missaengg

[missaengg]

The amount of pics like this they have for roger and alfons compared to the others lmao

[missaengg]

Haha omg omg, your mom is a genius! He does have bunny-like characteristics!!

I finally got a more in depth explanation as to why my mom associates bunnies with this guy

So first off she says that Ellis is fast, agile, and she notices he’s always jumping during fight scenes with criminals.

Then she says that this picture

Reminds her of what our old pet bunny “snowball” used to do to our dogs.

Snowball would stare down our dogs all the time, like eye to eye, whenever the dogs were lying down 😂 he’d do this and then jump away looking back at them, to tease the dogs 😂 (the dogs were very gentle with the bunny, they had grown up together)

She also says that the relationship between Ellis and Jude reminds her of how Snowball would act with our dogs as well 😂

Next she mentioned the story with this card

She basically said that this story threw her off as she didn’t expect Ellis to be so… horny and seductive, and she also didn’t expect Kate to actually do anything with Ellis 😂

She remembers that snowball and our other bunny “spot”, would hump each other all the time 🙂‍��️😂

I can’t lie, this reason threw me off 😂

Lastly, she says that bunnies always look happy and she associates the word “happy” with Ellis now 😂 She’s looking forward to reading his route but she’s not looking forward to how many times he’ll ask about Kate’s happiness 😂

Anyway I’m curious about what others think!

[missaengg]

“fake” rings 😂

🍎🤭💍

Credit: @yunonoai_ on IG

[missaengg]

Why is this so cute??? 😭

Perfect for us (Greyson x reader)

Words: 2191

Tags: pre-relationship; fluffy; first kiss; confessions; brief misunderstandings; Greyson blushing beautifully; Greyson being shy but trying to be assertive; you’ve been friends for a while, in case it wasn’t clear ashusahuoahuea

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“This is it!” You say to yourself. With one last glance at the car’s rearview mirror, you meet your own determined gaze. “You got this!” Taking a deep breath, you step out of the vehicle with a box of chocolates in hand.

The mantra “it’s okay, everything will be fine” echoes in your mind as you walk through Akso Hospital. The parking lot, the garden, the main reception… You know the way by heart, and your body leads you without hesitation to the cardiology ward.

And that’s when your body betrays you.

Your feet freeze in place when you see Yvonne’s desk and the flow of people bustling back and forth. Your eyes lock onto the floor as your mind reminds you that, despite it being Valentine’s Day, it’s still just another workday for those tirelessly working there. The determination you had five minutes ago starts to crack as you realize that your presence might disrupt his work — especially for something so… trivial.

If regret could kill, you’d be dead on the floor right now.

How did you not think of this before? It’s obvious this was a stupid idea! Who buys chocolates for their crush and brings them to a hospital to give them? Sure, the hospital is his workplace, but that doesn’t help now! You shouldn’t have come to his workplace for this… You can give him the chocolates another day. Probably. You should just turn around and leave before someone sees you.

“Excuse me, Miss!” A voice calls from behind you, but you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even recognize who it belongs to.

“Sorry,” you reply, stepping to the side, thinking you were just in someone’s way. Your eyes remain fixed on a random spot on the floor, your shoulder leaning against the wall as you continue your internal debate.

The person passes by and stops next to you for a few seconds, but you don’t even notice. Only when a pair of feet appears in your line of sight do you realize that the person is now standing in front of you. Confused, you look up, meeting familiar gray eyes that watch you with curiosity behind the glasses.

“Greyson!” Your eyes widen, and your first reaction is to grip the box of chocolates tightly as you hide it behind your back.

“Ah, so you finally noticed me here,” he says with a light teasing tone, his usual gentle gaze locked on you. The doctor obviously notices your suspicious and far from discreet movement, but he just gives a small smile as he speaks. “What brings you here?”

“I… I was, uh, looking for someone.” 

“I can help you, if you’d like. Who do you need to talk to?”  

“No, I… I should leave and wait for another time to talk to him. The hospital is busy, and I don’t want to interrupt. This was a silly idea,” you smile awkwardly.

“Oh…” A look of understanding passes across his face as his gray eyes briefly fall on your arm, still hidden behind you, for a fraction of a second, but it’s more than enough for you to notice. His smile falters when he realizes what’s going on, and his voice sounds less cheerful when he responds. “I see.”

The man can’t help but feel upset, especially because he put in extra effort and worked later than usual in the past few days to try and have some free time to ask you out today. The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, given that emergencies happen all the time at the hospital, but he had just made sure his plan could go ahead when he saw you standing in the middle of the hallway. And now knowing that you were here at the hospital possibly to deliver chocolates to someone else…

The expression on his face changes in a way you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few seconds to process the situation and realize you need to do something. He’s misunderstanding everything! A frantic voice echoes in your head. You need to swallow your embarrassment and negative thoughts, and do this right, before he thinks you’re there for someone else! Before this turns into a communication problem that can’t be undone.

All the lunches together and the almost daily messages, even if it’s just to wish each other a good morning. All the rides he’s given you home, and how you both drag out the goodbyes just to spend one more minute together. All the sneaky glances and late-night phone conversations when he’s off work.

All the times you lay in bed and wondered if friends felt this way when they were together, or if this feeling was something more. All the times you stared at the ceiling of your room while realizing that the butterflies in your stomach were signs that what you felt was more than just friendship. All the times you wondered if the shy smiles he gave you were just for you, and if they meant something more. And the time you realized that, if you wanted to be sure, you could use Valentine’s Day in your favor.

And now here you are, watching his face change completely. His brows furrow as he looks away to a random spot on the floor beside him, and his lips break the sweet smile he always gives you. Your heart tightens seeing him like that, but it also makes your determination come back stronger.

“Greyson!” You call out louder than necessary, pushing yourself off the wall and straightening up in a sudden movement. He turns his gaze to your face, slightly startled by the sudden action. “Are you busy right now? I mean, of course, you’re always busy, you’re exceptional at everything you do, and that’s why your schedule is always exploding, but... What I want to know is if you’re too busy right now, or if we can talk for a moment?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, trying to process the barrage of words you just threw at him in a record time of five seconds. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to calm his own heart from the compliment. “Well... Actually, my schedule is completely free right now.”

“Really?! Then... Do you want to go somewhere?”  

He looks at you, confused. “Didn’t you—”

“No.” You cut him off before he finishes the sentence, breaking into a smile. “Meow Cafe?”

Greyson raises an eyebrow in silent questioning but doesn’t comment on your sudden change in behavior. With a sigh, he agrees. “Sounds great. I’ll just get my things.”

“I’ll wait for you in my car then!”

He nods and turns toward his office. You stay there, your hand still hidden behind your back until he’s out of your sight. Now that you’re going out together, you decide to give him the chocolates at the cafe. It’ll be so much more romantic and perfect that way!

You’re separated for just a few minutes, but you’re so anxious that it feels like hours when the brown-haired man appears at the meeting spot, his cheeks flushed from practically running to get to you faster.

The ride to the cafe is short, filled with random topics as your mind re-plans how you’re going to confess to him. And your Plan B falls apart when you reach the destination and see the place packed, and with a huge waiting line outside. Without reservations, you both give up and try another place. And another, and another… But every place is full because of Valentine’s Day.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you park the car in some random square. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky and you both in twilight colors, and you’re on the verge of giving up on everything. Maybe everything that’s happened is a sign for you to stay quiet and say nothing. Another sigh, and you notice some movement beside you when Greyson moves in the passenger seat. You turn your face to look at him, but he just watches you cautiously for a few moments.

“Something’s bothering you, and it’s been since the hospital.” His voice is low, but he says it with complete certainty. There’s no need to ask; he knows you well enough to tell when something’s wrong. You don’t respond, but the way you furrow your brows and set your lips in a straight line is enough of an answer for him. “Is it... because you didn’t find who you were looking for at the hospital? You wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Wait, what?”  

“It’s fine. I could offer to help you find him.”

“Greyson, that’s not…” You try to speak, but he places his index finger on your lips. The smile that spreads across his face is subtle, but enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes slightly, which gaze at you with that determined gleam you’ve come to love. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you’d be able to explain yourself at this moment, so you end up giving in and staying quiet.

“However, I don’t… want that. If I can be honest… That’s not what I want at all.” The guy seems to be struggling for the right words, his cheeks growing redder with every passing second. “I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish, and it’s not fair to you, and now is definitely not the best or most romantic time, but… I had everything planned to ask you out today, for a Valentine’s Day date,” he says, waiting a few seconds for you to process what he said. Your eyes widen, and your breath stops, and he laughs through his nose in a self-deprecating way. The finger that was still on your lips falls, just like his shoulders, and he pulls back a bit as he sits properly in the seat again. “What I mean is… I like you more than just as a friend, and if I can make you change your mind, I will. I know it sounds selfish, and here in the car, in some random spot in the city, it’s definitely not what I had in mind when I planned to tell you—”

You don’t let him finish; you’ve heard more than enough, more than you expected. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and quick kiss, but it’s enough to leave the guy stunned.

