kazuberri

[kazuberri]

⭒ HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY WANT YOU, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

fem reader x sunday, jing yuan, dr ratio, aventurine + dan heng ( separate ) ; teasing. groping and touching. a touch of exhibitionism. reader wears a dress in a few. jing yuan refers to you as his wife. petnames used; my dear, my angel. wc. 800 to 1.2k max. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist. .

⭒ SUNDAY

Sunday most likely believes he’s discreet when it comes to his want for you. Truly believing that he is still in control of himself, like he isn’t slowly becoming overwhelmed by his insistent need to have you beneath him — closer to him. Afterall, his longing always seems to come at the least opportune times, like when he’s supposed to be entertaining guests.

Instead, all he can think about is you and that pretty, delicate little look you’re wearing. The way your dress is resting over your thighs, hugging around your body and everytime his gaze meets yours, he seems to forget how to breathe… speak even.

Infact, you can feel the way Sunday’s looking at you from across the hall.

You’re standing at the bar, only a few steps from him, but the heat in his gaze is still terribly evident, and probably inappropriate considering he’s surrounded by guests that he himself is supposed to be entertaining. He seems stiffer than usual, distracted — and it makes the men around him clear their throat almost awkwardly as they try to draw his attention back.

“Mr Sunday?” One of them speaks eventually, and the sound captures his focus, albeit momentarily as he tries to shake off the distraction. But he finds himself suddenly feeling flustered, for more than one reason as he feels something in his slacks twitch.

He fidgets for a moment before he takes a breath.

“Yes, yes. Forgive me, it seems I… let my thoughts get away from me. I hope the banquet has been to your liking so far.” The smile Sunday’s wearing is rehearsed, but it doesn’t seem to be as convincing as it usually is. He’s aware of that — and so as to not embarrass himself any longer, he bids those guests farewell before he’s bringing himself back to the true target of his affection.

And you’re already turning to greet him with every step he takes closer.

“You doing okay? you seem like you’re struggling.” You ask innocently as Sunday comes to stand opposite you. You immediately feel the weight of his hand on your lower back, and if that in itself doesn’t give away his sudden neediness— the way it squeezes you closer to him does.

“Hah, you are so funny, my dear. And who should I hold responsible for my wavering composure, I wonder?” His words are almost squeezed through clenched teeth, maybe even a little sarcastic, and you watch the way his wings seem to stiffen alongside them, shuddering as he lets his fingertips trace along the silky fabric of your dress.

“Had I known you were going to wear this dress, well then maybe I would’ve better prepared to be tormented.” It was true, Sunday did enjoy you in this dress— you knew that better than anyone.

Which is exactly why he’s finding himself to feel quite stuffy beneath his usual garments himself, letting his free hand come up to pull at the collar of his shirt as he tries to feign composure.

But you can’t help that seeing him in such a state makes you feel a little smug. You hum, “Well, you were busy beforehand so I couldn’t exactly go over my outfit with you.” You let your hand rest over Sunday’s arm as you push it up the length of his jacket — squeezing at his skin through the fabric as you hear him swallow loudly.

His gaze is sharper now, lidded as his body stiffens with your touch. For someone who took great pride in being in control— he seems to lose it quite easily when it comes to you.

And in such a public setting, how shameful. Sunday clears his throat as he tries to bring back some sort of power to himself.

“Fret not, it seems I��m no longer preoccupied and I feel it is time to bid farewell to our guests for the night. Should you not wish them to see your true intentions that is.” To seduce him— is what he is implying your intentions are, but you both know you’re quite capable of doing that with little to no effort at all.

That much is obvious now as he feels his cheeks burn with your close proximity and his growing want. The bulge in his slacks could become quite obvious if you keep this up.

“Blaming me? Not fair.” You lean in as you tease him, and that’s enough for Sunday to suddenly flush— instinctively bringing his wings up to curl around his cheeks as he finds himself looking around the room. Unable to meet your gaze for a moment, and checking that nobody is watching him waver like this.

His fingers at the back of your dress twist into the fabric, and you feel them trace shapes into your skin a moment later — resting lower on your back until it’s almost dangerous.

Sunday glances back at you, and you’re smiling when he does. The expression makes him frown, like he’s trying to cover up his reaction to you a moment ago. “Heh, well.. I think that is quite an understandable accusation.” And it takes everything in him to pull himself together before he’s giving you a darker look that you know means trouble.

“Though I can’t help but wonder which course you shall take now that you’ve been discovered, my angel. Surely repentance is due.”

It’s not like he’s going to let you off lightly after this little display.

But before he can drag you away, you hear someone call for him from over his shoulder as another patron approaches, and part of you expects his hand on your lower back to retreat. But you’re surprised when he opts to raise his free one instead, urging them to halt on their heels as he sends them one of his polite, colder smiles.

“My apologies. If you could excuse us for just a moment, I have something to tend to at once.”

⭒ JING YUAN

Though some may argue that the general always appears to be needy when he’s in your vicinity — you know more than anyone that there are a few certain tells to look for that ultimately give away when he really is.

Jing Yuan was always touchy with you, that much was a given — especially as you rest opposite him on the couch now, catching him up on your day while he’s been at work and you doing your own thing. He offers you an affectionate blink as you ramble, and his hand seems to be resting quite comfortably on your thigh as your legs rest over both of his own.

It’s comfy, innocent— to begin with atleast because then you just need to do something seemingly mundane; a flutter of your lashes, a pout of your lips, and suddenly the general across from you can’t focus on anything.

Well, anything but your sweet mouth, or the warmth of your skin beneath his palms or the shape of your body in your clothes.

And then suddenly you ask Jing Yuan a question and all he can do is hum. It’s an attempt to make sure he’s paying attention but it’s quite obvious he’s not as his amber gaze seems to busy itself elsewhere. He’s so shameless as he checks you out, accompanying each lidded blink with a squeeze of his palms as they stroke up your thighs.

You narrow your eyes at him, though he doesn’t seem to notice when his fingertips are too busy palming at your skin. They squeeze you affectionately, and he’s quite entranced by the give of your body when he does — soft beneath his fingertips as he hums to himself this time.

That’s when you find yourself stopping your conversation for a moment— and at first Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to notice as his touch presses up even higher. Until he’s grabbing at the underside of your thigh— dangerously close to your ass, and the way his lips seem to curl when you react with a shudder makes you scoff.

But that sound alone makes his cock throb from where it rests against his thigh.

“Since you’re not listening, I’ll just stop talking then.” You pout, flicking your fingers against his chest and it makes him lift his gaze to finally meet yours.

“Whatever do you mean, my dear? I am simply admiring my wife, is that worthy of such a punishment?” The smirk Jing Yuan’s wearing makes you roll your eyes, but then his fingertips are making their way higher up your thighs. Teasing at the hem of your shorts and almost pressing beneath to touch the hem of your panties, and it makes you smack playfully at his hand when he gives you another squeeze.

He chuckles at that, “Though if my punishment is by your hand. I shan’t find reason to complain too much.”

