#and on the other hand I LOVE drawing fabric. So.

[luvcaleb]

YOU'RE MINE.

nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.

“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”

And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”

You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.

...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”

You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”

You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.

“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”

Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”

Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”

Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”

The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”

He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.

He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”

“Ah, ah, Caleb!”

You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”

He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”

“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”

Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”

“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”

Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”

“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”

You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”

The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.

“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”

He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.

“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”

“Haa... haa...”

Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.

“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”

He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.

“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”

Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.

“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”

He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.

He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”

Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”

He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.

“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.

You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”

He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”

“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”

He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”

You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.

“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”

He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”

“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”

You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”

His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”

He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.

“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”

“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”

His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”

“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!” 

“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”

His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”

He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”

“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.

Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.

“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”

Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[fushiguruuzzzz]

KUROO loves skin to skin contact. it’s not a sexual thing — he sees you as much more than that, but the gentle intimacy of running his calloused hands over the plush expanse of your body is something he longs for every moment he isn’t experiencing it. his hands always find a way to snake beneath your (probably his) hoodie, gently nudging the fabric up and feeling the way your stomach rises and falls with each breath. when he can, he presses his cheek to your chest, the gentle thrum of your heart in your ribs coaxing him into a far less cruel universe, one where it’s just the two of you. his body is a crushing weight, but an undeniably fulfilling pressure as he envelops you in his warmth. his presence is mildly suffocating as is the way he cages you in, but the lack of breath makes your head spin and your pulse quicken just right.

the press of his nose into your neck as he mumbles to you. the squeeze of his palms as he works the stress of the day from your shoulders (which he insists you let him do, no matter how much you insist on being fine, because he knows you need it). and, his favourite of all: peeling his shirt off after a long day and bathing in the silence that comes with your presence.

“mmph…” he hummed, the sound muffled and nearly consumed by your chest. your fingers ghosted over the skin of his back, drawing gentle, barely-there shapes. he shifted, weight pushing you further down into the mattress as if he could possibly be any closer.

“you know,” you began, a hint of fond amusement deep in your tone. “if you put any less distance between us, we might just merge into one.”

I wouldn’t mind that, he thought. he wouldn’t mind your very souls stitching themselves into each other if it meant staying like this forever. he thinks that might already be the case, for now. because yes, tomorrow there is work and stress and the chaos of everyone but you, but today he is comfortable and quiet and goosebumps rack up his spine with every touch — and there is nothing in the world but your humble abode and the love between you. so he smiles, lazy but affectionate nonetheless, and lets out a hot breath against your skin as he speaks.

“that wouldn’t be so bad.”

a/n: do I tag gen taglist in these typa things yeah or nah. also forgive me for not doing recs or thdla im sick so this is what u get

[elenauaurs]

TWISTED WONDERLAND OC

Except it's not a new one and I basically made a redesign for Blade and... Changed everything about him

(more under the cut)

"A cursed boy who always carries a strange sword, he seems to take life lightly."

INFO

Name: Caliburn

Grade: Sophomore

Age: 17

Height: 183 cm

Dominant hand: Right

Homeland: Briar Valley (?)

Club: Mountain lovers club

Best subject: Physical Education, Flying, Swimming

Least favorite subject: History of magic

Hobbies: Dancing

Pet peeves: Feeling trapped

Favorite food: Omelet

Least favorite food: Honey.

PERSONALITY

Talent: Swordmanship

A gentleman by nature, charming and extremely lively – although in a more passive way.

Caliburn carries a lot of energy with him, being quite restless and a born explorer. Sociable and popular, Caliburn seems to be open-minded and doesn't care much about “status” or rules, in addition to often acting as a “mediator” and standing by others.

Despite aiming for the good of the people around him, Caliburn is quick to define his limits and is very strict with them, as well as not letting go of the idea of using light manipulation or blackmail to get what he wants.

However, in general, he prefers to be more virtuous, firmly maintaining his ideals and not being afraid to defend them, appearing to be a very courageous individual.

It's also worth mentioning, even though it's a considerably rarer event, when triggered Caliburn can become extremely impulsive and even violent without wanting it, hence why he always tries to remain calm and in control of his own feelings.

In short, Caliburn is a warm person, who genuinely seeks to keep himself and the people around him positive. However, instead of being completely selfless, Caliburn also cares about his own happiness and limits, and can show irritable and impulsive tendencies if disrespected (normally these impulses are controlled).

FACTS

Caliburn is twisted from Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty

Most of his harmful impulses come from his curse, which connects him to the sword. Currently, the curse is under control because of treatments.

One of the Knights who protect Malleus in NRC, although he never shared a past with him. He was appointed to this role on the recommendation of his father, accepting this responsibility in search of a challenge.

Funnily enough, let's just say that his relationship with Malleus is somewhat turbulent.

Due to his curse, Caliburn needs to stay close to the sword. Thus being allowed to carry it around campus.

Caliburn is amnesiac, he remembers almost nothing about his life before the age of 14 and that includes his biological family. Even so, he doesn't seem to actively try to seek answers, preferring to move on.

Caliburn loves horses.

Caliburn is a very energetic person, constantly finding himself trying to expend energy in some way. In addition to his natural dislike of small or cramped spaces, Caliburn frequently leaves the campus without permission. (He's crowley biggest opp/j)

Dancing is one of his biggest joys!

He shares a room with Silver.

APPEARANCE

Caliburn cares about maintaining a good appearance, even being a bit vain.

His hair is mostly light brown, with some blonde highlights in certain parts, tied with a small red ribbon. His eyes are the same colour of an aurora.

His diasomnia uniform is a little different from the others, using the much larger coat as a cape, held to his clothes by silver thread. Around his neck he wears a purple ribbon and a golden necklace with a sword pendant. The shoulders of his shirt are puffed.

His hat is longer than usual, with a feather on one side. The lower part of his outfit is like the others, except for the presence of purple fabrics at his waist that resemble a tailcoat.

Bonus drawing made by my pookie @lumdays

@cyanide-latte @oya-oya-okay @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @boopshoops @br3adtoasty @casp1an-sea @heyhellohihowareyou @tixdixl @sillyslipperybananapeel @cheerleaderman @revolllutionary @nyx-of-night @lumdays @skriblee-ksk @nemisisnemi @althea-and-alcestris @miyanaranagikenmal-intp @the-necromancer-wife

[gyu-tori]

The Only Gift That Matters | Y.JW

A Birthday Special

Pairing: idol!jungwonx fem!reader Genre: FLUFF!!

Summary: After his final tour performance, Jungwon expects a simple celebration—until he walks in and finds you waiting for him. With the help of his meddling members, you’ve flown across the world to surprise him on his birthday, turning an ordinary night into one he’ll never forget.

Word Count: 6.4k

The deafening cheers of thousands of ENGENEs still echoed in Jungwon’s ears as he walked offstage, his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline of performing had yet to fully subside, leaving his body buzzing with energy despite the exhaustion creeping into his limbs. Sweat clung to his skin, the fabric of his stage outfit slightly damp from the hours of dancing and singing under the bright, flashing lights.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling deeply as he stepped into the backstage area, the distant sound of fans still chanting his name beyond the arena walls. The final show of the tour was over. Just like that.

Jungwon felt a strange mix of pride and relief settle in his chest. The months of rehearsals, traveling, and performing in different cities had been exhausting, but it was all worth it for the moments he got to share with the fans. Now, as the weight of the past few weeks settled on him, he realized just how drained he was.

The other members were already backstage, toweling off sweat and chugging water bottles as staff buzzed around them, congratulating them on another successful concert.

“Damn, that was crazy,” Jay muttered, shaking out his arms as he collapsed onto one of the couches. “The energy tonight was insane.”

Sunghoon nodded, still catching his breath. “I swear, they were even louder than last night.”

“Louder than every other stop, honestly,” Sunoo chimed in, giggling as he wiped his face with a towel. “My ears are still ringing.”

Jungwon smiled at their words, a sense of warmth spreading through him. He loved that no matter how exhausting things got, they could all share these moments together.

“You good, Won?” Heeseung’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention.

Jungwon blinked, realizing he had been standing still for a moment too long. “Yeah,” he nodded, offering a tired smile. “Just taking it all in.”

Ni-ki slung an arm over his shoulders with a grin. “You should. It’s your birthday, Hyung!”

Jungwon chuckled at the nickname. It had started as a joke because of his leader status, but over time, it had stuck. He shook his head playfully. “It’s just another day.”

The members collectively groaned.

“Bro, don’t say that,” Jake protested, nudging him. “It’s your birthday, AND you just finished performing for engenes. We have to celebrate.”

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head again, though he appreciated their enthusiasm. “We’ll see.”

Unknown to him, his members were all exchanging knowing glances. They were doing their best to act casual, but Jungwon was too exhausted to notice the small smirks, the barely concealed excitement in their eyes.

Something was definitely up. But for now, Jungwon was just grateful for a moment to breathe.

Earlier that day, long before Jungwon stepped off the concert stage drenched in sweat and glowing with the high of performing, you had landed in the city, excitement and nerves warring inside your chest.

You had spent weeks planning this trip, coordinating your schedule around his tour, booking flights, and making sure everything was set up perfectly. The hardest part, though, had been keeping it a secret.

Jungwon wasn’t the type to ask too many questions, but he always had a way of sensing when something was up. That’s what made this surprise so difficult to pull off—because if anyone knew you well enough to figure out when you were hiding something, it was him.