“Greyson…” you whisper, pulling away slowly. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, even reaching up to his ears, and he looks absolutely adorable like that. “Like I tried to tell you: it’s not what you think. Yes, I was looking for someone at the hospital, and I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him. And in the end, I did.” You turn to the back seat, grabbing the box of chocolates you had placed there while waiting for him and placing it in his hands, which are frozen in his lap. “It’s not what I had planned either, but... Happy Valentine’s Day, Greyson. I didn’t manage to make homemade chocolates, but I picked these with love, exclusively for you, because I like you more than just a friend too.”

He alternates between looking at the chocolate and at you a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to remember what words are and how to say them to you.

“I... feel a little stupid now…” He finally says, furrowing his brow and pouting adorably.

“Well, to be fair, this would’ve been solved if we’d talked, and I think we were both waiting for the right and perfect moment. But sometimes, things happen at the most random and unplanned moments.”

Greyson keeps his confused frown, and you laugh softly, the melodious sound quickening his heartbeat while also calming him in a whirlwind of emotions. The only certainties at the moment are that he needs to hear you laugh more, see you smile more, and definitely kiss you more.

Holding the chocolate in one hand, he reaches out with the other, resting it gently on your neck. His thumb gently caresses your cheek, and he takes a deep breath before leaning in, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. He dares to ask to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking permission, and you sigh as you give in. In a cliché rom-com moment, you feel an electric current run through your body, warming you from the inside out. Your hand moves to his hair at the nape of his neck, tangling and gently stroking it, and he can’t help but smile during the kiss.

The butterflies don’t just flutter aimlessly, they twirl and dance in your stomachs, but the sensation is wonderful. You both feel that it’s right, that this is what you’ve always wanted.

And as the night slowly falls, you kiss each other again and again and again…

Taglist: @william-rex @candiedcoffeedrops @valkyyriia

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[missaengg]

His fingers had slipped inside her and played her until she sang his name.

Omg 🥵😭

Word count: 1154

Tags: NSFW - MDNI.

Pairing: William x OC (Diana)

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day!

The sun must be as ravenous as William feels, it drags its greedy gaze over the open windows and the balcony of Diana's old Fairytale Keeper room. Fingertips of sunlight reach across a flower bed of roses, tulips, white lilies, and a handful of other blossoms the Self-righteous Monarch carefully picked for this day — all so the sun can spill its glow over her naked, sweat-soaked skin as she lies panting on the same bed where William had made love to her for the first time .

He's had her come thrice today so far.

Once, as he undressed her and laid her down on the flowers, right after her delightful reaction at the arrangement on her old bed. His fingers had slipped inside her and played her until she sang his name. Once more, amidst protests over him remaining fully clothed. William had ripped the bothersome black tie from his neck and used it to obscure her vision instead, right before he'd handcuffed her misbehaving hands together and asked her to keep them over her head. Diana's dissent quickly died out when his tongue found its home between her thighs.

Third was just now, right after he'd laid out the chocolate she'd made for him all over her feverish skin — a saccharine trail of sin adorning her body for his hot lips, tongue, and teeth to follow. He savored her adorable gift and teased her until her voice broke beautifully around his name. He saved one chocolate to place against her lips and kissed Diana while her release was still on his tongue.

William is still fully clothed, cock hot and pulsing against his black pants, as he sits between her legs and runs a tulip between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach. Diana moans, arching up alluringly against the bed and the flower arrangements. The strain of his own arousal is almost unbearable. But this is not enough. He's never going to get enough.

"Will, I want to see you."

His lips curl up at her plea and he hums merrily as he runs the tulip back up her sweaty stomach and towards one of her breasts. Her chest rises and falls at a hypnotizing rhythm. His dove must not be thinking clearly, much like part of him isn't either. William takes a breath and his lungs fill with the fresh scent of flowers, and with it comes along the much more mesmerizing scent of her arousal. "I'm not done having my fun yet."

William leans down and wraps his lips around one pert nipple, sucking until she whimpers. More. Show me more. Lose yourself more. Want me more. Love me more. He pulls away from her breast, gluttonous red eyes drinking in the way she trembles.

"Will, please."

He chuckles when his cock jolts in response. In a show of mercy, or perhaps need, he grinds his clothed hard-on against her exposed wet folds, undoubtedly staining the fabric of his pants with her essence. William lets go of the tulip he'd been teasing her with in favor of tracing his hand down her curves and kneading at her thigh.

"Such a good girl. I haven't used any commands on you yet, you don't have to keep your arms above your head. Those handcuffs aren't stopping you from taking the blindfold off either." Diana ruts up against his clothed core, her wetness spreading on him and he wants to purr. He leans over her and kisses her jawline. "Want to tell me why you're being so obedient?"

Diana bites her lip, an adorable gesture that means she's unsure of admitting her thoughts. She's gotten better at being honest over the time they've spent together, but glimpses of her hesitation still persist sometimes. William kisses her lips until she melts under him again. "Tell me, my dove."

Her lips tremble when she answers. "I-I'm happy."

William's heart thumps at the endearing admission.

"I.. I'm so happy that you prepared something for me. I want to please you too."

He kisses her again, stealing her breath over and over until the daze of passion becomes too much to bear. He delicately removes the makeshift blindfold, and laughs when he's met with a glare. That, right there, is one of his favorite looks on her. Diana will do her best to glare at him through her embarrassment as if blissfully unaware of how adorable it is. "How am I supposed to drag this on when you behave so cutely?"

At the click of his belt unbuckling, her brown eyes immediately travel down his figure until they focus on his freed erection. Diana's tongue runs over her lips and he can't keep the smile from his face at her reaction.

"Hurry up."

William laughs in response against her lips as he grinds against her core, not pushing in yet. Diana keens and doesn't seem to appreciate his teasing, as she wraps her handcuffed hands around his neck and secures him close. "I should take more of your freedom next time."

Diana nods in agreement as she ruts up against him. "Whatever you want, just please get inside me."

"So impatient." He whispers drunkenly as he slips inside, her melodious moans and yeses filling his ears. "I knew that obedience was only the act of a vixen."

Her legs hold him tighter against her. "William."

"William?" He smiles down at her "Oh no, have I gotten in trouble?"

He keeps a slow, tortuous pace and she pulls him down for a biting kiss. He responds in kind until he angles his hips to deliberately hit one of her sweet spots, she clenches around him deliciously and breaks the kiss.

"You're a huge tease, Will."

"I think you like that." William moves a little harder against her and she whines. "Greedy girl, I also know you like gestures like what I prepared for you today. But I just want you. This. Your warmth around me."

"I always just want you too, but you have to go out of your way to read me and move me. Don't you?"

"Of course, look at how you're melting around my cock." William cups her face and tips it up to kiss her, his fingertips tangling in her brown, sweaty locks. Hips keeping a steady, blissful pace against her. When he pulls away he mouths at her jaw and neck as he rocks a little harder until she starts whining. "I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful flower."

Diana gasps, head thrown back as she climaxes again. William coos and speeds up his thrusts, she's whining at the friction but her legs are caging him in, eyes rolling back at the over-stimulation. Pleads falling from her lips.

"That's it, you feel so good." William is close, but even after he joins her in ecstasy he knows it won't be enough. "Let me make love to you today until we can't take it anymore."

tag list: @aquagirl1978 @cyborgspoonie @ike-garden2024 @missaengg

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[missaengg]

"The Butterfly Enchantress"

- Clavis Lelouch & Cassandra Bellerose (Ikemen Prince)

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, Cassandra Bellerose (OC)

Pairing: Clavis Lelouch x Cassandra OC

Genre: Fluff, tad of angst, romance, & Clavis Shenanigans

Word Count: ~5900

Summary:

Clavis Lelouch knows people. He sets the traps. He calls the shots. Until her.

Lady Cassandra Bellerose glides through his mischief like an untouchable wisp of fate, dodging disaster with effortless grace. Intrigued, Clavis follows—only to find himself tangled in something far more dangerous than his own schemes.

For the first time, Clavis isn’t the one pulling the strings.

And that? That is deeply inconvenient.

Clavis leaned casually against a tree, watching as Lady Cassandra meandered through the palace gardens, her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the sky. Her expression was soft, almost wistful, the corners of her lips curved in quiet thought. To him, she looked like a dreamer—one of those absentminded noblewomen who wandered through life on silken slippers, untouched by the sharp edges of reality. 

A wistful noblewoman lost in thought…how very tragic. Perhaps she was contemplating poetry, or worse—marriage.

She was utterly unaware of her surroundings, her steps slow and aimless, as though she had all the time in the world. His golden eyes flickered with interest as he tracked her movements, his casual interest shifting into something more akin to delight, because what truly caught his attention—what made his brows lift ever so slightly—was that she was walking straight toward his carefully placed pit traps.

He smirked. Ah, yes, here it comes. A single misstep, and gravity would claim its latest victim. Now that was poetry. Any second now—

She twirled.