His teasing make you grumble. “You! Cut that out.”

But Jing Yuan’s words have made you feel suddenly warm beneath his gaze as he narrows his eyes at you. The handsome look he’s wearing is not only insufferable, but it’s hard to deny — which makes it even worse. It makes you want to bury your face into your hands so you don’t need to look at him.

But when you move to, he seems to quite quickly use his free hand to move them away again. “Oh? Don’t tell me the idea of punishing me has you so flustered?” His words drawl again and he uses your sudden embarrassment as a means to pull you closer. His palm pinching at your hips as he guides you onto his lap and unfortunately, you let him.

But this only gives him even more of you to play with.

“I think it’s safe to assume you seem to be much more distracted than even I, what shall we do about that now, hm?” Jing Yuan asks lowly as his both hands come to rest on your hips now.

He had an insufferable way of turning his need round onto you. To imply that you were the one that started all this, like you can’t feel the heavy throb of his cock beneath where he’s got you spread out on his lap. The bulge beneath you is quite obvious afterall, yet he’s palming and stroking at your body like he’s the one doing you a favour.

“Should you ask nicely, I may humour your little proposal.” His hands curl around where your hips meet your thighs and he squeezes. Even going as far to groan as he uses the skin as a means to rock you into him. He really was not discreet when it came to what he wanted. But still he’s smirking, smug. “Though first, I’d like to hear what you have in mind, my dear.”

⭒ DR RATIO

Despite what others may believe, it was quite impossible for Ratio to hide his want for you. Well, after a certain point that is — not only did he seem more irritable — something that others may assume was just the way he was, and more a fault of their own. He always seemed to be almost in denial that he would succumb to temptation so quickly. In turn— you always came to know faster than anyone what was really bothering him.

Like now, as you rest in Ratio’s quarters and you almost feel like you’re being scolded in a way— though you’re not too sure what for yet. He can barely look at you from where he’s leaning back in his seat at the desk, one of his legs balancing over the other as he pinches at the space between his brows.

But to him, there’s almost too much to say. Yes, he finds it quite adorable that you went out of your way to visit him while he busied himself with research, but on the other hand… You cannot be unaware of the effect you have on him.

As soon as you had walked into the room, Ratio immediately felt his focus wavering, not only did you turn the heads of the few idiotic researchers in your path— but he could barely read the text infront of him when he got that first smell for your perfume. He’d almost immediately rushed you both out of there before anyone could even blink.

And now it’s much the same. Suddenly he can’t focus on anything except the insistent throb in his cock that beckons him to reach out and touch you. The realisation of his predicament makes him scoff to himself, muttering an “Oh please.” beneath him breath.

And you can’t help but assume that’s it’s aimed at you ofcourse— as anyone would considering most of Ratio’s internal debate is going on inside of his head, and last he checked you couldn’t read minds. So innocently, and as pretty as always, you close the distance to lean over his desk and ask.

“Is everything okay?” You hum, softly as a means to diffuse the stuffy tension between you both. But as soon as the man across from you lifts his lidded gaze to meet yours, he feels something in his cock twitch and it makes him click his tongue. Frustrated at such a banal reaction before he’s turning in his seat away from you.

Ratio scoffs, “Quite the opposite.” But still, he thinks it’s probably best to explain himself. Well, while also trying to ignore the way even a glance at you makes him burn as he twists his neck to stretch.

He turns in his chair again, and it almost pains him to look at you when you meet him with such a cute reaction. But he conceals it to the best of his ability before he opts to speak, “One might even assume you’ve deliberately sought out to disturb my efforts with such an enticing ploy. Though I do commend your determination, how would you expect one to react?”

Ratio’s words make you tilt your head at him, and even that look makes him want to bundle you into your arms and keep you close. His gaze ultimately falls down to your lips as he awaits your response, then your jawline, your shoulder and your collarbone. The places that his lips are most familiar with. And in turn he can’t help but give himself another groan as he feels a headache coming on.

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.” You eventually respond, but you do think you understand something now as you watch him. Not only is his unease now noticeable, so is his bulge when he ultimately urges himself to stand from his seat.

Still, you let Ratio speak as you try to hide your smile at the realisation.

“Don’t play coy with me, I know you are no idiot. You are well aware of not only your captivating presence but that of my admiration for it. Hence, your scheme could be considered quite admirable were it not so obvious.” He manages to bring himself around to the other side of the table as he rambles, bringing himself to stand over you as he does.

But it seems Ratio’s body has come to terms with what he desires before his mind can accept it as such, and his hand almost grips the edge of his desk until it shakes as he blinks at you.

His eyes narrow, and his voice lowers sinfully, “Do you understand now? Or was my previous flattery misplaced? Do reassure me that that is indeed not the case.”

But because you’re quite familiar with Ratio’s mind— well, most of it, you opt to give yourself up despite your innocence. Afterall, you think this way of doing things may wind up being what’s best for both of you in the end. So you press yourself closer as you give him an alluring blink, and you feel his body stiffen when you fingertips graze along his chest.

“Maybe you’re right, Doctor.” You hum, quietly— you know he’s not one that’s easy to fool. But, you know he’s not one to deny himself of life’s pleasures either. You just happen to be his.

“Then I need say no more.” Ratio scoffs in response, and just as quickly as you allow him a little of your touch— you retract it. Opting to turn on your heels with the intention of putting distance between you both.

“If you’d rather I come back—“ You begin to say but it’s quite quickly, almost instantly actually that your lover cuts off your timely exit with a hand reaching out to grab you gently. Though you’re reminded that his muscles are not only for show when he makes quick work of pulling you back into his chest this time.

He swallows, and it was quite a rare occurrence to see Ratio look at you with such a look as his hands come to cup at both of your cheeks. He keeps your head tilted up towards him as he looks down at you, trying hard not to let his gaze fall to your lips once more. “Nonsense. Since you have went through the trouble of coming all this way. It’s best for me to revisit my research when I can give it my utmost attention.” His words cause you to blink up at him.

His voice seems more gentle now, though there’s an undercurrent of want still wrapped around it. It almost makes you feel warm as you press yourself closer, and you feel the way his cock seems to strain against you as you do.

It earns you a hiss from Ratio over you, “Until then, it seems I’ve been enticed by something far more worthy of my efforts.”

⭒ AVENTURINE

Whenever Aventurine caught himself needing you, which was most of the time, he always found himself wanting to have fun with it aswell. Sure, he loved to tease you at the best of times as it was already, but this only gave him another opportunity to bring you into a little game of his choosing.

It’s like a game to see which of you will break first.

You can see it first in the way his eyes lock on your figure as soon as you enter the room. Aventurine never had any problems pulling you into his lap, whether that be at the betting table or in the comfort of his own home. Today being the latter as he beckons you over with a grin and a quick flick of his fingers.

“Something wrong?” You ask as you draw closer and the gambler beneath you seems to answer by spreading his legs a little wider, as if making room for you as he outstretches his hand. It’s an invitation you take quite naturally, and he pulls you to straddle him when you come close enough to close the distance, taking a place over him that you seem to fall in to quite easily.

