[RQ] [SE] playing dirty

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

She's listing off the rest of their chores here like a to-do list he's forgotten, and he nods along with a cautiously drawn out "uh huh." The uncertainty is rising in response to the Cheshire grin she maintains, that and the slow, meaningful dip of her lashes. She's giving him bedroom eyes while simultaneously telling him they've got work to do. While her 'brows bounce, his furrow with confusion, desperately trying to connect these fruit shaped dots like they're a sexy puzzle.

"So...we're gonna...skinny dip again?" Surely there's some streams around here, just hopefully free of leeches. Then, as if word association takes over, he fires out an alternative, "summon the Flood to hose us down!" He snaps his fingers, because no, skinny dipping had taught him not to channel carelessly. "Hose each other off?" Does the Sugartide have a hose? He has a hose, for her. "Shower!" Unspoken, but thought, water balloon fight also makes an appearance. Shower is his final answer though, and while he'd think she'd prefer they are clean before climbing aboard, he's also becoming convinced she's part mermaid at this rate and all signs point to shower.

Any one's a winner in his book honestly, and all the more reason to rip off his shirt and get these fucking fruits ready for uncontaminated juicing. He's rather taken aback then by the slow and unguarded way she's looking at him, and for a moment he glances down, wondering if there is already a leech he picked up from the mud. "Wha—" he starts to say, but her smile blooms with the quiet magic of mornings spent waking next to her, when the first light slips through the curtains and crowns her curls in gold, soft and full of everything good that hasn’t happened yet. It stops him in his tracks, and her I love you hits like a kiss he didn’t see coming, gentle but so full of feeling it knocks the wind out of him and leaves his heart grinning like an idiot, his mouth too.

"You know, I can carry lots of things," he tells her with a peacock's pride in the matter, shifting the 'bag' onto part of one arm and it's hand to free his other for the plucking up of a few limes, which he drops into the shirt.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora’s brows shoot up at the mention of skinny-dipping, the expression pure Kombucha girl energy. That had been ridiculously hot, right up until things had gone sideways. Her eyebrows promptly crash back down, though, the mere mention of Sunjata earning him a look sharp enough to slice fruit without a knife. "Warmerrrr," she purrs instead, voice a slow, sultry drawl that deepens as he moves through his list. By the time he lands on hose each other off, her grin is wicked; when he finally says shower, she lets out a pleased hum. "Oh my gods what a great idea babes," she says, like it was entirely his idea.

But it’s his grin—open and boyish and so him—that really undoes her. The sight of it floods her with warmth so real it feels like something blooming in her chest. With Jack, love had always been heavy, a chain he wore like proof of his own restraint. He’d once told her loving her made him feel weaker. But with Kaisel? It’s the opposite. Her love doesn’t seem to diminish him—it lights him up. Makes him grin like that. Makes her think that maybe her love could be a freedom instead of a weight, and gods, seeing what her words do to him—seeing how they land—has her stomach somersaulting with butterflies.

Her grin spreads wide and bright as he starts collecting fruit with all the enthusiasm of a kid on a treasure hunt. "Very impressive," she teases, voice rich with affection as she watches him add to his makeshift bag. Reaching down, she plucks up two citrus fruits of her own—bright yellow and perfectly round—and rises to her feet. Holding them up in front of her chest like absurd golden breasts, she beams at him, eyes dancing. "But tell me—" she purrs, bouncing her “fruit tits” with exaggerated pride, "—can you walk and carry all those things at once?"

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

The satisfaction at properly reading her mind, which is a convoluted place at times, and the promise of a shower far outweighs the patronization. "I didn't think you'd want to contaminate the Sugartide," he grins back, chuffed (not in the train or ass way) that she doesn't seem to care. Well, that and the other options are just worse, or limited. Although he could always call a spirit instead of her dad. "I got on the same wave length eventually. Won't be long and I'll be finishing your..." he purposefully trails off, leaving it open for her to slot the final word in with a spark of challenge in his gaze.

Between the two of them the shirt-bag fills quick enough, and he's unsure just how many fruits they need but he feels like this is more than plenty. He's not just saying that because it's getting heavy—he could do this all day son—or because he wants to get her into the shower as soon as possible...actually yes, that is exactly why.

