(Yes I evidently have a type, I should be sorry but *shrug*)
Persephone "Seph" Black (she/her)
Fandom: Fate (Grand Order specifically)
Deep red hair (dyed, naturally auburn), grey eyes, pale in a way that tends to make people question if she's okay with dark circles to match. Mage, not a particularly strong one. Mostly specialises in defensive and healing magic, and summoning servants (apparently).
Somehow ended up having to try and save the world with zero training on her first day at work.
Fic: in progress
Kaguya Amigara (Blackout)
Fandom: BNHA
Black hair (dyed) with a white streak (natural), almost white eyes with black sclera (go fully black when using her quirk), ash/smoke grey skin. Would describe her body type as "I do a lot of physical work, but I like food". Has small bat wings, enough to save her if she falls off a building, but no good for long distance flight or carrying anything. Mostly finds them a nuisance (until she's falling from height).
Quirk is control of shadows. She can move them or make existing shadows bigger/smaller. Mostly uses it as a support quirk to allow others to get into/out of places or to distract guards. Trained in hand to hand combat and knives (including throwing then, she’d probably be great at darts if she tried).
Dating Dabi and Hawks
Fic: being rewritten (from the pre-plague years)
Ny'kshi "Nyx" Peg'asi
Fandom: Andromeda Six
Youngest of the Peg'asi Royal family, possibly the only survivor of the massacre and briefly an amnesiac. Tilaarin (half?). Pale silvery blue skin, Amber gold eyes, lavender/lilac hair.
Learned how to treat basic injuries and use a knife to great effect from the A6 crew. Also the navigator, and a pretty good one now she's had some practice.
Dating Damon (and Vexx, again, if they'll allow it)
Fics:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 3 · We Can Fake It For The Airwaves · Fall Out Boy lyric titles my beloved <3
I haven't written in over a year so be gentle, b
Kore
Fandom: Obey Me
Orange and pink hair (dyed), grey eyes, quintessential emo kid that never grew out of that phase. Deeply enjoys learning magic and being a gremlin.
Dating everyone (almost). Polycule gang.
Fics: see masterlist
Alecto
Fandom: D&D (and BG3)
My Chaotic Neutral. Teifling Warlock baby. Fully black eyes, red hair, backwards curling horns. Her Eldritch blast throws purple tentacles at people and she really wants to fireball all her problems, when she's not ignoring them.
I'll update as I can, I really want to do more writing/posting and creativity. Especially with Seph, Kaguya and Nyx. (And more reader inserts).
Pictures are from picrew for character images, and Pinterest for photos/quotes.
ꕤ You managed to get both the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide and the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius wrapped around your finger. . . Certainly, you can't have both?
ꕤ Author's note: seeing a nauseating lack of wrio and varka fics so i had to take matters into my own hands lol. im awfully out of commission when it comes to graphic smut (and using tumblr), but i did my best and i'm hoping to post a more refined version on ao3 at some point (saying this very loosely) :) username there same as here!!
ꕤ Warnings: nsfw, f!reader, threesome, praise kink, slight asphyxiation?, creampie, piv, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving (wrio), handcuffs, implied age gap but it's not dwelled on, semi-public smut, wrio likes to bite, some fluff cuz i couldn't resist, i suppose there is a fair amount of plot, lots of uses of "good girl"
Word Count: around 7k
Varka’s stop in Fontaine was a shocker. The Grand Master was such a busy man, whether he was offering help all around Teyvat on expeditions or slumped in Mondstadt with mountains of paperwork, he rarely got time to sleep, nevermind take a vacation.
But, it was a tame time of year, and you’ll never forget the first time you saw him, walking around the place you’d grown up, getting a tour around The Court of Fontaine. Everything about him drew you in. His tall height, ever so slightly aged features, tousled blonde hair, every scar that was a beautiful reminder of the battles in which he rose victorious.
And those kinds of scars—Well, you knew them all too well. Not from your own body, no.
From the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide.
How you’d gotten tangled up with him was a mystery to even yourself. An old tale of someone you once held close getting locked up in the warden’s quarters, and for every visit, you found yourself less excited to see them, and instead, Wriothesley was the face you anticipated seeing within those cold, metal walls.
He took quite the liking to you himself. Eventually, you only started showing up for him. And he’d keep you held beside, beneath, or on top of him until the sun came up. Until his name was one you could remember better than your own, and only then would he let up, hold your face in his calloused hand and plant firm kisses all over the surface of your spent body until he soothed you to a much-needed sleep.
The things that initially drew you to him, you saw in Varka, too. The selflessness. The subtle longing in his eyes, one that can only come from prolonged hope held tight even after a life filled with betrayal. A look you wanted to mend. A hope you wanted to fuel.
Then there was the shape of him, the sheer mass of his biceps, a physical strength sculpted beautifully from battle. Broad shoulders, sharp expression, rough hands with the shocking ability to be so gentle when they want to be. When you thought of him, sometimes it was hard to remember who it was on your mind.
Varka or Wriothesley.
You made the most of Varka’s visit. You spoke to him whenever you got the chance, and every so often, something would slip past his lips that sounded an awful lot like flirting, but he’d always cover it up with a cough, a lighthearted joke, or blame it on his habit of day-drinking. He was a gentleman, after all.
For weeks, you were caught between your exploratory conversations, vivid fantasies, and suggestive encounters with Varka during the day, and your deep talks, mind-shattering sex, and worshiping touches with Wriothesley at night.
Guilt caught up fast. Were you betraying your established-non-established relationship with Wriothesley by letting someone else infiltrate your thoughts in the most improper of ways? If Varka lost his self control, finally took your shorter skirts or sultry looks as an invitation to let up the gentleman act for one night, would you even be able to face Wriothesley again after?
Maybe he’d never have to find out. Varka surely had no clue that no matter how much he got you worked up during your interactions, you were getting more than adequately taken care of either way. If you got the chance to have your way with Varka during his visit, it could be your one moment of selfishness. He would have to return home eventually, anyway…
The idea seemed a lot more probable when you were sure they would never cross paths. Varka had no business in the prison, and Wriothesley rarely had reasons to come above the surface. You always went to him, besides the occasional date he’d take you on in The Court of Fontaine, none of which had overlapped with Varka’s vacation so far.
Until you were getting coffee with Varka early one morning, and you were both handed your own respective invitations to a grand party taking place the next night, the event planned by Miss Furina herself, with assistance from the Iudex.
Your heart dropped when you realized who else would 100% be getting an invite, even more when Varka invited you as his date, even more when you said yes, and as if it couldn’t get worse, Wriothesley wasn’t one to give you a break from his antics in public places.
“Shit.”
-----
“Might I say, you look beautiful tonight.” Varka compliments, offering you his arm when the two of you step onto the venue’s property. You scan the area before taking him up on his offer, hand wrapping around his bicep. “Not that you don’t always.”
You smile, letting him guide you up the stone walkway leading up to the stairs. Music blasts from inside, and every familiar face makes you swallow a gasp, though none have been who you’re worried about thus far.
Maybe Wriothesley wouldn’t care. It’s not as if you two had conversations about exclusivity. For all you know, he could have other partners. Plenty of them. He could be with one right now.
It, so selfishly, makes your heart drop to imagine that might be true.
“Maybe you’ve never been this sober looking at me before,” You joke, which makes Varka cough out a laugh that heats your skin with a warmth you’ve known about once before this moment.
“Well, booze makes you have more of an appetite. Perhaps we wouldn’t have spent so many lunches together otherwise.” He peers down at you as you two walk along, neater than usual blonde locks falling in front of his forehead. You urge to lift a hand, gently swiping it away, and then you imagine tenderly rubbing your thumb over the X-shaped scar on his cheek.
The same way you do to the scar under Wriothesley’s eye...
You clear your throat. “That would’ve been quite the shame.”
“I’d say so.”
Varka opens the door for you, mumbling something about knightly-duties, and you step into the venue.
The world stops spinning, and your throat goes dry.
You spot him. Well, his back. The Duke is talking to some people you barely recognize as guards who work at the Fortress, his hip against an unoccupied table and a glass of some alcohol you’re sure he doesn’t enjoy planted in his left hand.
“Hey, you okay?”
You turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash, forcing a smile when you see Varka’s concerned face, one of his hands pressed against your lower back. “Yeah, I’m fine. We should…”
You pause, stealing another glance in Wriothesley’s direction, and you grip Varka’s wrist hard the moment you see him start to turn around. “Go! Let’s go!”
You drag him to the left, ducking behind a large group of people to hopefully conceal yourself from the Duke’s view. Varka chuckles from behind you, planting a hand on your hip and helping you navigate the crowd in the direction of the bar. “Someone’s real excited to get me drunk.”
“I could give you every ounce of alcohol in here twice and you’d barely be tipsy, Mister Grand Master.”
He groans. “You and the formalities.” You reach the bar, and you swing your head back to try and spot where Wriothesley was while Varka takes a seat on a stool. “And you underestimate a knight’s tolerance. Three times, at least, if you want to see me tipsy.”
