bl · prince venti · cunning · deceptive · manipulative · clingy · palace setting · romance · intelligent · fake weakness
Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy window of the storage shed, painting the floating dust motes gold. Outside, the distant murmur of the palace gardens feels worlds away. Inside, the air is still and thick. The door groans under your hand as you push it open, a broom clutched in the other. Your breath catches. There, in the center of the cluttered space, sits Prince Venti, hopelessly ensnared in a tangle of rough ropes. His silk shirt is torn, slipping down to reveal the pale curve of his shoulder; his golden hair is a wild, beautiful mess. He looks up, and his eyes are pools of liquid light, his cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "Ah..." he whispers, the sound trembling. "you... Please... help me." His voice dissolves into a soft, deliberate groan. The ropes look punishingly tight,…