Clavis blinked. The edge of the pit had been right there, mere inches away from her foot. But instead of plunging into his meticulously crafted trap, she had spun in a slow, absentminded circle, arms slightly outstretched, the hem of her dress brushing the grass.

“She twirled. A pirouette. Years of careful experimentation, ruined by ballet,” he muttered to himself. “Humiliating. Utterly humiliating.”

He continued watching, more focused now, as she resumed her aimless wandering. A few steps forward, and she was directly on course for the tripwire. His grin widened. Surely, this time—

She crouched suddenly, picking up a fallen flower petal, turning it in her fingers with a fascinated expression.

Clavis’ smile wavered. Either she was the luckiest woman alive, or some divine force was actively conspiring against him.

Another pit loomed just ahead. He leaned forward slightly, pulse quickening—this was it. The finale. The grand crescendo of her inevitable downfall.

She bent down to fix the strap of her shoe, entirely missing the gap in the ground.

His eyes narrowed, until they were nothing but slits of betrayal. Clearly, the universe had chosen a favorite today, and it wasn’t him.

Another trap. Another near miss. What was this—some sort of divine comedy? No, it was worse. It was a tragedy.

Was she truly oblivious, or had he met his match—a woman who escaped peril with the grace of a fabled heroine? If she dodged one more trap, he might just have to propose.

This time, she reached up, stretching on her toes as a butterfly fluttered just beyond her grasp, her soft laughter carried on the breeze. She drifted away from the trap as though it had never been there, as though his brilliant, painstakingly designed traps were nothing more than a mild inconvenience—like a pebble in her shoe, or a stray thread on her dress.

Utterly infuriating. Frankly, downright criminal. Had he wronged some celestial being in a past life? Was this karma? A cruel cosmic joke?

His smile twitched. Then twitched again. Then twitched so violently he nearly sprained his pride. How does she do that? 

His mind raced through the possibilities. Surely, she wasn’t actually aware of his traps. They were hidden, camouflaged to perfection. So well, in fact, that only Chevalier would have known they were there. There was no way she could have predicted their placement so accurately.

Clavis slipped into the shadows, moving with the silent precision of a hunter—though his prey was not an enemy, but something far more threatening. A force of nature. A walking paradox. A woman immune to Lelouch Traps. A mystical, fantastical, ridiculous, incomprehensible, infuriating glitch in the universe.

She moved through the garden like some oblivious sprite, unknowingly sidestepping every single one of his traps as if she had been born under the most ridiculous star of fortune.

Fascinated. Annoyed. And, perhaps, just a little bit wounded, he quickened his pace, weaving between hedges to keep her in sight. 

Just as he reached the edge of the bushes she had disappeared through, a sharp, irritated voice slashed through the garden like a dagger, shattering the fragile illusion of his stealth.

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

Clavis halted mid-step, blinking in mild surprise. Then, his golden eyes flicked toward the pit Cassandra had so effortlessly avoided.

Stepping closer, he peered over the edge—

—and was greeted with the thoroughly disgruntled sight of Yves, sitting stiffly in the dirt.

Clavis’s grin stretched so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t split in half.

"Yves!" he called down cheerfully. "Fancy meeting you here. What are you doing in my pit?"

Yves glared up at him, his normally pristine outfit smudged beyond repair. His arms were crossed, his legs bent at an awkward angle, and his face burned with pure indignation.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Yves snapped, his cheeks a deliciously amusing shade of red. 

Clavis hummed thoughtfully, as if deeply considering his predicament. “Ah, I see. You’re testing the trap for me. How very selfless of you.”

Yves’s expression darkened. “Clavis. Get. Me. Out.”

Clavis tapped his chin, his smirk never faltering. “I would, dear brother, but you know how it is—I simply can’t interfere with nature’s grand design.”

Yves inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as though physically restraining himself from violence. “If you don’t get me out of here right now, I swear—”

Clavis staggered back as if struck by lightning, a hand flying to his heart. “Oh no! Yves, whatever you do—stay absolutely still. I think I just saw the looming shadow of our beloved palace devil. And goodness, does he look displeased.”

Yves froze. Every muscle in his body locked up like a man facing execution, his blue eyes darting so frantically it was almost pitiable. “You’re lying,” he whispered.

Clavis shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Am I? You do know how he feels about ‘reckless foolishness’ disrupting the palace grounds.”

A long, tense pause.

Yves clenched his jaw. “I hate you.”

“That’s just love, dear Yves. A little tangled up in irritation, sure—but love nonetheless.” Pure mischief dancing in Clavis’ golden gaze. “Now, stay strong, dear Yves. If you survive, I shall compose a ballad in your honor.”

Unfortunately for Yves, the universe had never been particularly kind to him.

Just as he opened his mouth to unleash another round of threats, the distinct click of polished shoes against stone reached their ears.

Sariel stepped onto the garden path, his expression impassive as ever. His sharp amethyst eyes swept over the scene before him. 

Clavis was still smugly positioned above, tilting his head as he watched a disgruntled Yves squirm within the pit with the glee of a cat who had just cornered a very, very unfortunate bird. 

With the measured precision of a man well-versed in handling absolute nonsense, Sariel smacked his whip against his palm.

The sound cracked through the air like judgment itself.

"This had better be important," Sariel intoned, his voice devoid of amusement.

Clavis immediately straightened, slipping into his most princely, innocent smile. “Ah, dear Sariel! I assure you, my presence here is purely circumstantial. One moment, I was heroically tending to my royal duties, and the next—catastrophe! A pit had devoured a cute, little, innocent chipmunk! Imagine my horror.”

“I am not a rodent!” Yves yelled from the pit, seething.

Clavis’s smirk widened. “I said chipmunk. And they’re rather adorable, aren’t they? You should be flattered.”

Sariel, unimpressed, smacked his whip against his palm again. Clavis—while not one to fear authority—took a slight, instinctive step back.

“Funny,” Sariel remarked coolly. “I thought you had urgent business. And yet, here you are.”

Clavis, ever unbothered, casually tossed a small pouch into the pit. It landed with a soft thud beside Yves, who glanced at it warily before realization dawned. A bag of nuts.

“There you go, chipmunk,” Clavis grinned. “You cute little critters do store food for winter, don’t you? Best start preparing now.” He glanced at Sariel’s icy expression. “I sense an early frost.”

Yves's entire body vibrated with barely restrained fury. “Clavis—!”

Clavis swiftly reached into his coat, plucked out a small glass vial, and, with a flick of his wrist, smashed it against the ground.

A billowing cloud of smoke detonated with the kind of extravagance that could only be premeditated, swirling like a theatrical curtain as Clavis disappeared.

Sariel and Yves coughed through the sudden haze, Yves’s voice straining with pure, unfiltered hatred. “Clavis! —Cough—You miserable, flea-ridden excuse for a prince—”

“You all exhaust me,” Sariel muttered, rubbing his temples as though calculating whether this was worth his time—or if it was finally time to disappear and live as a hermit.

Clavis darted through the bushes, grinning to himself as the echoes of Yves’s sputtering outrage and Sariel’s exasperation faded behind him.

He had meant to catch up with Cassandra immediately, but it seemed she had vanished like a whisper on the wind. Intrigued, he slowed his pace, scanning the garden paths for any sign of her. He was certain she had come this way—his instincts rarely failed him—but where had she gone?

Then, a sound.

Soft and delicate—almost too quiet for him to hear—but unmistakably her.

A melody, floating through the air like a secret meant only for those deserving to hear.

Clavis’s grin faded into something more thoughtful as he followed the sound, slipping through the foliage with practiced ease. A small, hidden gate stood before him, partially concealed by ivy and blossoms, as though it had been forgotten by time itself. He tilted his head. “Ah, a secret passage? How delightfully suspicious. I do love a good mystery.”  With the ease of someone who made a habit of trespassing into places he shouldn’t, he slipped through.

And then, he stopped—his breath catching, an unfamiliar sensation winding in his chest.

There, bathed in dappled sunlight, as if she belonged to a world just beyond his reach, was Cassandra Bellerose.

For a fleeting second, Clavis wondered if he had stepped into some kind of dream. This wasn’t the woman he had come to know—the noblewoman with quiet cleverness and proper decorum, the one who had engaged in a sugar-cube war with surprising enthusiasm. No, this was something else entirely. Someone else entirely.

She danced, lost in a world untouched by walls or expectations, bare feet pressing into the grass, her wavy hair catching the golden light, her movements as instinctive as the wind itself. The melody spilling from her lips was soft, an intimate whisper against the world, as though even the wind and flowers leaned in to listen.

She doesn’t know I’m here. The realization sent an odd, unsettling ripple through him.

Clavis had always prided himself on knowing people. Unraveling them. Finding the strings that made them move. He had spent his life peeling back masks, uncovering secrets, discovering the hidden truths beneath polished exteriors. But this wasn’t a mask at all. This was something real. Something unguarded. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He could have announced himself—an exaggerated gasp, a taunting remark about catching her barefoot in a secret garden. He could have teased her, drawn her into a game, forced a reaction out of her. That’s what he did. That’s who he was.

