walls covered by tapestry after tapestry, all of them having a dragon somewhere. Bookshelves sat along one wall, filled with the spines of books in a multitude of darker colors. Her eyes flicked lastly to his desk, situated halfway under one of the wide windows, the full moon illuminating the items scattered across the surface.

“What do you want, my Prince?” she gritted out, subtly shifting on the balls of her feet.

“I have a request,” he finally spoke, his tone short and clipped. "If you would hear it," he set his book to the side, unfolding himself as he stood.

She watched as he moved closer, a gleam in her eyes, feeling like a cat did after trapping a mouse underfoot. Her eyes slid over him, taking in the painstakingly carved dragons pinned to the high collar of his tunic, going lower and lower till they fell on his boots, just as richly made as the rest of his clothing.

“Oh?”

He swallowed, drumming his fingers against his legs, a flicker of something igniting in his eye. Self-doubt, most like.

"I know of the acts," he started, drawing her attention back to his face. “Between a man and woman, but-”

"But not the act itself,” she finished, wariness returning. “You want to learn," she said calmly, keeping her expression blank, “And you want me to teach you.”

A small part of her, one that she had pushed and buried in the deepest recesses rose again, her shame clashing with her pride and her disgust battling with her curiosity.

“Yes.”

Her face betrayed nothing of the thoughts whirling inside her head, knowing full well the consequences, “My position-”

“Will not be affected,” he assured solemnly.

Her eyes darted over his face, not believing him for a second.

“Of course,” she swallowed, moving the few quick steps needed to reach the jug of wine that sat on the table situated in the corner, pouring the dark liquid into two separate cups, "Tell me,” she said as she handed one to him, her fingers brushing his, “What do you know of a woman's pleasure?" her gaze centered on his face, studying him.

“Very little,” he admitted stiffly, biting his cheek. He clenched the cup tighter, knuckles going white around the base of it.

He didn't lift his head, eye focused on the contents swirling in his cup.

"It is an art, the pleasure a woman can bring to a man. And a man to a woman," she murmured, letting out a low hum as she reached out to run her fingers over his hair, the firelight outlining him in bright tones of yellow and orange and red.

“You only have to know where to look. What books to leaf through,” she dragged her hand down the length of his arm, the leather of his tunic soft and well worn and supple under her palm. The warm tones only added to his almost otherworldly beauty in a way she was wholly unaccustomed to. His bright silver hair draped over his shoulders, pale as snow against the black of his overcoat and a sole violet eye that tracked her movements with an unnerving, almost predatory precision.

His eye widened, a flush rising along the ridge of his cheekbones, disappearing underneath his collar.

"I've no taste for depravity-" his sharp protest faded when she nipped at the shell of his ear, slowly unwinding his belt from around his slim hips.

"Is that what you think it is? Depravity and sin and lust?" She burst into laughter, unable to help herself.

He clearly was not amused, face twisted in fury as he stared at her, taking her laughter as nothing more than a mockery of him.

"On the Street of Silk, yes, but here…." she batted his hands away when he tried to redo the belt loop, the back of her hand brushing against the front of his breeches; she let his belt fall to his feet, "There is more to it than that. Much more."

She left him at that, seeing the first flickerings of dawn beginning to push past the dark, not wanting to get caught in the rush of servants who would be rising soon, sending a wicked smile his way as she glanced at him from over her shoulder, his eye boring into her skin as she slipped out the door.

Like a spider that had ensnared some hapless insect in its web, the Prince seemed drawn to her by a nearly invisible string. As if the gods themselves smiled down at them, his nightly summons went unnoticed, always at the time when the castle was pitch dark, those who resided behind the red stones laying asleep and oblivious in their beds.

Alone in his chambers, the tension that seemed to radiate throughout him during the times he stood with his mother and his siblings all but disappeared, snuffed out like a blown out flame as he let her have control over him, their roles reversed in the quiet darkness of his rooms.

"Do you trust me?" Prince Aemond nodded, jerking his head up and down, "Good," she praised, moving with a languid, easy grace, she reached behind her and curled the laces of her gown around her finger, pulling them till the garment pooled around her ankles.

Her chemise followed, leaving her bare to his gaze. He let out a low noise in the back of his throat, the color that had been in his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. He swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, his discomfort plain at the praise, not knowing what to make of it.

“Pretty, pretty boy,” she crooned, making his breath catch and his eye widen.

She stepped closer to him, hearing the halt and catch of his breath. Color flooded his cheeks, rich and dark against the paleness of his skin. She pressed her mouth to his softly, tangling her fingers in his hair, her grip gentle yet firm.

He groaned against her mouth, his hands rising to dig into her sides.

"Ah, ah-" she chided, pressing her fingers against his mouth, "I did not say you could touch me yet, did I?"

His eye narrowed as he bit his lip, chest rising and falling rapidly, his eye nearly black with lust, eye as wild as she’d ever seen it.

Barely a minute later his lips sought hers again, his other hand sliding up to tangle in her hair.

His cock lay against his thigh, already half-hard and weeping, drops of pre-cum beading at the tip of it, "Will you listen to me now?"

His breath grew heavier as he gasped, eye squeezing shut, "Yes," he gasped out, pupil blown wide.

He cursed, some half rasped phrase that she knew without a doubt would leave his mother horrified.