“What? I can’t just call you over for a little company?” Aventurine answers, but you can tell by the alluring glow of his gaze that he’s keeping his cards close to his chest. You’d be silly to think that that was the only reason for calling you over here. But you’re already quite comfortable from your place in his lap, and even despite your suspicions — you both know that you’re not planning on leaving.

Especially when his hands rest on your waist and squeeze so convincingly, “There’s no need to be suspicious.” His smooth drawl seems to climb its way along your spine — pulling you closer as you feel yourself slink up against his body. It’s almost embarrassing the effect that his words alone have on you, he knew exactly the tone to use — even just the smooth complexity of his voice makes you arch.

But you had your own ways of dealing with him after so long together too,

“Can you blame me? You’re such a schemer.” Your eyes narrow down at Aventurine, but still you let your fingertips press into his shoulders to squeeze. Letting them scratch through the soft hair at his nape and you feel him shudder at the touch. Despite how much he schemed and played with you, he himself could be quite sensitive if you knew where to start.

And that knowledge alone is what makes you such a great opponent for his little game.

“Haha, you’re so kind.” The sarcasm almost drips from his tone.

But then Aventurine narrows his eyes up at you, and his touch begins to crawl over more of your body as he really begins. It’s soft at first, squeezing at your waist before its smoothing lower— to trail over your hips and palm at your body. He gives you just enough affection until you’re beginning to melt, fingers shaking against the back of his neck as you bite down on your lower lip and he watches you.

Purring. “You’re sure to turn heads in every room. There’s no need to act so humble when someone appreciates that.” His efforts wind up urging you to push yourself close enough to feel the now obvious bulge in his slacks. The realisation makes you almost gasp as your thighs squeeze around both of Aventurine’s own.

And suddenly his intentions are now clear as he exhales his next breath along the nape of your neck. “But I gotta find my ways to claim what’s rightfully mine, wouldn’t you say?” Leaning in close to make sure you can almost feel the vibration of every syllable.

Your head drops back as his words seem to pour along the sensitive spots in your throat, followed closely by a soft press of Aventurine’s lips as he follows that same path. The gentle affection, paired with the steady caress of his hands makes you keen. Shuddering, “Did you call me over just to tease me? I’m not in the mood for games.”

Your lashes flutter when he closes his lips around a particularly sensitive column of your throat, suckling lightly at the skin there before he’s letting it pop free and he hums as he sees the blotch raise dark. His next squeeze of his hands is a little rougher as he looks up at you, letting his tongue lav over the blooming mark for a second longer before he’s meeting your gaze from beneath pretty lashes.

“There’s no need to be so nervous. Your chances seem pretty good if you ask me.” Aventurine’s tone is just as smooth as it always is. Seemingly unaffected despite the way his cock is all but leaking against the inside of his slacks. He is being honest when he says your chances are pretty good— afterall, the effect you have on him is the reason you’re both playing this game in the first place.

Which is why you’re so familiar with it, and exactly why you find yourself drawing closer as your arms loop around his shoulders to squeeze. With your next look, you’re chest to chest and you half expect him to kiss you when he looks at you with so much heat in his gaze— you’re surprised it doesn’t spark light.

Infact, Aventurine even sets you up for such. Starting at your jawline first as his lips tease along the skin— making you arch again as his fingertips trace down the length of your spine and you almost whine. Would it not be an obvious sign that he’s getting to you, you probably would.

He kisses the corners of your mouth next, twice— for good luck. And then he’s exhaling across your lips for the finale and it’s enough to make your eyes close and your thighs tremble. You wonder if he can feel the way your pussy does too.

But as soon as Aventurine gets close enough to do just that, he pulls away — opting to satiate you with a kiss to your cheek instead. Until he’s giving you another eager squeeze at your hips, bringing them flush against his clothed cock and you’re both biting back groans as he gives you another lidded, consuming look.

The heat of your cunt has become quite apparent now that it’s pressed against his own intimate skin, and it seems you’re both on equal standing for the next round.

“Heh, seem’s you’re not one to back down. Well.. how about we up the stakes?”

Seems he’s just getting started.

⭒ DAN HENG

It’s quiet on the express as you and Dan Heng rest side by side on one of the rogue sofa’s in the parlor car. You’re enjoying the time relaxing while you find yourself pressed up against his side and he’s busy scrolling on his phone while you do much of the same. Were you to look around you’d most likely come across Himeko or Welt — but for the most part it’s quiet besides the both of you.

But just because it’s quiet, doesn’t mean that you’re relaxed. More so, your lover is having a particularly hard time at remaining any sort of composed.

It was unlike Dan Heng to lose control of himself in this way, which is why he’s basically mastered the art of the poker face. Well, almost. With your close proximity, he can feel the way your body warms him as it pushes up against his chest, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t have some sort of effect on him.

It’s just how it is — but that doesn’t make it any easier. Even in the moments when he finds his gaze drifting from the screen of his phone to glance over at you instead. He feels like he’s short on breath, and were he to focus long enough he’s sure he’d end up with the flush of his cheeks giving him away. Which is why instead, he’s satiating his sudden want for you with quick looks every now and then.

But it’s only so Dan Heng can admire the pretty pout that’s resting on your lips as you rest comfortably. Were he to go as far as to lean down just a little bit more, he’d be able to press a kiss into the side of your features and maybe after that he could—

“What’s wrong?” Your voice calls him from his almost dream-like state and it makes him suddenly clear his throat before he’s snapping his attention back to his phone screen. To act like he wasn’t just completely staring at you… though the pink flush on the tips of his ears say otherwise.

“It’s nothing.” He answers almost suspiciously quick.

But if anything, that makes you even more curious as you opt to turn more of yourself towards Dan Heng. Until you’re leaning into him a little more and letting your fingertips rest against his chest. “You sure?” You ask softly, and that doesn’t do much at all to help his current predicament. He feels every syllable in his cock.

Infact, it almost makes his next words stutter— so he swallows loudly as a means to conceal it. “I said it was nothing.”

But that response only makes you smile even more before your fingers begin to shift, leaving featherlight touches along his chest next and teetering softly as you hum curiously.

And suddenly Dan Heng can’t focus on anything except the press of your fingertips. It feels like you’re toying with him, almost deliberately — pushing your body into his until you’re squished up against him, almost lying across his lap as you try hard to meet his gaze.

It makes him sigh before he’s locking his phone and resting it down to his side, “It seems you already know what you’re doing.” He says carefully, finally opting to meet your eyes and it makes you lean over until your cheek is resting against his shoulder.

Dan Heng’s gaze is darker now, more lidded than what others may be used to — but it does something to you everytime you see it as you watch it drop carefully to look at your lips. Just for a moment before he’s looking at you again.

You quite like that side of him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice sings innocently but he can see right through you as your fingertip draws careful shapes into his chest. Every flick feels like it burns him, stinging at the tips of his ears and behind the hug of his slacks. Were someone to see you both, the implication of what you were up to could be quite obvious given Dan Heng’s current state.

