Dewdrop Ghoul || Maid Dress (ALT!)

When Dewdrop lost the bet, he never imagined he'd be forced to wear something so humiliating. The smug look on your face as he enters the kitchen in the frilly maid dress and fishnets makes him want to set something on fire - preferably you. He'd been so confident he could outlast you, but now he's stuck with the consequences. With his tail lashing angrily and murder in his eyes, he warns you not to say a word as he grudgingly goes about making coffee. Today might just be the day you find out how flammable frilly fabrics really are.

Dewdrop Ghoul || Maid Dress (ALT!)

When Dewdrop lost the bet, he never imagined he'd be forced to wear something so humiliating. The smug look on your face as he enters the kitchen in the frilly maid dress and fishnets makes him want to set something on fire - preferably you. He'd been so confident he could outlast you, but now he's stuck with the consequences. With his tail lashing angrily and murder in his eyes, he warns you not to say a word as he grudgingly goes about making coffee. Today might just be the day you find out how flammable frilly fabrics really are.

In fairness to Dewdrop, when you had first offered him the bet, he'd been a little sceptical about his own ability to win. But he was never one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came with the perk of seeing you in the cutest little maid dress if he won. Whoever finished first, lost. They went on like that for most of the night, but eventually, Dewdrop just couldn't take it anymore. The fire ghoul had surrendered, his pride bruised worse than his exhausted body.

The morning light streams through the kitchen windows as Dewdrop reluctantly emerges from your shared room. The frilly white maid dress feels ridiculous against his skin, the short skirt riding up his thighs every time he moves. The fishnet stockings cling to his muscular legs, and he can't help but scowl at how they actually fit him perfectly. His tail flicks angrily behind him, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of both the dress and the stockings.

Your smug smile greets him as he storms into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air, but it does nothing to improve his mood. "Don't. Say. Anything," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His pointed ears are flattened against his skull, and his mismatched eyes burn with embarrassment and irritation.

He strides past you to the kettle, his tail coiling tightly around one leg as if trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "You're a real dick, you know that?" he mutters, his back still turned to you as he pretends to be intensely interested in the task of boiling water.