"Good boy," she released him, trailing her fingers up his body; curling a hand around his jaw, she tilted his head up, "Open," he obeyed almost instantly, throat bobbing as he swallowed, unraveling further under her. She tilted her head, teasing him more as she dragged her cunt over his cock. “Do you pray?” she rasped, dragging her hips up and back down against him, the sharp lines of the bones flush under his skin digging into her flesh.

“Kessa-” he gasped, slipping into Old Valyrian effortlessly as he bucked his hips upwards.

She had never heard the language before. It tumbled from his mouth, low and rasping and breathless, pretty, even, when he spoke it.

“What do you pray for?” she grinned down at him. She could feel everything, from the sweat that dripped down the back of her neck to the ache between her thighs. “Her Grace, the Queen? Or your sister?” she rolled her hips, pleased at his reaction.

The noises he made were just as lovely as any music a bard made, if not prettier, a plethora of keens, moans and unrestrained whines coming from the back of his throat.

"Tell me."

She began to draw random shapes into his skin, watching as the muscles of his stomach jumped under the featherlight touches of her fingers.

"Louder," she crooned, pulling her fingers away. "I want to hear you."

He whimpered at her words, but obeyed her nonetheless, drawing a sharp inhale in through his nose as he twitched, his eye nearly rolling back into his head as he watched her, “Kessa, kessa, please-”

His mumbles suddenly stopped as he fell from Old Valyrian back to the Common Tongue, desperation on his face, “Shh,” she hushed, pulling away from him far enough to slide one hand over the curving line of his jaw.

She brushed the hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin back, the pale strands curling slightly. She’d tended to Alicent Hightower’s hair enough to see the only evidence in him and his siblings of her Hightower blood.

He moaned, back arching off the bed as his fingers scrabbled uselessly for purchase, chasing a relief that hovered just slightly out of reach.

It was intoxicating, this game of cat and mouse she played with the rider of the largest dragon in the realm, watching him turn to putty beneath her attention as the days passed into weeks and months.

“What are you doing in here?”

She whirled, the book in her hand falling to the floor at her feet, her eyes widening at the sight of Alicent hovering in the doorway, a bewildered look on her face, “Your Grace, I’m-”

Dread pooled in her stomach, stronger than anything she’d felt before. Clothed in nothing but her shift, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

“I set half the Keep searching for you when you weren’t in my chambers at dawn.”

Displeasure coated her voice, her nerves stretched and drawn thin. The entire keep had been on its toes the past few days, the arrival of the Princess Rhaenyra and her husband looming over everyone’s heads.

Whatever she had meant to say next died on her lips, her eyes following her son as he came around the corner. She could feel the warmth of his lean frame flush against her back as he looked at his mother over her head, one hand settling on her hip.

“Mother.”

“Have you-” her voice got shriller and shriller as her composure shattered, eyes staying on her son and her handmaiden, “I ought to have you dismissed for this-” she snapped.

“Mother. That is enough,” Aemond said back, his gaze sharp as he stared down at her, said sharpness bleeding into his voice, softening slightly when his mother flinched, “You will do no such thing.”

"And yet she is in your chambers," Alicent's gaze raked over her, eyes full of anger. "Half clothed too. Are you bedding her?"

"I am."

He refused to say more, the long line of him at her back as stiff as a board. The Queen pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob.

“I expected this from Aegon, but from you?” Alicent began to wring her hands, picking at the skin of her fingers anxiously, “The shame of it-” she muttered under her breath, beginning to pace, skirts near silent on the stones, “This does not leave this room,” she hissed, raising a slightly trembling finger to be level with her son’s face, “I will overlook this,” she said, frowning, “But if I hear so much as a whisper, I will not hesitate to send her away.”

“You won’t. I am not Aegon.”

It was the only promise he was willing to give. Alicent looked at her a final time, the anger that had been on her face before now gone, the only tell of her displeasure was the subtle tightening of her mouth before she swept out past the door.

A new stilted stiffness arose between her and the Queen after that day. Where conversation had once flowed freely, silence reigned. Silence and the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was coming. What that was, she knew not.

She supposed she should’ve been grateful that her arrangement with the Prince had not changed. She, if she was being truthful, had grown quite fond of having him a writhing, moaning mess beneath her as he pleaded and begged and demanded for more, more, more.

She would know half a moon later when the King dies.

She didn't so much as flinch when the familiar telltale creak and groan of the door opened, dim light from the torches spilling into the dark as Aemond stepped further into his chamber. She glanced at him, taking note of the incensed expression on his face, and the labored rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the vein ticking in his clenched jaw.

"What is it?"

“My brother,” he said mulishly, his mood sullen.

She waited for him to say more, turning back to dragging a comb through her hair when he didn’t. She could practically sense the annoyance and the irritation in his voice, only speaking again when he didn’t.

“What of him?”

“He is King now, the wretch,” bitterness dripped from his every word, so potent she could almost taste the rage and the fury that coated his insides like honey, “King of the Seven Kingdoms,” he continued tersely, shucking off his tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair, "And he would rather squander valuable coin on whores and wine instead of rule,” he grit his teeth, fury bright in his eye.

"Ah."

She knew of Prince Aegon's proclivities, of course, for who didn’t? The prince, King now, had three children by his sister-wife, and yet he still ventured into the city to sate his urges.

The sound of him coming closer got louder, stilling inches behind her, “I need you,” his hand settled like an anchor against the back of her neck, heavy and unpleasant.

“No,” she kept still, sitting frozen on the chair, feeling his hand slide away.