“Be as it may, I have a hard time believing you.” He beckons his voice lower as he tries to send you a carefully neutral look. Though the softest of pink that’s beginning to spread across his features is doing little to make you want to stop. Instead, it only makes you continue your movements— from his chest, to his abdomen, to the waistband of his slacks and that makes his hips twitch at the subtle press of your touch.

You hum, “I’m not even doing anything.”

And for a moment you believe that maybe Dan Heng is just going to leave you be when he sighs out an, “As you say so.” But by your next blink, he’s got his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist and he’s guiding you both off of the sofa until you’re headed out of the current parlor cart.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” Is all he offers you at first, until you pry ofcourse.

“Hm? Where are we going?” The burst of pink across Dan Heng’s features seems to be a lot more obvious now as you try to sneak a peek at him from where you’re scurrying behind. But still, his voice doesn’t shake when he answers.

“To my room. It seems I’ll have to try harder if I want to gain the upper hand.”

Afterall, were you to continue your movements for a moment longer, he would’ve had to have dealt with the embarrassment of having a noticeable bulge in his slacks. And he would rather avoid having to give an explanation.

[kazuberri]

there’s nothing sexier than a sweet kiss right on the clit

[kazuberri]

[Reupload] Honkai: Star Rail | Path Icon Collection

[kazuberri]

Hi everyone,

We wanted to just make a quick post to say we have raised a total of over $5,000 USD!!!

We wanted to say thank you to everyone who has participated in ficsforgaza since the inception of this blog. This is certainly a collaborative effort that couldn’t have taken place without the creatives involved, and all of those who donated and supported the effort!! Keep your eyes on Palestine and continue to support whenever you can!

And lastly a reminder that our holiday raffle is currently ongoing!! Enter for a chance to win some really cool art!!

❤️ the mods

[kazuberri]

jellyfishes if they were a girl be like 🪼🎀

[kazuberri]

should you delete twitter and get bluesky? (or just get a bluesky in general)? here's what i've found:

yes. my answer was no before bc the former CEO of twitter who also sucked, jack dorsey, was on the board, but he left as of may 2024, and things have gotten a lot better. also a lot of japanese and korean artists have joined

don't delete your twitter. lock your account, use a service to delete all your tweets, delete the app off of your phone, and keep your account/handle so you can't be impersonated.

get a bluesky with the same handle, even if you won't use it, also so you won't be impersonated.

get the sky follower bridge extension for chrome or firefox. you can find everyone you follow on twitter AND everyone you blocked so you don't have to start fresh: https://skyfollowerbridge.com/

learn how to use its moderation tools (labelers, block lists, NSFW settings) so you can immediately cut out the grifters, fascists, t*rfs, AI freaks, have the NSFW content you want to see if you so choose, and moderate for triggers. here's a helpful thread with a lot of tools.

the bluesky phone app is pretty good, but there is also tweetdeck for bluesky, called https://deck.blue/ on desktop, if you miss tweetdeck.

bluesky has explicitly stated they do not use your data to train generative AI, which is nice to hear from an up and coming startup. obviously we can’t trust these companies and please use nightshade and glaze, but it’s good to hear.

[kazuberri]

Stop saying “there are plenty of fish in the sea”. I’ve got my eye on one specific, emotionally distant salmon with commitment issues

[kazuberri]

KINKTOBER DAY 30 — MACHINE FUCKING. 753 words. mr reca x shy!f!reader. explicit smut (18+), college-like setting, clear power imbalance (professor x student), implied blindfolding (reader), overstimulation & mindbreak (reader), pet names used once

You wouldn’t consider acting to be your forte.

Not when it’s the primary reason as to why you seem to be perpetually stuck in a classroom. Doomed to re-do your lines over and over, raising your voice to the point where it really feels like you’re screaming at your audience- only for them to tell you that your voice is too quiet. Again. As if it was physically possible to get any louder than you already were.

At least, that’s what you thought.

If someone were to make a pie chart of how much time Mr. Reca has spent helping his students- you’re certain you’d fill up nearly the entire pie. Whether that’s something for you to be proud or ashamed of isn’t important- not when you’re so focused on ignoring the way he looks at you with such interest in his eyes.

You think it’s similar to the same way a scholar would inspect and pick apart a difficult math question. The way they squint at the chalkboard with an innocent, almost childlike curiosity, only- his gaze feels anything but innocent.

It never fails to fill your cheeks with a frustrating amount of warmth, and ultimately- you’d like to blame this for your failing grade in the course. You blame your own lecturer— Mr. Reca, and the way he leans in just a little too close to be considered proper for a student and their professor.

Though something like this is definitely not “proper” in anyone’s books.

“Hmm, not quite,” he tuts, “I’m fairly certain you could be just a lit-tle bit louder.”

The machine slams against a sensitive spot deep inside you, dildo slipping out when your hips jerk- only for it slide against your clit with a loud squelch as you gasp underneath him.

“P-Professor..” you manage to choke out, though it comes out more broken than you expected— the day spent whining and moaning at his mercy evident by the strain in your voice.

Not that he couldn’t tell by one glance at your cunt. You’ve lasted longer than expected- he’ll admit. Much, much longer, and it’s piqued his curiosity quite a bit.

“Quite the brilliant sight, indeed.” He laughs, an airy chuckle practically dripping with amusement. “If only you could see yourself, my dear. Perhaps we could turn this into our own secret film next time- for extra credit.”

“Wouldn’t you agree? A diligent student such as yourself should take the opportunity while it’s still on the table.”

Right. This entire thing had started off a bit less obscene- to some extent. A subtle leaning in towards your face with a reminder that to work under ‘pressure’ would help you preform better on the final. Then, it was a finger lingering just over your throat, slowly trailing around the skin- only to hover just over your pulse point.

How it finally escalated to being restrained to his table, lecture hall otherwise empty aside from a piece of machinery fucking a dildo deep inside you until your mind shatters is beyond your own understanding.

“It’s e-embarrassing…” you whimper. He doesn’t respond aside from a low, pitiful hum that goes straight to your cunt- then you hear a distinct buzz along with a couple clicks before you’re abruptly gasping once again, throwing your head back until your skull roughly bumps against the wood beneath you.

“Oh dear. Careful now. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my prized student now, would we?”

A couple more clicks and you hear an unfamiliar sound from the remote. It’s maxed. You’re certain he’s just cranked it up to the fastest setting- and it settles once the machine responds, loudly fucking the toy in and out of you and you choke back your own sounds.

“Up, and up, and up,” he hums, as if singing a lullaby, though the way his humming trails into a low, deep chuckle only sends another flash of heat directly to your core. “That was a good noise you just made, little lamb. I would say a C score.”

“W-wait!” You gasp, the loudest your voice has come out all day- finally loud enough for him to hear over the embarrassing squelch of your cunt. “Professor!”

“A C score— yes. Hmmm?” Your breath hitches in your throat when he finally touches you for the first time that night, slowly trailing his finger down the center of your chest. “Though we still have all day to get to that A. I would expect only the best from a brilliant like yourself.”