You spot him. You can see his side profile from this angle, in the same spot as before, talking to one of his guards with a half-smile planted across his handsome features. Varka being dressed the most formally you’d seen from him, that was no surprise. But the Duke—He cleans up nice for such a high-profile event.
Gods, you wanted to take that suit right off…
You turn back to Varka. You’re standing close enough to his seated body that he could easily take you by the hips and drag you between his knees.
“And if I want to see you drunk?” You answer finally, teasing.
He smirks, and like you have some kind of third eye, he takes your body between his hands and pulls you between his spread legs. “Ah, well, a man can get drunk off a lot of things.”
As if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough, it speeds up even more, and you flatten your palms against his chest. You peer down at him, and the lust in his eyes is contained very poorly, like he’s in a fight with himself still trying be a gentleman.
You hum. “And what’s your tolerance in that territory, Sir Varka?”
He takes a deep breath, his voice coming out deep and tortured. “For you, I might already be too far gone.”
You’re so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips, and your surroundings seem to fade into nothingness for a moment. Your palms are pressed against his shoulders now, but his heart is still pounding enough that you’re counting the beats in your head.
His mouth ghosts over yours, and right when you think he might finally snap, a booming voice snaps you right out of it.
“Hey, I had no idea you would be here!”
Your head flies up.
Wriothesley is about six feet away from you, squeezing through the crowd to get to the bar. However, his eyes aren’t on you. You’re not sure he even notices you—He’s walking right up to the bartender.
Oh shit.
“Ah, Your Grace!” The bartender greets, and Wriothesley takes a seat at one of the stools with a growing smile. “It’s nice to see you above the surface.”
“You too.” The Duke retorts politely. The bartender must have been an inmate at Meropide at some point. The conversations drags on, but you’ve ducked down enough so Varka’s seated form can conceal you from the only other man that has ever had the effect on you that has currently caused a noticeable dampness beneath your dress.
Varka’s breath hitches before falling into a low laugh. “Scandalous. However, I don’t think—”
“I’m not—” You quickly confirm, heat overtaking your cheeks. You are technically knelt in front of his lap right now. In public. With people everywhere. One of the closest being the last person who needs to find you in this incriminating position. You straighten up a bit. “I have to run to the bathroom.”
“Do you want me to come with—”
“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll be quick.” You swiftly shoot down, still needing him to be a human shield as you turn towards the bathroom sign found in the far left corner of the venue. You stay as low as you can without looking crazy, and you slip into the hallway and out of sight.
You raise a hand to clutch the chain of your necklace, leaning your back against the wall and using the empty space to catch your breath. Varka and Wriothesley are currently seated about five feet away from each other. How are you supposed to return and not get both of their attentions? You told Wriothesley you weren’t even going to this thing, because you knew he’d ask you to join him, and this predicament is complicated enough.
You hoped he wouldn’t go without you as a date, but date or no date, he showed.
Perfect.
You’re suddenly terrified of hurting him. For him to have to find out you not only lied about not coming, but you also came with another man…
You truly like him so much. Everything about him has enchanted you since the very first time his icy blue eyes met yours, the first time you heard his voice, the way he would laugh and mutter out half-hearted apologies when you scolded his common jokes about his own mortality or his past. A past he opened up to you about with a vulnerability you had only seen before in yourself, and that was when you were with him.
You never wanted to hurt him, but Varka… You like him too. So much, and every bone in your body wants to see where this thing with him goes. And it’s stupid that you got yourself in this situation, that you weren’t transparent with both of them ever since Varka arrived in Fontaine.
Now look where you are.
“Fuck,” You curse, putting your hands on your forehead. “Archons.”
You turn, using the wall for support and slipping into one of the single-person bathrooms. You turn the lock, taking quick steps over to the sink and putting your hands under the tap, letting the warmth soak into you and calm your nerves a bit. You dry your hands, fix your hair, and try to think of a way to get out of this.
You could sneak over and very quickly pull Varka back into the crowd, and bring him somewhere you can only hope Wriothesley has no business being. You could seduce him, convince him to get you out of here as soon as possible so…
So much for calming down. You pick at the fabric of your dress, feeling the way your panties have suctioned to your cunt from all the places your mind has gone tonight.
You unlock the bathroom door, slipping back into the hallway. Maybe you could find a familiar face and have them talk to Varka for you, have him join you somewhere else?
That could work. You slip out of the hallway, back into the main part of the venue, and you spot Varka at the bar. His head pops up, and he locks eyes with you.
Wriothesley isn’t behind him. You didn’t anticipate him moving spots.
Varka nods. Oh Gods, is he gesturing you over? You—
Something wraps around your wrists, and before you can react, you hear it.
Click.
You’re tugged back into the hallway as you gasp out, the front of your body being pressed flush against the cold wall, and something, someone, is pressing against your back, your cuffed hands pinned under them.
“Adultery might not be a crime, but it is very, very, frowned upon.” The warmth against the shell of your ear comes before the voice.
“Wriothesley,” You whisper, breathlessly. “I—Adultery?” Is he serious? “We’re—”
He shushes you. “However…” A beat passes, just long enough for one of his hands to slide to your hip and squeeze hard. “Lying to law enforcement, that is a crime.” His head drops, his breath now ghosting over your exposed shoulder. "You said you weren't coming."
Your stomach churns. “I—I didn’t… I’m sorry…”
“How well do you think sorry holds up in court, baby?”
Your eyes flutter closed, forehead pressed against the wall. “Not well.”
“Clever girl,” He praises, and your hips press back against his almost instinctively. All it would take is one person to round the corner, and he could be locked up in his own prison for public indecency.
That’s when you remember.
Varka. He was standing right there, he probably saw—
You’re swiftly tugged off the wall, forcing you out of your head. Wriothesley keeps his hands just above your elbows, your wrists still bound behind your back, and he leads you all the way to the end of the hallway toward a staircase you didn’t notice before.
“I could bring you to get checked in,” He speaks, his otherwise rushed movements more careful as he guides you up the stairs. “Keep you locked up in the Fortress with me. Wouldn’t that be fun, baby? Just me and you, all the time?”
Yes.
You reach the top of the stairs, and he’s not done speaking as he continues to pull you along. “I would never have to be done with you. But the Fortress, I think I like you too much to stick you there.”
Huh?
“But what kind of warden would I be if I didn’t punish those who have done wrong?”
Oh.
“Have you done wrong, baby?”
“Yes,” You gasp out.
As Wriothesley drags you along, he sticks a hand out to check every door. Most are locked, but finally, he comes across one that isn’t.
You’re pushed through the doorway, and an arm wrapping around your waist catches you before you fall forward. Wriothesley pulls you to a couch off to the side of the room, which appears to be someone’s office, and sits you down on his lap. Your back to his front.
With your hands still pinned behind your back from the handcuffs, you manage to find and palm his bulge through his slacks. He groans, his feet snaking between yours before spreading, forcing your legs open wide.
You gasp, and one of his hands grip your chin to force your mouth to his, swallowing the sound. You whimper, hips grinding against nothing as he leaves his free arm swung over the front of your body.
You moan his name, desperately, urging him to touch you as you’re left completely at his disposal.
He grins against your mouth, and just then, you jump at the sound of the door creaking open and slamming shut.
We’re caught, you think, snapping your head forward, expecting to see the panicked, mortified eyes of one of the other guests, likely whoever this office belongs to.
The blue hues staring back at you are far from what you expected.
Your throat goes dry. “Varka.”
He shrugs his suit jacket off, slowly stalking over to the couch. Wriothesley’s hand is still wrapped around your chin, and he forces your head back to press his mouth to your ear.
“What was the plan? You were going to hide from me all night?”
“And I was your shield of choice?” Varka continues, the smirk on his face and the tone of Wriothesley’s voice suggesting neither them are as upset as you feared they would be. No, this, what they’re actually feeling, didn’t even cross your mind.
They must’ve spoken when you ran off to the bathroom. Surely Wriothesley spotted you all cozied up between Varka’s knees, and used the bartender as an excuse to get close enough to confirm his suspicions. You storming off was the perfect opportunity for him to figure out what was going on.
Honestly, you couldn’t be happier.
You shudder, Wriothesley’s hand that isn’t gripping your face moving to your hip. He pulls your dress up, scrunching it around your waist, leaving your soaked panties on display. You whine, and his thumb circles your hipbone in a comforting, encouraging, gesture.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” You mumble, talking to Wriothesley.
He chuckles. “You bet a lot on that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby.” He shoots down, his lips finding your neck, and you moan when he bites down. “But you could’ve just told me.”
Your eyes find Varka as he drops his suit jacket on the armrest of the couch, and the lust he was working so hard to keep control of earlier, he seems to have fully let loose now. The look in his gaze is so maddeningly erotic that you try to snap your legs closed just to get some friction, but Wriothesley’s feet keep you spread.
Your eyes fall closed, head tipping back against Wriothesley's shoulder. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”
He laughs once. “I might’ve been a little upset.”
You lean up enough to be able to crane your neck to see him.
“But I’m not,” He finishes quickly. “Not now.”
You turn to Varka.
He smiles. “Neither am I.”