She mustered up enough courage to turn around. She tilted her head back, meeting his eye, unyielding in the face of his anger.

“No?” he blinked, taken aback.

She doubted anyone had ever denied him, going by the look on his face, his disbelief slowly giving way to anger. And not the loud kind, either. No. It was the quiet kind, the kind that thrived in the dark. In harsh inhales and even harsher exhalations of air.

“You heard me,” she could see it, the rage slowly beginning to simmer beneath his skin, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

If she were anyone else, her head would have decorated the city gates by now, daring to speak to him like that, but she wasn’t.

"You dare-" he snarled, glaring at her.

Every inch a dragon, his fury should have frightened her, but it didn’t. She kept her eyes on his, tempted to raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed as she was, filled with bravery or stupidity as she spoke.

"I do dare," she breathed against his ear, lowering her hand between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his cock, making his angry hiss turn into a low moan, "Out there," she made a gesture towards the door with her hand to signify her point, "You may be Prince Regent, but here, you are mine," she grinned slyly.

His breath hitched at her boldness, the anger in his eye shifting to lust he kept his gaze on her.

"The question that remains," she murmured, touching his arm lightly. He leaned into it, a ragged breath leaving him as his eye closed, "Is if you meant to kill him?"

He had not been back from Storm’ End for more than a day at most, his return met not with pleased faces, but horror and a herald of what was to come. The shadow of the Stranger loomed over all of them, slipping closer and closer before striking at the heart of them.

The murder of Aegon II’s heir. Jaehaerys had been quiet, the little six fingered boy speaking as little as his twin, if not less, the grief of it sending his mother spiraling into madness, withering away.

He bit his lip as a flash of horrified realization danced across his face. He hesitated, mouth opening as if he meant to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

"I don't know," he stared down at his hands blankly, as if there was blood on them that only he could see, "I taunted him," he croaked out, "Told him to cut his eye out as payment for the one he took from me. That I'd make a gift of it to my mother."

He swallowed, curling his hands into fists.

She chose her next words carefully, standing next to him warily, "What did he do, Aemond?"

Too locked within his mind to care, he didn't notice her slip up, "He refused," his face twisted, agonized, "He refused, and I named him a craven and a traitor. Chased him through the skies," she rounded on him, her breath faltering in her chest as she dreaded his next words, “I fought to control Vhagar, but-” she grasped his shoulders, briefly meeting his eye before drawing him to her.

No matter what they did, war and death and blood would always be an outcome, attempts and hopes for peace scattering like flower petals on the wind.

Aemond was dead. The words rang in her ears as hollow as a drum.

Disbelief, as potent as a sword buried hilt deep in her belly, edged its way through her, the pain of it dragging and scraping at her insides. She heard the talk of the smallfolk that had drifted from mouth to mouth until it reached the city of his death at the hands of his uncle. He’d wanted her to come with him, the manner of how he tried to convince her failing as she refused over and over to leave the Queen, just as bound by duty as he was.

And now he was dead. He and the dragon he had lost an eye for, doomed to a watery grave unbefitting for a son of House Targaryen. In the eyes of some, it was a more than fair exchange, a son of Alicent’s blood for the one Rhaenyra had lost.

“Stay. Please.”

“You loved him, as I did-” Alicent lunged forward, clutching at her hands tightly, her rich brown eyes glittering with tears, “I know it in my bones. Tell me you did. Please.” Grief and bereavement clung to her like a shroud, the loss of three of her four children having all but broken her, leaving her a withered wraith of the woman she’d been, "I remember the sickness that took my husband and my child from me."

There was an ache inside of her, one that had never truly gone away. It rose up again, bringing with it the half-faded memories of a child’s laughter and the smell of flowers and newly tilled earth.

“That is the grief of motherhood, to love our children as best we can,” she turned around to face Alicent head on, carrying the same grief that lingered in the Dowager’s eyes.

“I did not love him,” she admitted, stilling feet from the entry, “But I did care for him in my own way,” her vision blurred, hands trembling as she remembered the night before he’d left, choking as she remembered the words he had said.

And the ones he hadn’t.

She had reveled in the control she’d held over him at the beginning, the way it had morphed and changed and shifted into something different as he came to her again and again. Something deeper that she couldn’t name.

There had been a desperation to him as he’d touched her, a fervent near feral wildness in his eye as he’d kissed her, dragging his hands from her thighs to her hips to her breasts, squeezing her flesh hard enough to leave marks in some places.

She had returned it in kind, scratching her nails down his back, watching with glassy eyes as his back arched. The pained moan he let out when she bit his shoulder. His grunt as she dug her heels into his back, holding him as he lay in the cradle of her thighs, ears full of nothing but the loud, lewd sounds of his skin against hers, panting as she fell apart under him.

Later still, after the dust had settled in the ashes of the war, she reflected. Day and night she had sat at the bedside of the dying Queen, feeling the beginnings of winter fever crawl into her bones and settle into her lungs, the room silent except for the hoarse whispers of Alicent Hightower as she whispered the names of the four children she had birthed and loved and lost over and over and over.

She hoped she would see him again, If it were possible, raised as she was to believe in the Seven, her experiences as she grew proving nothing to her but the knowledge that they were known more for their apathy than they were for kindness.