Luckily, you had an accomplice.

“Flight’s on time. You should be landing in the afternoon,” Heeseung had texted you the night before. “I’ll make sure Jungwon’s distracted.”

You had smiled at the message, grateful beyond words. Heeseung had been your lifeline in pulling this off.

And now, after hours of flying and navigating through airport crowds, you were finally here, standing in a quiet hallway backstage, hidden from view as the concert continued just beyond the walls.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, fingers tightening around the handle of your small carry-on bag. Even though you had traveled all this way, the nerves had only grown stronger.

What if he was too tired to enjoy the surprise? What if he was overwhelmed? What if—

“Stop overthinking,” Heeseung’s voice cut through your thoughts, his usual teasing lilt present as he approached you from around the corner.

You let out a breath, forcing a small laugh. “I can’t help it.”

He smirked. “You think Jungwon’s not gonna be the happiest man alive when he sees you? Please.”

The words made your heart warm, but the nerves remained. “I just want it to be perfect.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully, then reached for your bag. “Come on, let’s get you set up before he gets suspicious.”

You let him take it, following him as he led you through the backstage area with practiced ease. The energy in the venue was electric—staff members moving in and out of rooms, the faint sound of Jungwon’s voice echoing from the stage as he spoke to the fans.

The reality of just how close you were to him hit you hard.

A whole month had passed since you last saw Jungwon in person. Video calls and texts only did so much when all you really wanted was to be by his side, to feel the warmth of his presence, to hear his laughter without a screen separating you.

And now, in just a short while, he would be standing in front of you again.

Heeseung must have sensed your growing emotions because he nudged you lightly. “Hey, don’t cry yet. You still gotta make it through the surprise.”

You let out a watery chuckle, wiping at your eyes. “I’m not crying.”

“Not yet,” he corrected, grinning.

You shook your head at him, but you were grateful for his humor—it made everything feel a little easier.

Heeseung led you to one of the smaller backstage rooms, where a few staff members were already setting up the decorations. The other members had given their input earlier, making sure everything was just right.

A string of warm fairy lights hung around the room, casting a cozy glow. A table had been set up with a beautifully decorated cake, simple but elegant, with “Happy Birthday, Leader Won!” written in icing.

A large banner stretched across one wall, displaying the same message in bold, playful letters.

The sight made your heart swell. Jungwon wasn’t the type to demand grand celebrations, but that was exactly why you wanted to make sure he had one. He deserved to be showered with love, to be reminded of how much he meant to everyone around him.

“You guys really went all out,” you murmured, taking it all in.

Heeseung shrugged. “Of course. We have to make sure our leader feels special.”

You smiled, running your fingers lightly over the edge of the table. “He’s going to love this.”

Heeseung clapped his hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. Jungwon’s still out there, finishing up the concert. Once he comes backstage, he’ll head to the dressing room to cool down, right?”

You nodded, already knowing his post-concert routine.

Heeseung continued. “While he’s in there, we’ll gather everyone here, and when he walks in, we’ll hit him with the surprise. You’ll be hiding behind the curtain until I give you the signal.”

Your stomach flipped. “Got it.”

He gave you a once-over, then smirked. “You look nervous.”

“I am nervous,” you admitted with a small laugh.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, the moment he sees you, he won’t care about anything else.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, nodding. “I hope so.”

Heeseung grinned. “Oh, and by the way—you owe me for this. Big time.”

You laughed. “I’ll buy you dinner, okay?”

“Dinner and bubble tea.”

“Fine.”

Heeseung looked satisfied with that, then glanced at the clock. “Alright, we have about fifteen minutes before he comes offstage. You ready?”

You took a deep breath, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.

You stood behind the thick black curtain in the small backstage lounge, nerves bubbling under your skin as the final notes of the encore song faded. The sound of thousands of ENGENEs screaming filled the venue, their voices blending into a beautiful, deafening chorus.

Jungwon was still out there, soaking in the last moments of the tour with his members, saying his final thank-yous to the fans. He was probably bowing now, flashing that tired but grateful smile that you had seen so many times in videos and pictures. Only this time, you weren’t watching from a screen. You were here.

Heeseung had disappeared momentarily to check on the progress, leaving you alone in your hiding spot. Your hands trembled slightly as you smoothed down your outfit, making sure everything was perfect.

The thought of seeing Jungwon after a whole month had your heart racing. Would he cry? Would he be too overwhelmed? You knew how much he tried to hold back his emotions sometimes, especially when it came to himself. He always put others first, always prioritized his members, his fans, his work.

But tonight, tonight was about him.

A soft rustling sound snapped you out of your thoughts, and then Heeseung’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “Showtime.”

You swallowed hard. “He’s coming?”

“Yup. He’s in the dressing room now, freshening up. We have about five minutes before he walks in.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. “Okay.”

The room outside was already set. The other members had gathered, all of them doing their best to act casual, but you could hear the suppressed excitement in their voices.

“Don’t act weird, guys,” Jake whispered. “He’ll know something’s up.”

“Dude, just stand normal,” Sunghoon replied.

“What does ‘stand normal’ even mean?” Jay shot back.

A soft whack sound followed. “Ow, Sunoo!”

“Shut up and just smile,” Sunoo hissed.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. It was almost funny how much effort they were putting into this. Jungwon would probably be too exhausted to even notice at first, but knowing how sharp he was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up on their energy.

Still, the setup was perfect.

The fairy lights gave the room a warm, inviting glow, casting soft shadows on the walls. The cake sat neatly on the table, an elegant white-frosted design with subtle gold accents. The words Happy Birthday, Captain! were written in neat cursive, surrounded by tiny edible stars. The members had insisted on keeping the decorations simple—nothing too over-the-top, but still meaningful.

And then there was the banner.

A large, hand-painted sign stretched across the back wall, filled with personal messages from the members. Little doodles of Jungwon’s favorite things were scattered across it—his favorite snacks, his beloved cat-shaped drawings, even a small, cartoon version of himself.

It was the kind of effort that showed just how much they loved him.

You smiled to yourself, already imagining the look on his face.

A sudden shuffle of footsteps in the hallway made your breath hitch.

“Oh, oh, he’s coming—”

“Positions, everyone!”

You quickly pressed yourself further into the corner, holding your breath. The curtain concealed you entirely, and from this angle, you had a perfect view of the entrance.

The door handle turned.

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick with anticipation. Then, the door swung open and the room fell into an instant hush.

Jungwon stepped inside, still towel-drying his damp hair, his oversized black t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame. His post-performance glow was evident—cheeks flushed, eyes slightly dazed from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

He blinked at the sight before him.

The members stood scattered around the room, trying way too hard to act normal. Jay was casually leaning against a table—except his elbow slipped, nearly knocking over a bottle of water. Sunghoon looked suspiciously stiff, like he had rehearsed his “natural” stance too many times. Ni-ki was covering his mouth, eyes already sparkling with suppressed laughter.

Jungwon frowned slightly. Something is up.

Then, his gaze landed on the fairy lights, the cake, and finally, the massive Happy Birthday, Leader Won! banner staring back at him.

Before he could process it, the members erupted into cheers.

“Surprise!”

Jungwon flinched at the sudden noise, nearly dropping his towel. “What the—” He looked around, squinting. “What’s going on?”

“You really thought we wouldn’t do anything for your birthday?” Jake smirked, stepping forward to throw an arm around Jungwon’s shoulders.

Jungwon scoffed. “I knew you guys were being weird today.”

“Define weird,” Sunghoon said innocently, shifting slightly to block the suitcase near the couch.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “You were all too normal.”

“Bro, we’re always normal,” Jay deadpanned.

“I stand by it.”

The members cackled.

Heeseung, who had been standing off to the side with his arms crossed, finally spoke up. “Actually…” He smirked. “We have one more present for you.”

Jungwon groaned dramatically, rubbing his face. “Please tell me it’s not another embarrassing video montage—”

“Oh, it’s better.”

Before Jungwon could question it, Heeseung gave a small nod toward the curtain.

That was your cue.

You stepped out, heart hammering against your ribs as you finally locked eyes with Jungwon.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Jungwon’s entire body went rigid. His mouth parted slightly. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, twitched like his brain was struggling to send a signal. His chest rose and fell with an unsteady breath.

The members were watching eagerly, as if they were witnessing a dramatic K-drama finale.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Jungwon finally found his voice.

“…Wait.”

His voice cracked slightly.

Ni-ki snorted.

Jungwon’s gaze darted from your face to the suitcase near the couch, then back to you. His lips parted again, but all that came out was:

“HUH?”

The room erupted.

Sunoo doubled over, clutching his stomach. Jake fell onto the couch, wheezing. Ni-ki looked like he was about to pass out from laughing.

Jungwon, however, remained frozen.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you stepped closer. “Surprise.”

That was all it took.

Jungwon suddenly lunged.

He reached you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that your feet nearly left the ground. A startled laugh escaped you as you stumbled backward slightly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“You—You’re really here?” His voice was muffled against your shoulder, trembling slightly.

You nodded against him, your heart swelling. “I’m here.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wide and glassy. “You… You really flew all this way? Just for me?”

You smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply, like he was still trying to process it. Behind him, the members were still enjoying the show.

Jake wiped away fake tears. “This is beautiful.”

“He’s in shock,” Sunghoon whispered.

“No thoughts. Head empty,” Ni-ki added.

Jungwon ignored them, his hands still gripping your arms as if grounding himself.