A chuckle escapes him, a sly "I know, right?" answering her back just as teasingly. "I'll even carry you." Which he'd do well to remember one of the days she selects shoes shoes that prioritize fashion over comfort a touch too far on a long night out. He would though, happily, especially if the shoes end up worth it. After reorganizing his fruit bag and coming to the conclusion they're done, he glances up at her and her new, tangy totties. His mouth curls wide with a contained laugh as his stare fixates on the heft of her new assets. "I can run and carry all those things at once," he announces with a sudden lurch towards her as if he means to give chase, his free hand swiping out to grab at one of her citrus cannons. He will run after her if she flees, carefully and slowly, not keen on wiping out in the mud again.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora flashes him a heated grin, her eyes glinting with pure trouble as she shrugs, feigning innocence. "Obviously we’ll have to strip off on deck before going below," she says sweetly, as if it’s the most reasonable suggestion in the world. Then, with a mock-thoughtful hum, she adds, "But if you’re worried about it, we could always fly toward the Mist Banks instead..." The implication hangs deliciously between them—wait longer, behave longer—and her grin only widens when she sees the faint spark of protest flicker in Kai's gaze.

When he trails off, fishing for the last word of his sentence, she doesn’t give him what he’s looking for. Instead, she smirks and supplies, "Leftovers." The word drips with pointed amusement. It hasn’t escaped her that since they’ve been living together, suspicious little bites have appeared in the food she leaves out; sandwich corners nibbled, a fry or two missing, sometimes even half a bag of cookies mysteriously gone. Rather than annoy her, it’s become something endearing. Every missing morsel feels like a quiet, domestic signature: a soft Kaisel was here scrawled across her day. And she loves it; the way his presence weaves itself through even the smallest, most ordinary things.

When he offers to carry her, she gives him the full John Cena YOU SURE ABOUT THAT look, one brow arching high. "That’s very chivalrous of you," she laughs, voice bubbling bright with affection, "but I think I can manage to walk." She’s still smirking when he lunges, swiping one of her citrus breasts. "Hey!" Flora yelps, laughter bursting out of her as she pivots away from him, the sound bright and unrestrained. "I already gave you mud titties, you thief!" She jogs through the humid air, giggling under her breath as the vines and fruit-slick mud squelch beneath her boots. By the time she reaches the Sugartide, she’s laughing outright, catching the rope ladder and scrambling easily up its length, her citris boob still clutched in one hand.

At the top, she leans over the railing, curls spilling over her shoulder, and peers down at him with a teasing grin. "You don’t need a hand, do you?" she calls, voice lilting with mischief. Her brows lift as she looks down at him, the picture of smug amusement, wondering how Kai would best a muddy ladder with his citrus haul.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

There is absolutely a protest rising at that offer. One that threatens to swing wildly away from peaceful if she thinks his face remotely resembles worry. He'll scrub her deck later if need be, and promptly slip into the role of a pool boy and all the duties that go with it if need be. He'll improvise on the pool part.

He can't keep back the complete wreckage amusement makes across his face as she supplies leftovers of all things. "WhUh—yeah!" Maybe it isn't the direction he'd been headed, but he could get on board, or already had. Though a sheepish look streaks in, caught when he thought he'd been clever. "You know, kings and queens have been poisoned all throughout history," he says, suddenly well educated on the past and the risks to rulers. "So really, it's my humble duty to taste test everything you might eat, even at risk to my own well-being." He nods slowly, letting the gravity of the situation and his sacrifice sink in, played up as it is.

He might pull his own John Cena move on her and hoist her up as proof, but he's certain that'd be met with consequences and delays he'd rather not wade through right now. Another time perhaps. Instead, he opts for encouraging her to pick up the pace, swiping one of her new tits free completely. He cackles behind her in pursuit, fruit raised aloft like a threat of what he'd do to the other if she let him close enough. "These ones aren't as saggy!" With his shirt stripped free too, he doesn't have much of any remnants of his rack remaining. Her dick has long since slid free of its once proud station, little more than a smeared silhouette on her waist now.

She clambers aboard as he reaches the bottom of the ladder, the sight of her ass dipping away over the railing followed by a flash of feet, the creak of rope, and the faint hum of her laughter drifting down. His head tilts up after it, a rough grin answering the golden glimpse of her as she calls down. Framed against the sky, her curls a wild spill around her, she seems to glow on every edge, as if the light had been waiting just for her. Her grin, sharp and knowing and impossible, is every bit of his heaven, and he aches to climb toward her.