And yet, for once, the impulse didn’t come.  For some reason, his voice…stuck.

Clavis simply watched.

Was this the real Cassandra? A creature untamed, unshackled, unbound by the expectations that tethered her to the world?

And that thought made something in him tighten. 

She wasn’t reacting to him. She wasn’t performing. She was simply… existing. And for the first time, Clavis found himself wondering if that, too, was a kind of magic.  And it was intoxicating in a way he could not explain.

And for reasons he couldn’t quite name, that unsettled him more than he liked.

Clavis wasn’t meant to be an observer.

Watching from the outside—it was too still, too quiet, too much like something he couldn’t control. It left space for something unwanted to stir, something creeping in at the edges of his mind before he could name it.

And Clavis Lelouch did not linger in emotions he could not name.

Poor thing. So blissfully unaware of her impending mortification. I almost feel bad. Almost.

The excuse formed effortlessly in his mind, a ready-made justification that let him move before he had to think too hard about why he wanted to.

With a calculated step, he rustled the leaves beneath his boots. The soft sound shattered the delicate quiet, pulling Cassandra from her dreamlike state.

“Well, if it isn’t my little songbird,” he chuckled, his voice rich with mischief.

Cassandra gasped, whirling around, her green eyes widening in shock. A vivid flush crept up her cheeks, blooming like the roses around her. 

“Prince Clavis!” she sputtered, her mortification clear as she hurriedly grasped at the hem of her dress. Her fingers trembled slightly, twisting the fabric as if she could somehow smooth out the moment itself.

Clavis leaned against a nearby arbor, arms crossed lazily, drinking in the sight of her. She was so different from the composed noblewoman he had come to know—the one who sparred with him in wit and hesitated to step too far outside the boundaries of propriety.

Here, she was barefoot and breathless, her hair slightly tousled from her movements, her expression completely unguarded. A contradiction, as captivating as it was unexpected.

Cassandra dipped into a quick, hasty curtsy, still avoiding his gaze.

“I must admit, stumbling upon you like this?” He took his time, closing the distance in slow, deliberate strides—as if savoring a particularly fine glass of wine. “Why, it’s enough to make a man believe in fate,” he teased, his golden eyes glinting with amusement.

“I… I didn’t mean to be improper,” she murmured, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress.

Clavis tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Improper?” he repeated, voice dipping into a musical lilt. Reaching out, he traced a single gloved finger beneath her chin, lifting it just enough to capture her gaze. His touch was barely there, a mere suggestion of contact—just enough to see how long she’d let him get away with it. “No, dearie. I’d say you’re the most enchanting discovery I’ve made today. Such a charming little diversion.”

Her breath hitched, her lashes fluttering as she fought to hold his gaze. He could see it—the way she was thrown off balance, caught between flustered and embarrassment.

“Lady Bellerose, I have to ask,” he began, “are you intentionally avoiding my traps, or is this some kind of divine intervention?”

Cassandra blinked. “Traps?”

Clavis tilted his head, feigning exasperation. “You waltzed straight through a minefield unscathed. Not a single misstep, not even a loose stone to trip you up.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I was looking for butterflies.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if assessing the truth of her words. “Butterflies?”

She smiled, turning her gaze skyward again. “They don’t think about where they’re going. They just flutter where the wind takes them, dancing through the air like they belong everywhere.”

Her words struck something deep—something he had spent years pretending he didn’t long for. Not just freedom, but the kind that required no careful calculations. No schemes. No consequences. A life where choices were made for the sake of joy, not survival. Where a misstep didn’t mean failure, and trust and love didn’t have to be tested before it could be believed.

Something in his chest twisted. A foolish reaction, really—what was there to envy in a butterfly? Fragile little things, at the mercy of the wind. And yet…an impossible life.

He felt it like an itch beneath his skin, a whisper of something he dared not name. Something too fragile to want. Wanting led to weakness, and weakness led to loss.

So he buried it. Smothered it beneath a lazy grin, tilting his head as if unaffected. “How poetic. And here I thought you were plotting some grand scheme to outwit me.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m not nearly clever enough for that, Prince Clavis.”

He stepped closer, his teasing dropping just slightly. "If this is you not trying, I have to wonder—just how dangerous would you be if you did? I may have to start keeping a much closer eye on you, young lady."

Cassandra tilted her head, studying him now. “You’re different when you’re not trying to goad your brothers.”

For a brief moment, he almost—almost—wanted to ask what she meant. But that was risky. Risky things led to reckless thoughts, and reckless thoughts led to regret. “And you, Lady Bellerose, are different when you forget to be proper.”

Her breath caught, her lashes fluttering—but this time, she didn’t look away. He could see it—the shift, the unspoken something that neither of them dared acknowledge.

"I'm not sure I believe you were just following butterflies," he asked, more to himself than to her. The idea of someone simply wandering—untethered, directionless—was something he couldn’t quite grasp.

“I love butterflies,” Cassandra confessed with a dreamy look in her eyes. She nodded toward the sky, eyes scanning it again. "They always seem to know exactly where they’re going…until they don’t. And yet, somehow, they always end up where they need to be."

"Fascinating.” Clavis tilted his head, watching her with newfound curiosity. “Tell me, Lady Bellerose—are you absolutely certain you weren’t speaking about yourself just now?"

Her gaze snapped back to him, lips parting slightly in surprise. "What? No, I—"

"Oh, but I do love when people reveal their own secrets without realizing it," he mused, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You drift through the palace gardens, dodging all sorts of obstacles without even realizing it. Fluttering along, untethered, impossible to predict. Yes…quite like a butterfly. So, confess. How did you avoid my traps? Did you just flutter over them like the delicate butterfly you are?”

“There’s that word again.” Cassandra scrunched up her nose, curiosity in her eyes as she gazed at him. “What traps?”

"Oh, only a few harmless diversions," Clavis admitted, ticking them off on his fingers. "A pit here, a tripwire there—oh, and a particularly devious contraption involving a bucket and a flock of birds. But you, my dear, waltzed through it all like some divine force had cleared the way just for you."

“Is this something you do…routinely?” she asked. Her expression wasn’t that of judgement, but of pure interest.

Clavis flashed her a grin. "But of course, dearie dear! It takes a true visionary to turn the mundane into mayhem. Otherwise, life would be so dreadfully dull. And I cannot abide the dull."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You seem…personally offended that I missed your traps."

"Offended? Me?" He let out a wounded gasp, stepping closer as though deeply betrayed—close enough that she’d have to tip her head back to hold his gaze. "Just because my entire legacy has just been rendered obsolete? I may have to take a sabbatical to recover."

She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the smile on her lips. “You’re so dramatic.”

He leaned in just a fraction, lowering his voice to something dangerously smooth.  "Ah, but if it’s you, little butterfly, I suppose I don’t mind losing now and then."

Her fingers tightened in her skirts as heat rushed to her face. "I—I wasn’t trying to win anything!"

His smirk deepened, golden eyes glinting. "Oh? Then what were you trying to do, Lady Bellerose?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, suddenly acutely aware of how closely he was watching her.

His grin widened. "Oh dear, am I making you nervous? Should I fetch some smelling salts? Or perhaps a fainting couch?”

"You are absolutely making me nervous!" She froze, eyes going wide in horror the moment the words left her lips. A second later, she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if she could shove them back in.

Clavis chuckled, absolutely jubilant. "Now, that is the kind of reaction that makes life worth living." He leaned in just a fraction, lowering his voice to something velvety and teasing. "Careful, Lady Bellerose. You might just flutter right into my web."

Cassandra huffed, taking an instinctive step back—but her heel caught on a stray vine, and she wobbled slightly. Clavis’s hand shot out, catching her wrist with effortless ease, his grip firm yet light, like he had all the time in the world to steady her.

Her breath hitched—so soft it might have gone unnoticed, if he weren’t already attuned to every little reaction she gave him. Then, just as quickly, she tore her hand away, lifting her chin as if sheer dignity alone could erase the moment entirely. Ah, delightful.

"I think I'd rather take my chances with the birds from your trap," she muttered, crossing her arms to disguise the warmth creeping up her neck.

Clavis tilted his head, watching her with a knowing smirk. "Mm. A shame. I hear they’re quite temperamental.”

Cassandra scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned slightly away, pretending to admire a nearby rose, her delicate hands dancing over its petals. "Sounds preferable to being ensnared in whatever scheme you’re plotting."

Clavis let out a breathy chuckle. "Dearie me! How you wound me. I would never scheme against someone so delightfully unpredictable."

She shot him a dry look over her shoulder. "You just admitted to setting traps all over the palace grounds."

"Ah, but those are merely exercises in creativity." He clasped a hand over his heart, his golden eyes gleaming with something both playful and appraising. "But you, my dear, are a puzzle I’m rather enjoying piecing together."