“You okay?” you asked, pressing a hand to his cheek.

He blinked slowly. “No. I think I’m malfunctioning.”

The members lost it again.

Sunoo wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. “We’ve lost our leader, everyone.”

Heeseung clapped Jungwon’s back. “A thank you would be nice.”

Jungwon finally tore his gaze away from you to glare at him. “Shut up.”

You giggled, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon let out a small, breathless laugh, finally pulling you into another tight hug. “This is the best birthday ever.”

The members groaned loudly.

“Oh my god, he’s so whipped,” Jay muttered.

“Just now realizing that?” Sunghoon scoffed.

You laughed against Jungwon’s shoulder, feeling his grip tighten just a little more.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter how much they teased him, no matter how chaotic things got���this was exactly where you were meant to be.

—

Jungwon still hadn’t let go of you.

It had been a full minute since the initial shock wore off, but he kept his arms locked around you, his head resting against your shoulder like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Okay, we get it, you missed her,” Jay teased, breaking the silence.

Jungwon finally pulled back—just enough to turn and glare at him. “Shut up, Jay.”

Jay smirked. “You’re not even denying it.”

“Because it’s true,” Heeseung added with a knowing grin.

Jungwon sighed, shaking his head before turning back to you. His hands stayed on your arms, his touch warm and grounding. “How long are you staying?”

You smiled. “A few days.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good.” Then, quieter, just for you, he murmured, “I don’t want you to leave too soon.”

Your heart melted.

Before you could respond, Ni-ki clapped his hands together. “Alright, lovebirds, we do have a cake waiting.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically but finally—reluctantly—let you go. You laughed at the way he immediately reached for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned to face the rest of the group.

Jake grinned. “Alright, birthday boy, make a wish.”

Sunghoon nudged him. “You don’t need to. Your biggest wish literally just walked in.”

The members groaned at the cheesiness, but Jungwon?

He just smiled.

You swore his grip on your hand tightened slightly.

With a soft chuckle, he stepped forward to the table, staring at the cake. The warm fairy lights made the white frosting glow softly, and the words Happy Birthday, Captain! stood out in elegant cursive.

Jungwon exhaled deeply. “This is really nice, guys.”

Sunoo beamed. “Of course. You deserve it.”

Jungwon gave him a small, grateful smile before closing his eyes for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he blew out the candles.

The room erupted into cheers.

“Yay, our leader is another year older!” Ni-ki teased.

“Another year shorter,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

Jungwon turned to glare at him. “I heard that.”

Sunghoon just smirked. “Oops.”

Jake started cutting the cake while Jay grabbed plates. You watched as Jungwon let himself fully relax, laughing as his members playfully fought over who got the biggest slice.

Sunoo dramatically gasped. “Ni-ki, put that piece back, you gremlin!”

Ni-ki, holding an unfairly large slice, grinned. “Finders keepers.”

Sunghoon looked horrified. “That’s a quarter of the cake, you menace.”

Jungwon just laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine, just take another slice.”

“You’re too nice,” you teased, nudging him. “If that were me, I would’ve smacked it out of his hands.”

Jungwon turned to you with a grin. “Noted for future cake disputes.”

Heeseung passed you both plates, and as Jungwon took his first bite, a soft sigh of satisfaction left his lips. “Wow.” He looked up at the members. “This is really good.”

“Sunoo picked it,” Jay said, nodding.

Sunoo flipped his hair dramatically. “I do have excellent taste.”

Jungwon chuckled, turning back to you. “You should try it.”

He picked up a small forkful and, without thinking, held it up to your lips.

The entire room fell into scandalized silence.

Jake gasped. “Oh my god.”

Sunghoon looked personally attacked. “In front of my salad?”

Ni-ki fake gagged. “Not at the dinner table, guys.”

Jungwon froze.

His ears turned bright red.

You, however, decided to play along. Maintaining eye contact, you leaned in, taking the bite off his fork.

Jungwon’s jaw visibly clenched. His eyes darted to the members, all of whom were staring.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You didn’t even hesitate.”

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Ni-ki smirked. “Oh, it’s too late for that.”

Sunoo placed a hand over his heart. “I never thought I’d see the day our little leader would be out here doing—” He waved a hand dramatically. “—something so scandalous in front of us.”

Sunghoon sighed. “They grow up so fast.”

Jungwon groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I hate all of you.”

You giggled, leaning closer. “But you love me, right?”

Jungwon sighed dramatically before dropping his hand and looking at you. A soft smile played on his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

The members groaned in unison.

“Oh my god,” Jay muttered, stuffing cake into his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Ni-ki fake sniffled. “Our fearless leader has fallen.”

Jungwon just rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed your hand gently before turning back to his cake.

The celebration had finally started winding down.

The cake had been demolished (mostly by Ni-ki, who had somehow managed to sneak extra slices despite Sunoo’s watchful gaze). The members were still playfully bickering about who gave Jungwon the best present, and the room was filled with warmth and laughter.

But even with all the noise, Jungwon hadn’t let go of your hand.

Every few minutes, you’d feel his thumb brush over your skin absentmindedly, as if making sure you were still there. If he wasn’t holding your hand, his knee was pressed against yours, his body always leaning just slightly in your direction.

You didn’t mind one bit.

Eventually, the members started cleaning up, throwing away plates and clearing the table. Jungwon had been watching them work for a grand total of two minutes before Heeseung pointed at him.

“Not so fast, birthday boy. You’re helping.”

Jungwon groaned, leaning against you dramatically. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I be exempt from this?”

“Yeah, no,” Jay deadpanned, tossing him an empty cup. “If we suffer, you suffer.”

Jungwon sighed but stood up, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I’ll be right here.”

As he walked off to help, you watched him fondly. Even exhausted, he still tried to pull his weight, stacking plates and picking up napkins.

It wasn’t long before Heeseung shot you a knowing look from across the room. “You should steal him away for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. We got this. Go be disgusting somewhere else.”

You snorted, shaking your head before making your way toward Jungwon. He had just finished setting a stack of plates on the counter when you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back.

He stiffened for a split second before instantly relaxing, his hands moving to rest over yours.

“Come with me,” you murmured.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, curiosity in his eyes. “Where?”

You just smiled. “You’ll see.”

The members noticed, of course.

“Aww, look at them,” Ni-ki cooed.

Jake sighed dramatically. “I wish someone would whisk me away like that.”

Sunghoon smirked. “We could, but you’d just come back in five minutes crying about how much you miss us.”

Jake gasped. “That happened one time.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes but tugged you toward the hallway before they could tease either of you further.

The two of you ended up in a quieter part of the backstage area, away from the noise. The air felt different here—quieter, softer, more intimate.

Jungwon sighed as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Finally. A moment of peace.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Tired?”

He tilted his head in thought before shaking it. “Not anymore.”

His eyes softened as he reached for your hand again. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You squeezed his fingers gently. “I wanted to be.”

Jungwon studied you for a long moment, then—slowly—he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. The gesture was so sweet, so tender, that your breath hitched.

His gaze flickered up, watching your reaction. When he saw your expression, he grinned. “What? I’m not allowed to be romantic?”

You laughed softly. “You are romantic. Just usually in a really awkward, flustered way.”

Jungwon groaned. “You just had to ruin my smooth moment, huh?”

You giggled, reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Sorry, sorry. You were very smooth. Super charming.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning into your touch. “Better.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, soaking in the silence. It felt surreal—to be here with him after so long, with no screen between you, no time zone difference, no calls cutting in and out. Just him.

Jungwon sighed contently. “This is the best birthday ever.”

You tilted your head. “Because of the concert?”

He shook his head immediately. “No.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Because you’re here.”

Your heart swelled.

“You’re really sappy today,” you teased, though your voice was soft.

Jungwon chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Take it while you can.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

Jungwon’s eyes softened as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making it perfect.”

And for the first time that night, no one interrupted.

After a long night of performing, celebrating, and being relentlessly teased by his members, Jungwon was finally free.

The two of you had slipped out of the venue while the others were still cleaning up, leaving behind the chaos and noise for the quiet comfort of the van. The moment you slid into the backseat, Jungwon immediately followed, settling in beside you.

The city lights flickered outside as the car pulled onto the road, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. The energy from the concert still lingered in the air, but exhaustion was creeping in, making everything feel a little hazy.

Jungwon let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the seat. “I can finally breathe.”

You giggled. “Are you saying your own birthday party was suffocating?”

He turned his head toward you, eyes heavy with fatigue but filled with warmth. “Not the party. Just them.”

From the front seat, Heeseung—who had offered to ride with you two—cleared his throat. “I can hear you, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned, closing his eyes. “I know. That’s why I said it.”

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh. “This is how you treat your beloved hyung? After I singlehandedly orchestrated your entire surprise?”

You grinned. “To be fair, he does have a point, Won.”

Jungwon opened one eye, narrowing it at you. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

You shrugged. “He’s my partner-in-crime. I have to give him some credit.”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. Someone appreciates my hard work.”

Jungwon let out a dramatic sigh before turning back to you. “Fine. Thank you, Heeseung-hyung. You’re the best hyung in the world. I’m eternally grateful.”

His tone was so robotic that Heeseung actually gagged. “Okay, never mind. I take back everything. You’re ungrateful.”

You burst into laughter as Jungwon smirked in victory.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, the van rocking gently as it cruised through the city. You glanced at Jungwon, noticing how his body had started to relax completely, his head resting against the seat. His eyes blinked slower, his grip on your hand loosening just slightly.