Chucking her fruit tit back at her, he gets to work on his plan. "Very considerate, but I have this handled sweetheart!" he responds as one hand already works to undo his belt. The leather slides free easily, responding to a sure flick of his hand as he yanks it free of a few belt loops. Just enough to feed the handles of his makeshift bag onto the side of his hip, locking it in place as he feeds the tail of his belt back around, hooking it secure with a sharp tug. His head lifts again, a hand with it, ascending the ladder with all the sureness of a man climbing to salvation.

He arrives on deck with a ta da of his hands raised above him, fruit holstered on his side with only the mildest threat of one or two pieces spilling over. "Now I'd be happy to have any of your hands help me," he grins with suggestion as he steps across the distance between them, extending the same offer of helpful hands towards the bottom of her shirt.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora snorts, eyebrows rising as she fixes him with an adoring but skeptical look that’s all really, babe? "How does it help to poison test my food after I’ve clearly eaten some of it?" she asks, hands on her hips like she might be preparing to lecture him. But the corners of her mouth betray her, twitching up even as she tries to stay stern. Nibbling her bottom lip, she tilts her head and adds, "Any other humble duties you've been performing that I should know about?"

At his remark about saggy tits, she huffs, tossing a playful glare over her shoulder as she scrambles for the ladder. "Beggars can’t be choosers!" she calls, voice bright with laughter as she clambers easily up to the deck of the Sugartide. Peeking over the railing, she waits, smugly curious to see how Wonder-Man plans to scale the ladder with fruit strapped to his side like some kind of tropical warrior-satchel.

When he tosses her citrus tit back up at her, she catches it with a giggled "Wh—?" of surprise, but her amusement quickly stalls as she sees him begin to undo his belt. Her brows shoot up. "Jumping the gun a little, aren’t we?" she murmurs, thinking she was about to get a show far sooner than anticipated, only to watch the careful precision of his plan unfold. Her smile does too, delighted and impressed as the belt cinches the bag of fruit to his hip, freeing his hands for the climb.

She steps back to give him room as he ascends, but she doesn’t stop watching, not for a second. The jungle behind him is still lush and alive, the vines humming softly in the wind, but all of it fades into a vibrant blur compared to the sight of him climbing over the railing. Shirtless and golden, mud-streaked and grinning, with the literal success of their regional quest hitched to his belt like some absurdly handsome trophy. Her heart stutters with something giddy and girlish, a full-body thrill of gods, that’s mine. She feels like she’s a teenager again and starstruck at the sight of her crush, only this time the crush is a man who looks like excitement and sunshine and is in love with her.

Flora applauds as Kaisel straightens, grinning wide and wild, and doesn’t hesitate for a second when he reaches for her shirt. She lets him peel her out of it easily, hands lifted in surrender, laughter still dancing in her throat. Her own hands go for his belt in tandem, deft fingers working it open and off, releasing the fruit in the process, which tumbles gently to the deck in a soft, citrusy clatter.

And then she’s pressing into him, close and unashamed, her skin slick with heat and jungle air as her fingers slide up into his messy, muddy hair. Her mouth finds his in a kiss that feels like relief, like the first breath after drowning, like something golden bursting at the edges of her chest. It’s joy and sunlight, youth and freedom, everything good and stupid and real.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

The grin that greets her is one like a laid trap, just waiting to be activated. Although he would have been fine if she didn't trigger it and just accepted his heroism for face value too, but he's prepared for her sleuthing. "That's the genius of it," he explains readily. "Everyone's so used to testing poison right away, right? So the poisoners got wise and started poisoning the leftovers, so I got even wiser, and here we are." If his family values weren't so steeped in battle he might have grown up a theater kid instead. "Wouldn't be very humble if I just listed them all off, now would it?" he drawls out, a 'brow lifting up at the audacity of her ask.

A knowing chuckle slips free as he does his best to become Indiana Jones. Jumping the gun? Absolutely not, but he does mean to jump some bones. Which he gets straight to after two rounds of applause, the first being with her hands, the second coming with the patter of fruit around them. A laugh builds in his chest at the complete surrender of sensibility, but the sound never quite leaves him in full, deepening instead into an approving rumble for the work of her hands and the view of her chest freeing to his.