#aemond fic #my fics #aemond x original character #aemond smut #house of the dragon #hotd fics #asoiaf

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honeyedmiller · 8 months

Text

Mask | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!neighbor!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, partying, mutual pining, neighbor!reader, no outbreak, Joel’s anxious for a tiny bit, reader has a slight mask kink, porn with a plot lol. 18+, minors dni.

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: Joel throws his annual Halloween party and you’re both determined to settle your aching need for each other.

simply in honor of kinktober & inspired by @nostalxgic’s joel x ghostface edit

not revised, per usual (what’s new tbh) sorry for any mistakes.

divider by @ saradika 🖤

“So I’ll see you this weekend then, right darlin’?” Joel Miller, a.k.a. the neighborhood dilf, asks you. You were going for a run when he stopped you right in front of the sidewalk of his house, inviting you to his annual Halloween party he throws every year.

You absolutely loved Halloween, so you couldn’t pass up his offer.

“Of course you will. Can’t wait.” You toss him a smile, and he nods before you’re on your way back to your house, which was only two doors down from his.

It was Monday, so you had to figure out what you were going to be for the party this weekend. You wanted to be something that would catch the older Miller brother’s eye. You’ve been trying for a while now to express your interest in him, and either he’s just very oblivious, or he just doesn’t want you.

You’re hoping it’s moreso not the latter.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel’s younger brother Tommy had pointed it out to him several times. Joel always thought you were so beautiful. He was just apprehensive about asking you out, mainly because he hadn’t been out in the dating scene for awhile. He was rusty when it came to impressing women.

Little did he know, all the neighborhood women would gawk over him every time he even stepped outside of his house.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah, hated the way these women talked about her dad. It was weird to her that these married women would talk about someone other than their husbands in such a vulgar manner.

Funnily enough, you were the only single woman in this neighborhood. The only one with no kids and no husband.

Sarah’s taken a liking to you, as you’ve watched after her a few times Joel and Tommy would be home late from work. You were close to her dad’s age, beautiful, smart, and most definitely Joel’s type.

There was always this weird tension between you and Joel. It wasn’t awkward. It was moreso full of desire and neediness for the other, but again, Joel just didn’t know how to go about expressing that he wants you in such a way.

You ended up settling on letting him take the reigns, because if he wanted to ask you out then he’d have full control.

The week went by, and you finally decided on what you were going to be: an angel. A little cliché, you must admit, but you already had most of the costume in your wardrobe. You just needed wings and a halo, which you picked up from the Halloween shop earlier in the afternoon. The party started at eight, so it gave you a couple of hours to get ready.

You started off with your hair, giving it a dream-like appearance before diving into your makeup. You were going for a bombshell look to give a mixed element of sultry and sweet.

Once you were sure Joel would at least do a double take on you, you slipped on the parts of your costume one by one. You went for a white lace corset top with a short white skirt, angel wings, the halo, and a pair of silver sparkly strappy heels.

You dusted diamond bomb body glitter across your collar bones and gave yourself one last look in the mirror. Your pink lipstick gave you the perfect innocent pout you were going for while your eyeshadow and lashes accentuated the color and shape of your eyes.

You grab your little clutch and tossed your phone, lipstick, lash glue and keys inside before grabbing the six pack of beer you bought and locking up, heading two houses down. The music was already blaring and the laughter and chatter of people from all over the neighborhood was prevalent as it echoed through the chilly night.

You stopped on the Miller’s porch, wondering if they’d even hear if you rang the doorbell. You thought it’d be rude if you just let yourself in. You decided to ring the doorbell anyway, and not even a minute later, Tommy opened the door.

“Hey you! You look real pretty.” He grinned, and you smiled politely.

“Thanks Tommy, so do you.” You joke, admiring the Greek God costume he was sporting. That costume choice was very fitting for Tommy Miller’s ego.

“Thanks sweets,” He chuckled, eyeing the six pack in your hand. “Let me take that, and c’mon in.” He nods his head toward the loud house, and you stepped in as he followed suit.

It was nice seeing all of your neighbors so dressed up and having a fun time. It was a side you rarely got to see from any of them.

“Drinks are in the kitchen and there’s a variety of food and snacks in there as well if you’re hungry.” Tommy shouts over the thumping music, and you nod.

“Thanks Tommy.”

You headed to the kitchen to mix yourself a drink, nerves easily seeping in as you weren’t the best in social situations. Your anxiety often got the best of you, and some liquid courage would definitely help your case.

You were pouring yourself some Malibu rum mixed with cranberry juice when a voice called from behind.

“Well I’ll be damned, you sure do look good darlin’.” That Southern drawl that had your core aching constantly rung through your ears, and you bit your lip to try and fight off a smile.

You turned on your heel to face the older Miller brother, adorned in a black long sleeve, black jeans, black boots, and black leather gloves. He held a ghostface mask in his hand, and your eyes trailed back up to his gaze before giving him a more seemingly collected smile.

“Hey Joel,” You say, taking a sip from your drink. “Nice costume.” You smirk, eyes averting back down to the mask in his hand.

“Sarah forced me to actually dress up. Said I couldn’t be a lumberjack again this year.” He chuckled, and you smiled and shook your head. Sounded exactly like something she’d do.

“Where’s your, uh, dress?” You tease, noticing he wasn’t wearing the exact full getup.

“Got too damn hot so I took it off.”

“Mm. Well, you look real good, Joel.” You toss a sweet smile his way, sipping on your fruity drink in the infamous red solo cup.