[kazuberri]

ৎ୭ — · · sunday . fem reader . 0.4k — fingering. oral — reader receiving. petnames — dove, angel. rewritten thirst!

The night is still young, and you’re already dazed, unable to tell how much time has passed since entering the luxurious mansion together with Sunday. All coherent thoughts abandon your mind when you experience for the first time what it really means to be appreciated, cherished between someone’s fingers and mouth, leaving no part of your body untouched.

You couldn’t deny having daydreamed about this moment since meeting him, longing for some sort of recognition.

The divine experience of being eaten out by the most handsome lover seems to last forever, and just when you think you might cum at any second, he stops and stands upright above you again, smirking at his masterpiece lying naked below him. His cock is achingly hard just seeing such an innocent little thing spread apart just for him. It’s absolutely delectable.

“You’re like an angel, you know that?” You whisper against breathy kiss.

“Don’t call me like that when the prettiest angel here right now is you.” With that tender compliment comes a kiss, just as delicate and sweet as his caring voice.

A smirk of twisted tenderness and dominance flashes through his perfect face before he lowers his head once more. His lips caress every part of your body like flowers of love on spring soil.

“That’s right, dove… No need to worry about anything. I will take care of you.”

Tenderly and sweetly. You barely get the chance to breathe between each nibble — halovian's mouth moves hungrily, devouring your skin as if he couldn’t get enough.

There is a slow and delicious friction between your thighs, soft but steady. But it seems you are just too lost in delirium to pay attention to Sunday’s hands anymore. So focused on his words and smooches, you don’t even realise it when two of his fingers finally push against your slit.

He guides the digits inside your opening with a groan, taking notice at how quickly you get soaked around him. A smile — not so angelical one at that — adorns his features as he teases your pussy just the right amount. Gathering the wetness there to rub it all over and smack you there with the heel of his palm, enjoying how good your heated flesh looks in contrast to the paleness of his own hand.

Your folds swell with every tap and drag of his fingertips, and you start to undulate your hips against him, desperately seeking some sort of pressure.

“I will make your dreams come true, dear.” His voice comes out slightly huskier than usual, raspy and deep — a result of all the pent-up passion for you. It has become slightly difficult for him to maintain his usual sweet and saintly facade after witnessing your state, debauchery at the hands of a man who claims to be made of holiness and righteousness.

Oh, what an utter liar he was.

[kazuberri]

THE SNOW IS SPARKLING LIKE A MILLION LITTLE SUNS.

welcome to twelve days of selfshipmas! over the course of twelve days, december 14th to 25th, winter related prompts are available for you to think about you and your f/o(s) in the wintertime.

want to join? here's how you can:

choose as many or few prompts as you'd like

write, draw, and/or create based on the prompts for your selfship(s) of choice

share your creations on the date each prompt is assigned to!

optional (but encouraged): comment on someone else's selfshipmas post!

optional: tag your post with #12 days of selfshipmas so i know you're participating and will add you to the event directory!

dec. 14 ✧ day one ✧ preparing your home for winter

as the weather gets colder, how do you and your f/o prepare your home for the winter? are there any must-haves? do you decorate for any holidays? who does what?

dec. 15 ✧ day two ✧ going on a date

what does a wintertime date with your f/o look like? who proposes the date? what do you two wear? how does your date go?

dec. 16 ✧ day three ✧ favorite winter activity

winter comes with a lot of fun indoor and outdoor activities, from skating to visiting the winter market to reading by the fireplace. what winter activity do you and your f/o like the most?

dec. 17 ✧ day four ✧ bedroom

now that it's cold, what do your sleeping arrangements look like? is your bed filled with thick blankets? who runs hot and acts as a human heater? who is the blanket hog?

dec. 18 ✧ day five ✧ traveling for vacation

where do you and your f/o choose to go for vacation? do you visit someplace warm? what do you pack? how is making the journey there? what do you do at your destination?

dec. 19 ✧ day six ✧ snowed in

a big snowstorm happens through the night and when you wake up, you and your f/o are snowed in and won't be able to leave the house. how do you pass the time together?

dec. 20 ✧ day seven ✧ mistletoe

oh, look! there's mistletoe dangling above you and your f/o. how did you get into this situation in the first place? do you two kiss? what is the kiss like? who is around to witness it?

dec. 21 ✧ day eight ✧ dinner with family and friends

who will be at the dinner? are you and your f/o visiting someone's home, or are you hosting? what will you bring?

dec. 22 ✧ day nine ✧ gingerbread house decorating

it's time for you and your f/o to decorate a gingerbread house! is it a competition? does one person take the lead? what kinds of candy are you putting on it? how does it turn out?

dec. 23 ✧ day ten ✧ hallmark winter movie

if a hallmark winter romance movie were to be made of you and your f/o, what would that movie look like? does it start with a meet cute? or a meet ugly?

dec. 24 ✧ day eleven ✧ winter ball

you are cordially invited to the annual winter ball! it's a great excuse to dress up, enjoy good food, and dance the night away. who are you bringing? what are you and your f/o wearing? how do you spend your time at the ball?

dec. 25 ✧ day twelve ✧ gift giving

when it's time for you and your f/o to get each other presents, what do you get for each other? do you manage to keep it a secret? how do you and your f/o react?

note: the prompts are up to your own interpretation, but i've provided some questions beneath each prompt to help get the ideas flowing. this is meant to be a fun, creative, and lighthearted event, so please do not feel pressured to participate every day!

please let me know if you have any questions! i hope you have fun celebrating your selfships, and thank you for joining my event!

[kazuberri]

warning: somno, non-con

imagine black swan as a pervert. she's the most subtle and the dirtiest perv ever. she looks so innocent and caring that you wouldn't even have the slightest clue that her eyes are already undressing you.

imagine her appearing in your dreams just to fuck you. she'd ravage you and you'd remember each touch vividly. sometimes the wet dream is so realistic you can feel it. each spike of pleasure, every climax you were brought to. no part of your body is left untouched by her numerous hands. she'd finger both your holes, another hand takes home at your mouth while the rest grasp, grab, squeeze and pinch every inch of your skin.

you'd wake up tired and aching all over despite the long rest and your skin is still hot from her imaginary touch. when you look down, you'll see a drying pool of wetness on the sheets.

you'd see swan after the lewd fantasy and you'd almost die in embarrassment. swan, caring as she is, asks you if you're okay. she'd put her palm on your forehead, maybe you have a fever. her touch is the same as you remember in your dream and your face flushes another shade of crimson.

swan will insist she take care of you. just incase, because what will she do if her dearest becomes sick. but we all know it's all excuses, she knows you're as healthy as ever. she also knows that she's all you can think about after her little stunt.

she'd nurse you back to health, insisting you lay down and let her massage you, it'll help you relax. her touch linger a second or two longer but you say nothing about it, it's comforting and its swan, she wouldn't pull something funny. but swan grows bolder and bolder each touch until the next thing you know she's kneading your breasts.