He's reaching to draw her in even as she's already on her way, the space between them collapsing in a heartbeat. When they meet, it’s hungry and dizzying, the kind of kiss that steals every thought and replaces it with a surge of finally, fulfilling some part that's been missing and hollow without this. His hands find her back, her waist, anywhere they can fit, greedy for the shape of her. He hauls her closer, tighter, until there’s nothing left between them but breath and the sticky, humid press of skin where they've stripped bare. For a moment he lifts her, instinct and want blurring into one motion, tilting her back in his arms, leaning in over her as he chases this one kiss, more than willing to let the whole world collapse into it.

The jungle hums around them, alive and pulsing with the same fever running through him. He breaks the kiss just long enough to drag in a breath, forehead pressed to hers, voice rough with it. "Mm, I missed this." It doesn’t matter if it's only been hours, or days, he craves her and any measure of time feels like it could be too long. He dives back in before reason can find him, the world narrowing again to heat and heartbeat and her.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Everything clicks into place when she’s in his arms. Not just her body against his, not just the breathless press of their skin or the curve of her waist beneath his hands, but something deeper, older; something that had been cracked and aching inside her for so long it had almost started to feel permanent. And yet, here in Kaisel’s arms, those pieces don’t just come together; they’re gilded, bright and beautiful in a way they never were before. Kaisel doesn’t fix her, he makes her better, like every fracture in her chest was waiting to be filled with the gold of everything that he is.

His kiss steals her thoughts and fills her instead with warmth, want, wonder. When he lifts her and tilts her back, he'll feel her lips curve into a smile against his, half-laugh, half-kiss, as if joy itself is spilling out of her. Gods, if only there were paparazzi in Caido, because she’d give anything for a photo of this. Them, shirtless and streaked in mud, tangled in a kiss that tastes like sunlight and freedom and sweetness, the jungle wild around them and Kaisel somehow making it all feel romantic, cinematic, perfect.

When he breaks the kiss, their foreheads brushing and his voice low and rough with feeling, Flora’s breath hitches. Her smile blooms in full, mischief and love and heat all dancing across her face like sunlight through leaves. "Ditto," she whispers back, the word fast becoming their shorthand for everything too big to say. It stands in for I love you more today than yesterday, for you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, for I want you, I need you, I’d choose you a thousand times again. All of it, all at once.

Flora's fingers twist around her back, unclasping her bra in one fluid motion. She lets it fall between them without fanfare, fingertips sliding down to rest on the edge of his pants with a grin that could only be called wicked. "Come on," she murmurs, voice playful but rich with promise, "we have very important regional work to do." Her brows bounce as her thumb taps lightly at the button of his pants. "And we can’t get it done until we’re clean." She says it like it’s fact. Like getting naked and climbing into the shower with him is a public service to Torchline. Like sex is part of fulfilling their civic duty, and gods help anyone who tries to argue otherwise.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

He fights back the vibrant laugh that tries to rise in response to her ditto. Though it doesn't escape in sound, it surges through him just the same, pouring right back into her through his touch as his grip takes on newfound eagerness and his lips meet hers with more weight. She is everything delightful there is to the world—the sweetness of fruit at its ripest, the smell of potential after a storm, the heat that lingers on skin after enjoying the sea. For each ordinary moment that turns into one worth remembering, there she is in the middle of it, a spark that won't dim. All of it wrapped up in the shape of a woman who somehow keeps choosing him.

The world narrows to the pulse of her against him, the taste of warmth and promise and the faint tang of salt on her skin. Mud clings between them in small splatters and with a richness of smell that overwhelms the usual scents of her lotions and sweat. He pulls away a touch with the reminder, tilting them back upright, glad to give her the space to fully free her chest. No citrus or earth able to mimic the perfect swell of her breasts and he admires them shamelessly.

"I don't know how you expect me to work under these conditions," he complains wryly, certain that once she's topless he can't be held accountable for anything, least of all productivity. His hands slide down her back, splaying against the curve of her hips, fingers curling in on the rim of fabric still there. "Good thing I’m a dedicated employee," he breathes, a roughness slipping back into his voice as he guides her back towards a seat, gaze molten on her now.

He'd undo her pants for her, but with her boots up to her knees, there'd not be much point, not if they mean to make it off this deck anyway. Never afraid to get his hands dirty, he sets into unlacing the shoes and yanking them off as if offended they've kept her contained this whole time.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora flashes him a smile that's utterly wicked, brimming with heat and challenge. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to rise to the challenge," she purrs, the word curling off her tongue like smoke, daring and delighted all at once.