Even in the fairly dim-lit kitchen, you could see the sprinkle of pink dust his cheeks.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

“‘M sure all the moms of the neighborhood are drooling just looking at ya.” You tease, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

“Even if they are, I only got my sights set on one person.” He shrugs, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat and you back up against the counter as he stands right in front of you, so close that you can feel his breath fanning your face.

He reached behind you on the counter, eyes never leaving yours. He smirked slightly at your reaction to the proximity between you two as he grabbed the bottle opener that was laying on the counter, retracting his hand.

“C’mon, let’s go enjoy the party.” He smiles softly at you, holding out his leather-bound hand. You take his hand as he leads you out of the kitchen, weaving between the neighbors. You stop here and there to greet them before you eventually make your way to the living room.

You see people playing beer pong in the backyard, chatting with other neighbors, and playing cornhole. Early 2000’s throwbacks were bumping over the speakers, and you assumed Tommy was in charge of being DJ for the night.

Joel sat down on the leather couch, patting the spot next to him. You sat down, wiggling your hips so your legs could get comfortable against the somewhat sticky leather. Joel draped his arm across the back of the couch, and Tommy made his way up to his brother so he could take the bottle opener from Joel.

The opener clinked against the top of the bottle, a release of pressure sounding as the cap was taken off.

“Thanks Tommy.” Joel semi-shouts, leaning back into the couch even further. His arm slides down, now wrapping itself around your shoulder. Tommy raises an eyebrow at his brother.

“Finally manned up and got the balls to ask her out?” Tommy’s words are a bit slurred now, and you can tell he’s teetering from being heavily buzzed to completely drunk.

“Tommy, don’t you have some other people to patronize?” Joel rolls his eyes, grip tightening on your shoulder.

Even the slightest touch from Joel sent an electric shock down your spine and into your core, which was already aching and throbbing with pure need and desire.

Tommy holds his hands up in surrender, chuckling.

“I’ll leave ya alone, but for the love of god, just do it already.”

Joel gives the younger brother a warning glare, pointing the neck of his beer at him, then to the back sliding door.

“Out.” Joel grits, and Tommy’s sporting a shit-eating grin as he walks away from you two.

“So what was that about?” You lean into Joel so he can hear you better. The look on your face conveys pure amusement.

Joel knew he couldn’t beat around the bush with this one, so he simply confessed. “Been wantin’ to ask you out on a date for awhile now.” His lips form into a thin line after he takes a nervous swig of his beer.

You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling rather bold yourself so you place a hand on his lower left thigh as you lean in even closer.

“Yeah? And when were you going to? I’ve been waiting.” You grin, eyes averting down to his lips before moving back up to his gaze. The action doesn’t go unnoticed, and it finally feels like he’s able to grasp something that had been slipping out of his hands for months.

“I was plannin’ on it, but I kept puttin’ it off cus I didn’t think you felt the same way.” He shrugs, taking another sip of the half-full bottle of beer that was now balanced on his lap.

That was half the truth.

The other half was him just simply being petrified, anxiety taking over his whole being at the thought of going on an actual enjoyable date after, god, fourteen years? Nonetheless with a brilliant, gorgeous woman like yourself?

He’d been so accustomed to taking care of Sarah (hell, Tommy too), making sure she was always his first priority. Sure, he’s had hookups here and there down the line, but none of them ever meant anything at all. It was always just a rendezvous in passing. Never anything serious.

But, when he first laid his eyes on you, he knew he wanted a real connection. He wanted something real with you, a relationship of his own that he could be proud of as you two built from the foundation up together.

“Joel.” You whisper, eyes darting back and forth between his. The once beautiful dark brown eyes seemed to turn black with lust, but remained soft as they scanned your features.

“Darlin’ I think it’s about time we do somethin’ about… this.” He gestures between you both, and a saccharine smile curls onto your lips.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

His eyes flitted to your lips this time, and the tension was insanely hot and heavy. You could barely even hear the thumping music anymore as your heart nearly leaped out of your chest from how hard it was pounding.

You two just stared at each other, quite literally enthralled with one another. You wanted to kiss him so bad, but in front of all these neighbors? They were good people, but were nosey as hell. Loved to gossip.

You didn’t need them in your business and you’re sure as hell Joel didn’t want them in his either.

You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut short by Tommy yelling into the living room.

“Shots in the kitchen everybody, c’mon!” He pointed at the two of you, and you laughed at his utter display of just not giving a fuck.

You tap Joel’s thigh with your hand. “C’mon cowboy, let’s go appease your brother before he calls us both out for not joining him.”

You stand up from the couch slowly, well aware of the fact that the back of your thighs were sticking to the leather at this point. You held your hand out to Joel once you were up, and he gladly took it. You both maneuvered your way into the kitchen, a small crowd of your neighbors already gathered around the island in the middle.

Tommy poured tequila shots into miniature red solo cups, passing them out to each individual around him. He put the plated cut up limes on the counter and two salt shakers on each side of the plate.

You lick a spot on your free hand and grab the salt, tapping it onto your hand before grabbing a lime. Tommy waits for everyone to be settled before raising his shot glass to the crowd before him.

“To my brother Joel for agreeing to throw this party yet another year. And to, y’know, Halloween.” Tommy chuckles, and everyone cheers to Joel. You look up at Joel as you lick the salt off your hand, toss back the shot, and stick the lime in your mouth.