Before she could process the weight of his words, he moved—closer, slow, calculated. Instinctively, her fingers curled against the fabric of her dress, as if grasping at something solid could steady her. 

His voice dipped, rich and smooth, the kind of sound that spelled nothing but trouble. “Tell me,” he mused, lowering his voice as he leaned in ever so slightly, “do you often put on such captivating performances in secret? And, more importantly, how might I secure a seat in the audience?”

The shade of red that bloomed across her cheeks was immediate, her mouth parting as though to protest, but the words seemed to take a moment to form. "I... I didn't expect anyone to find me here," she stammered softly. "This place is usually my private escape."

“Escape?” Clavis echoed, his usual amusement flickering—just for a second—into something else. Something sharper. Something curious. The word hooked into his thoughts before he could dodge it. Now, wasn’t that an interesting little slip? "Escape from what? This palace hellcat?”

She hesitated, realizing her own slip, then quickly shook her head. “Oh, no! Not from you!” she blurted, her panic obvious as she waved her hands in an attempt to clarify. “Just…everything else.”

Clavis inhaled.  Everything else.

For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them, a quiet understanding neither of them had the words for just yet.

 He attempted to smother his intrigue with a lazy grin. “To think I nearly had my pride wounded,” he breathed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. 

Cassandra exhaled a small, relieved laugh, though the way she looked at him now was different—more cautious, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Despite himself, he had to know just what this “everything else” was she was trying to escape from. 

Clavis stepped closer, watching with no small amount of amusement as Cassandra took a step back. She was playing along with him, whether she realized it or not. And oh, how he adored a game.

His smirk widened. "Where are you going, dearie?"

Another step. Another retreat.

She was flustered—he could see it in the way she swallowed hard, in the flicker of her lashes, in the way she tried to feign composure even as her feet betrayed her. It was like a dance, one she hadn’t realized she was participating in, but one he was more than happy to lead.

Cassandra took another step back, hesitation in her eyes betraying her. He let her move—step by step, retreat by retreat—until inevitably, aged wood and climbing roses kissed her spine. A quiet gasp, the briefest widening of her eyes, the realization dawning too late, as the roses climbing its trellis nestled into her hair like a delicate crown.

Clavis stilled.

For all the times he had toyed with people, teasing them, testing their limits, something about this moment struck him differently.

She was breathless, yes. Trapped, undoubtedly. But yielding? No. He could see it in the tension in her shoulders, the stubborn lift of her chin, the way her green eyes burned with something that was neither fear nor surrender. As if she refused to be undone by him.

Like she was trying to figure him out just as much as he was trying to figure her out.

He had cornered countless people before—noblemen, women, even his own brothers. The outcome was always the same. People flinched. They faltered. They played into his hands without even realizing it.

But Cassandra? Even now, breathless, back pressed against the white wooden frame of the gazebo, roses tangling into her hair like a delicate crown, she wasn’t playing into his hands quite like he wanted.

A slow, insidious realization settled over him.

He wasn’t just testing her anymore.

She was testing him right back.

Clavis narrowed his eyes, his smirk twitching at the edges.

He had meant to make her flustered—to coax out nervous glances, breathless stammers, the telltale signs of someone caught in his web. He had meant to enjoy it. Instead, she was slipping through his fingers. Instead, she stood before him, breathless yet steady, an unreadable enigma wrapped in defiance and roses. And that? That was unacceptable.

And he felt something he had spent his whole life avoiding. Something he should have laughed off, twisted into a joke, snuffed out before it could take root.

Clavis exhaled slowly, the sharp edges of realization pressing against him, warning him to step away. To end the moment before it became something he couldn’t control.

Ah. This was precarious.

More treacherous than any pit trap, any scheme, any carefully laid-out plan. Because plans had answers. Schemes had strategies. Even disasters could be salvaged with the right improvisation.

But this? This wasn’t something he could twist into a game.

He always had the upper hand. Always knew how people would react before they even thought of it themselves. That was what made it fun. That was what made it safe. And yet—for a fraction of a second, something in him slipped. A mistake. A moment of stillness where there should have been none.

And he wasn’t sure who had walked into whose trap, because he was standing still—and Cassandra Bellerose was the one making his pulse unsteady.

Then, he planted a hand on the gazebo beside her head, the worn wood solid beneath his palm—far more solid than the moment spinning between them. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek, close enough to count every unsteady rise and fall of her chest, to wonder if she knew just how thoroughly she unraveled expectations, just by standing there, caught in his gaze.

His pulse thudded, insistent, reckless.

Then—against his better judgment, against every instinct honed to keep him untangled—his fingers lifted. Hesitated, just once. And then, recklessly, they tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the silken brush of it softer than he’d expected. Warmer. His knuckles skimmed her cheek, featherlight, but enough to make her breath stutter.

His fingers ghosted over her temple, and for the first time, he noticed them—the faint dusting of freckles across her cheekbones, unusual for a noblewoman, unexpected on someone so carefully composed. A flaw, by courtly standards. But here, beneath the dappled light, they were something else entirely. A quiet defiance, a whispered rebellion against the polished perfection she was meant to uphold. And damn him, but he liked them.

Cassandra went utterly still. He felt it—the sharp inhale, the way her pulse fluttered just beneath her skin, the way her shoulders tensed as if bracing for impact. Fleeting. Nothing, really. And yet—his fingers lingered. His thumb brushed just beneath her ear, the barest, most foolish indulgence. Just long enough for something unspoken to form between them, something weighty and irreversible. Something he should never have let exist.

Cassandra’s breath hitched. For half a second—just half—her head tilted into his touch, instinctive, unaware. His fingers flexed, a sharp spike of something perilously close to hunger knotting low in his stomach. Then—she caught herself. Stiffened. Her eyes fluttered shut as if she could erase the moment entirely.

And yet, the ghost of it remained in the way she swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his gaze.

A flicker of triumph curled through him, unbidden. Not for winning some game, not for catching her off guard, but for the simple, maddening fact that she hadn’t pulled away.

"Forget forest fairy, my dear," he murmured, his voice almost too soft for his usual playful lilt. "You are an enchantress."

Her lashes fluttered—hesitant, torn between closing and keeping him in view. Her lips, barely parted, formed no words, only a half-breath, a half-thought. He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

They were so close. Too close. Too caught up in the thrill of unraveling her he had let it happen—made it happen. But now, with the space between them impossibly small, something about it felt…different. Unfamiliar. Volatile.

His breath came just a little too fast. His pulse, just a little too loud in his ears. This wasn’t the thrill of a well-placed trap, nor the rush of watching someone stumble into his game.

No—this was something far worse. 

Something unscripted.

Every instinct screamed at him to turn this into a joke. To step back, twirl off with some ridiculous line, pretend it was all in good fun.

But he didn’t.

And that, perhaps, was the most frightening part of all.

He had spent his whole life slipping in and out of people’s spaces, whispering teasing nothings that never meant a thing. This should have been no different.

Yet, he didn’t move. Didn’t joke. Didn’t run. And that—that was a betrayal of everything he was supposed to be.

He knew he’d regret it.

But, he didn’t want to leave. 

He wanted to stay in the gravity of it, let himself linger at the edge of something he couldn’t name.

But that was all.

Just a moment.

He did have his reputation as a gentleman to uphold, after all.

"You are not at all what I expected, my little enchantress.” His voice dropped, his lips a breath away from hers. “And that is…deeply inconvenient.”

Something flickered across her face—uncertainty, intrigue…something else he couldn’t quite name.

"Clavis?" she breathed, his name barely more than a whisper, her breath teasing his lips.

Something about the way she said it made him pause.

Cassandra’s brows drew together ever so slightly—as if she had caught something before he smoothed it away. “Clavis?" she breathed again, soft and hesitant. 

But then, just as he thought she might pull away, she lifted her chin ever so slightly. Met his gaze. Held it.

And just like that, something in his chest tightened.

His hand, as if hesitant to pull away, curled slightly against her cheek, his thumb barely grazing her skin again. 

Another mistake. 

Too much.

He had lingered too long. Let the silence stretch too thin. Let her get too close.

He needed to move—now—before he let himself get any deeper into her orbit.

With a quiet chuckle, he drew back just slightly. Reel it in, Clavis. 

"You know," he mused, tilting his head as if lost in thought, as if their previous closeness hadn’t affected him in the slightest, "this gazebo has quite the scandalous history." He let a smirk stretch across his lips, effortless as always.

Cassandra blinked, still dazed. "...Scandalous?"

"Mm.” His grin sharpened, voice dipping lower. “It was built for an earlier king, specifically for his secret rendezvous with his mistresses."

Her expression flickered—first to shock, then something like incredulity. "You're joking."

"Would I ever?" Clavis grinned, letting his voice drop just enough to sound like he was telling her the most delicious secret. "A secret hideaway for whispered confessions and hidden desires."

He let the words weave through the space between them, watching—waiting—for that telltale flush to creep into her cheeks. 