“You’re exhausted,” you murmured.

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mhm.”

You ran your fingers gently through his damp hair, feeling him melt into your touch. “You should sleep.”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, blinking up at you with a lazy smile. “Wanna spend every second with you tonight.”

Your heart clenched at the softness in his voice.

“Jungwon,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

He hummed again, eyes half-lidded.

“You’ll still have me tomorrow,” you promised. “And the day after that.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Good.”

Heeseung, who had been minding his business, suddenly spoke. “I am still here, by the way.”

Jungwon groaned. “Hyung, please.”

Heeseung snorted. “Nah, it’s fine. I love being a third wheel. Really. It’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled as Jungwon shot him a glare, but the moment was short-lived—because not even Heeseung’s teasing could stop Jungwon’s body from shutting down.

Within minutes, his head slowly tilted to the side, resting against your shoulder.

You glanced down, only to find him fully asleep, his breathing deep and steady.

Your heart softened.

Carefully, you adjusted yourself so he could be more comfortable, wrapping an arm around him. He instinctively nuzzled closer, his fingers loosely curling around the fabric of your sleeve.

Heeseung peeked at the rearview mirror and smirked. “Wow. Out cold.”

You smiled, running your fingers through Jungwon’s hair again. “He worked hard today.”

Heeseung nodded. “Yeah… but also, he’s just really whipped.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I know.”

The car continued rolling through the city, the lights casting soft glows across Jungwon’s peaceful face.

And in that moment, you realized something.

For all the teasing, for all the chaos, for all the exhaustion—this was perfect.

Jungwon had his fans. His members. His music.

And now, he had you, too.

And that was all that mattered.

By the time the van pulled up to the hotel entrance, Jungwon was completely out.

His head was still resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your collarbone, his body pressed comfortably against yours. Every few minutes, his fingers would twitch slightly—like he was still subconsciously holding onto you even in sleep.

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Won, we’re here.”

Nothing.

Heeseung leaned over from the front seat, peering at Jungwon’s sleeping form. He raised an eyebrow. “Is he even breathing?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Heeseung. He’s just exhausted.”

“Hmm.” Heeseung poked Jungwon’s arm. “Hey, birthday boy. Wake up.”

Jungwon didn’t even stir.

You giggled. “Heeseung, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

“Watch and learn.” Heeseung cleared his throat and said, in a serious voice, “Jungwon-ah, staff said we need to redo the encore performance. Get up.”

Jungwon immediately twitched.

You and Heeseung watched in real-time as his eyes fluttered open, his body tensing slightly—until he finally registered his surroundings.

Then, he groaned and buried his face back into your shoulder. “Hyung, I hate you.”

Heeseung burst out laughing. “Hey, at least now you’re awake.”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath that was definitely not PG-rated, but it only made Heeseung laugh harder.

You giggled, rubbing Jungwon’s back soothingly. “Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jungwon finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His hair was slightly messy from sleeping on you, and his voice was adorably raspy when he mumbled, “Carry me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung snorted. “Yeah, no. You’re on your own, dude.”

Jungwon pouted but ultimately sighed in defeat, dragging himself out of the van. The moment you both stepped into the hotel lobby, the warm air hit your skin, the dim lighting making everything feel cozier.

The staff greeted Jungwon quietly, congratulating him on his performance before directing you both to his room. Heeseung, finally finished with his babysitting duties, stretched his arms. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Try not to be too disgusting.”

Jungwon yawned, waving him off. “Goodnight, hyung.”

You grinned. “Thanks for everything, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winked before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Jungwon standing outside his hotel room.

Jungwon sighed, fumbling with the key card. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the bed.”

You smirked. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but I also don’t want to waste time with you,” he murmured, finally pushing the door open.

Your heart softened at his words.

The hotel room was spacious, modern, and filled with warm lighting. A massive king-sized bed took up most of the space, the blankets neatly arranged. Jungwon immediately kicked off his shoes, stretching his arms with a groan before flopping onto the bed face-first.

You laughed. “That tired, huh?”

His voice was muffled against the pillow. “I can’t move.”

You shook your head fondly, setting your bag down before sitting beside him on the mattress. “Want me to get you some water?”

He turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open. “Just lay with me.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. “Bossy.”

Still, you didn’t argue. You kicked off your shoes, shifting onto the bed beside him. The moment you did, Jungwon instinctively rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

His warmth, his scent, the steady rise and fall of his chest—it was all so him.

Your fingers gently played with the strands of his hair. “You did amazing today.”

Jungwon hummed sleepily. “Mmm.”

“I mean it,” you whispered. “I watched the whole performance. You were incredible.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, his voice quieter now. “It’s always easier when I know you’re watching.”

Your heart clenched at his words.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, watching as his lips curled into a tiny, sleepy smile.

“Happy birthday, love,” you murmured.

Jungwon let out a deep breath, his body completely relaxing against yours.

And just like that, he fell asleep in your arms.

Jungwon slept soundly for a while, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion. His arms remained wrapped around you, his breathing slow and steady, his face completely at peace.

You didn’t mind one bit.

You stayed there with him, running your fingers through his hair, tracing soft patterns on his back. He looked so soft like this—so young, so free from the pressures of being a leader, a performer, an idol. Right now, he was just Jungwon. Your Jungwon.

Eventually, he stirred, letting out a soft hum as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at you, dazed and sleepy, before a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice raspy.

You smiled back. “Hey, birthday boy.”

He groaned, burying his face into your neck. “I’m still not used to hearing that.”

You giggled, rubbing his back. “Well, get used to it. I’m not done celebrating you yet.”

Jungwon lifted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his half-lidded eyes. “What do you mean?”

You reached over to your bag, grabbing the small, neatly wrapped box you had been waiting to give him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You handed it to him, watching as he carefully unwrapped it, his fingers gentle as ever. When he finally opened the box, his breath hitched.

Inside was a simple silver bracelet, sleek and minimalistic—just his style. But what made it special was the small engraving on the inside.

My home, my heart—always yours.

Jungwon stared at it for a long moment, his fingers tracing over the words. His lips parted slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You bit your lip. “Do you like it?”

Silence.

Then, Jungwon inhaled sharply, closing the box with a snap before you could see his face.

“Jungwon?”

Still no response.

Then, to your absolute horror, he turned away from you, shoulders hunched, hands covering his face.

Oh god.

He was crying.

Your heart stopped. “Wait—love, are you okay?”

A muffled, strangled sound came from behind his hands.

Oh no. Oh no, you broke him.

You sat up quickly, placing a hand on his back. “Jungwon, I—”

“Give me a second,” he croaked.

You blinked. “What?”

“I just—” He sucked in a breath, shoulders shaking slightly. “I need a second.”

You pursed your lips, biting back a smile. “Are you crying right now?”

“No.” His voice cracked.

You giggled, rubbing circles on his back. “You are crying.”

Jungwon finally turned to you, eyes red and glassy, cheeks flushed. “I am not crying.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

You stared.

He stared back.

“…Shut up,” he muttered.

You burst out laughing, and that was officially the last straw for Jungwon. With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed, throwing a pillow over his face.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. “I hate you.”

You were still giggling as you pried the pillow away. “You love me.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically, but his lips curled into a soft smile. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

Your heart swelled as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his forehead. “Then keep it on forever, okay?”

Jungwon sat up slightly, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment before turning to you, his expression completely soft.

“I will.”

And somehow, you knew he meant it.

Jungwon was still staring at the bracelet on his wrist, turning it slightly under the warm hotel room lights. His fingers traced the engraving again, as if memorizing the feel of it.

You watched him with a soft smile, resting your chin on your palm. “You’re still thinking about it, huh?”

He blinked up at you, lips slightly parted before he nodded. “Yeah.”

Your fingers reached out to gently take his hand, brushing your thumb over the bracelet. “You really like it?”

Jungwon huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I love it.” Then, quieter, he murmured, “I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You knew he loved you—he had shown it in so many ways, in his small gestures, his thoughtful words, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. But hearing him say it so plainly, so softly, with the weight of today still lingering in the air, made warmth bloom in your chest.

You leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips. It was slow, unhurried—like the both of you had all the time in the world. Jungwon sighed into the kiss, his fingers curling around your wrist, grounding himself in you.

When you finally pulled away, he was gazing at you with sleep-heavy eyes, his expression completely open and vulnerable.

You nudged his nose playfully. “Sleep, birthday boy.”

Jungwon groaned but obediently flopped back onto the bed, pulling you down with him. His arms wrapped around your waist, his body molding perfectly against yours.

You laughed softly. “Comfortable?”

He let out a content sigh, nuzzling into your neck. “Mhm.”

The steady sound of his breathing filled the room, and you felt his body fully relax against yours. His fingers were still loosely intertwined with yours, his grip soft but steady—like even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.

You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, whispering, “Sweet dreams, birthday boy.”

And just like that, Jungwon drifted off, the softest smile still lingering on his lips.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: I MADE IT ON TIME TO SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE YANG JUNGWON! He's been killing my heart so much recently~ He needs to give me a break or I'll start dropping on my knees for him. ALSO!! First enhypen fic so I hope you guys enjoy hehe~ This was very rushed so lmk if there are any errors or mistakes!!