Something in the way you looked at him when you moved to fluidly made his cock ache. The hungry look in your eyes, and the sweet smile you offered after you took the lime out of your mouth.

“Joel!” A voice squeaked, breaking your eye contact with him. You both turn to look at your neighbor, Tiffany, who was dressed as a sexy police officer.

“Hey, Tiffany.” Joel greeted, curtly nodding at her.

“Great party. I think it’s nice you invited the whole neighborhood.” She giggled, twirling her pin-straight brunette hair around a manicured finger.

“‘S all Tommy, really.” He shrugs, looking back down at you. You watch the two of them in amusement, noticing that Tiffany was getting closer to Joel. She eventually wrapped her arm around his bicep, to which he stiffened at her touch.

“Well, it’s sooo fun. You like my costume?” She inquires, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth. She looks up at him, feigning innocence, but he’s truthfully not paying attention to her. She seems to notice that he’s more focused on you, and she rolls her eyes.

She’s always been pretty rude to you since you moved into the neighborhood, and you didn’t know why. Now you had an inkling. You could’ve sworn she was married, so a devilish smile curled onto your lips as you tilt your head to the side.

“How’s your husband, Tiffany?” You ask, and she shoots you a glare.

“Fine, thanks.” She scoffs, and Joel shakes her hand off of his bicep.

“Let’s take another shot, darlin’.” Joel suggests to you, and you grin up at him.

An idea popped into your head, and you were hoping he’d go along with it.

“Wanna do a moonlick shot with me, Miller?”

He looked down at you in shock, abruptly pausing his movements.

“Mhm.” Was all he could muster up. Most of the crowd still lingered in the kitchen, so you knew you were about to put on a show.

And, well, licking salt off of Joel’s neck seemed extremely gratifying for the both of you.

You poured another shot of tequila into your little shot glass, grabbed the lime and salt, and stood in front of Joel again.

Tiffany watched you both closely, realization suddenly dawning on her.

She thought there was no way you two would actually do a moonshot in front of all the neighbors gathered in here, but with how heavy the tension was between you and Joel, you both didn’t care at all at this point.

Your eyes scanned the room swiftly, thanking the universe that Mrs. Adler was nowhere to be found. You’d never hear the end of it from her if she saw you and Joel like this.

You wrapped a hand around the back of Joel’s neck, standing on your tippy toes as you brought your face into the crook of his neck.

The warmth of his body sent chills down your spine. He smelled like an earthly musk. It was heavenly.

He gripped your waist as you moved your lips closer to his neck, finally poking your tongue out to slowly lick up the side of his warm flesh. You leaned back down to sprinkle some salt into your hand, pressing it into the wet spot on his neck. You grabbed your like and tequila shot, holding the backside of the lime up to his mouth. He graciously bit into it, and you smirked at him as you went to move your face back into the crook of his neck.

You licked the salt off of Joel’s neck, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest. His arm wrapped completely around your waist as you threw the shot back, taking the lime from his mouth with your own. You put the lime into the small shot glass before looking back up at Joel.

The fire behind his eyes was inevitable, and he finally closed the gap between you two. He enveloped his plush lips to yours, and you tossed both hands over his shoulders and let them dangle as both arms securely wrapped around your waist.

A few of the neighbors in the kitchen whistled, a “finally” thrown into the mix, and Tommy being utterly obnoxious by cheering his brother on.

Joel’s chest swelled with a bit of pride knowing he made his little brother proud.

Your lips moved in perfect sync, your core suddenly throbbing terrible as you felt your slick completely coat your panties. You moaned softly into the kiss, having barely any willpower to break apart from him.

Joel knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you, especially physically in this moment. He wasn’t going to waste another opportunity to finally let himself indulge in something he’s wanted for so long.

“My room?” He asks breathlessly, and you nod. You briefly noticed that Tiffany wasn’t standing in the kitchen anymore, and you smirked to yourself in a little victory.

Joel grabbed your hand and started to lead you out of the kitchen, but Tommy stopped you both.

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Tommy was completely unaware of how much of a cockblock he was being at the moment.

Joel faced his brother and pursed his lips into a thin line.

“Upstairs. Cover for me, yeah?” Joel says, and Tommy’s shit-eating grin returns.

“Oh hell yeah, big brother. Have fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Joel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He slips his ghostface mask back on to try and blend in a bit more with the crowd, both of you slipping upstairs seemingly unnoticed.

Once you were in Joel’s bedroom, he locked the door and took the mask back off, setting it on his bedside table.

Joel mentally thanked himself for making his bed this morning. The man was notorious for leaving the duvet completely crumpled.

You took in your surroundings. His room was cozy and simple, but felt like home. You smiled up at him, shimmying your wings off before hanging them on the bedpost. Joel took the halo gently off of your head.

“Reckon you definitely don’t need’ta be wearin’ this.” He chuckles, putting it to the side.

“Mm, I think you’re right.” You step forward, hands landing on his solid chest as you move them up to the sides of his neck. You can feel the vein in his neck, pulse racing under your touch.

“Listen, darlin’,” Joel starts, gently grabbing your wrists. “I haven’t done… this… in awhile. I really like you, too, and I really don’t want this to just be a one-time thing.” He confesses, and your heart melts at his words.

“I really like you too, Joel. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, either.”

“Good.” He breathes, cupping your face into his hands before smashing his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss as he leads you back toward his bed. The back of your knees hit his mattress and you sink down onto it. Joel lays you down before parting your legs with his knee, putting pressure onto your throbbing cunt.

You find yourself unintentionally grinding your hips so your core is rocking against his leg, desperate for friction by any means. Joel feels how hot and wet you are, even through the fabric of your panties and his jeans.

“Christ, doll. Y’this fuckin’ soaked for me already?” Joel tsks, and you can’t help but let out a lewd moan.

“Yes, Joel,” You pant. “Wanted you for so long, can’t—fuck,—can’t wait any longer.”

“Baby, you don’t know how much that fuckin’ turns me on. You touch yourself thinkin’ about me?” He questions, slowly bringing a hand underneath your skirt to rub your soaked core over your panties.

“God, fuck, yes. All the time.” You admit, eyes squeezing shut as your breath begins to increase rapidly.

Joel groans at your confession, cock constricted by his jeans just begging for release.

“‘M gonna ruin every single man for you, baby.”

“Ruin me, Joel.”

That’s all he needed to hear before hastily sliding your panties off of your legs. He spread your legs as he got down on his knees, admiring how your pussy glistened in the low light of his room.

“Fuckin’ perfect little pussy.” He murmurs, lifting your skirt up all the way. You gasp as Joel kisses your inner thighs, dragging his tongue up your tender flesh, littering kisses along the way before he finally places a soft kiss to your core.

Joel wastes no more time teasing you and delves his tongue right into your folds, not wanting to hold out any longer on tasting you.

And, good god, you tasted heavenly. Ironic for being dressed up as an angel, but you really played the part.

You moaned loudly as he drank you up like a glass of water in the middle of the night. He was relentless with his tongue, the muscle swirling around your folds, flicking onto your clit, then moving down to your entrance to prod in and out of you.

His mouth felt divine. You truly don’t think any man has ever eaten your pussy this good, and you’d be damned if another man besides Joel ever did again.

“Joel, holy fuck.” You cry, and he moans praisingly into you. The vibrations sent a shock up your spine, causing you to arch your back off of the bed.

All of your senses ignited with just Joel. His mouth, his touch, his scent, everything about him was surrounding you all at once. You genuinely don’t know how you went about not doing this any sooner.

Joel moved his tongue back up to your clit, flicking over it expertly as he inserted his ring and middle fingers into you. You cry out once more, instinctively grasping onto his hair as you slightly tugged on it. He switched from flicking his tongue over your clit to sucking on it instead, fingers driving in and out of you at such an enchanting pace.

His fingers were so much longer and thicker than yours, so the feeling of it was becoming all too consuming. He hit that sweet spot inside of you once he started to curl his fingers upward, and you nearly choked on a gasp.

“Fuck, yes, right there right there right there—” You chant, feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching as it bloomed quickly within the deepest depths of your core, clawing its way out to the surface. “‘M gonna—”

“Let go, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” Joel praises, and your orgasm comes crumbling down, washing in electric waves through your body. You moan loudly, crying out Joel’s name as you gripped his duvet.

Joel admires how you writhe beneath him, riding out your intense orgasm. You’re nearly breathless, panting rapidly as you lay on his bed completely dazed. Once you finally composed yourself enough, your eyes fall on his face. Half of it was covered in your slick, and you whine at the sight.

“How was that?” He asks, standing up.

“I’m convinced you’re a fucking wizard or some shit.” You breathe, and he gutturally laughs. You love the sound of it, tucking it away in your memory to keep.

“Nope, just regular ol’ me, baby.” His smile is soft as he gazes down at you, and you lean up on your elbows, shaking your head.

“Nothing about you is regular. You, Joel Miller, are extraordinary.” You slowly get up from his bed on shaky legs, but he grips you for support. You switch spots with him, turning him around to softly push him onto his bed. He sits down and watches you closely, admiring how you look at him. It makes his stomach do a flip, and a blush tinges his cheeks ever so slightly.

“My turn to take care of you.” You whisper, sinking to your knees before him. You undo his belt buckle, pop the button of his jeans, and slide his zipper down. He lifts his hips for you as you pull down his jeans and boxers simultaneously.

Joel’s cock easily hits the shirt over his stomach, weeping and dribbling with pre cum. Your mouth watered as you took in the sight, appreciating the pink and tan silky flesh before pumping it a few times, causing Joel to suck in a breath and squeeze his eyes shut.

He lets out a low groan as you tug back to the top slowly, lowering your head to swirl your tongue around the tip. The salty taste of pre cum coats your tongue, and you hum in praise before licking a warm stripe over the vein of his cock. He curses, head lolling back as he tries hard not to cum right then and there.

It’s been far too long since someone’s touched him like this, and now that he has the woman he’s been fantasizing about daily at his discretion, he knows he won’t be able to contain himself for long.

His cock was heavy on your tongue as you slid more of him into your mouth slowly, trying to keep yourself from gagging. Your throat constricted slightly as the tip of his cock met the back of your throat, nose nearly buried in coarse, curly hair at the base.

“Fuuuck, sweet thing, ‘m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that.” He moans, loving the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his cock.

You flatten your tongue against him and start to bob your head up and down, setting a rhythm you could easily keep up with. Hearing him moan your name while you pleasure him shot straight to your core, aching for more of him.

You moan against him as your nails lightly scratch what’s exposed of his tan thighs, and you open your eyes to look right into Joel’s.

The nearly sinister look in his eyes when you look up at him makes you want to touch yourself while you made him feel good.

