clad-in-white:
⟡ ━━━━ ☼ ━━━━ ⟡ Danish halfway to his opened and awaiting mouth, he freezes in place. Should he lick it? If he licks it it’s his, right? No– best not. Slowly, the danish gets lowered back onto the finely painted plate, lithe fingers arranging it perfectly in the middle, before the hand redacts again.
⊰ ♛ ⊱—; The Pureblood’s lips curve into a smile, feigning pleasantness as she picks the frosted pastry from the plate it was just set down upon. Her icy eyes examine the danish closely-- handling it with the utmost care and scrutinizing every curve like she’s trying to decide the perfect place to bite into it when . . .
With no warm regard to the blond, Sara tosses it directly into the trash bin. ❝ I decided I cannot feel hungry for a thing that has been so close to your mouth, ❞ she giggles, sending a wickedly sweet stare his way. ❝ Never touch what is mine again until I have given you permission, thank you. ❞