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @imlonelydontsendhelp @ode2soob

[gain-stuff-eat]

who, may i ask, are you growing these love handles for, hm?

they're so luscious, filling my hands, you've made all this fat so easy to grab with your constant eating and endless stuffing

you are the very picture of excess and indulgence

don't think i haven't noticed all that snacking you've been doing, the constant grazing, the multiple meals, the huge portions, the increasing amount of delivery orders that show up all times of the day and night

you're insatiable and your body shows it

it's obviously not an accident, what you're doing to yourself. you clearly enjoy it. i doubt you thought you'd get this out of control... oh, you liked that? pointing out your uncontrollable appetite, the fact that you can no longer resist this hedonistic lifestyle you've spiraled into?

you're craving more right now, in fact, aren't you?

why don't you just go ahead and eat? we both know that's all you want to do anymore. all you think about. eating and stuffing until you can't move, and masturbating until you fall asleep. then waking up and doing it all again with even more food than the last time maybe because you can't help yourself. it's not your fault it keeps taking bigger and bigger meals to reach that fullness you constantly crave

gluttony looks so good on you

so much decadent fat. it spills and undulates off your frame. don't you feel so heavy? doesn't it feel so good? you wobble and jiggle with every step, no wonder it's hard to think about anything other than food

it's so easy to grab all this pudge because your shirt doesn't even fit. hadn't you noticed your gut hanging out? or has outgrowing clothes become so normal you don't even notice? with the way you stuff your face i'd be surprised if anything in your wardrobe fits. but the fabric strains over your softened, expanding body and reminds you to keep eating too, huh? you like how it feels a little uncomfortable, fits a little poorly, draws eyes to your growing figure

it makes you want to eat

i can tell because you started touch and feel your belly at just the thought, even though i can tell you ate not that long ago with way you can barely move, how you've beached yourself

you're so greedy

but that's okay because you chose this for yourself. you wanted this. you conditioned yourself to get this fat, you've pleasured yourself to the fantasy, after each massive stuffing, and now the reality is you crave this feeling. glutting yourself, getting heavy, the constant bliss of being in a bigger body all the time because food just taste too good and you only want more of it

don't be shy, go ahead and play with your belly. there's so much it, it's impossible to resist. press a finger into your navel, revel in how you've transformed yourself through your appetite alone

speaking of, better get yourself something to eat soon

you're starting to get hungry again

[00valentina-writes00]

Grayson fingering you in her office? Plaplspslslsmbxnsms I need it.

♡♥︎Hold It Together♥︎♡

Warnings: NSFW (18+), semi-public sex, fingering, Mild orgasm control, praise, office setting, established relationship, Grayson being in control.

The walls of Grayson’s office are thick—sturdy, built to muffle the sounds of confidential conversations, urgent reports, and the weight of justice being debated behind closed doors. But they aren’t soundproof.

And right now, that’s a problem.

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you can taste copper, your fingers gripping the edge of her heavy wooden desk in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. The room smells of parchment, ink, and the lingering scent of Grayson’s cologne, a scent that clings to the fabric of her crisp uniform. It’s heady, comforting, and dizzying all at once.

Especially when her fingers are buried inside you.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart,” Grayson murmurs against your ear, her breath warm, teasing. Her voice is always so controlled, so composed—but there’s an unmistakable edge of amusement in it now.

She likes this. Loves the way you’re struggling, the way your body betrays you even as you fight to hold still, to keep quiet.

You gasp when she curls her fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes your knees weak. Your body jerks, but she holds you in place, her other hand resting heavily against the small of your back, keeping you right where she wants you.

“Did you think you could come here, spread yourself over my desk, and walk away unpunished?” she muses, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You shake your head, but words fail you. You can’t think—not when she’s moving her fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, her palm pressing firmly against your clit with every motion.

Your breath stutters. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the precinct hum around you—officers talking, boots against tile, the occasional crackle of a radio. If anyone knocked right now, if anyone stepped inside—

You don’t get to finish that thought. Grayson withdraws her fingers, just enough to make you whine, only to press them back in with a steady, unrelenting force. Your walls flutter around her, struggling to accommodate the thick digits that know your body better than you do.

“You need to be quiet, sweetheart,” she warns, her lips against your jaw now, pressing the softest kiss there before pulling back just enough to watch you struggle. “Or do you want them to hear?”

You shake your head again, your breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

She hums in approval. “Then hold it together.”

Easier said than done.

Your thighs are shaking, your body wound tight as a bowstring. Every drag of her fingers, every deliberate press of her thumb against your aching clit sends you spiraling further, making it harder to stay still, to stay silent.

“Please,” you whisper, barely audible, but she hears it. Of course, she hears it.

“Please, what?” she asks, still in control, still composed, despite the undeniable heat in her voice.

You squeeze your thighs around her hand, hips stuttering in search of more friction, more something.

“Please let me cum,” you beg, breath hitching as she curls her fingers again, teasing the edge of your release without quite letting you tip over.

Grayson chuckles, the sound low and knowing. She could make you wait. She should make you wait—draw it out, make you squirm, make you work for it. But she’s not feeling particularly cruel tonight.

“Be a good girl, then,” she murmurs, her pace quickening just enough to make you see stars.

And fuck, you try—try so hard to hold it together, to stay silent, to obey. But when she presses her palm firmly against your clit and grinds down just right, the pleasure snaps through you with ruthless efficiency.

A sharp, choked sob escapes your throat before you can swallow it down. You slap a hand over your mouth too late, your entire body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of unbearable pleasure.

Grayson doesn’t stop. She fucks you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body, milking your release until your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

Only then does she slow, withdrawing her fingers with a teasing final stroke that makes you whimper.

You slump forward, panting, your forehead resting against her desk as you struggle to catch your breath. Your body feels boneless, weightless, as the aftershocks pulse through you.

Grayson takes her time fixing your wrinkled skirt, smoothing it down with deliberate care. Then, she lifts her hand—still slick with your release—to your lips.

“Clean up your mess, sweetheart.”

You shiver, but you obey, parting your lips to take her fingers into your mouth, your tongue gliding over them, tasting yourself on her skin.

Her dark eyes burn with something heavy, something possessive as she watches you.

She pulls her fingers away with a soft, pleased hum before pressing one final kiss to your temple.

“Good girl.”

And just like that, she steps back, straightens her uniform, and smooths a hand over her hair as if nothing happened at all. You on the other hand, shake as you pull your underwear and pants back up.

A knock on the door makes you flinch, your stomach twisting with residual panic.

Grayson? She doesn’t even blink.

“Come in,” she calls, her voice as composed as ever.

You swear you see the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips when she watches you try to compose yourself.

She did that on purpose.

And you love her for it.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Valentine’s Day Fic - First Preview

Have a sneak peak! Warning for minor sexting 😉

Ring ring ring

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked along the streets of Hell. Pulling it out, you saw Lucifer's adorable rubber icon pop up on the screen. You smiled and hit the answer button.

"Hey Luci, what's going on?" you answered cheerfully.

"Oh, you know, just waiting for my darling to return home to me," he sighed dramatically on the other side of the phone.

"Hon, it's only been an hour!" you scolded playfully. "I had to pick out something special for tomorrow, you know."

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day; one of Lucifer's favorite mortal holidays. The chocolates, the flowers, the romantic setting, everything about it excited the little devil! And of course he always treated you to a special candlelit dinner, complete with dessert and champaign. But you knew Lucifer always looked forward to the end of the night; that time he gets to worship you as the goddess he sees you as.

This year, however, you decided you wanted to spice things up a bit. Which is why you made it a point to visit the Entertainment District which housed the best collection of sex apparel in the pride ring. Lucifer insisted on giving you anything you wanted, but new lingerie wasn't all that you were looking for; some new toys were definitely needed. It took a while to convince him since you knew he didn't like being left alone for too long, but you promised him that you would be as quick as you could. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to stop him from calling you up after only a short amount of time.

"I knoooowwwww," Lucifer groaned on the other end. "But is there any way I can convince you to come home sooner?"

His proposition intrigued you, so you decided to play along. "And how would you do that, I wonder."

You swear you could almost hear him smile. "Well, my dear, since you got to go out and look for a special outfit, I thought I would try my hand at creating one just for me! Gotta say, I'm pretty happy with it! Tight in all the right places!" You heard the static-filled snap of the fabric hit his skin as he spoke.

"Wait," you paused, moving yourself up against a building. "Are you wearing it right now?" He was doing this on purpose, you knew he was. He knew how to tempt you. And picturing Lucifer in something less than decent did nothing to help keep your composure out in public. You could already feel the heat in your face begin to rise.

Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Would you like a sneak peak, love?" Before you could answer, there was a buzzing on your phone. He already had a picture queued up just to tease you. You opened the message with a gasp, fumbling your phone in your hands. The picture showed of his exposed stomach with the rest of his body covered in a lovely black. It looked as though he shot this photo from the waist up because you could make out his forked tongue that was sticking out through his sharpened teeth, smiling wickedly at the camera.

Quickly, you closed the picture hoping know one else had seen what was on your screen. "You ass, I almost dropped my phone!"

"Hey, you're the one who opened it!" he shot back. "But I can tell you like it, isn't that right?"

He was right, of course he was! How could you not! But he was getting too cocky for his own good. If he wanted to be a brat today, you had no trouble giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if it meant cutting your outing a little bit short. You were going to surprise him with his favorite chocolate candies, but perhaps you could get them after you taught him a lesson.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes," you responded in a hushed tone, trying your best not to draw the attention of others. "If you aren't handcuffed to that bed by the time I'm back, you're gonna be in for it."