"im sorry. i just couldn't resist anymore, darling," she'd murmur as her hands, like a soft and warm blanket against your skin, slowly snake up your leg to your thigh.

"dreaming is not enough," she cups your sex through your pants while her other hands go forward to undress you. "i shall claim your body in reality as well," she confesses breathless.

she'd kiss her way to her nape, from your pussy then your navel to the valley of your breast until her lips are right above the shell of your ear. "let me make your dream come true, love."

[kazuberri]

hihi

[kazuberri]

˖ ࣪⭑ CERTIFIED FREAK !

☆ sum: sunday, gallagher, aventurine, and sampo's kinks.

contents: (MDNI!!!), f!reader, bdsm, dacryphilia, exhibitionsim, orgasm denial, slight degradation, praise, p in v, fingering, creampie, squirting, daddy kink (gallagher) sampo is subby and whiny, choking, just... freak shit hehe ;)

note: writing slump: 0 ellie: 1 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SUNDAY - BDSM

yeah, he can indeed fool someone with those angelic looks, can’t he? he can easily deceive with them. giving you the impression that you could get away with just about anything under his watch, huh? you were simply wrong. little did you know the things he was capable of.

who would’ve thought you’d find yourself tied up, bound, hands clasped together by ropes, ankles tied to the ends of the bed, with sunday looming over you like a tantalizing, impending, dooming shadow, his sharp gaze like daggers, like frosty ice, boring into you, boring deep. 

“should i have brought a gag along with me too, darling?” he teases, inching his face closer and closer to you as your pussy pulsates with a brutal need, drenched in your arousal. he can practically smell it on you. smell your surrender, your submission. 

and oh, how beautiful the sight of your naked form is… trembling, goosebumps tickling your skin. it’s purely art to him. a masterpiece. and it's all for him and him only.

you vigorously shake your head in response, watching him slowly stroke his cock as he aligned it just barely at your weeping entrance, and you impetuously rut your hips up, desiring friction, attention, any sort of contact, as you writhed in agonizing desperation, deprivation. ”n-no, please… please, fuck me…”

he hums at the sound of your frail voice, a smile spreading along his face. ”such a pretty mouth uttering such filthy words… hm,”

and before you can say anything else, you suck in a deep gasp, the intrusion of his length taking you out in one go. he buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, and slowly, tormentingly begins rolling his hips, watching your expression like a hawk the entire time. he can’t help but hiss, your spongey, melting walls encasing him, sheer blankets of your slippery slick smearing along his cock. this couldn’t be mere pleasure anymore, this was euphoria.

and he’s already lost his sanity,

“o-oh, yes, yes,” you gasp, the thump of your heart skyrocketing in speed, as his pelvis starts smacking into yours faster… and harder… the woody material of the bed frame beneath you creaking, and ramming into the walls. you simply can’t understand how he can possibly feel so good. reaching places inside you you never knew you could feel, as if he were attempting to merge the two you into one.

"i want you to tell me,” sunday whispers breathily, glacially, almost like an eerie rustle of wind, like a whoosh of arctic air blowing right through every inch of your weakened, restrained body. he reaches out, takes your jaw in his slender hand, his penetrating stare not moving an inch from your beady eyes. “how good does it feel, darling?”

your vocal cords are giving up on you, being pulled at with every labored mewl and sob running off from your quivering lips. you can barely form a response, a creeping warmth scratching at your skull, making you feel dumbified. “s-so good! c-can’t… last long…”

and neither can sunday, not with how pretty you look, not with how the sweet, harmonic melody of your sounds makes the ache in his cock escalate overwhelmingly. all the sensations are getting sharper, more vivid, his pulse syncing with his rapid panting.

"cum with me,” he permitted, his tone close to urgent, almost like a plead. “let go for me. together.”

and it all happens quick. sunday grabs onto your waist, tightly as if for leverage or grounding, his eyes going wide as he’s met with his climax, his cock twitching inside your cunt before dumping his load inside, strained groans breaking out his throat as you gush all over him simultaneously.

yeah, he’s addicted. addicted to basking in the blissful pleasure of your body, basking in it with you.

GALLAGHER - EXHIBITIONISM

oh, the things you do to him.

he’s on a shift. but you, being the damn minx that you are, decided to prance on into the drink lounge with your pretty ass, giving him that look, seductively licking the rim of sugar that coated the top of your glass, while looking him dead in the eye.

you little tease,

would it be shocking for you to end up pressed up on the wall in the employee room, that gratuitously short skirt (that you very much wore on purpose) hiked up around your waist, with his thick cock drilling into you? he shouldn’t even be indulging in this, since you’re such a brat. you shouldn’t be getting what you wanted. but he can’t fucking resist, not when you play with him like that.

"showing up to the lounge, teasin’ me like a little slut, huh? while i’m working?” he snarls, his deep, gruff voice snaking up from behind you and right into your ear, making your knees give out. gallagher peers down, before lightly pushing at your ankle with his boot, urging you to spread those pretty little legs wider for him, his hands grabbing at your bubble ass, fondling and spreading the globe-y flesh. he wants a nicer view of that pussy swallowing him whole.

and god, it’s like a fucking glove. a sleeve,

your pussy is crying for him, hugging him, holding on like you can’t bear the thought of letting him go. you’re coating him in that creamy, syrupy slick, and every stroke has the static in your mind playing more and more frenzied. and he’s just so big, that thick head of his cock bullying your cervix with every sloppy, rough smack of his hips against that ass… fuck.

"hngh— n-needed you… so bad…” you’d whimper, choking on every whiny noise that you try to suppress, as you’re still trying to keep in mind that you are indeed in public. not that you’d admit that it turns you on more. you can’t help yourself. not when you’ve got him on your mind all day, his musky scent that engulfs your senses in flames, his perfect body… those muscles that you’re always ogling at.

oh, and speaking of muscles— your eyes suddenly roll right back into your skull the moment his beefy, rock-hard bicep curls around your throat, manhandling you in a chokehold, pulling your head back and making you arch against him, his dazy gaze right up in your fucked-out face, and he chortles. 

"yeah, didn’t you? can’t go a little while without some dick, huh?” gallagher practically growls, his teeth gritting hard with his jaw taught and set in a firm clench. if anyone could get a glance of his expression right now, they’d think he fucking hates your guts, like he’s fuming. with the way his sleeves are pushed up his arms, the veins in his forearm are visible, throbbing and bulging just like the veins of his cock inside you, the veins that your pussy can map out perfectly,

"w-with no haah— panties underneath this fucking shit,” gallagher groans, before his free hand lands a sharp smack to your ass, leaving behind a delicious sting. he’s not even surprised that you like that shit. like the naughty, cock-hungry whore you were. 

“daddyyy…” you whine, your tongue lolling out dumbly as you went limp, every part of you going numb except your pussy, throbbing and aching harder and harder the more he plowed into you with ruining force, as if he was trying to make you crumble apart entirely.