And there it was.

A hit. 

Yes, he was the one calling the shots once more.

"Rather fitting, don’t you think?"

"Pardon?" she squeaked.

He leaned in again, just slightly—just enough to let her feel the heat of his presence. "They called it a scandal, of course," he murmured, voice a soft, velvet thing. "But tell me, Cassandra—who can truly judge when the heart wants what it wants?"

The words should have been effortless. Should have felt light, playful.

They didn’t.

Because despite the smirk on his lips, despite the way his gloved finger traced along the edge of her jaw just to watch her shiver—he felt it too.

That strange, electric pull. 

And something far too meaningful in his words.

He told himself it was just for fun. Just another game. 

But still, he watched. 

Waited. 

Held his breath to see if she would shiver beneath his touch. If she could sense it too.

This was dangerous.

And Clavis Lelouch never played a game where he wasn’t the one pulling the strings.

So, in true Clavis fashion, he made a choice.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along her jaw—before pausing just beneath her eye.

A beauty mark. Delicate. Unassuming. It suited her—just like everything else she hadn’t meant to be enchanting.

His breath hitched—just for a second, just long enough for him to hate himself for noticing.

Then—he smirked. 

That lazy, insufferably Clavis smirk, the one that masked everything beneath it.

Boop.

Cassandra blinked, her breath stuttering—caught between surprise and the undeniable effect he had on her. 

Her fingers twitched at her sides as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to swat him away or press her palm against the spot he’d touched.

Clavis chuckled, relief curling beneath the sound. 

There. That’s better. 

That’s safe.

"One day," he murmured, his voice dipping to a velvety whisper, "I will uncover all your secrets. But for now..."

Boop.

A tap to the tip of her nose.

Cassandra let out an indignant little squeak, her expression flipping from dazed to flustered indignation. "Did you just—?"

His smirk turned positively wicked.

"I'll leave you with that," he said smoothly, already taking a step back. 

Distance. 

He needed distance—needed to turn, to leave, before something truly foolhardy slipped past his lips.

He offered her a dramatic bow, but even he could tell the motion was a little too fast.

"Until next time, my enchantress."

He turned on his heel, his laughter trailing behind him—light, effortless, teasing.

Too light.

Move. 

Walk. 

Leave before you do something truly idiotic.

The moment stretched behind him, the warmth of her still lingering on his fingertips, the weight of her stare pressing into his back.

He didn’t dare look back.

His laughter carried on the wind, just a little too sharp, a little too quick—because if he laughed enough, maybe he could outrun the ridiculous pounding of his heart.

And if, later that night, he found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of her breath against his cheek…his lips?

Well.

That was a problem for another day.

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[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[missaengg]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Letter

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

The text is below the image as well for those who have trouble reading the image.

「 To the Oversleeping Princess,

I woke up early today. Seems like ya wanted to get up ‘fore me today, instead yer face is conked out. Also, why’re ya always talkin’ in yer sleep ‘bout bein’ buried in paperwork? On top of that, ya call out my name lookin’ all peaceful. Such a busy princess, even when ya sleep.

And be sure t’use the necklace. Ain’t it nice that each time ya see it, ya realize yer Jude Jazza’s woman?

Get up quick, get ready, ‘n put it on ‘fore I come pick ya up. You’ll be buried in a heapin’ stack o’ papers today too.

𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓙𝓪𝔃𝔃𝓪 」

Sorry, I forgot to release this with the epilogue!

[Event Master list]

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne

[missaengg]

Fun~ Thank you for the tag, Wist!

Rules: Without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite films, then tag 10 people to do the same! (You don't have to do it if you don't want to, of course)

My gifs below the cut:

I did twelve cause I couldn't choose lol

No pressure tagging: @jinwoosbabyboo @judesmoonbeauty @candied-boys @william-rex @natimiles

Tag game!

tagged by: @stopdoingthat1411 (You like the mummy too???)

Rules: Without naming them, post a gif from ten of your favorite films, then tag 10 people to do the same! (You don't have to do it if you don't want to, of course)

I'm tagging: @chirp-a-chirp @missaengg @aquagirl1978 @ike-garden2024 @avellanas-nutty-empire

@shonenkun309 @candiedcoffeedrops @iheartgirlymcs111 @kaizoku-musume @claviscollections

[missaengg]

Soft-spoken man is my weakness... 🫶😔

And the way he said [kawaii]??!?! Oh my Ellis, you are the cutest one, my heart can't take it!!!

[missaengg]

Oooh fun~ Thanks for the tag @ike-garden2024 🥰 I love that picture of Ray!!

I... feel called out... This is me to a T 😂 And of course, my Ikemen fave is Jude 😅

Quiz link.

No pressure tagging... @judesmoonbeauty @candiedcoffeedrops @candied-boys

Was tagged here for this quiz. @bakersgrief

Post the results + your fave

I separated it out from the long post because it was so long! tagging uhhhh @floydsteeth and @solomons-poison anddddd @tako-cafe

[missaengg]

Every Single Last Drop

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader Tags: nsfw, mdni, pwp, dom caleb if you squint, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus/oral, unprotected sex, reader referred to as princess Word Count: 1k All you want is for Caleb to hold you in his arms and lie with you in bed, but Caleb has something else in mind…

“Fuu–uuu–uck.”

A long, guttural groan escapes you, your hips bucking wildly into Caleb’s eager mouth as your third – or was it your fourth – orgasm rips through your trembling body. His hands pin you in place, holding your plush thighs open, his sinful tongue doing god-knows-what to your puffy clit.

You hear him chuckle – snicker, really – and a jolt of irritation runs through you, but the nip he gives your bundle of nerves shoves the notion to slap him out of your mind, overwhelmed by the electricity sizzling through your veins.

“Caleb,” you whine pathetically, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging rather painfully on his scalp.

Caleb doesn’t react, refusing to relent for even a microsecond, not even to breathe. He sucks down instead, teasing the overstimulated nub with the tip of his tongue in tiny, rapid strokes.

“Cal–leb,” you whine again, this time with more urgency.

His purple eyes – the ones that remind you of the Orion Nebula – finally flicker to meet yours while his mouth stays locked on to your clit.

“It’s too much,” you whimper, fully aware that you’re begging at this point for him to stop. “I don’t know if I can – fuck — do this – hah – for much longer.”

Caleb narrows his eyes and releases your sex with a sharp, audible pop. “Yes, you can, Princess,” he husks, a low growl underscoring his words. He runs his tongue through your folds, ending with a baby nip on your abused clit. “I know you can.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the exhaustion and overstimulation getting the best of you. You can’t deny the undeniable pleasure you’ve been receiving through just his hot, wet mouth, but you want – no, need – a break to recover from his constant torment.

“I’m almost done,” he murmurs. “I just want to taste you a little bit more.”

He nibbles along your folds, lapping up the thick remnants of your multiple orgasms while his thumb rubs sloppy circles on your clit. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching the fabric as if you’re holding on for dear life… because you are… teetering on the edge of yet another precipice.

“Come for me just one more time, and it’ll all be over. I promise.”

Caleb’s soothing voice lilts into your tired ears. Your muddled brain cries in relief to know that Caleb’s relentless torture will all be over soon, as soon as you allow yourself to let go. With that knowledge, you bring yourself to unravel one more time, willfully falling over the edge into a blissful surrender.

Your hips jerk uncontrollably. A flurry of euphoric spasms rack your body. Gasps flutter from your parted lips.

“That’s it. Sing for me. Just a little more.”

You barely catch Caleb’s coaxing in your dazed state, still riding out your high, feeling him collect every sweet drop of your climax with his tongue.

“Caleb,” you whisper, arching your back.

“One more time, Princess.”

“Oh fuck, Caleb,” you wrench his name out of your throat, arching your back and practically screaming at the pleasure roiling through your body.

Caleb encourages your explosive release, delving his tongue in your warmth. It darts in and out, raking along the sweet, spongy tissue that has you moaning his name and seeing stars. He presses kiss after kiss on your weeping cunt until your body eventually stills and your heaving chest and racing heart calm into a steady rhythm. 

“That’s my good girl.” Caleb presses one last kiss to your clit and releases his hold on your thighs as he removes himself from between your legs.

You sigh, waiting for him to come join you in bed and comb back your sweaty hair and hold you in his toned arms while smothering your neck in tender kisses. Instead, you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone and the rustle of his thick, canvas pants, the bed dipping from the shift of his weight.

“Caleb?” you ask, raising your head to peek at what he’s doing only to find him removing the remainder of his clothes.

He smirks, a dark heat gleaming in his purple eyes, the expression on his face hungry and… sinister. You gulp, a shiver running through your spent body, the realization that your hope for respite might just be a fantasy. Caleb lowers himself, hovering over you and filling your vision with his lust. His necklace – the one you gifted him years ago – skims the dip between your breasts.

“You didn’t think I was done with you already, did you?” he asks, his voice ominously rumbling through his torso. “I’ve got all night to make you mine, Princess. This is just the beginning.”

“But… but you said… it’d be over if I… I…” you weakly protest, licking your lips with what little saliva you have left, your mouth going dry from what you know will come next. Though, whether you want to indulge or want to cry is yet to be determined.

Caleb languidly trails his hand up the side of your body – traveling over your hip, your waist, your shoulder, all the way to your rosy pink cheek, a path of searing fire lingering in its wake. “I said that I’m almost done with your gorgeous clit, not that I’m done with you.”

In that moment, a fleeting thought crosses your mind.

Fuck.

But as he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, the sudden momentary panic flies away as soon as it comes, so consumed with desire, you forget your need for rest. Your body seeks him with a mind of its own, desperate to feel his warmth against your bare skin… to feel his warmth buried in your aching cunt.  

He slides in, deliciously stretching you to your limits despite his overzealous prep, and you note that you have no complaints. Not a single one.

He can hold you and nuzzle your neck after he’s done filling you to the brim with all of him.

Every single last drop.

Tag List: @william-rex

[missaengg]

I feel so freaking honored to be mentioned here 😭🥰

But also, putting this out there because @jinwoosbabyboo's stuff is AMAZING, and you should go check Nika out, like right now.

And also, there are a lot of really great LADS writers listed here! I highly recommend checking them out as well!!

gm! can you recommend other lads writers to follow? i feel like all the content of lads is hidden on here for me. ty in advance!

@chibichibi-mia @sylusdarling @m00nchildwrites @leighsartworks216 @loveanddeepthroat

@sylusdarling @strwberri-milk @tbaluver @chuluoyi @sayangrafayel

@mephisto-reporting @aeyumicore @ittybittyfanblog @missaengg @connorsui

@syluslnd @shomatoriashi @love-and-deepspace-incorrect @irandial

@ilovemitsuya (not a writer but their blog is aesthetically pleasing)

[missaengg]

Jin... so not my favorite Ikepri character, but damn... between the fics about Jin's parents and then this one... I actually wanna give him a hug 😭

"The Thorned Prince"

- Jin Grandet

Personal 2025 Weekly Writing Goal - Week #2

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Jin Grandet

Genre: Angst; then Fluff

Word Count: ~2000

Summary:

A blade sharpened by grief. A door standing between vengeance and the past. A truth waiting.

Jin walks the palace halls, a knife in hand and revenge in his heart. The king who let his mother die lies just beyond the door. But fate has a different path for him...

SPOILER WARNING: There be spoilers ahead for Jin's route. So if you have not read his route and do not want spoiler's please do NOT keep reading.

The blade in Jin’s hands was heavy—not from weight, but from purpose. It was a rusted thing, dulled by time, jagged like the pieces of him they had broken. A weapon made for desperation, not dignity. But dignity had never saved anyone.

It didn’t matter. A clean cut wasn’t necessary.

The only thing that mattered was blood.

His feet moved silently across the palace halls, though his pulse pounded so violently it felt like his ribs might crack from the force. The air was too still, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting. Waiting for him.

The scent of burning wax and aged parchment clung to the air, thick and cloying, as though the very essence of power had soaked into the palace’s bones. The scent of untouched wealth. He hated it. It smelled like comfort he had never known, like food he had never tasted, like medicine that had never been hers.

The tap of his footsteps was swallowed by the thick carpets, but he could still hear the faint crackle of torches, the distant murmur of guards somewhere beyond the walls. Everything in this place was pristine, gleaming under the golden glow of chandeliers that had burned for generations.

For them.

His mother had never set foot in these halls—at least, not that he knew of. But the palace had stolen something from her. He could taste the truth like copper on his tongue, sharp and bitter, unspoken but never forgotten. He could feel it in the way she avoided his questions, in the sadness that lined her smile, in the way she gripped his hand just a little tighter when he asked about their past.

She had once been someone else, someone more than the tired woman who gave him all the food off her plate and whispered lullabies while coughing into her sleeve.

Had she been loved here?

Had she been important?

Or had she been discarded—not by choice, but by force?

All he knew for certain was this: the palace had left them to suffer.

And now it lived peacefully behind these walls, untouched by the hunger and cold that had stolen her from him.

Jin clenched his jaw, but the bile in his throat burned, thick and sour. The air here felt wrong—too clean, too rich, heavy with the scent of perfume and wax, untouched by sickness or grief. It choked him, smothered him. The back of his throat itched with the taste of something bitter and unwanted.

They had taken everything.

His mother had been good, kind, full of warmth even when the world had been cruel to her. And he had watched her wither.

Day by day, she had grown thinner, weaker.

Her laughter had faded, her hands had become cold, and he—her son, her child—had been helpless to stop it.

No.

Not helpless.

He had fought.

He had begged, stolen, been abused and bled for the medicine that was supposed to save her.

And what had they given him for his desperation?

A cruel trick. A promise wrapped in deceit. A deal that left him bruised and broken in an alleyway, while his mother coughed herself closer to death.

They had lied to him.

They had used him.

And when she died in his arms, the world went cold. The warmth faded from her skin, from their home, from everything.

He had never felt warm since.

Now, the king—the man who had done nothing, who had let her suffer while he lived in luxury—lay just beyond this door. Comfortable. Powerful. Untouched.

Jin’s grip tightened on the hilt of his knife. His pulse roared in his ears.

Would the king even recognize him?

No.

To the king, Jin was nobody. Just another starving face lost in the streets, another nameless soul the palace had turned its back on.

But his mother had known the truth.

Don’t ever go to the palace, Jin. They will kill you.

Why?

What had they done to her? What had she seen that made her so certain?

Had she been cast aside? Had she once meant something to the man beyond this door? Or had she simply been another name, another forgotten life swallowed by the palace’s indifference?

It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t bring her back.

Jin pressed his forehead to the cool wood of the door, his breath steadying, sharpening. The wood smelled of oil and dust, worn smooth by countless hands that had never known hunger.

He could hear his heartbeat, the sound of his own ragged breaths.

The silence of the palace felt suffocating, pressing in around him, thick and unyielding, like the weight of all the lives it had crushed.

This was justice. This was balance.

The palace had let his mother suffer. It had taken everything from her, from him, and done nothing.

Tonight, he would make them pay.

His fingers curled around the door handle. He could feel the cold metal, slick with sweat beneath his palm.

He pushed it open.

And stepped inside.

The grand hall hummed with warmth, the air thick with the rich aroma of roasted meats, buttered bread, and spiced wine. The golden glow of candlelight flickered against the high-vaulted ceilings, catching on the delicate glassware and polished silver that adorned the long dining table. The fireplace crackled behind them, adding to the gentle symphony of the night—clinking utensils, the deep timbre of laughter, and the occasional scrape of a chair against the marble floor.

The real feast, however, wasn’t the one laid out before them—it was in the conversations, the effortless banter that bounced between the princes like a well-worn melody, something Jin had come to know by heart.

Sariel’s birthday.

It wasn’t an event meant for the public, just something small, something private. Despite his usual air of dignity and formality, Sariel had never cared for grand celebrations—so naturally, Clavis had made it his personal mission to ensure that the evening was as over-the-top as possible.

Jin leaned back in his chair, the cool wood pressing against his shoulders, as Clavis dramatically raised his glass, the light catching on the deep color of his grape juice, painting reflections on the silk of his sleeves.

“I’d like to take this moment to honor our dear, beloved Sariel—the ever-stoic, ever-grumpy shepherd of our most unruly flock,” Clavis declared, barely concealing his mischievous grin. His voice carried through the hall, smooth as honey, drawing out a mixture of groans and chuckles from the others. “Your patience is the stuff of legend, your scolding an art form, and your glares? Ah, truly, they could turn even the boldest fool to stone. A gift, really. And yet, despite our best efforts to send you into an early grave, you remain standing. A testament to sheer willpower, or perhaps, divine punishment for whatever sins you committed in a past life.”

Licht, sitting two seats away, let out a quiet sigh, as he took a slow sip. Yves, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of his nose as if physically warding off a headache.

“Just say thank you and sit down, hell-cat,” Sariel replied dryly, though the faintest hint of a smirk played at his lips.

“Oh, but I must insist—”

Clavis didn’t get to finish. Leon, grinning like a fool, reached over and yanked him back into his chair, nearly spilling both their drinks in the process. The sharp clink of glass echoed, but nothing tipped over—just another near-miss in the kingdom of Clavis-induced chaos.

“That’s enough, Clavis. Let the poor man have his meal.”

Across the table, Nokto chuckled, swirling his wine lazily in his glass, watching it catch the light. “For once, I agree. Let the man eat before he throws us all into extra paperwork out of spite.”

Sariel raised an eyebrow, expression flat. “Don’t tempt me.”

Luke, sitting near Licht, was watching it all unfold while shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming speed. The scent of seared meat and rich gravy clung to the air as he took another massive bite.

“D’you guys ever not argue?” he mumbled around a mouthful of beef, earning a sharp look of disapproval from Yves.

“Chew. Then speak,” Yves scolded, shaking his head.

“Ya sound just like Sariel. Next, you’ll make me write an apology letter to the silverware,” Luke shot back, still chewing.

Jin chuckled under his breath, the warmth of the spiced wine lingering on his tongue as he swirled the glass in his hand, watching them—all of them, his brothers.

Leon, the peacemaker, his voice always laced with easygoing warmth.

Licht, quiet but present, his gaze ever-watchful, red eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles.

Yves, stubborn and prideful, but still deeply, unmistakably kind, his fingers ghosting over the rim of his glass as he sighed in exasperation.

Nokto, smirking as he leaned back, his sharp tongue ever-ready, but his eyes softer than he let on.

Clavis, ever the chaotic force, his laughter an unpredictable rhythm as he made sure no one got too comfortable.

Luke, the youngest, the wild card, always hungry—for food, for fun, for naps and the avoidance of work.

And then, Chevalier.

Jin’s gaze landed on him. Seated at the head of the table, calm as ever, he looked carved from marble—elegant, untouched, immovable. But even he wasn’t impervious. The faintest twitch of his brow betrayed his irritation with Clavis’s antics.

This was their family.

Their strange, chaotic, complicated family.

Jin hadn’t grown up here like most of them had. He hadn’t been raised in these halls, hadn’t spent his childhood knowing the warmth of family or the security of the palace walls. He had spent years believing his only place in the world was a ramshackle shack on the outskirts of the kingdom, cold and barren—only to learn, far too late, that his blood had always tied him to it.

For so long, he had thought he was meant to be alone. That warmth, laughter, belonging—those were things for other people. Not for him.

But sitting here, listening to them, smelling the slow-burning wax of the candles, feeling the heat of the fire against his back, watching the way they moved around each other like pieces of the same whole, he felt it settle deep in his bones—the truth.

He was home.

A quiet warmth spread through his chest, steady and certain. He didn’t need the throne. He had never wanted it.

But this? This was what he wanted. To be their older brother. To take care of them in whatever way he could. To make sure they were happy.

He wasn’t a ruler. He wasn’t a warrior.

But he could be this.

He could be the one who made sure Clavis didn’t burn the palace down with his elaborate pranks.

The one who reminded Yves to take breaks when he got too caught up in his own perfectionism.

The one who checked in on Licht when he retreated into silence for too long.

The one who made sure Luke actually did his work instead of napping the day away.

The one who kept Nokto from drowning in distractions or getting himself killed by one of them.

And most of all, he could be the one who stood beside Chevalier—not as a subject, not as an outsider, not as an accident of birth.

But as a brother.

His brother.

A brother who understood the weight he carried. A brother who would fight for this family—not because of duty or blood, but because he chose to.

Jin hesitated, just for a second, feeling the weight of it all—the laughter, the warmth, the familiar smell of wine and roasted meat, the glow of candlelight dancing over polished silver. And then, with a slow breath, he lifted his glass.

“To Sariel,” he said, his voice steady, warm. "For enduring us for another year."

A round of laughter followed, and even Sariel gave a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

The celebration continued, the voices of his brothers weaving together in the kind of harmony that only came from years of understanding one another. And Jin, sitting among them, listening, watching, being, knew with certainty:

This was enough.

This was everything.

And he would protect it for as long as he lived.

Tag List:

@rjthirsty Goes alone with the other fic you were interested in. <3

@ithseem @chirp-a-chirp @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady @nyxthepixystick

@ikeprinces-stuff @kaizoku-musume @candiedcoffeedrops @missaengg @ike-garden2024

@writingwhimsey @reborn-elven-spirit @elixirofubik

If you want to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for Ikemen fics, just let me know!

[missaengg]

Awww Caleb 🥰 WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL SO HE CAN COME TAKE CARE OF ME WHEN I'M SICK??? But also... Raf 💀 I'm dying... DYING 😂

Sick & Tired

How I imagine the LADS Men take care of you when you're sick [requested by: depressed but well dressed anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

ready and willing to take care of you, but also is in his ‘I told you so’ era because he knew you’d end up getting sick

will do everything and anything you tell him

would let you lay on his shoulder or in his lap while you nap

even though he’s with you constantly to take care of you he somehow manages to not get sick

brings you medicine and a glass of water

cooks you homemade soup and will feed you if you let him

depending on how sick you are he would take time off from work to look after you

for my girlies who cry a little when they dont feel good he would wipe your tears for you “Don’t cry this sickness is only temporary”

if hes still working he’ll always try to be there until you fall asleep and rushes home to you

leaves soup in the fridge for you when he’s not there

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

teases you for getting sick until he realizes youre sad “Aw cutie are you not feeling well?” “I hate it here” “Tell me what you need”

Doesn’t want to get sick so yes he’d bring you whatever you ask for but he’s wearing a mask and gloves ; avoids kisses “once you’re no longer contagious I'll give you a kiss”

doesn’t mind telling you stories or humming you songs to get you to sleep

would feed you, but be prepared to never hear the end of it “You’re just a sick girl who needs my help in your time of need I know I know my services are impeccable” “Can I have my tea now?”

mocks and teases you when you get fussy about anything “I can’t stand you” “Good thing you’re laying down then huh?”

gets sick anyway because his dumbass would eat off your spoon/fork or drink something of yours

you two end up sick in bed together and he’s even more whiny now

lots of cuddles and kisses now since he got himself sick

doom scrolls with you while laying in your lap

Thomas has to come and take care of the two of you

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

I wouldn't be me if I didn’t say it ; PAGING NURSE XAVIER

he’s at your side in a split second

so excited to have free reign in your kitchen ; immediately tries to make you soup and burns the pot

blows the kitchen up in your house/apartment ends up having to take care of you at his place

finally orders you soup and medicine after you cried because you didn’t want his cooking

he sleeps when you sleep

constantly checking your temperature

doesn’t mind carrying you around the house he knows you can walk, but he likes having you draped over him

blows your nose for you ; puts the tissue to your nose “Blow.” “Thats what she said” “…..your snot is dripping please blow”

sore throat? he’s right there daily with a spoonful of honey “Here its good for you”

can easily handle you when you get fussy about taking medicine “That was quite the tantrum” as he shoves the medicine in your mouth

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

already knew you were coming down with something he already has everything ready to go

picks you up and takes you to his place ;has his chef prepare home remedies tailored just for you

brings you everything himself ; you also have the twins at your disposal

sits bedside and encourages you to eat as much as you can “take two more bites and then you can go back to sleep”

still tries to kiss you even though you’re sick because he doesn’t give a damn “Sylus I'll get you sick stop” steals a kiss here and there anyway ; gets sick like two weeks later

wipes and blows your nose for you “You look like a sick kitten” “Shut it”

doesn’t care when you get fussy about taking medicine “Are you done? Good. Here.”

if you want to stay in bed all day thats fine ; if you want to cling to him like a Koala around the house thats fine too he’ll carry you

lets you sleep on him and steal his warmth

checks your breathing when you sleep longer than usual

leaves the twins to keep an eye on you if he needs to step out ; leaves Mephisto to watch you if he needs to take the twins with him

the type to give you a massage even if you’re not having body aches

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋

is already at your doorstep with groceries and medicine

keeps you close to him and in sight at all times

your personal chef truly ; he’s wrapping you in a blanket and laying you on the couch while he makes you something to eat

checks your temperature regularly ; gives you medicine like clockwork

spoon feeds you so you don’t have to lift a finger

reminds you that you don’t need to thank him ; he’ll always take care of you no matter what

cuddles you while you sleep after cleaning your place ; puts a humidifier in your room if you’re congested

tries to make you laugh so you’re not sad ; reminds you that he’ll always be there for you so no need to be sad

wipes and blows your nose for you “Your scrunched up face is adorable”

teases you if you ask for a massage if you’re having body aches ; of course he’s overjoyed to do it though “You know I'll give you a massage whenever you want”

says he won’t kiss you while your sick ; ends up kissing you out of habit and gets a little sick “Now it’s your turn to take care of me”

[missaengg]

Thank you for the tag @candied-boys hehe 🥰

My result feel quite appropriate 😂

No pressure tagging: @wistfulwanderingone @ike-garden2024 @william-rex @jinwoosbabyboo @natimiles @judesmoonbeauty

Link to quiz here ❤️

Fun little quiz

[missaengg]

Ikemen Revolution Fanfics Presents

✨ Sorren's Story ✨

[I learned how to use Canva 😅]

Banner Reference Guide & Masterlist to the story under cut

⤷ Content will be labeled with banners to differentiate each part

⤷ Will be updated as I continue to write

Main Route Chapters

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Their Side Story

⇒ IkeRev character interactions with Sorren told from their perspective.

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Premium Story

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Letters

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NSFW

⇒ All NSFW sections will be written separately from MR chapters

⇒ Double banner will be used for any PS or SS that contain NSFW.

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[Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto "Teal Playing Cards"]