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucifer murmured, sending shivers down your spine. What a fucking tease, but God, did you love him.

“You have 14 minutes now,” was all you said before hanging up the phone as you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk back towards the Morningstar mansion, paying no attention to the onlookers who noticed your brisk pace as you passed them. There was someone who needed to be put in his place.

[blackjackkent]

Thus ends Rakha's story, which I am deeply gratified to realize has ended very softly and positively. To quote Charles Dickens:

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

As the night begins to fade down into quiet, she finds Withers paging slowly through a book in the ruins near the clearing. He gives her a slow sideways look.

"This one night," he says gravely, "is like any other... and yet... different." He closes the book deliberately and sets it down, turning to face her.

"Thou art the savior of Baldur's Gate... until such time as it requires saving again. How dost thou feel?"

Rakha draws a long breath slowly and then lets it out. The answer still feels strange to say aloud, as strange as the life that she is living, quiet and steady, day in and day out.

"I'm proud," she says quietly. "You gave me a new life, another chance. I did my best with it."

Withers makes a soft humming noise that is almost but not quite a laugh. "I am pleased to hear it," he murmurs. "The satisfaction of one's intention is, to my surprise, a rare accomplishment." He gestures with one skeletal hand back towards the door behind her. "Enjoy the revelry of the day. Thou deservest at least that much."

Rakha hesitates. The night is winding down and she has little left to say, her energy fading, the desire rising to retreat into solitude. But she has been to few enough parties that she is unsure of the steps. "I think I've caught up with everyone," she says slowly. "What comes next?"

Withers' lips curl in a slight smile. "What indeed," he says, and moves past her out into the open air. "Prick up thy ears and listen."

-----

He gathers them all out in the center of the clearing, next to the long spread of food not yet eaten.

"Hear me!" he calls, his voice resonating through the night air. "Thou heros, wastrels... friends. I have waited long to tell you these words."

"it is over... for now." A flicker of amusement touches his desiccated features. "Thou played thy part in weaving the fabric of fate itself. But for every thread you sewed, so did the gods unravel another. Sleep, rest, revel - for thou mayest yet be needed."

Rakha listens quietly to the speech. Perhaps he speaks the truth - but she hopes not. She is done with her adventures, and it would take the world ending again to convince her otherwise.

But she suspects this part of the speech is not fully meant for her, as he turns next and focuses his eyes on her as he speaks again.

"Until we meet again," he says gravely, "I wish thee every possible fortune. Health. Wealth. Love. And above all... problems worth solving."

Rakha considers this, then slowly raises her glass with a quiet smile. To that, she will happily drink. All of the short life she remembers, she has wanted nothing more than this. To find answers to her questions, to see the light of the Weave on her skin, and to see the work that needs doing and do it.

Attack with purpose, she told herself, when attacking was all that she knew how to do. But there is more now, more to life than that.

There are problems worth solving ahead of her, because of the people here and the help they have given her in climbing out of the dark and shedding the brutal fate she was born to.

"To all of you," she says abruptly, looking around, meeting each pair of eyes one by one. "My real family."

Each glass lifts in her direction in answer, including Withers'; he meets her gaze last of all and raises his goblet like a salute.

"To you," he says.

[chiropteracupola]

I remember, I swear - I was eighteen at the time / Time to spare - far from the wind and rain / And blueness reaching into every corner...

[a perceval for @mortiscausa's 'march to camelot,' for the prompt 'fool']

[didiwaffles]

Happy New Art day everyone!

[colesstar]

There were three major mistakes people have made in my life, those are : letting me draw, making me do DT (may or may not be doing something) and giving me internet access

what could possibly go wrong

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[thecassafrasstree]

Had a few folks interested in how I made the patches I posted for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, so I thought I'd give y'all my step-by-step process for making hand-embroidered patches!

First, choose your fabric and draw on your design. You can use basically any fabric for this - for this project I'm using some felt I've had lying around in my stash for ages.

Next, choose your embroidery floss. For my patches I split my embroidery floss into two threads with 3 strands each, as pictured. You can use as many strands in your thread as you prefer, but for the main body of my patches I prefer 3 strands.

Next you're going to start filling your design using a back stitch.

First, put in a single stitch where you want your row to start.

Poke your needle up through the fabric 1 stitch-length away from your first stitch.

Poke your needle back down the same hole your last stitch went into so they line up end-to-end.

Repeat until you have a row of your desired length (usually the length of that colour section from one end to the other). Once you have your first row, you're going to do your next row slightly offset from your first row so that your stitches lay together in a brick pattern like this:

Make sure your rows of stitches are tight together, or you'll get gaps where the fabric shows through.

Rinse and repeat with rows of back stitch to fill in your patch design.

When you're almost to the end of your thread, poke your needle through to the back of the fabric and pull the thread under the back part of the stitching to tuck in the end. Don't worry if it looks messy - no one's gonna see the back anyway.

This next step is fully optional, but I think it makes the patch design really pop. Once your patch is filled in, you can use black embroidery floss to outline your design (or whatever colour you want to outline with - it's your patch, do what you want). I use the full thread (6 strands, not split) of embroidery floss to make a thicker outline.

I use the same back stitch I used to fill the piece to make an outline that adds some separation and detail. You could use most any 'outlining' stitch for this, but I just use back stitch because it's just easier for me to do.

Once you're finished embroidering your patch, it's time to cut it out!

Make sure to leave a little border around the edge to use for sewing your patch on your jacket/bag/blanket/whatever, and be careful not to accidentally cut through the stitches on the back of the patch.

If you have a sturdy enough fabric that isn't going to fray, you can just leave it like this. If not, I recommend using a whip stitch/satin stitch to seal in the exposed edges (I find that splitting your embroidery floss into 3-strand threads works best for this).

And then you're done! At this point you can put on iron-on backing if you want, or just sew it on whatever you wanna put it on. Making patches this way does take a long time, but I feel that the results are worth it.

Thanks for reading this tutorial! I hope it was helpful. If anyone makes patches using this method, I'd love to see them! 😁

[hanniebaeee]

Freckles and Brownies

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: spicy dreams, some smut (not deep), and reader is slightly older MDNI

Genre: neighbors/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Your sweet neighbor Felix has the biggest crush on you. You try not to give in, but he's way too irresistible.

You knew he was coming over even before you heard the knock on your door. Your apartment building had the thinnest walls in the history of thin walls - it was pathetic really.

But you liked your cute little apartment a lot - it was quiet (most of the time) and comfortable. Then there was Felix, your sweet neighbor who lived next door with his roommate, Jisung.

Felix was a joy to have around, because he was kind, considerate, and he always had a smile on his face. And he was totally obsessed with you.

He loved to bake and every time he baked, he would knock on your door, with a box of such yummy treats.

“Hey, I made extra. Thought you might like some,” he’d say, handing them over, with the softest smile on his face.

And your heart would skip a beat because, seriously, he looked like a fantasy wrapped in an apron.

Yes, you thought he was adorable. But he was your neighbor and you knew he was a few years younger, and so, adorable or not - you never crossed that line.

So, you pretended not to see the way he constantly blushed around you or the way his eyes would always linger a second too long. It was so hard, when he was right there in front of you, baking brownies or cookies every other day just so he could come and see you.

You had to draw a line. You had to.

The night was quiet, except for the soft tapping of your fingers on your keyboard as you worked. You were in bed, hair pulled into a messy bun, a mug of tea in hand, trying to meet a deadline you couldn’t ignore.

Your focus, however, was shattered by a noise from the other side of the wall. The very wall that separated your apartment from Felix’s.

At first, it was very faint. A low, muffled groan. You paused, fingers hovering over the keys, straining to listen. Maybe Felix was having another one of his late-night gaming sessions with Jisung?

Then it came again. Oh that's definitely not related to gaming.

You froze. Because that was a moan. A low, breathy moan. And it was your name.

“Y/N…”

Your stomach dropped. No way. NO WAY!

But then you heard it again. And again. His voice, soft yet clear, filtering through the paper-thin wall separating your bedroom from his. The sounds that followed were unguarded, raw, and so unbelievably... dirty.

“Oh, God, Y/N…”

Your entire body flushed with embarrassment and something else entirely. You slapped a hand over your mouth completely scandalized.

Ok, you knew he liked you, but this? He couldn’t be…was he seriously…?

You quickly shook your head as if that would help banish the thought. No. Felix was sweet and innocent and, okay, not innocent, but still.

But then came another sound. This one unmistakable the creak of a bed frame, followed by a low, guttural moan that sent your imagination spiraling to a whole new level.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him whisper. “So good…”

Your hands shot to your headphones. It wasn’t even a choice at this point - it was pure survival. You jammed them onto your head and cranked up the volume on your playlist. There.

Not that it worked. Because no matter how loud the music, you could still hear him in your head.

You buried your face in your hands. You weren’t supposed to be hearing this. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about how Felix - sweet, blushing, brownie-baking Felix - was currently doing whatever he was doing!

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall…

Felix was lost in his dream, blissfully unaware of the chaos he was causing. In his dream, you were standing in his kitchen, wearing one of those pretty sweaters he always saw you in. But this time, the fabric was slipping off one of your shoulders as you leaned over the counter, a teasing smile on your lips. Oh he could see way more than just a bit of skin.