”gonna cum for daddy, huh?” gallagher huffs, his tone of voice nearly mocking. “yeah… how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and take it? k-keep milking my shit dry f’me… f-fuck.’

and that’s when it hits, your orgasm. it’s like a freight train, like a harsh blow, knocking you out in a blink of an eye. there was no way you could hold it anymore, not with the authority in his voice combined with his unmatched fervor and strength—

it’s splattering, your juices squirting out your pussy like a fountain, your mouth agape as your nails claw at his arm that stayed put around your throat. gallagher groans out loud at the sight, his own eyes rolling back as a rushed, ‘fuck, fuck,’ rasps out his strained throat. thick, hot streams of his seed plugs your wet heat up to the very brim, and he stays there, panting hard with you pressed against him.

"f-fuck, sweetheart. made a goddamn mess—"

"gallagher?! whaddya’ doin’ in there, man? you disappear on me, or what?” aaand there’s siobhan… fuck.

you can only glance back at gallagher with a cheeky little giggle. hehe… whoops.

AVENTURINE - DACRYPHILIA

“don't you take those eyes off of me.” aventurine coos, his gaze flickering back and forth from your pussy, then back towards your face. he’s got you prettily sprawled out on the bed, two of his slender fingers pistoning inside your drooling cunt, curling at just the right angle, reaching nice and deep. his vigor is just relentless, you’re desperately trying to clamp your legs together, your face shying away as your eyes squint and your eyebrows curl inward, a squeal escaping from your throat.

“oh, i don’t think so,” aventurine grunts, his free hand roughly spreading your legs back open, his forearm shoving against the back of your thighs so that they stay pushed back. “you are not running from me, darling. take it like a good girl, won't you?” he purrs, and you gasp, dragging out a hoarse whine as he picks up the pace, the wet sloshes that your cunt produces getting progressively louder. even flecks of your juices were flying out with every thrust of his hand at this point, and fuck, was it lewd…

“gonna cum—!” you’d croak out, warm tears flooding your vision and pooling up along the waterline of your eyes as you’re unable to sit still, creaks and rustling ringing out from the bed as you desperately attempt to thrash around, despite aventurine holding you in place. that familiar tingle in your lower tummy was brewing up, and quick.

and oh, were those tears he saw?

the ache and the strain in his pants only hardens at the sight, serving to drive him even crazier. he can’t help it. you look so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so needy, so desperate. and it’s all because of him…  fuck. makes him wanna devour you whole, like he’s lost every train of thought, every bit of composure…

“my, oh my,” he snickers, shaking his head incredulously as he keeps his gaze glued to you, his violet orbs bordering a feral look to them. he loves seeing those crystal streams trickling down those cheeks that are prominently coated in a deep, rosy flush of color. you look like a doll.

his doll,

and he can tell when his doll is close. that adorable look on your face gives it away, eyes wide, gazing up at him, your mouth dangling open, hands grasping at the sheets for dear life. “gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone low, almost taunting, so velvety, so smooth, it's practically spine-chilling, and that alone makes your walls clench around his digits once more. as if you hadn’t done that enough already.

"y-yes, gonna— fuck!” you’re cut off as aventurine’s thumb meets your clit, rubbing the swollen nub with skilled precision, causing your pleasure to soar up to insanely imposing heights. its as if he’s trying to coax your pussy into orgasm, trying to lure you into cumming. and fuck, is he doing a good job at it. a good job is an understatement. his hands… it’s like they could cast a motherfucking spell on your pussy…

“cum, pretty. make a mess all over my fingers. go on,” he urges, the smirk on his face flashing brighter as one last whimper rips out from your throat, until you’re squirting all over his hand, and his mouth drops open, his pupils blowing and darkening.

"oh, yess,” he groans, eager to milk every last drop out of your pretty pussy, continuing to finger fuck you through your high, elongating it, even as you’re a shaking mess, trying to pry away from him. 

“mhmm, would you look at that,” he huskily purrs, sliding his creamy, sticky fingers out your pussy with a squelch, licking them clean with a smirk, before your pussy throbs at the contact of his hand meeting it in a mean slap, spanking your pussy and sending a jolt through your body. 

"made my pretty girl cry from both her eyes, and her pussy, hm? poor thing…”

SAMPO - ORGASM DENIAL

sampo is a mouthy one, there’s no doubt about that. roguish, cocky, cheeky. you can't help but feel this itching urge to shut him up. to put him in his place.

hence why you’ve got him in between your legs, his back to your chest, one of your hands pumping his cock while the other is over his mouth, muffling his needy moans.

he’s bucking his hips up as you stroke his cock, fucking up into your hand, his eyes rolled back,

”ohh, baby,” you coo with a sly grin, your warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear before you give it a small nibble. “don’t tell me you wanna cum already, hm? its too early for that, silly boy.”

you lift your hand off of his mouth, only to gently wrap it around his throat, and he lets out a hoarse whimper, shaking his head. “n-no… w-won't cum yet… won’t cum…” he whines, and it practically pains him to say that, as he’s just dying to cum, his angry tip flushed bright red, his balls heavy and aching, desperate for release.

"good boy. you just sit still and take it.” you giggle, your words alone making him even needier by tenfold, his legs shaking, his hands grasping at your legs like lifelines. 

you’re pumping harder now, schlick after schlick, sticky and creamy, his arousal making a mess out of your hand.

he throws his head back against your shoulder with a loud moan, his hips bucking more frantically before you land a soft spank to his balls, earning a sound from his throat that almost sounded close to a shriek. 

“didn’t i just tell you to sit still?” you resume your quick, rough stroking as sampo has to hold back from literally throwing himself around, his consciousness practically out the window at this point. “you were doing so good f’me, sampo. what happened? don’t you wanna cum?”

"yes!” he’s quick to respond, burying his face in your neck as he sniffles, shaking hard like a leaf. “y-yes, please… ‘m sorry, so sorry… w-wanna cum so bad—!” he whines, hearing that buzzing begin to ring in his ears, his vision a bright white light. his limits are being pushed and pushed and pushed, about to burst like a balloon. its too much for him.

"p-please… c-can i cum for you? n-need to cum for you…” he whimpers, lifting his face to look into your eyes with a pleading, almost teary gaze. his cock is solid, and he needs this release so bad it’s close to paining him. “s-so much… h-have so much for you…”

"mm, wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you? all for me,” you giggle, pumping especially harder at the tip, making the twitch in his thighs quicken.

"go on, then. cum for me. let me see how bad you need to,” pfft. you didn’t need to tell him twice. like jets, his cum splurts out, shooting straight up and all over his hand as he’s whimpering, and whimpering fucking loud. his jaw falls slack, fat beads of sweat running down his temples, his eyes going straight back into his head yet again as he thrashes back against you. you gasp, chuckling softly as you keep your gaze glued to his twitching cock, leaning in to gently pepper kisses along his neck, making him shiver harder. 

”lookkk at that, baby,” you purr, your hand that was around his throat sliding up to brush his hair away from his face. “there you go, easy, baby,” you whisper, and he chuckles breathily, whimpering small little, ‘thank you’s’ before his eyes flicker back open and fall upon your tongue licking his cum off your hand.

yeah. that’ll do it for him. now he’s definitely gonna slurp your pussy off the bone.