You slowly relax against Wriothesley’s chest again, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth and biting down. He hums approvingly, and your eyes trail Varka’s movements as he approaches you.
He drops to his knees between your legs.
You gasp, and Wriothesley is quick to steady you with one hand on your hip, the other resting gently around your throat.
You understand their plan now.
Varka’s hands find each of your exposed legs, rubbing up and down the warmed skin like he’s committing the feeling of you to memory. You wonder if he does this a lot. He has quite a few years on you, more than Wriothesley does, but the stories he loves to tell you always suggested a lack of time to get laid.
“You alright?” Varka mumbles, dropping his head to kiss up your inner thigh, approaching the apex that is in desperate need of either his or Wriothesley’s attention.
You nod. Part of you wants to stop him just to have him tell you exactly what conversation led to him and Wriothesley coming to this consensus, but, you know how to pick your battles, and staying silent feels like a notable win.
You moan when he presses feather-light kisses against you through the embarrassingly soaked fabric of your underwear, his tongue darting out to apply gentle pressure to your clit. You choke out his name, bucking your hips and dropping your head back. Every movement is curious as he learns the workings of your body in the presence of someone who probably knows how to get you off better than you do.
“So greedy,” Wriothesley murmurs, biting your earlobe. “Wanting both of us so badly. Was I not filling you up well enough, baby? Is that it?”
You rapidly shake your head, which makes him laugh lowly.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Varka’s fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, and Wriothesley frees one of your feet just so Varka can tug them off before holding you open again. Your hands start to work at his bulge again, even though the pressure of being pinned between two bodies is starting to be numbing. He groans, pressing his face against your neck, and before you can relish in the sound, Varka is pressing his face against your bare cunt.
You moan out, back arching as he quickly begins to lap up at the arousal the two of them have already contributed to. One hand rests on your thigh, and the other holds down the hip that Wriothesley isn’t already attending to. You’re completely vulnerable to both of their pleasurable antics, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Varka,” You nearly cry, and Wriothesley is quick to swallow the sound with his own mouth. You can barely reciprocate when Varka wraps his lips around your clit and sucks gently, but the Duke doesn’t seem to have any complaints, greedily drinking up every sound that emerges from your throat.
“Shh…” Wriothesley coaxes. “Don’t want anyone to hear you, do you, baby?”
“Mmm… No.”
“That’s right,” He praises, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting gently. “That’s a good girl.”
You whine, forcing your mouth against his again to try and muffle your sounds as Varka hungrily eats you out. His tongue swipes over your fluttering hole before dipping inside, making you choke. Wriothesley’s calloused hand is now wrapped firmly around your throat, holding you in place.
You’re so overwhelmed with the sensations, the shock, the reality of the situation. You went into tonight anxious that these two men would come within 20 feet of each other, and now they’re both eagerly pleasuring you with no signs of anger or sadness. If anything, the thought of working together to make you come apart seems to be spurring them on, Wriothesley’s cock hardening beneath you every time Varka elicits a high-pitched moan from deep in your chest, and Varka working more tirelessly at your pussy when he catches a glimpse of Wriothesley’s hand clutching your throat.
Whether its competitiveness or something else entirely, it’s working out in your favour.
Varka’s hand retreats from your thigh, and you gasp when his rough fingertips trail over your hole, clenching around nothing. He sucks and nips at your clit with less fervor as his eyes flit up to watch your face when he dips his middle finger inside of you.
“Oh,” You exhale, barely getting the word out as Wriothesley’s hand tightens around your throat. He cranes his neck to watch your face, studying your reactions.
Varka’s finger drags along the inside of your cunt, in and out, his tongue still lazily circling your nerves. You whine, hungry for more, and he picks up on that quickly, a second finger pressing into you.
Your back arches again, your position shifting as your bound wrists lift to rest somewhere higher, and you now have the option to shamelessly grind back against Wriothesley’s cock.
And you do.
The thrust of Varka’s digits are slow and experimental at first, his eyes still pinned on you, the heat of his gaze urging you to press back against Wriothesley’s crotch. The Duke’s hand that was on your hip travels to fully wrap around your waist, helping you along as he gasps and groans right in your ear. Varka chases the desperate movements of your hips with newfound vigor, curling his fingers against your spongy walls and flattening his tongue against your clit.
Wriothesley’s tongue dips out to drag along the shell of your ear. “Close, baby?”
You nod, chasing Varka’s mouth and arching your neck enough that the top of your head grazes the fabric of the couch Wriothesley sits on. A lewd mixture of both their names keeps emerging from your throat, like your mind can't register which one of them to thank for this feeling.
The pads of Varka’s fingers find the perfect spot inside of you, abusing the patch of nerves until you’re gushing around his fingers, hips retreating and grinding firmly against Wriothesley, who nearly chokes.
Varka keeps lapping at your clit through your orgasm, only pulling away when you whine and squirm at the overstimulation. He’s quick to resort to trailing kisses upwards, to the hem of your dress which is still bunched around your waist.
“Uncuff her.”
Wriothesley grunts. “Sit up for me.”
You do, panting, leaning forward enough that Wriothesley can access your cuffed wrists. Varka takes this as an opportunity to steal his very first kiss from you, and you hum at the taste of yourself on his lips.
His hand grips the back of your neck, still on his knees in front of you, and you feel like you’re being worshiped as his tongue desperately dances with yours. You hear the soft click from earlier again, and Wriothesley tosses the cuffs aside before gently massaging your wrists until the numbness subsides. He leans forward enough to gently bite your shoulder.
“You okay?” He mumbles, one of his hands finding your clothed ribcage and resting it there comfortingly.
You nod, pulling back from Varka, a string of saliva connecting your lips. He groans loudly at the sight, reaching down to adjust the crotch of his slacks. You lick your lips.
“Good,” Wriothesley says, sliding his hands under your dress to tug it the rest of the way off. You put your hands up to assist him, and he throws the garment over the arm rest to join Varka’s coat. “Because you’re not done yet.”
Thank the gods.
Wriothesley tugs you to your feet, and you barely even have time to process the change of position before your chest is pressed flush against the cold wood of the desk.
“Careful,” Varka scolds lightheartedly, coming up beside the desk to tenderly stroke your hair. You angle your head to look up at him, his knuckles grazing the soft skin on your cheek. He looks utterly enchanted by the fucked-out expression on your face. It’s the same way he looked at you when he came to get you at the start of the night and saw you all dolled up for him.
“I know what she likes,” Wriothesley remarks.
Competitiveness.
You can’t pretend you don’t find it really hot.
Varka barks out a laugh, flattening his palm over your head, sliding down your back and snapping open your bra clasp with skill. Guess that rules out your virgin theory, though you were already skeptical about that. Like, look at him. “And what does she like?”
Wriothesley grabs your waist, lifting you enough that Varka can pull off your bra. The second it’s off, each of them are palming one of your breasts with an equal amount of need. “She likes to be a real good girl,” He answers, taking your nipple between two of his fingers and exhaling shakily at the way you whine his name. “She likes to take everything I give her. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” You moan out.
He rests you down again, his palm pressing against the middle of your back to urge you to arch it. He kicks your ankles, opening your legs.
“Might as well demonstrate.”
The familiar sound of his belt unbuckling makes your knees weak, and Wriothesley continues to shrug his slacks off one-handed so he can steady your hips with the other. You're sure the desk beneath you is already majorly coated with your sweat, and you're so aroused that the evidence of such must be dripping.
Varka’s heavy footsteps circle the desk, and you turn your head to watch him as he drops down in the desk chair. You whine, grabbing the side of the desk closest to him, and he smirks before reaching out to engulf your hand in his large one, rubbing your pulse point with his thumb.
You hear Wriothesley’s slacks hit the ground, and then you feel the head of his cock nudging your cunt, and you already greedily try to suck him in by pressing your hips back.
“So needy,” Wriothesley scolds, but there’s no real distaste in his voice. You know he wants it just as bad as you.
“Yes,” You agree shamelessly. “Please.”
He bends over your back to trail kisses down your spine. “This is supposed to be a punishment, mind you.”
You desperately try to push your hips back again. “This feels plenty punishing, Your Grace.”
Wriothesley laughs at that, leaning off of you, and you can feel him line his cock up with you again.
“I think she’s been very remorseful,” Varka adds, voice thick with his own arousal.
You nod in agreement.
Wriothesley sighs, one hand on your hip and the other sliding up to your shoulder.
“Very well.”
He presses half his length into you in one firm thrust.
You sob, squeezing Varka’s hand and pressing your forehead to the desk. You’ve taken him so many times, plenty just like this, bent over his desk at Meropide, but he’s just so thick that you’re not sure your body will ever fully adjust to the sheer size of him.
Wriothesley shushes you, leaning down to kiss your shoulder as he slowly begins to slide further in, inch by inch. “There—Fuck.” His head falls forward. “Taking me so well. So good, baby.”
You clench around him at the praise, and he grunts before bottoming out in one more fell swoop.
His weight is relieved off your back, just for his hand that was previously on your shoulder to tangle up in your hair and tug your head back. You moan, ass grinding back.
“Greedy,” He notes again.