“Do you want a taste?” you asked, holding up your fingers dripping with chocolate.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely functioning. “Y-Yeah…”

You laughed softly, dipping your fingers into your mouth, licking them clean yourself.

“You have to ask nicely, baby.” you whispered.

His dream-self didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing into your chocolate stained ones in a kiss so desperate, so needy, it made his whole body ache.

Felix let out a deep, throaty groan, clutching his pillow tightly as his dream-self pushed you against the counter, rutting against you like his life depended on it.

He pushed his face into his pillow, his hips moving against the mattress for some friction. He snaps awake, feeling a bit disoriented, but so damn hard and needy.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice so deep and raw. “I need you…”

His hand slips into his sweatpants, trying to help himself out of this mess, face still pressed into his pillow.

---

You yanked off your headphones, groaning in frustration. This was ridiculous. You were a grown woman. You could handle this.

You groaned as you heard another moan followed by the creaking of his bed (more frantically), and you threw yourself back onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest.

This was insane. Completely, utterly insane. How are you supposed to face him tomorrow? You can't, not after this.

—

The next morning, you're walking down the hallway, so fatigued and sleep deprived after you spent the whole night unable to fall asleep. You were dressed for work, your bag in one hand, your phone in the other.

And the universe decided to play the most ridiculous joke on you, because there came Felix from the opposite side - t-shirt half-tucked, hair a little messy - looking totally…spent.

You tried to act casual, but he froze when he saw you.

“Morning!” he chirped, his face lighting up when he saw you. “You’re up early!”

“Yeah, well, work, you know…”

“Are you okay? You look kind of flustered.” Felix tilted his head, studying you.

“I’m fine!” you blurted, far too quickly.

“Are you sure? You seem a little... tense.” he said, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

Oh no, he wasn't doing this right now.

“Did you sleep well last night, Felix?” you asked, crossing your arms against your chest.

Felix blinked, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he said, “Uh... yeah. Why?”

You smiled sweetly, your tone laced with barely concealed mischief.

“Oh, no reason. You just seemed... very well-rested.”

Felix’s eyes widened, the realization hitting him rather mercilessly. “Oh my God.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the poor boy.

“What's wrong?” you asked, and he turned bright red, his hands flying to cover his face.

“I- I didn’t - how did you - oh my God!”

You patted his shoulder, thoroughly enjoying his meltdown and said, “Don’t worry, Lixie. Your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving Felix a stuttering, blushing mess in the hallway.

Felix tried. He really did. After the mortifying revelation that you’d heard him, he swore to himself he’d keep his cool. He was a man, and he was going to act like it. Mature. Collected. Cool.

But every time he saw you, his resolve crumbled like one of his cookies.

You’d stopped by to return the Tupperware he’d given you last week (filled with brownies he’d baked as yet another excuse to see you). You were dressed casually in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, your hair tied back, but Felix could hardly keep his composure.

“Thanks again for the brownies,” you said, handing him the container with a smile. “They were great. As always.”

His heart did a full somersault at your praise. He took the container, his fingers brushing yours, and you swore you felt him shiver.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered, cheeks dusted pink. “Anytime.”

He looked into the box that was definitely not empty, and saw that was indeed full.

“I made some lasagna, we never return empty containers,” you said with a wink and Felix blushed as he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said, “Um, -”

A silence stretched between you two, broken only when Jisung called from inside, “Felix! Are you flirting with her again?!”

Your eyes went wide and Felix choked, turning toward the door.

“I’m not - she’s not - shut up, Jisung!” he growled and you laughed, as Felix turned back to you, now red as a tomato.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, backing toward your apartment, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, of course!” Felix said, nodding too quickly. “See you later?”

“Sure,”

---

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned, stirring your latte, as your best friend, Jennie eyed you with a smirk. “He’s so… sweet. And attractive. And every time I see him, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow, sipping her Americano and said, “So, I don't see the problem?”

“The problem,” you emphasized, “is that he’s younger than me. What if he regrets it later?"

Jennie snorted.

“Oh, please. What's a couple of years have to do with anything? He’s an adult. He can vote, drive, drink - he's a big boy, Y/N. Stop making excuses.”

“It’s not just the age thing,” you protested. “We're neighbors. It’s messy. If it doesn't work out, I'd have to move and then-”

“Babe, he's hot,” Jennie added, waggling her eyebrows. “Come on, Y/N. The guy clearly worships you. I bet he’d walk barefoot through a field of Legos if you asked him to.”

“Jen-”

“Look,” she interrupted, leaning forward with a smirk, “I get it. You’re scared. But life’s short. If you want him, go for it.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. Jennie was the worst. But she was also… not entirely wrong.

---

For Felix, this was a whole crisis.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way you smiled, the way you smelled when you leaned in just a little too close. It was driving him insane.

Jisung, of course, noticed his nonstop thirsting.

“Dude,” Jisung said, tossing the controller onto the couch as Felix stared blankly at his laptop. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix muttered, though the pink tint to his ears gave him away.

“Oh, come on,” Jisung groaned. “It’s been, what, six months? You’re salivating every time she walks by.”

“She’s… amazing, ok? And perfect. And…” He trailed off, sighing deeply. “She’d never go for someone like me.”

“Why not?” Jisung asked, genuinely curious.

“Because she’s…her,” Felix said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She's beautiful, and successful. And-”

“And so into you,” Jisung interrupted. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Trust me, she’s interested.”

Felix shook his head, his heart aching. He wanted to believe it, but every time he got close to you, he felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

That night, as you lay in bed, your mind wandered back to Felix. To his soft voice, his shy smile, and the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

You groaned, rolling onto your side. This was ridiculous. Jennie’s words echoed in your mind, Life’s short. If you want him, go for it.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. But then you heard it - the doorbell.

You sat up, heart racing. It was almost midnight. You slipped out of bed and walked to your door. You heard the bell again, and this time, Felix’s voice with it.

“Y/N?” Felix’s voice was soft but urgent. “It’s me.”

You opened the door quickly to find Felix standing there, looking equal parts nervous and determined.

“Felix, is everything ok?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted out, his freckles stark against his flushed cheeks. “I know this is crazy, and I know I probably don’t have a chance, but… I had to tell you. Because it’s driving me crazy. You’re driving me crazy.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Felix, I -”

“I don't know what to do,” he continued, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know. I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you.”

—---

The clock on your nightstand read 2:47 AM. You’d been lying in bed for hours, unable to sleep, your head spinning.

Felix’s confession played on repeat in your head.

I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you.

The words had shattered something inside you. You’d wanted to say something, anything, but all you’d managed was a stunned silence - staring at him with your mouth open, that he gave you a rushed goodnight. And bolted.

Since then, you’d been teetering on the edge of panic and longing. You didn't say anything. Anything at all. And seeing the disappointment in those big beautiful eyes of his, seeing his face crumble with sadness at your silence was absolutely heartbreaking.

You turned onto your side, facing the wall you shared with Felix. Your heart ached, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on your chest. He was right there, so close, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to bridge the gap.

---

Felix lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands gripping the sheets like they were the only things tethering him to reality.

He had spilled his heart to you, thinking it would work. And now? Now it felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

You hadn’t said anything. Not a single word to give him hope or closure. He tried to convince himself you were just processing, that you weren’t rejecting him - but the silence was the most painful thing he'd ever had to endure.

His gaze drifted to the wall separating his room from yours. And his mind, traitorous as always, began to wander. He imagined you on the other side, lying in your bed, the soft curve of your lips, the way your eyes would flutter shut if he kissed you.

His fantasies were vivid, and utterly maddening.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you so badly it hurt. But more than that, he wanted you to want him.

He felt like he was suffocating.

---

You couldn't take it anymore. It felt way too claustrophobic in your room. You sat up, your heart racing and climbed out of bed and padded to your door.

You needed some air.

---

The sound of your door opening reached him, and his heart leapt into his throat. He scrambled out of bed, throwing on a hoodie as he moved to his own door.

He opened his door and walked straight into you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, after his body clashed with yours, and his voice was so husky and breathless.

“I…” You hesitated, looking equally breathless and surprised. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Felix stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “Me neither.”

You bit your lip, your chest heaving with the stress of it all.

“Felix, about what you said earlier…” you began.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I meant it. Every word.” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And I…”

Before you could finish, Felix closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His touch was gentle, and you both had a moment, staring at each other, absolutely terrified.

You didn't know who moved first, but here you two were, kissing. A kiss so soft at first, then deepening as months of pent-up desire spilled over. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a desperation that reflected your own.

Your back hit the wall and he tilted his head, licking into your mouth, and it was so absolutely hot.

When you finally pulled away from Felix, your lips still tingled from the kiss, and your heart pounded so hard.

Felix’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed a deep red. He looked absolutely stunned, his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

Oh no, why wasn't he saying anything?!

“I…” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat.

What could you even say?

“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered, his voice strained. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you blurted, hugging your arms around yourself, feeling exposed in the oversized sweater you’d thrown on before bed. It barely skimmed your thighs, and now you were hyper-aware of how Felix’s eyes kept darting to your legs before snapping back up to your face.

Felix’s jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I…I should go.” he murmured and before you could stop him, he turned and sprinted back into his apartment, leaving you standing there.

—

The moment Felix shut the door to his apartment, he leaned against it.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes closed and voice trembling.

He wanted to scream. Or throw himself off a cliff. Because right now, all he could think about was the way you tasted, the way you looked in that damn sweater. The way you looked so… thrown after the kiss.