“Such a good girl, takin’ my cock in your mouth so well. Look so fuckin’ gorgeous like this.” He praises, cupping your cheek gently. He was refraining from touching your hair and face because he didn’t want to ruin your hairdo or your makeup, despite how badly his fingers were nearly itching to either cup your face harshly or thread his thick fingers through your hair.

You took him all the way into your mouth once more, swallowing around the tip of him before moving up to the tip to focus on just that. You swirled your tongue again, licking the slit on his head before Joel’s breath caught in his throat.

“Shit, baby, don’t stop, ‘m close.” He feels like he’s floating when his orgasm shoots down his spine not even seconds later, and you moan around him as you swallow everything he gives you.

He pulls you up gently but hastily from the ground, kissing you before pushing you onto the bed again. He had to be buried inside you now. He gave his cock a couple of strokes to harden himself again as he stood over you, a feral look in his eye.

Your eyes glanced over at the ghostface mask sitting on his bedside table, and his eyes followed yours. He quirks an eyebrow up at the mask, looking back at you.

“Want me to put it on?” He asks, and you felt your cheeks get hot.

“You don’t have to.” You’re suddenly shy, but the thought of Joel fucking you with a ghostface mask on turned you on immensely.

“I’m asking you.” A hint of questioning demand was behind his tone.

“Yes. Put it on. Please.”

“Kinky little thing, aren’t ya? Gotta mask kink?” He teases before grabbing the mask, slipping it on before towering back over you.

Seeing his tall, broad frame hovering over you like this with the mask on makes your pussy clench, a delicious lick of satisfaction shoving its way into your mind.

“Gonna fuckin’ ruin this pussy.” Joel’s voice is slightly muffled, but somehow the mask makes it sound deeper. You bite your lip and look up at him as he spreads your legs apart, coating the tip of his cock with your slick.

He pauses abruptly, as if remembering something.

“Should I get a condom?”

“Only if you want. I’m on birth control.” You give him a reassuring nod, and he visibly relaxes.

He continues where he left of, sliding his tip between your folds a couple of times more before slowly pushing into your entrance.

You both moan loudly at the sensation, feeling so warm and full and whole. Joel pushes into you until his hips are flush against yours before pulling out slightly. He grabs your legs and tosses them over his shoulders, a new feeling of deeper pleasure rippling through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck, feel s’good.” You toss your head back against his bed, reveling in the feeling of being stretched out.

“So do you, baby. Pussy’s so perfect. Was made f’me.” Joel starts to snap his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing off the four walls of the master bedroom.

Joel’s hands snake around your ankles on his shoulders as he drives himself deeper into you, pounding his hips into the back of your thighs.

The way you clench around him nearly has him choking, wanting to come undone right then and there.

You gazed up at Joel—well, ghostface—with your eyebrows threaded and jaw slack. There was something so deliciously fucking hot about the way his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you, fucking you into oblivion.

He bent down ever so slightly to wrap his leather-bound hand around your neck, squeezing the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as all of your sensations suddenly became so full of him again.

You were seeing stars, silent screams escaping your mouth as you tried to move up onto the bed. Joel gripped your thighs harshly and tugged you back down, pulling out of you swiftly to smack your pussy before completely filling you once more.

“Joel, fuck, oh god, oh god, JoelJoelJoel—”

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ pretty slut likes when I pound into her sweet pussy, hm? Likes getting choked?” Joel’s words drip with venom. You couldn’t even form a coherent word, leaving you to nod frantically.

“Fuck, baby girl, I need you to cum for me.” His voice is strained and desperate, needing to feel you pulse around him again. He brings a hand down to your clit to rub tight, deft circles around it.

You couldn’t even process one more thought before that same blooming, clawing sensation nearly paralyzed your body as you stiffened, orgasm completely washing over your body. You jolted up, crying out Joel’s name.

“I know baby, I know. Fuck, ‘m close, where d’ya want me?” He rips off the mask and tosses it aside, eyes meeting yours once more.

“In me, need to feel you.” Your words are slurred, starting to sound just like Tommy. But you two were very, very different types of drunk.

Joel spills into you, hips stuttering as he groans, jaw clenched. He leans down to kiss you fervently, moaning into your mouth as his orgasm finally rides out. He slowly pulls out of you, hissing at the sensation. You softly whine at the loss of such fullness.

He tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans, pulling them up, re-buttoning his jeans and re-buckling his belt. He sits beside you on the bed, warm leather landing on your thigh as he traces circles into your skin.

“Fuck, baby, that was just,” He pauses, trying to catch his breath. “Unreal.” He huffs, falling next to you so he’s laying down on the bed beside you.

“It was. Thank you.” You shudder at one last aftershock of your orgasm, and Joel chuckles.

“Anything for you, baby.” Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you roll onto your side to face him.

“Kinda don’t wanna go back downstairs. They’re all gonna see this angel really isn’t such an angel.” You huff a laugh, shaking your head.

Joel kisses your forehead before standing up, reaching for your hands to help pull you up from his bed.

“Gotta show Tiffany how good you got fucked somehow, right?” Joel grins, and your jaw drops.

“Joel Miller, you petty man!” You laugh, slipping on your wings and halo once more.

But, he was right—

You totally wanted to show everyone just how good ghostface really fucked you.

tags: @nostalxgic ; @ilovepedro ; @party-hearses ; @tinygarbage ; @cool-iguana ; @bastardmandennis

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