Hell yeah, you were.
He pulls nearly all the way out, until just the tip is left inside of you, and then he presses all the way back in to the hilt.
You nearly scream, biting down on your lip to muffle yourself. You’re suddenly aware of all the voices floating into the room from downstairs, the event still roaring with life, and how the shaking desk along with your desperate moans might quickly paint a very clear picture of what’s going on in here.
As if reading your mind, Varka unwraps his hand from yours and instead grips your chin, his thumb pressing against your lips. You take it in your mouth, closing your teeth around it and swirling your tongue. He grunts at the sight, and you catch a glimpse of him palming himself through his pants.
The effect you have on him makes your body greedily clench around Wriothesley’s cock, and the sensation urges him to begin thrusting inside of you. He sets a steady pace, every ridge of his cock dragging against you in the best of ways.
You cry out his name, muffled by Varka’s thumb shoved in your mouth. One of your palms press flat against the wood as you arch your back to accommodate the Duke’s deep thrusts, and the other wraps around Varka’s wrist.
Wriothesley uses his grips on your hip and hair to repeatedly pull you to meet his thrusts with force, and every nudge of his cock deep inside your cunt makes you see stars behind your eyelids. He chokes out small praises, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you are for him, his own way of reminding you how much it matters to him that you let him have you like this. Even with his rough treatment, he's always made sure you know that you're the only person who could ever get him worked up like this.
And you thought, for even a second, that he could’ve been fucking someone else. You would laugh if you hadn’t lost the ability to do anything except murmur pleas incoherently.
You’re a complete mess, and the sight of you coming undone is something unlike anything either men have known before. The way Wriothesley fucks you has you convinced you’re going to fuse with the desk, and seeing how needy and pliant you have already grown for when Varka gets his turn with you… His cock is begging to be freed from his slacks, and if he weren’t brought up with the selfless and patient values of a knight, he would’ve shoved Wriothesley clean out of the way if it meant getting inside you sooner.
Wriothesley angles his thrusts to hit that spot inside of you he knows gets you, and the way you’re drooling and mumbling around Varka’s thumb has him even closer to tipping over the edge with you. His hand drops from your hair, circling your stomach, and his forehead drops to your shoulder as his thrusts stutter. His grunts are desperate, and the occasional needy whimper-like sound that you evoke from him makes your nerves feel like fucking fireworks.
“Good girl,” He gasps out, his hand around your body sliding down to circle your swollen clit with two fingers. You choke, tilting your head back, wanting the closeness, and he picks up on that when he smears kisses across your shoulder, your cheek, a lewd yet tender action as he spills inside of you at the same time you gush around his cock, screaming against Varka’s hand.
He fucks you through your orgasm, panting heavily against your skin.
Varka gently pulls his thumb from your mouth, letting you slacken against the desk.
“Wriothesley,” You murmur.
He leans off of you. “You did so well.” His palm rubs up and down your spine in a comforting gesture. “You’re such a good girl, baby.”
You manage a lazy smile as he slowly pulls his length from inside of you, cursing at the way his release immediately begins to spill out. You suppose you would’ve had to bring that up to Varka before the two of you had sex either way, that you and Wriothesley rarely bothered with protection.
You were sure he could tell now.
Wriothesley pulls you up, spinning you to face him and cupping your face. He kisses you tenderly, and you grip his arms and hum.
“Okay,” He says gently, pressing a few more kisses to your collarbone and chest. You watch as he redresses his boxers and slacks, and then he spins you towards an inviting face.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
You approach him on wobbly legs, and Varka brings you down to straddle his lap when you reach him. You clutch the neckline of his dress shirt, and he kisses you slow, eyes half lidded, like he’s analyzing you again.
“Tired?” He teases.
“Drunk?” You retort.
“You think I’ve had time for booze?”
You slide your hands down to rest on his sides. “The other drunk.”
“Oh—Fuck, sweetheart, I’m wasted.”
You grin, and then you reach down to start undoing his belt. He grunts, letting you unbuckle it and pull it out of the loops. Wriothesley leans against the wall next to the chair, and he just watches you.
The look on his face, you're sure he’ll be up for another go once Varka is done with you.
You're never getting out of this office.
You toss the belt aside as Varka hastily lifts his hips to tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, precum dripping from the tip that you so desperately want to lap up. It’s definitely a little bigger than anything you’ve taken before, but you anticipated that. Wriothesley was the biggest man you’d ever seen in your life until you saw Varka.
“You sure?” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “If you’re tired, sweetheart…”
“Quit being such a knight,” You mumble.
“Yeah. You’re making me look bad.”
You glare at Wriothesley, and you can only guess that the smirk that appears on his face is because of how non-threatening you look right now. Fucked-out, tired, and still desperate for more.
You push up on your knees, taking the base of Varka’s cock in your palm and pumping him slowly. His hands squeeze your hips, grunting and thrusting up into your hand. You bite your lip.
You position yourself above his throbbing erection, and you gasp when his tip gets caught in your oversensitive cunt. You’re so overwhelmed already, not sure how much more you can take, but the Grand Master seems to be an impressively patient man.
He slowly helps you lower yourself down, every inch of him stretching you open with such a good ache. Your hands grip his shoulders, and you feel Wriothesley’s eyes on you… You might pass out.
Varka’s hands on your hips guide his cock deeper into you until you’re seated, taking all of him.
“Good girl.” He cups your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. His blue eyes are glossed over and so full of need, and you want to give him everything he seems so depraved of. “Just take it easy for me, sweetheart.”
You nod, lifting one of your hands and gently touching the scar on his face with the tips of your fingers. His eyes are locked on your face, your parted lips, your half-lidded eyes, the absolute fucking mess of your hair…
“Fuck.”
His fists close around your hips hard enough to bruise, and then he’s lifting you up just to force you back down on his cock. You sob, falling forward, and all you can do is cling to him as he starts to bounce you up and down. His groans and your moans blend together, and you thank the gods that his knightly patience finally snapped.
He ruts up into you, chasing a high he’s been craving ever since he first saw you. You try to keep your face buried in his neck, but you’re abruptly pulled back by a hand in your hair.
When your eyes fade back into focus, Wriothesley’s cock is in front of your face.
So, like a good girl, you drop your jaw.
He curses, using his grip on your hair to push your mouth halfway down on his cock, and he eagerly strokes the base with his free hand. You suck around him, moaning and drooling to create a view that might be doing more for him than anything else.
Varka steadies your hips, instead just thrusting up into you instead of bouncing you up and down. You try to focus on getting Wriothesley off, too, but when Varka’s thumb pokes out to rub your clit, you’re immediately a goner.
You go mindless, just a crying, moaning mess as you get fucked through your third orgasm. Soon enough, Varka’s head falls back against the chair with a heavy groan, releasing inside of you to join what was left of Wriothesley’s seed. Speaking of which, only a few more pumps have Wriothesley coming in your mouth, and with the last of your strength, you seal your lips around him and greedily drink it all down.
“Shit.” Wriothesley pulls from your mouth with a pop, and you fall against Varka’s chest with heavy breaths. Varka uses his hold on your hips to gently lift you off his cock, pulling just his boxers back on before settling you more comfortably against him.
Your cheek rests against his shoulder, face turned toward his chest, and he strokes your back.
Wriothesley gets redressed before coming up beside you and tucking your sweaty hair behind your ear. He nods to Varka.
“How close to here are you staying?”
Varka’s arms wrap around you, and he sits up a bit. “Let’s go. Grab her dress.”
---
The next time you feel even slightly awake, you’re lying down in the middle of a double-bed. The sheets beneath you smell like a newly familiar scent, and the large shirt thrown over your body smells like one you’ve known for months.
You sit up, wiping your eyes and yawning.
“Hey, lay back down.” The mattress dips to your right, and you look down to see Wriothesley, settling next to you and pulling the covers over you both.
You obey without hassle, tiredness still pulling at your limbs, and a dull ache resting between your legs. You know you aren’t doing anything tomorrow. Or today?
“Varka cleaned you up, you’re all good, baby.”
You hum, curling into his chest contently. Just then, the mattress dips again on your left.
“She awake?”
“Not anymore, I don’t think.”
You’re too exhausted to share the state of your semi-consciousness, especially when another comforting warmth presses against your back, and you're now sandwiched between two soothing forms.
Today is the start of our IFD 2026 Feedback Fest! Find out how you can share your favorite fanworks related to this year's theme at https://otw-news.org/5dxyzhvm
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Japanese is an incredibly fun and rewarding language (if you’ve ever wanted to learn it for ANY reason, most importantly including the “silly” reasons) but the fearmongering and capitalist intervention involved in the language learning process have given it a reputation as an “impossible task” for English speakers, leading to confusion and dkn learners and weird pessimist attitudes about the whole thing. In this thread I will explain how to effectively learn and retain Japanese. This is a tried, tested and true method; probably 99% of all people who try to learn Japanese give up, but everyone I’ve met who has tried and stuck with this has been at or above N3-N4 after 6 months or less including me
You can teach yourself Japanese for free if you have a little free time every day and a computer
1. Drill yourself on hiragana and katakana. These are the phonetic building blocks of Japanese, think of them as equivalent to english letters. This site is a good resource in general. Once you have a solid grasp on this, DO NOT LINGER HERE; move to step 2. You will master kana later.