As his hands slide down the small of her back, she rises onto her toes to press herself more fully into his grasp. His palms bracket around her like the world might just end at the edges of his fingers, like if he holds her close enough they’ll dissolve into something singular and blinding together. The press of his skin, the strength of his hold—it’s grounding and dizzying all at once—and she revels in the way he touches her like she’s something sacred and wild in equal measure.

The look he gives her then, gods. It sends a flush blooming across her throat and chest, heat rippling through her in a wave of wanting that doesn’t crest so much as break. Being wanted by Kaisel feels molten, fluid, as if his gaze alone pours down her spine and pools low in her belly. It’s not just heat; it’s current, lightning, the kind of electricity that makes her want to race through every layer of clothing and caution until he’s inside her and all the tension finally snaps. But it’s also the kind of wanting that makes her ache to savour it, slow and reverent, peeling back the layers of arousal until only the core of them remains, bare and golden and trembling.

Flora sinks down onto one of the cushions, rain-washed and still slightly sun-warmed beneath her. Stretching her leg out toward him with a teasing tilt of her ankle, she watches him through lowered lashes, her other foot already twisting inside its boot in an effort to coax it loose. "Maybe for your birthday," she says, voice a breathy hum, "I’ll get you something that magically removes our clothes." The grin that follows is all teeth and hunger, because it wouldn't be a gift for him so much as for her.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and dangerous, answering her dare with a look that's loose with confidence that, yes, he will. Each movement guiding her into place is taut with growing want, her, steadily coiling tighter with every touch she affords him. He works her first leg free of the boot, every lace an eternity keeping her from him. It's only seconds, surely, but they stretch long enough that his first response to her suggestion is a laugh, an approving glance lifting to her as he pulls down her sock and flicks it over his shoulder.

"Something that removes our clothes?" he echoes, grin tipping crooked. "Seems like a waste of magic when I’ve already got the hands for it." The moment her other outstretched leg is within reach he catches her ankle in his palm as if in proof. His fingers unwork her laces, mud slicking under his thumb as he slides it higher, tugging down the rim of her boot to find the warmth of skin beneath. "Besides," he hums as the boot comes off in one sure tug, landing somewhere behind him with a wet thud. "You would surely turn that loose upon me at the worst possible times." Far too dangerous a power for either of them. Her second sock joins the pile.

There are moments he'd like nothing more than to snap his fingers and have her laid out before him, prime for the taking. Right now though, he's currently enjoying himself far too much unearthing her from the oppression of her attire. His fingers are already separating the clasp of her pants, a practiced cup to her ass freeing her further, knuckles brushing her thigh as he works them completely loose.

By the time he peels the fabric away, the muddy slap of it hitting the deck crisp between breaths, his grin has turned positively feral. He sinks to his knees in front of her, palms gliding up her calves, over her knees, chasing bare skin like a prayer. Despite filth that joins his worship in various deposits along her, some streaking off his thumb as if painting the path of his devotion, he doesn't hesitate to adorn her with his hands. He's mindful not to mark her anywhere too intimate, but his grip finds the outer curve of her thighs and sinks in like he's anchoring himself to her, yanking her forward along her ass, panties all the remain.

"I love doing my civic duty," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and want alike. His waistband is now in range of her hands again as he bows down, pressing a kiss to each breast, slow and warm and indulgent.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora laughs, the sound breathy and tangled in the heat blooming low in her belly. It slips from her like steam, clouded by arousal and the slow, torturous way Kaisel seems to be savouring the undressing of her. Her fingers twitch where they brace behind her, knuckles white with the effort not to yank him closer. "So what, you don’t trust me to wield that kind of power??" she demands, breath hitching as he pulls her sock away. Her gaze drops to him—half-lidded, flushed, and filled with longing. He's right to doubt her of course.

The fact that he doesn’t slide her underwear off with her pants is all the answer she needs to whether or not he is intentionally taking his time with this. Kaisel's restraint is unbearable, delicious, infuriating, and it’s going to be his downfall.