[kazuberri]

thank you for following me I have nothing to offer

[kazuberri]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓖𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝓑𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝓑𝒐𝒚. WRIOTHESLEY ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 1.4k ノ gn reader — sweet intimate celebration of his birthday. subtle flirting (a failed attempt at doing so). established relationship. comforting fluff with hugs and giggles <3

The atmosphere in the Duke’s office is rather light-hearted and joyful, unlike the usual stern reputation of the Fortress. The steady hum of machinery beyond the thick walls buzzes along with the quiet crackle of a small, ornate heater placed in the corner — a luxury in the underwater prison.

The tea table is neatly set, the gleaming silver teapot releasing curling wisps of steam into the air, mingling with the earthy, spiced aroma of Chenyu Adeptea — a new blend being a part of your gift. Though muted in tone, you two celebrate this day with the gentle clink of porcelain teacups and muffled laughter. The sharp tang of the sea breeze and metallic rust replaced with a delicate sweetness that hints at the rare delight.

“Mittens, huh?”

It’s the low timbre of Wriothesley’s voice that breaks temporary silence, testing out the lovely other part of your gift, fingers examining the texture. He takes his time making sure they fit snugly, the pair of fine-woven mittens. Albeit he couldn’t care less about how they look.

“Well, it’s cold here in the Fortress, and the humidity makes it unbearable sometimes…”

“I will make great punches in these.” He says with a note of chuckle at the end, all while testing his grip in the fluffy covers on his hands. “Look at them, my new gloves to punish lawbreakers!”

The very image of Wriothesley imitating boxing punches with the fists wrapped in the softest of fabrics makes you giggle loud. Loud and clear, a sound he adores so much when it reverberates from the stone walls and metal pipes like delicate chimes in the wind. The sound he misses every single minute when you have to return above the sea waves.

His place has never felt this warm before, with the candles flickering on the curved desk, the tea table heavy from the gifts from the staff, and — last but not least — his heart is about to melt, a glowing cauldron of fondness for you. You are simply there, smiling back at him, raising the teacup in a silent toast for his birthday.

For someone who took this post in selfless service to the people and their safety, the fact that they all care so much — but none as much as you — makes him want to serve them twice as much. Maybe working in the Fortress, in this new home of his, isn’t that bad after all. No, not in the slightest. No worse than if he were to restart his entire life on the surface, in the society he doesn’t remember from his early years.

“Do you like them?”

You seem to notice the pause, the thoughtful gaze he shoots at the pair of mittens on his knuckles.

“A lot.” He responds softly, rubbing his thumb against the soft fabric. “They will serve me well.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach with each passing moment of admiring the way his hands seem so much more gentle than they appear to be, the touch not as hard and coarse as he puts it across. Though there is a hint of sadness, a lingering melancholy at the thought of how the roughness of his fingertips was created, the callouses on his palms a result of years and years of fighting.

“I’m happy you like them.” You say, leaning forward. “I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Enough?!” Wriothesley raises an eyebrow under the tuft of his cobalt bangs, perplexed. “Never in a thousand years could I ever deserve what you give me!” He holds his mitten-wrapped hands up just to make a point. “These? These are cute! I have never received fluffy gloves from anyone before. Not even once. This is so fun! You are the sweetest for coming up with this idea!”

The tenderness of his voice, almost desperate to show how much it all means to him — it’s silly, hilarious even that a small gift can make such a difference — the fondness pouring from his eyes, like he’s pouring liquid honey over your soul. You find yourself moving closer, drawn to him, craving his closeness. Craving to wrap your arms around his waist and find the steady thumping of his heart amidst all other background noises.

“Should we get you a pair for every winter month, then?” You joke, shyly leaning against him, carefully observing his reaction. “Who would’ve thought that the Duke of Meropide is such a sweetheart, hm? A good boy under those scary looks, all giddy over a colourful yarn.”

Wriothesley doesn’t answer at first, fighting off a boisterous laugh. His mind is racing in several different directions, struggling to form coherent thoughts under your touch. He sighs, gently enveloping you into his embrace and letting himself indulge in this feeling just for a little while longer. It is not enough to have these small moments when you visit him here, but he gladly accepts anything you offer him, secretly hoping there’s a chance you will stay with him longer this time.

Anything, a glimmer of hope.

And now you are saying all these sweet things…

“Why would you want to get me more when I can have you wrapped in my arms every winter?” He asks in the same tone you used earlier, with a barely audible chuckle at the end of the sentence. “You’re much warmer, you know.”

“Ah, you and your flirting out of nowhere! Just when I’m least prepared.” You shake your head, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips to shake off the fire running to your face at his comment.

“Are you embarrassed now?” He smiles softly, his eyes glinting mischievously in the candlelight.

“No!” You pout, unwilling to admit how you do melt a little under his gaze. “I can flirt back too, if you wish.”

“Please.” He begs, chuckling as he says that. “Entertain me with your wits.”

He seems amused by this idea. Not in a teasing way, but rather playful, genuinely interested in what you are about to say. And so you give it a try, breathing in slowly to think of something… well, witty. Or at least funny enough to make him smile.

Obviously, as if asked to show your skills on request, your head is empty. This is embarrassing, not funny at all. But you cannot let him see that, trying to appear cool and nonchalant about it.

“Well, perhaps you’re right—” you begin, “you may have those fluffy mittens on your hands, but you will still need someone to warm up your heart.”

“I think I may be infected with a cold by now,” he replies, barely holding it together as he leans in for a bear hug, the entire lump of his large self covering you in hearty embrace. “I might need some extra cuddles.”

You squirm in his hold, pretending to struggle as if your plan is to run away — yet he knows well enough that it’s a playful ruse to get more affection out of him. He snuggles against your cheek, gently rubbing his nose against your skin. There is so much he wants to say, so many things that swirl in his head, and yet no words are uttered. He feels content to enjoy this moment with you.

No interruptions, no reminders that you have to return to the surface soon.

When Wriothesley lets go of you, his eyes fixate on the lines of your face, and your lips curl into a warm smile. His hands cup your cheeks gently, not wanting to ever let go. Your skin is soft under his touch, warm against the wool of the fluffy mittens. He traces the curves of your face with the gentleness of someone who is seeing you for the first time, every minute detail captured and studied. Every subtle feature — the glint in your eyes, the slight twitch of your mouth as you bite back a grin — he’s committing it all to memory.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes out, his words hanging in the air between you like a thin thread of golden light. “I—”

“I love you more.” You interrupt him, stealing the kiss that was on the tip of his tongue, along with the confession.

Wriothesley lets out a pleased sound, almost like a low purr. The soft blush creeping onto his cheeks makes his face seem softer, somehow less threatening. The Duke of Meropide no longer towers over you like a mountain, but he is the most tender of the men. And you couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else.

No, only with him.

“Happy birthday, Wriothesley.”

[kazuberri]

Childepool at your service ‼️

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[kazuberri]

Something something I love him your honour