2. Download Anki. This is a flashcard service. They have a paid app if you’re willing to invest for it, but if not, they have a mobile website (create an account and sync it with your computer).
This is the deck you’re going to download. Import it to Anki and do this every day. I have learned the hard way (twice) that skipping this is bad. If you become overwhelmed, you can change the number of new cards and reviews by clicking the cog next to the name of the deck!
3. Cure Dolly (Youtube, grammar) + transcript. She has kind of a posh accent, you might want to turn subtitles on. Watch a few videos when you feel like it but most importantly set up 4 and 5 as soon as possible
4. Yomitan (must have) is a browser extension that functions as a pop-up dictionary. you need to install dictionaries for it to work. here are some dictionaries you can use with yomitan and explanations of what they do
5. READ. DO NOT LET YOURSELF GET STUCK BEFORE THIS STEP. JUST READ!!!! Most people who fail to learn Japanese do so because they are afraid of not being ready to move on, which is counterproductive. Just read. When you were a child did you spend years on vocab and grammar before reading? No I bet you did not. Pick something to read and learn what you don’t already know by reading in Japanese.
Jiten.moe has a list of novels and visual novels that you can read on your computer sorted by difficulty. So does jpdb. There’s also this document. There’s also this document. Hey look this website is cool too
For visual novels: download LunaHook. It “hooks” to your VN and allows you to use Yomitan on words you don’t know. Turn off the translation feature, it does nothing to help you learn
For literary texts: ttsu e-reader supports epub and htmlz files.
You can also learn Japanese by watching anime, but it’s a little more convoluted and requires a lot more patience.
For manga, utilize Mangatan, but I don’t recommend this right out the gate because when you’re first learning sentence structure you’ll want something with complete sentences.
Set your computer up for mining vocab before you start reading. Once you finish your kaishi deck, you can drill your mining cards (I didn’t do mine until after finishing kaishi because it was too much).
Most importantly: reading is going to be hard at first. It is going to piss you off. You need to muscle through with this because this is where the bulk of your learning will happen. After a while you will just feel like reading because you love reading! Try not to pick something too hard for your first read, but if you’re interested in the story you might be able to muscle through something a little tougher.
Remember to consult yomitan and cure dolly where needed, that’s what it’s there for. As you can see I am quite normal about the Japanese language, so if you have any other questions or need help with anything else feel free to shoot me an ask and I will get back to you promptly. Japanese is not your enemy and it is not impossible. It is your friend
I'm happy to announce that based on the feedback from this survey, @xxsycamore and I will be facilitating a fandom wide collaboration event!
Starting from the day this post goes live, you can begin creating and posting your fandom works (fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, mood boards, etc) following the list of prompts at the end of this post.
This collaborative event features prompts from our previous challenges, in addition to new ones. We will be accepting older creations from previous challenges as well!
You don't have to follow the order of the prompts and can create as few or as many works you want to!
AUs,
NPCs,
Suitor x Suitor,
Suitor x MC,
Suitor x OC,
Suitor x Reader,
Suitor x NPC are all allowed.
You can find a gif and normal version of the banner below that you are welcome to use for this challenge!
The tag for the event will include #love chronicles creative challenge. Additionally, please tag both of us hosts ( @xxsycamore & @voltage-vixen ) in your creations so that we can see and reblog them. If I reblogged your piece, it means it was included on the final version of the Masterlist.
Targeted towards but not limited to otome fandoms. (IkeSeries; ToT; MLQC; MysMe; Voltage; Obey me, LADS, Love Unholyc, etc.) All other fandoms are welcome to join in!
Remember not to stress over posting dates and do only as many as you wish! We’re doing this for fun :)
I will create a masterlist featuring all works as well as their creators. The deadline is March 15th. If I reblog your piece, that means it's been included in the masterlist. Please send one of us a dm if you notice your piece has been missed!
This is an 18+ event given the nature of the prompts below, so MDNI. Suggestive works will also be accepted.
You are welcome to combine prompts.
Both our DMs are open for your questions, and you can also send an ask here on my blog, where other people who might have the same question will be able to get their answers too. We'd love to help!
We can't wait to see your works inspired by the challenge! Happy creating, everyone! ❤
Under the cut you'll find the list of prompts typed out for your convenience 🔽
1. Sex in the Rain
2. Sexy Lifeguard
3. Servant for a Day
4. Sunset to Sunrise
5. Petting in the Pool
6. Applying Sunscreen
7. Candlelight Confessions
8. Nighttime Skinny Dipping
9. Touching Under the Table
10. Touch With Your Eyes Only
11. 2 Wet Bodies & 1 Towel
12. Risky Flirting at the Workplace
13. Finding Their Sex Toy Stash
14. Forgo Underwear on the Date
15. A Night Too Hot for Sleeping
16. Rendezvous Under the Moon
17. Sex Under the Sundress
18. Bodies Roasting by an Open Fire
19. Banging on the Beach
20. Canceling Plans to Snuggle and Fuck
21. Forced to Share a Tent While Camping
22. Popsicle Licking
23. Settling the Score After Beach Sport Games
24. Favorite Body Part Accidentally on Display
25. Water Fight Results in a See-Through Shirt
26. Untying a Bikini Top/Bonded by a Bikini
27. The Recipe Says "Add a Pinch of Love"
28. Snowed in During a Romantic Getaway
29. Ice Cube Cool Down
30. Strip Poker
This is inspired by the official @yearoftheotpevent blog, and is in no way an official event or challenge, just something fun I put together ahead of 2026 with my own spin and style on the spirit of the original.
The Premise: for each month of 2026 you can select one of your OTPs (or just pick one for the whole year for an extra challenge) and there will be 5 potential prompts per month for you to play with: An AU Setting, A Common Trope, A Line of Dialogue, A Smut/Kink Prompt, and finally, a Song from my personal writing playslist.
It is entirely up to you which prompt you use each month. If only one speaks to you, or you'd like to mix and match, or if you're interested in really challenging yourself, try incorporating all five.
That being said, this is not an official challenge or event, so there are really no rules; just go nuts and see what happens!
This was supposed to be for the 12DaysofChristmas Day 7, but I once again failed to keep up with a challenge.
Anyway, enjoy 1305 words of Bokuto/Kuroo/Akaashi/Tsukishima Christmas baking fluff?
“Who’s date idea is it this week?” Tsukishima asked, slowly untangling the snow-flecked scarf from his neck.
“Kou’s” Akaashi answered from the kitchen doorway, at the same time Kuroo shouted “You’re home!” and flung himself at the younger man.
Tsukishima scoffed and gently pushed Kuroo away, struggling out of the thick winter coat he’d been wearing, “could you please at least wait until I’ve taken off my coat and boots? Especially when they’re covered in snow.”
Akaashi shook his head, “this is restraint, you’re an hour late you know.”
“I told you with all the Christmas activities at the museum this month I’d be working late more often,” the blonde shrugged, “I did try to leave on time if it’s any consolation?”
Kuroo, returning to his position with his arms around the other man’s waist kissed his cheek softly, “I suppose I can forgive you.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Tsukishima deadpanned, but he couldn’t hide his smile.
“He’s home?!”
There was a crash from upstairs, then the thundering of feet as Bokuto careened from his bedroom into the hallway.
“You're alive!”
Kuroo was clever enough to step back as Bokuto barrelled into Tsukki, knocking him bodily into the door as he struggled to keep his feet under him.
“I was only at work!” He protested, voice muffled under the muscled shoulder pressing into his face, “anyone would think I'd returned from a war! And please stop trying to suffocate me Kou.”
Bokuto finally released him and stepped back, drooping slightly like a damp puppy. Sighing Tsukishima leant forwards and kissed him, just once, on the lips.
“It's good to be home.”
The hallway erupted, Bokuto cheered, Kuroo protested loudly and vehemently about not getting the first proper kiss, even Akaashi stepped out of the kitchen properly, hands on hips and the look of a man who'd already dealt with four disasters that day on his face.
“Perhaps we could all let Kei get inside the house properly before we attack him like undersocialised pets?”
The effect was immediate. Both men stepped away from Tsukishima with the kind of speed usually reserved for the Volleyball Court. Grinning Tsukki walked over and pressed a kiss to Akaashi's lips before finally, finally, letting Kuroo kiss him. Properly this time.
“Welcome home Kei,” the older man murmured against his lips, kissing him a second time for good measure, “even if you are an asshole.”
“I learned from the best.” Tsukishima retorted, still smiling.
Ten minutes later they all gathered in the kitchen, mugs of hot chocolate (coffee for Akaashi) clutched in their hands.
“I thought we could all bake cookies together!” Bokuto announced, gesturing proudly at the small pile of ingredients on the counter.
In theory it should be simple enough, just butter, sugar, flour and eggs, but Tsukishima and Akaashi stared at it skeptically.
“Kou, dearest,” Akaashi started warily, “You want us all to bake?”
Tsukishima, never the most tactful of their little foursome sighed, “do you remember what happened last time we tried to cook together? We never got the smell out of the curtains.”
Bokuto deflated a little and Kuroo patted his back gently, sending a glare at Tsukishima over the mess of silver-grey hair.
“It's fine Kou, cookies are way easier than Okonomiyaki or Tempura. As long as we set a timer for the oven it'll be fine. Fun even.”
“You promise?”
Kuroo paused, staring at the pile of ingredients on the counter. On one hand cookies did involve significantly less open flames than anything else they’d been coaxed into cooking together, on the other hand Kou could be overly enthusiastic when it came to group activities and that was its own level of danger.
He sighed and nodded, “‘of course, how could we not have fun all together huh dude?”
That works. Even Bokuto’s hair seems to perk up as he beams at them all. “Yeah! We’re going to make the greatest cookies ever!”
Akaashi and Tsukishima take it upon themselves to run the kitchen like a military campaign. Kuroo swears up and down Tsukishima actually hissed at him when he tried to steal a spoon of cookie dough before they’d finished rolling it out and cutting the shapes. Akaashi grumbled several times about how the dough was supposed to sit in the refrigerator for a few hours if not overnight and the cookies wouldn’t hold their shapes properly.
“But tonight is date night!” Bokuto protested, pouting slightly, “and Kei said he rushed home specifically for this!”
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, “I did not say that, I just said I did my best to get home on time because it was date night.”
Undeterred, Bokuto put his hands on his hips and looked at Akaashi again, “See! We have to bake them today, for date night, or Kei will be sad.”
Akaashi glanced up at Tsukishima, who shrugged, mouthing ‘as long as they’re edible’ from behind Bokuto’s head.
Akaashi nodded, turning his gaze back to Bokuto, tone carrying the slightest hint of warning. “Fine, since Kei insists they need to be done today. But don’t start pouting when the shapes have spread out after baking.”
Bokuto merely beamed and nodded, hair whipping about with the vigorous motion, “I won't, promise!”
Akaashi tried to look like a man who believed a single word he was hearing, he really did, only his face didn’t quite make it there. Tsukishima barely stifled a laugh, while Kuroo pulled an unimpressed face from behind him before trying to dig the old cookie cutters out of a drawer. Bo on the other hand was blissfully ignorant of the whole charade, eagerly diving around the two men to help Kuroo dig through the drawer.
30 minutes later they stood around a tray of mostly correctly shaped cookies. None were charred, although a few from the first sheet looked a little singed at the edges, and the kitchen was still in one piece and also un-singed. Or at least no further singed than it had been when they began. Akaashi was holding a bowl of icing sugar protectively, already having fought off both Bokuto and Kuroo holding the electric whisk.
“I do not wish to end the day with sugar in my hair Tetsu,” he’d huffed, shielding the bowl with his body as if it were a grenade about to explode, “I’ve already had to bathe twice today.”
“But this will be so much faster!” Kuroo protested, waving the appliance dangerously.
“No, it’ll be disastrous. The kitchen will look like a suspiciously sugary snowball exploded in it and I am not cleaning that mess up.”
“Plus we’d have to start over with the icing and I don’t think we have an extra bag.” Tsukishima added helpfully, gently pulling on the back of Kuroo’s jumper. “You already whisked the dough, the whisk can rest now.”
Kuroo whined but at least the whisk found a home back on the counter. Akaashi nodded and turned back to his bowl of icing sugar, starting to section it out into three bowls as it finally came together. The colour was added to two of the bowls, mixed carefully by Kuroo and Bokuto under Akaashi’s watchful eyes, and finally carefully settled inside three piping bags ready for decoration. Only then did Akaashi and Tsukishima allow the two older men to run wild, decorating their cookies however they saw fit. Though they supposed no one should have been surprised when one cookie mysteriously ended up with a suspiciously phallic ‘snowman’.
“That was awesome!” Bokuto declared, stuffing another cookie into his mouth, “and these taste really good too.”
Kuroo nodded enthusiastically next to him, “baking was a pretty good idea Kou, we should do it more often.”
Akaashi smiled softly, leaning into Tsukishima bayside him, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Merry Christmas my loves.”
Bokuto grinned broadly, “new Christmas tradition!”
Title
Day/Prompt(s): Day 4, Candles/Lanterms
Fandom/Character(s)/Ship: Genshin Impact, Wriothesley (pre-relationship, very suble Wriothesley/reader)
Word Count: 900 words
A day late, rather short and a tad rushed I'm sorry, but apparently now is the time for the pre-Christmas rush at work (and I'm still in Genshin hell haha).
Genuinely one more "this is super urgent actually" email past 4:45pm and I'm going to start using Baileys as milk. I may be missing a couple of days from here. Life be chaos.
You stepped into the Duke's office with a fluttering heart, not expecting to be called on this morning and terrified of the reason for your summons. Especially given that a few members of staff had used the previous night's freedom as an excuse to hold an unofficial Fortress of Meropide Christmas Party. You knew you'd overindulged but you didn't think you'd said or done anything you could lose your job over. At least you hoped not. Some of the details were a tad… fuzzy.
Breathing deeply you knocked on the massive, imposing doors, waiting patiently for a response. When nothing came you knocked again, harder this time, pressing your ear to the door. Still nothing. Your heart rate kicked up again, this time from a different kind of worry.
“Your Grace? I'm coming in.”
Your voice echoed against the walls of the Fortress but still no response. Steeling yourself for the worst you made your way through the heavy doors.
Inside was dark. Too dark. A few candles flickered sadly in the damp air but it was nowhere near enough to light the massive office. There should be lights on in here shouldn't there? There were most certainly lights last time you came in.
“Your Grace? Are you here?”
There was a groan from the upper level and instinctively you used your vision to set your sword aflame. If nothing else the additional light was useful. The groan got louder, if slightly more coherent. You thought you heard your name.
“You're early.”
That was clearer, if a little hoarse. You arched an eyebrow.
“I'm late if anything, Your Grace. It's past ten.”
Another groan. “One moment.”
Your eyebrow started trying to merge with your hairline, at least he couldn't see you, “should I turn on the lights Your Grace?”
“I'd rather you didn't.”
Sighing you extinguished the flames from your sword and settled down in a chair to wait. At least all the excitement and confusion had calmed your nerves substantially. Wriothesley's somewhat ruffled demeanor also went a long way to helping. You'd never heard the Duke of Meropide sound quite so flustered.
Fifteen minutes later he descended the stairs, looking more rumpled than you'd ever seen him. Your hand twitched at you side, longing to smooth down the mess of his hair. Instead you drew yourself straighter in your chair, lowering your head deferentially.
“Is everything okay, Your Grace?”
He smiled a little and nodded, “fine. Though this is the last time I allow Clorinde to dictate my evening.”
Your heart seized a little, though you hoped in the darkness it didn't show on your face.
“I heard some of you went out for Christmas drinks last night as well?”
Well at least he seemed oblivious to your inner turmoil, “yes Your Grace, is that what this about?”
The fear returned tenfold. You couldn't return home. Couldn't be fired. Not now, not when you were finally okay.
“Oh no. I'm glad you and the other staff here managed to celebrate, I'm only sorry I couldn't join you.”
You cringed a little. That would have been a disaster, especially after Grainville, already too many glasses of wine deep, pulled out the mistletoe and started daring people to kiss.
“It's fine your Grace."
He waved a hand, “please, call me Wriothesley.”
Easier said than done. Especially when the informality reminded you of the Knights. “Um, could I ask while you called me here your- Wriothesley, Sir?”
He chuckled, a warm rumble that made your chest heat, “close enough. Monglane informed me you are working the entire holiday season.”
“Is that a problem sir?”
“No,” his response was slower than usual, drawn out, “but… did you not want to go back to Mondstat for the holidays? I'm sure there are people you want to see.”
Your breath hitched, voice catching in the back of your throat as you shook your head, “no Your Grace. There isn't anything for me in Mondstat. I'd rather stay here and work, if that's permissible.”
“No one?”
You didn't answer. Couldn't even if you'd wanted to. Even if the murmur had been truly a question and not him muttering to himself, brows pinched as if it made no sense.
“I'm happy for you to work if that's what you want. I'm sure the Melusines would appreciate the assistance as well.” He paused thoughtfully, and you swore there was a pink tinge to his ears under the glow of the candles, “I usually eat a festive dinner here on the 25th, if you'd like to join me?”
You blinked at him.
“I won't be offended if you decline, it isn't an order.” This time there was definitely a tinge of red at his ears.
You blinked again. Slowly.
“I thought you would be spending the day with Lady Clorinde?” You regretted opening your mouth immediately, it sounded petty and a touch jealous in a way you had no right to be.
Instead of the scolding you expected, Wriothesley chuckled, “She has her own loved ones to spend the day with.”
Your face heated and you could only hope the dim light of the room did enough to hide it, “then I would love to Your- ahem, Wriothesley.”
His smile was almost blinding, as if it provided new light to the dark office, “that would be wonderful. Now, please don’t let me keep you from your duties any longer.”
Title: Warm Drinks and a Plan
Day/Prompt(s): Day 3, Snowed In
Fandom/Character(s)/Ship: One Piece, vague Crocodile x reader
Warnings (if applicable): None
Word Count: 1539 words
I ignored the whole tent thing for story reasons, my deepest apologies.
The Cross Guild was quiet. Far too quiet. No Buggy shrieking. No growling grumbles from Crocodile. Not even the quiet click of Mihawk’s shoes as he paced the hallways.
You rolled, groggily reaching for the clock in the hopes that you'd merely awoken in the middle of the night. A rarity, especially these days, but not entirely unheard of. The glowing numbers burned your eyes and you blinked again, trying to clear the pain and sparks from your vision. The numbers glared back, announcing it was well past time that most of the guild would be awake. You closed your eyes, counting to ten. When you opened them again the time remained stubbornly unchanged. Blinking as if mocking you with the concept of morning.
Not night then. Not the aftermath of an attack either. That would have woken you. And precious few would be stupid enough to even try. Pinching the bridge of your nose you rolled out of bed, grabbing clothes that weren't yours from the wardrobe. You had some of your own clothes, though the few more practical pieces were growing worn and threadbare. You'd brought the issue up before, more than once, but it was conveniently forgotten. Anyone who didn't know better would put it down to simple oversight, but Mihawk and Crocodile did not merely forget to do something. No, this smelled too much like possessiveness. Ownership. At least you had your own underwear.
Slipping on your boots you pulled the heavy fur collar of the coat around your neck and pushed out into the corridor, determined to find answers.
Outside was bright. Too bright. Too white. And far, far too quiet. Slowly you made your way towards the front door, hoping they were just out there bickering. As long as they were still here. Your breath caught in your throat, a sharp twist in your chest as you considered for the first time they might have left.
The front door loomed before you. Too soon. Still too quiet. No sounds of shouting outside. No clash of blades. Swallowing you closed your hand around the handle. You had to see. To know if the boats were still there. If you were alone. Again.
Slowly the door creaked open. You closed your eyes. Counted to ten. Opened them.
The world was gone. Everything was white. And cold. So, so cold. Slowly you stretched out your hand, fingers sinking onto cold ice. No. Not ice. Snow.
“Oh, you're up!”
The clown's voice was far too cheerful for the situation. Your brows pinched as you turned to him, hand still sunk into the glittering white crystals.
“So… we're snowed in. Fun right?”
Slowly you shook your head, letting him move you back from the door and slowly push it shut.
“It doesn't snow here.” You answered slowly. “It most definitely doesn't drop six feet of snow overnight.”
“Eight,” Buggy corrected, still grinning, “Hawky reckons someone's planning something and they're either trying to keep us out or they're coming for us. I think he's overthinking things, it's probably just a prank.”
“Eight feet of snow… is a prank?” You asked slowly, “what did Croc say?”
Buggy made a grunting sound that you supposed was a rough imitation of Crocs voice and shrugged, “I'm just saying we should make the most of it. Y'know, take a break, maybe warm each other up a little…”
He waggled his eyebrows and the hand that had been at your waist dipped dangerously low on your back.
Mihawk rounded the corner just as one of Buggy's hands went flying past him. He turned his head just slightly, eyebrow raised, as the other followed after it. He said your name calmly, but there was the smallest thread of warning in his tone. It was too early for fighting, that much was clear.
“I assume you've been made aware of the situation?” He asked calmly, shifting just enough to let Buggy rush past him after his wayward appendages.
“Somehow we've been snowed in on an island where it doesn't snow.”
Mihawk let the corner of his mouth curl up, a small show of amusement slipping through his usual stoic mask.
“Indeed. There are very few people who could make this happen.” He nodded to the door. “At most it will last a week, probably less. We have enough provisions.”
You frowned, “you can't just Yoru us out?”
“The ships will also likely be frozen.”
He was ignoring you. Strange. You were pretty sure Yoru could cut through the snow and ice with ease. He'd levelled entire marine fleets with one blow before now.
“What has Crocodile said?”
“Nothing,” Mihawk nodded back down the corridor, “he returned to his chambers. I presume for warmth. I would suggest you do the same, especially if you insist on wandering the halls dressed like that.”
You glanced down at the too large shirt and coat you were wearing and shrugged, “if only I had more clothes of my own, then perhaps I could be more suitably attired for the weather.”
Mihawk smirked, just slightly. A tiny twitch of his otherwise sombre face, “You seem suitably attired to me.”
You gently smoothed the hem of the shirt between two fingers, “whilst this is a very fine shirt, it's not the most appropriate for snow. I would like some clothes of my own that aren’t starting to fall apart at the seams, perhaps we could start with new trousers?”
You can borrow mine! You never borrow my clothes!” echoed from down the corridor.
“Your trousers are hideous.” You and Mihawk answered in unison.
You ran a hand over your face, glancing back down the corridor, “I'll go check in on Croc.”
“Food will be ready in the kitchen in two hours, do not be late.”
You waved the swordsman off with a grin and headed back the way you'd come.
Stopping in front of the door you actually looked down at the outfit you'd tiredly grabbed from your room. Ah yes, once again you looked like a one night stand that overstayed their welcome. Well it was their own fault. Mostly. Though perhaps in hindsight trousers would have been a good idea, even if this shirt was plenty long enough to be called a dress. Rolling your eyes again you knocked gently, pressing your ear to the door.
“It's me, can I come in?”
You hear your name muttered softly from the other side and push open the door into a cloud of cigarette smoke.
Something is wrong. You can feel that much. Sir Crocodile isn't one for idle chatter, but he usually said hello to you at least. The excessive cloud of cigar smoke didn't help matters either.
Taking a few steps further forwards you finally saw his face. Brows pinched tighter than usual across his nose, teeth digging a little too hard into the cigar. His expression more grimace than smile. This wasn't about the snow. Or at least not just the snow.
“Is your arm hurting?” You spoke softly, trying not to prod any raw nerves. None of them were any good at admitting weakness.
“Is that one of my coats?”
You stroked the fur collar gently, “hmm, I think it suits me. And it's warm.” Your eyes dropped to his hook, tone firm as you nodded towards it, “is it hurting?”
“It does suit you.”
You arched an eyebrow and stared at him pointedly.
He moved the arm, brow furrowing more as he did, “just the cold, I'm fine.”
You huffed, crossing the room and dropping yourself unceremoniously down on one of his large thighs, trapping his hooked arm across your lap. You pressed your hands between your thighs, willing them to warm quickly as you looked at him.
“What are you–”
“Helping. I'm helping. Or I will be now my hands are warm.” You gently eased the hook from his arm, rubbing slow firm circles into the skin, “I've done this before. I know certain temperatures make things worse, this should help a little.”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t push you away either, letting you work out the soreness lingering in the muscles there. It doesn’t take long, though long enough for you to realise you really should have grabbed some oil or lotion to make this smoother, before the lines in his face soften. His teeth no longer threatening to bite the cigar in half. Satisfied you gently replace the hook, softly patting his chest.
“Better?”
He still doesn’t answer, too proud to admit it, just uses his other hand to rub a gentle circle on your thigh, but his face is much softer and you can feel the rest of his muscles relaxing under you.
“Keeping you around wasn’t too bad of an idea.” He rumbles.
“You’ve known that for months now,” you laugh, “longer if you count Rain Dinners. C’mon Sir, hot drinks and a plan is what we need now.”
He lifts you, far more carefully than most would expect, and settles his hand on the small of your back. Possessive, but still gentle. Or as gentle as a man of Crocodile’s strength and stature can be.
“Lead the way doll.”
You smile, warm and bright in the dark smoke of the room. “I’ll make mulled wine later, I’m sure Mihawk can spare one bottle to keeping us warm.”
Fandom/Character(s)/Ship: Bungou Stray Dogs, vaguely Chuuya x Reader
Word Count/Medium: 991 words
You pushed through the late night shopping crowds cursing every moment of procrastination and bad decision that led to you being here. Last minute Christmas shopping was a whole new level of hell. People gathered everywhere, pushing and crowding around the displays. You’d already caught a couple of vicious elbows to the ribs for the crime of trying to reach past someone to grab what you thought might be an acceptable gift. You even found yourself growing at the next person who got too close. Truly, Christmas shopping brought out the worst in people.
You glanced down at your bag, already straining slightly under the weight of all the gifts you'd already bought. You just prayed the pretty notebook for Kunikida hadn't been bent. Still, only two gifts left. The hardest two. And the ones that would likely take you away from the busiest and probably safest streets of Yokohama. You sighed heavily, looking up at the thick dark clouds obscuring the sky. Snow was coming, and while you were dressed for the cold you still hoped you could make it back before the snow started. As if it heard your wish and held a personal grudge against you the sky began to release small white flakes. The kind that caught in everything and left your scarf dripping cold water down the back of your neck. You grit your teeth, turning on your heel and heading away from the busy shopping street. Just two more gifts. That was all.
You slipped through back alleys, avoiding the crowds as you focused on getting to the two shops you needed as soon as possible. The bookshop was first, tucked in a hidden alleyway. Unassuming and full of treasures, the perfect place to find a rare read for your weird, alarmingly suicidal, colleague. To find something he didn't already know would be the greatest prize, but you'd settle for a rare book. Preferably one that didn't give him any dangerous ideas. It would be difficult of course, but that was part of the thrill. Besides, you had time. Probably.
Prize safely tucked away on your bag you ventured back out into the street, cursing quietly under your breath as the snow came down harder. It wasn't long before you felt your hair grow damp under your hat, adding another layer of cold to your already chilled skin. You trudged on, cutting through yet another back alley as slush built up on your boots. It was always disconcerting, you mused, how quickly the space between the busy shopping street and the fancy high end shops turned derelict and dark. This wasn't the safest part of town, not that any of Yokohama was truly safe. Not with so many ability users in one place, even if there was a tenuous cooperation between the Detective Agency and the Port Mafia. There was always someone trying to prove themselves. Some new and terrible threat lurking around the corner. So it was important to celebrate the moments you could with the people you loved. Mafia and Agency alike.
As you turned the next corner a buzz of power went through you. An ability user. You tensed reactively, glancing up at the buildings surrounding you. But the energy around you felt like a warm embrace more than a warning, and you relaxed, the pieces slowly slotting together in your mind. The snow rippled nearby and you turned as a blur of black, red and ginger descended a few feet from where you stood.
“The hell are you doing?”
“Lovely to see you too Chuuya.” You grinned, stepping a little closer to him and holding up the straining bag, “nefarious schemes, obviously.”
He clucked his tongue, eyes rolling as he reached out towards the bag. Rolling harder as you pulled it away from his grasp.
“Let me help you woman.” He growled, reaching out again as you took a sliding step backwards.
“No, I'm not finished yet. And these are supposed to be surprises!”
He sighs again. Pointedly. But his hands drop back to his sides, one eyebrow slowly arching towards his hairline. “You left gift shopping until the week before Christmas?”
“I've been busy!” You try to protest, but it comes out as more of a whine.
He doesn't say anything but the silence is judgemental.
“Where do you have left to go?”
Your mouth opens. Closes. You shake your head. “It's a secret.”
You know Chuuya. Know he knows exactly who the last present is for, that he'll insist on walking you to the shops anyway. Probably spy on you as you're trying to make your purchase. He takes a step forwards, hand outstretched towards you once more, and the promise of his company, his unnatural warmth while the wind and snow hurts your exposed skin… it's almost enough to make you break.
You're saved from breaking in the most irritating way possible.
“Oho? What's this, the slug and the princess? Weird fairytale but we could make it work.”
Chuuya wheels to face the direction of that all too familiar voice and your breath catches somewhere between a curse and a hallelujah. You have an out.
Dazai starts on some spiel about dramatic deaths and the state of Chuuya's favourite hat, winking at you over the other man's head. You nod back, slipping away as quietly as you can. With Dazai there it'll be a good twenty minutes before he even realises you're gone, longer if Dazai really tries to needle at him. You're only three streets from your destination, enough time to grab the rare vintage you ordered last week and down the street for the other surprise gift, and still be at least some of the way home before he comes looking for you again. He'll be mad about it, but you tell yourself the look on his face Christmas Day will be worth it.
You can always make this little disappearing act up to him later.
A tad late because I was out all yesterday with terrible signal but here we go. I apologise, a lot of these will be short.
Title: Festive Spirit
Day/Prompt(s): Day 1, Decorating the House/Tree/Office (ship)
Fandom/Character(s)/Ship: Andromeda Six, Damon/Traveller (Damon/OC, Traveller is named etc)
Warnings (if applicable): Language?
Word Count: 1125 words
“What, exactly, are you doing to my ship?”
Nyx turned her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at the Captain. She jostled the glittering metallic object in her hands, “Decorating, obviously.”
Somewhere behind her Bash snorted into a tangle of wires Cal thought might be tiny lights. He really hoped he was wrong. Nyx ignored the chaos, deftly pinning the sparkling whatever it was she'd grabbed from Teranium and wobbling her way back down the rickety ladder. For a moment the future of the entire Selota System flashed before his eyes as she leaned a little too far and the entire thing threatened to topple. Finally back on solid ground she turned to face the Captain, smiling defiantly.
Cal pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why are you decorating my ship?”
“For the festive season!” Nyx was glowing, very literally, gesturing around the hallway, “its kind of our ship now and I thought it needed a little festive cheer. Bash and Aya agreed with me!”
“It'll take more than a few decorations to give this place some festive cheer.” Aya laughed, appearing at the other end of the corridor holding some kind of plant that she waved towards them enthusiastically, “luckily Oppo had some great ideas.”
“The fuck is that?”
They all whirled at the sharp sound of Damon’s voice, Nyx the only one still grinning. Vexx was stood behind him, expression a little too reminiscent of a man having war flashbacks. Nyx winked at him.
"Princess likes to decorate, did you not know?” He deadpanned, “this is your life now assholes, good luck.”
Aya laughed, bright and happy, shaking the plant at Damon and Vexx, “oh this is gold. Besides, you're going to love this.”
She leaned in and murmured something in his ear that turned his cheeks pink and made a vaguely worrying grin spread across his face.
“How many of those did Oppo give you?”
Aya gave him a wink that could only mean trouble and gestured for him
to follow, “come with me lover boy, you're going to really like this.”
Nyx watched the two of them walk off, frowning just slightly. “Um, does anyone know what that plant was?"
Vexx laughed. Bash his his face in the tangle of wires again. Cal sighed like a man preparing for a funeral and started to back away.
“Vexx, you know something. Please tell me?”
The redhead took a few short steps down the corridor, slinging an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders and grinning, “Oh Princess, it's much funnier if you don't know. Don't worry, you'll love it.”
It took surprisingly little time to decorate the ship. Perhaps because the ship was relatively small. Perhaps because Calderon threatened to throw them all out of the air lock if “any of that nonsense appears within 10 feet of my room or the bridge”. Aya, naturally, decorated the pilot's seat with some of the sparkling strands Oppo had gifted them, grinning the whole time. Nyx had stood in the doorway, barely holding back her laughter as the small woman carefully pinned the last of the tinsel to her seat.
“Cal’s going to kill you when he sees that,” she called.
“He couldn’t throw me out the airlock if he tried.” Aya called back, grinning wickedly. “Besides, who would fly the ship without me?”
Nyx laughed, glowing softly as she shook her head, “I don’t know whether I want to be here to see this, or as far away as possible.”
“To see what?”
Both women froze, Aya still grinning broadly as Nyx tried to adjust her position to block the view. Cal glanced down and frowned at her, then looked straight over her head.
“What. Is. That?”
“Festive!” Aya laughed, “don’t worry grumpypants, your chair is safe and boring as always.”
Cal’s frown deepened. “I thought I made myself clear?”
“And I decided it was stupid.”
Nyx winced, slowly trying to edge her way around the Captain. A solid hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. She tilted her head back to flutter her eyelashes at him, blinking innocently.
“Yes Captain?”
“This is your fault Stowaway.”
Nyx grinned, “it is the season. Would it help if I said there’s some spiced wine and chocolate powder in the kitchen right now?”
His frown deepened and she winced a little.
“Uh, I should probably go make sure Damon hasn’t done anything too nefarious with those plants. And keep an eye on Vexx.” She darted away before he could complain.
Damon, it turned out, was nowhere to be found. Neither was Vexx. At least they’d left evidence behind. Sprigs of those weird plants Aya had been waving around graced half the doorways on the ship and several of the hallway ceilings. It only served to fuel her curiosity. These plants had never appeared in the palace, but she supposed they weren’t golden and ostentatious enough to be palace decor. Hideous as it was. Perhaps something from Cursa? Though they hadn’t seen much life in the district they’d visited, she knew, vaguely, from her studies that Cursa was more than capable of supporting growth. Frustration growing as every room she tried lead to another dead end, even the kitchen, Nyx returned to her room.
“There you are Princess.”
Her arm shot out before she registered who the voice belonged to. He caught it easily, pulling her against him.
“Damon! I swear I’m going to put a bell on you.” She huffed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.
“This is far more fun, you get feisty when you’re surprised Princess.” Damon laughed, leaning forwards to press his lips against hers this time. “A little bird said you’d been looking for me.”
“Is that little bird actually six feet tall and half-kitalphan?” She arched an eyebrow, golden eyes glowing under the orange light of the room.
Damon said nothing, just smirked in that infuriating way of his that meant she was almost certainly correct. Though how the hell Vexx had figured that out was a mystery for another day, probably skulking behind her through the vents or something.
“I wanted to know about the plants.” She gestured up at her ceiling, “for example, why on earth have you put on up there and what are they for?”
He didn’t answer, instead backing her up two paces and kissing her soundly, his hands warm against her hips. When he finally pulled back he nodded up at the plant, “that’s what the plant is for. It’s an old human custom, if you’re stuck with someone beneath the plant you have to kiss them.”
“They’re all over the ship!” Nyx splutters, running a hand over her lavender hair, “anyone could get trapped under them!”
“Mhm,” Damon chuckles, “free entertainment.”