A plan begins forming as he sinks between her thighs, reverent as a disciple, his hands painting heat along her legs. Her breath catches as he yanks her forward, the friction sparking between her thighs, pleasure flaring hot and demanding. But when the most release he gives her is the soft, deliberate press of lips against her breasts—no teeth, no hands, no more—something wicked coils behind her grin. She leans forward, breath shallow, her body humming with want. Fingers tangling back into his muddy hair, she brings her mouth to his ear and murmurs, soft and saccharine, "If all you need are your hands, then so be it."

And then, twist; one of the rings on her fingers flares faintly, and Flora vanishes from sight.

Her hands, however, move swiftly. The button of his pants pops free given she’d toyed with it earlier, and now it yields with ease. Without the reverent ceremony he’s been bestowing upon her, one invisible hand reaches in and frees his cock with startling efficiency, making sure nothing catches, and then with a sudden snap, she yanks both pants and underwear down to his mid-thigh. She leaves him hard, wanting, and untouched.

Payback.

Her laughter is bright and light as wind over waves as she tries to wriggle sideways, slipping like sunlight through the cage of his arms. With her ring still active and his pants hobbling him up, she’s confident she has just enough of a head start—mud or not—to make her escape.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //

"Should I?" he challenges back with a pause, gaze flicking to her for a moment as the query hangs. He doesn't think to, but he'd like to be proven wrong. Though the possibility is soon forgotten when it comes to making the rest of her clothes vanish the old fashioned way for now, and as he'll soon discover, the entirety of her vanishing.

It could be said, that he is doing his best to strip her down out here, leaving the worst of his attentions for once they finally get into the shower and he doesn't have to dodge dirt. If he's taking his time with the process, it's only to find the restraint between the stitches of her clothes to keep the same pattern on himself, else he might pin her down and make them both a hot and dirty mess out here. Hard to say, because all he's given is a half-undressing before poof.

His gaze lowers as her hands do, a sharp inhale answering the quick gathering her hands do against his cock. Then, blink, she's there then gone, his erection abruptly cold of her touch and left hanging over the wreath of his pants around his legs. Instinctively he reaches back out with his hands, already forgetting the edges of her where his mouth and palms had just been, lunging forward to catch on her. Like a fish sliding through his hands amid water, he feels her slip away in a shot.

"FloooorUH!" he demands, her name a disbelieving sputter as he nearly tips forward, balance snaring on the tangle of pants still around his knees. He only saves himself with a slap of his palm, dick tapping the deck briefly with the momentum. "Why would I need my EYES to undress you!" he shouts out, and though there's no real heat to it, her mischief currently has him fighting to kick off his shoes as quickly as possible. His haste makes a mess of the job, in more ways than one, mud streaking and squealing along the wood as he struggles with a normally basic function.

"You're gonna fucking get it," he mutters under his breath as he finally frees himself entirely, storming down the stairs and thundering nudely to the bathroom.

Kaisel

// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //

is this the end of all the endings?

Kaisel’s shout is met with a huff of laughter that dances like wind through windchimes; bright, delighted, and utterly unrepentant. From somewhere behind him—everywhere behind him—Flora’s voice floats through the air, syrupy sweet and brimming with smug amusement. "You’re the one who said you only needed your hands," she reminds him innocently, as though this entire thing weren’t completely premeditated. "Which you definitely still have." Another peal of laughter follows, breathless with victory. "Score one for magical items," she adds with a grin he can’t see but can no doubt hear.

She watches—still invisible, still naked and gleaming with mischief—as he thunders his way down the stairs, every stomp filled with dramatic outrage. She hadn't gone down ahead of him, and as he stomps by, she tiptoes—soft and stealthy as a jungle cat—trailing him with predatory patience. She waits until the perfect moment, and then crack.

Her hand strikes his ass with impressive precision, fingers splaying wide to cup the entirety of it in one glorious slap. It makes the most satisfying sound imaginable, a sharp echo of skin against skin that reverberates through the hall like a taunt delivered straight to the gods. And gods help her—because Kai certainly won't—but the sight she’s just slapped is too good not to admire. Because even though it's only Flowerbirth, given that someone wouldn't tan naked last season, Kaisel’s ass, bared in all its lily-white glory, is still a markedly different colour compared to the caramel flush of the rest of him. The tan line makes it criminal. Sacred. Too much to resist.

Flora snickers wickedly from the shadows of her invisibility, entirely uncaring of the consequences she’s just unleashed.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3