Groaning, he went to his bedroom and fell onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He was turned on beyond belief, but the guilt was just as strong.

That kiss, though perfect, felt impulsive and reckless. And now? He had no idea where you two stood.

---

By the time the sun came up, Felix was in full-on stress-baking mode.

His kitchen was a disaster - half empty bags of flour, bowls and utensils littered every surface, and his oven was working overtime. He’d already made two trays of brownies, cookies, and a batch of cupcakes, and he was still going.

Because every time he paused, every time he let himself think, his mind betrayed him. That damn kiss was playing on repeat in his head.

He threw himself back into baking, hoping it would distract him. But it didn’t work. His fantasies just grew wilder.

“Stop it,” Felix hissed to himself, slamming the oven door shut.

But the damage was done. He was a mess.

---

By the time Jisung woke up (close to noon) and stumbled into the kitchen, Felix was pulling yet another tray of cookies out of the oven.

“What the hell happened here?” Jisung asked, blinking at the mountain of baked goods that had taken over their apartment. “Did you open a bakery while I was asleep?”

Felix shot him a glare and said, “Don’t start.”

Jisung raised his hands in surrender, though he did ask, “Rough night?”

Felix didn’t answer, instead focusing on packing some of the cookies into containers.

Jisung leaned against the counter, smirking. “This is obviously about Y/N.”

Felix froze for a second.

“I knew it,” Jisung said, grinning. “Care to share what happened?”

Felix’s ears turned bright red as he shook his head.

“I’m not talking about it,” he said.

“Okay, fine,” Jisung said, grabbing a cookie. “But, for what it’s worth, you should tell her how you’re feeling. Like, really tell her.”

Felix sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I already did.” he said sadly.

Jisung blinked in surprise. “And?”

“She didn’t say anything.” Felix’s voice was quiet, almost defeated. “And then…and then…never mind.”

---

The moment you stepped into the hallway after a long day at work, you were hit with the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate and vanilla.

You paused, inhaling deeply. Felix was baking again.

You’d just changed into your pyjamas when there was a knock at your door. Opening it, you weren’t surprised to find Felix standing there, holding four containers of baked goods in his hands.

He looked kind of disheveled and his expression was tight - like he was barely holding it together.

“Felix,” you started, but he thrust the containers into your hands before you could say more.

“What’s all this?” you asked, looking down at the overflowing assortment of brownies, cookies, and cupcakes.

Felix let out a laugh - a sharp and humorless one.

“It’s your fault,” he said and your eyebrows shot up.

“My fault?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how you didn't say a word after I admitted my feelings for you. And then we kiss, and you don't say anything even then.”

Your lips parted, words failing you as he continued.

“It hurts. My heart hurts, and if I sit still I feel like I'm gonna faint. So yeah, I've been baking nonstop for hours now. You can eat them, throw them out, whatever you want. I just…I needed to get them out of my kitchen before I baked myself into oblivion.”

You sighed, setting the containers down on a nearby table. “Felix -”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head and taking a step back. “Don’t.”

“What? At least-”

“I have to go, or I'll end up doing something really stupid.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with all his baked treats and a heart that felt like it was breaking.

Felix was spiraling.

For days, he’d been avoiding you as much as possible. He hated it. He hated having to speed walk past you or ignoring you. He couldn't stop craving you, and all through his heartache, he still missed you.

And he still couldn’t stop himself from baking for you. It was the only way he knew to show how much he cared without risking saying or doing something that might ruin everything further.

The knock on your door came as you were finishing dinner. You opened it to find Felix standing there, looking as nervous as ever, holding a box of brownies.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hi, Felix,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“I made these for you.” he said, holding the box out to you, his hands trembling slightly.

You took the box, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“Thanks, but -” Before you could finish, he turned and started to walk away.

“Felix!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

Something inside you snapped. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Felix!” you yelled again, quickly placing the box on the ground and grabbing the back of his hoodie, tugging him to a stop.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he turned halfway to look at you.

“Please don’t do this to me, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

“Well, stop,” you said firmly, pulling him back toward your apartment, your grip on his hoodie strong.

“Y/N,” he protested, stumbling slightly as you dragged him inside. “You don’t get it!”

“Shut up, Felix,” you snapped, cutting him off as you slammed the door behind you.

He blinked at you, startled, his mouth opening to say something else, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“I like you, okay?” you yelled, your voice rising. “I like you back, Felix! I’ve been trying to hold it in, trying to be reasonable because this whole thing is complicated and I didn’t want to make it weird, but I can’t take it anymore! You’ve been driving me mad with all your running and your baking and your stupid perfect face, so just - just shut up and kiss me already!”

For a moment, Felix just stared at you, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock.

“You… what?” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“I said I like you,” you repeated, your chest heaving. “Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

In an instant, he closed the space between you, his hands cupping your face as he crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was desperate, frantic even, and you responded with just as much intensity, your hands fisting in the front of his hoodie to pull him closer.

Felix’s lips were soft but insistent, his hands shaking slightly as they slid from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were gasping for air, trembling and flushed.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Felix whispered, his voice rough and shaky.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and said, “Probably as long as I have.”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes shining with something you could only describe as pure joy.

And he kissed you over and over, until the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection you felt with each other.

Dating Felix felt like stepping into a dream.

From the moment you both decided to give it a go, it was as if everything clicked into place. Now, you were greeted with the soft press of his lips whenever he saw you and even softer smiles that melted your insides.

He was so attentive, and so utterly devoted. And more perfect than you'd ever thought a person could be. He stayed over at yours a lot, and you kept him company whenever you could over at his. And it was absolutely magical.

Oh and he taught you how to bake. Or at least he tried.

---

Felix’s kitchen was a mess as usual, all his baking things spread everywhere. His sleeves were rolled up and his hair pushed back with a bandana.

You were perched on the kitchen counter, dressed in that sweater - the oversized one he loved so much, the one that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Your hair was loose, your smile teasing, and you looked like you'd walked straight out of his dream.

Felix swallowed hard, as he tried not to look at you. But when he did, he saw you leaning forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand.

“What’s next, Chef Lee?” you asked, nodding toward the bowl of brownie batter.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to gather himself.

“Uh, okay. So, once we mix the dry ingredients…”

His voice trailed off as you dipped your finger into the batter, scooping up a bit and popping it into your mouth.

The sound you made - a soft hum of approval - almost made him drop the bowl.

“Mmm,” you said, licking your finger clean. “That’s so good.”

Felix’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bowl to keep himself steady.

“Baby,” he said, his voice strained.

“What?” you asked, your eyes wide with mock innocence.

“You’re not… helping,” he managed, his gaze slipping down to your thighs.

You tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you said, “I’m not?”

“No,” he said, setting the bowl down and taking a step closer to you.

“What am I doing, then?” you teased, tapping his bottom lip with your finger.

Felix caught your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re being a bad girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Your breath hitched as he stepped between your legs, his hands sliding over your thighs.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his fingers tightening on your skin.

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his.

“I want you.”

That was all it took.

Felix kissed you like he was starving, his hands running over your thighs as he pressed you closer. He tasted of chocolate and something so uniquely him, and you honestly couldn't get enough.

His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He pushed the fabric off your shoulder, kissing all your exposed skin, groaning as you thread your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly.

He pushed you back against the wall, his hands reaching under your sweater and pulling down your panties quickly. You gasped as he quickly bent down and threw your legs over his shoulders.

Your breath caught as he kissed your inner thighs and went on to give you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life.

The bowl of brownie batter sat forgotten on the counter as he devoured you. Your fingers were in his hair, his bandana long lost and followed by his shirt and a lot more.

You sat on the counter, grinning smugly, your legs swinging lazily as you watched him, shirtless and glowing, trying to salvage the brownies he had abandoned earlier.

Felix glanced at you, his freckled cheeks still tinged pink, and smirked. He just lived his fantasy. And you were glowing, and it filled his heart to see you like that.

“The brownies, Lixie,” You reminded him as he lost focus, and was lost in thought, his eyes fixed on you.

He was about to reply when the front door opened, and Jisung walked in.

“Felix -” Jisung stopped mid-sentence as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes darting between you, perched on the counter, and Felix, standing there shirtless with a tray of brownies in hand.

There was a long, awkward pause as Jisung's eyes fell on Felix’s shirt lying on the floor. And obviously both of you looked enough ruffled for anyone to catch up.

“Oh my god,” Jisung finally said, his face scrunching up in horror. “Ew! Not in the kitchen!”

You burst into laughter, your hands flying to your mouth, while Felix just shook his head.

“Nothing happened here!” Felix insisted, though the sheepish grin tugging at his lips wasn’t helping his case.

Jisung pointed an accusing finger at his shirt lying on the floor.

“Don’t lie to me! There’s literally evidence of your sins everywhere!” he said.

“Jisung, I swear -”

“Save it!” Jisung cut him off dramatically, turning to leave. “I’m never eating anything that comes out of this kitchen again!”

You couldn’t stop giggling as Felix turned to you.

“Babe,” he muttered, though he couldn't help but smile.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to sound sincere but failing miserably.

Felix rolled his eyes, setting the tray down before stepping closer again.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, teasingly.

“Lucky, huh?” you said, looping your arms around his neck.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he said, “Very lucky.”

“I CAN HEAR YOU!” Jisung’s voice rang out from his bedroom.

You both burst out into giggles, and you kissed him again.

“I love you, Lixie.”

“I love you, baby.”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght