summary — varka's love is almost too much for you to handle.
themes — librarian!reader, semi-public sex, inexperienced!reader, developing relationship, standing full nelson position, struggling to fit him in, creampie, orgasms, varka calls ya pumpkin, praise
WC: 1.1k
This was not how you were supposed to tend to the Mond Library in Lisa’s absence.
Plap!
Tears steamed down your cheeks as your nails scratched against the muscled forearms folding you in half. Head cradled in his hands, feet dangling in the air, you whimpered as the Grand Master held you suspended, his hips slapping into yours. With another rough thrust, one of your shoes fell off your feet, clattering against the wood floor with a loud thump. Varka’s breath was hot on your ear, the smell of smoked meat and booze wafting over you with each exhale. As he rammed himself into you, you dug your teeth into your trembling lower lip and cried.
“Shh, shh…” Varka said, kissing your temple. “You’re okay, pumpkin.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being held midair, getting split open on the girth of his cock. To make matters worse, you were still operating under business hours. At any moment, anyone could wander into the library looking for a book, only to wind up finding you, getting your cunt destroyed by Grand Master Varka. You tried to stifle your moans, but when he stuffed you full of him for the umpteenth time, stretching you beyond what you thought yourself capable, you gasped out, “Fuck.”
“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered. “Not so loud, pumpkin. You’re doing…” He grunted, thrusting his dick into you, making you see stars. “You’re doing great, hon.”
You clawed at the hands supporting your head, your vision blurred with hot tears. Petulantly, you whined, “Grand Master, you’re…too big…”
“You can do it, hon,” he whispered back hotly. “I know you can.”
“Oh, fuck,” you sobbed, feeling your insides throb when his tip mashed into your cervix. “Grand Master, please. Not so deep.”
“I’m sorry,” he answered immediately, his voice coming out rushed. In another soothing whisper, he said, “Shh, pumpkin, shh. I’m sorry.”
His hips didn’t thrust so deep anymore. You felt like you could finally breathe.
“I got carried away,” he murmured. “Your pussy’s so tight, hon. Feels so good for me.”
Those words were strangling you.
“You’ve gotten so good at this,” he told you. “So much better than when we first started. Hold on for me a little longer, yeah?”
He was right. The first time Grand Master Varka revealed to you that he had interest beyond what you had originally thought, you were flabbergasted. It wasn’t that you didn’t find him attractive—no, it was quite the opposite—but your whole life, you had only seen Varka as a role model. An ideal, really. Not as a man, and certainly not as one who would fill you to the brim with him every night that you allowed him to. Your first time was awkward, a bit painful, but Varka held you through it. Always gave you kisses and praise, even when you could barely handle the motion of his tip alone. You wanted to be able to take all of him, to let him use you as he saw fit, but unlike him, you were far too limited by pain. It frustrated you, to have taken him this many times and still be struggling. But Varka told you best—your rate of improvement was truly astounding. Even to yourself.
“All good, sweetheart?”
You looked downwards, your eyes catching the movement of his thick cock, glistening with you as it thrust halfway in and out of your hole. Chewing your lower lip, you nodded.
He let out a grunt, his fingers squeezing harder around your head. Something rough grated his tone when he asked, “Is it okay if I cum inside?”
“Yes,” you whined. “Yes, Grand Master, yes.”
“Mngh, just…just call me Varka, pumpkin.”
You let out a choked sound when he snapped his hips upwards, and even though it was only half of him, you felt so incredibly full. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped and sputtered for breath, nails digging into his wrists as you wailed, “Grand Master.”
“Varka,” he answered, his tone far more brusque than usual. Something about him sounded feral when he growled, “Call me Varka.”
Another rough thrust of his hips into yours had you squirming. “Oh, fuck,” you sputtered, your eyelids fluttering to the beat of your uncontrollable heart. “Varka.”
When his dick pushed past that halfway point of his, shoving its way into your innermost walls with its violent ram, your nails pierced the skin of his hands. Crying for him, you scratched away at his skin, leaving deep gashes that left him marred with your love. Varka was shushing you again, his hips were thrusting deep again, and as you whined his name, you were overwhelmed by the force of your own orgasm. You felt hot, you felt blind, and as Varka pumped you full of him, you let the intensity of your voice rip through the silent library.
“Varka,” you were crying. “Varka.”
“Fuck,” he whispered back. “Here you go, pumpkin.”
His base was flush to yours, resounding through the library with a wet smack! You struggled in his arms, your eyes twitching as discomfort and pleasure weaved themselves equally throughout your insides. Letting him cum this deep inside of you was surely a recipe for disaster, but the feel of his cock throbbing within you only led you to your second slope.
“Varka,” you slurred, your eyes blurred by your tears. “I’m cumming again.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s good, pumpkin.”
He held you in place, even after his limp cock fell out of you. You felt the trickle of his cum as it dripped from your hole, your teary eyes pressing shut as a second orgasm wracked through you. Something about doing it like this, him watching without even being inside you, was both embarrassing and enthralling.
“Good job, pumpkin,” Varka murmured. “I’ll put you down, okay?”
Breath shuddering, you nodded. Ever so gently, Varka maneuvered his intense hold on you until your feet were on the floor. He held one of your hands while he reached for your fallen heel, sliding it back onto your foot for you.
When Varka stood back to his full height, he cupped your face in his hands. He leaned down, closing the distance between you, and gave you a firm kiss. Your hands rose to his wrists, gripping them hard as you whimpered against him. He lavished your tear-stained face with booze-scented kisses, and in his deep, rumbling voice asked, “Wanna go home?”
You nodded, your arms looping around his broad waist. Your legs trembled beneath you, rendered so by the way he had pinned you midair and the intensity of how he had fucked you. Quietly, you replied, “You might have to carry me.”
Varka laughed.
“Sure thing, pumpkin. I’ve got ya.”
a/n: to anyone who regularly reads my lohen works, just know that im currenlty running for my life from that man. yes i wrote varka fuckin you in the library before him IM SORRY LOHEN but he gets more than enough smut from me T_T anyway, i wanted to show varka some love cause he's SEXY AF and i need more of him.
anyway, if you liked it what you read, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
if you would like to be tagged whenever i post genshin x reader, please check my rules in my pinned! thank you!
⊹ ˖ fellow authors, i do not mind if you are inspired by my works to write something similar, but please credit me if you are. these concepts mean a lot to me, so i would really like to be credited for any of my personal ideas that inspire you.
you might think you know him but are you putting your spoon in his bowl. are you criss crossing his applesauce. are you eating his 1994 toyota corola. are you destroying his 1964 volkswagen beetle.
✩ so @chai-writes-stuff gave me the idea of sugar daddy varka…(go read her stuff and give her a follow pretty please)
tw/cw: modern au(?). afab!gn! reader. plus size reader friendly. sugar daddy relationship but ur also like actually dating. ever so slight angst but not really. established relationship. sending photos/videos but no actual sex. mutual masturbation.
sugar daddy! varka doesn’t like to wait. he’ll just text you asking for a video of you undressing and not a minute after you send it, hundreds of dollars hit your bank account. he’s a busy man, he doesn’t often have free time to spend with you, so he feels it’s the least he could do to pay you for your time.
sugar daddy! varka, who has no qualms with sending you money for whatever you want. text him and if he doesn’t answer, call him, and you’ll have the money in your account in no time. doesn’t matter how much you want, he definitely has the money to spare.
sugar daddy! varka books all your personal maintenance appointments to make sure you’re all cared for and pampered. of course, he makes sure your schedule works and all, but he doesn’t want you to lift a finger. all you need to do is sit there and look pretty.
sugar daddy! varka, who will text you in the middle of the night asking for a picture of your chest (doesn’t matter if you have boobs or not, he still wants to see it) followed by sending even more money to you as almost an apology gift for waking you up in the middle of the damn night. he responds with a video of him jerking off at his desk and moaning your name, grunting that he wished you were here.
sugar daddy! varka loves you, of course he does. if you ever suggested that he didn’t, he would probably get offended. he just doesn’t have a lot of time on his hands, but he’s sure to take you on nice dates whenever he gets the day off, treating you like royalty because he does actually love you, he’s not just using you for sex. he wants you to be happy and the least he can do is give you copious amounts of money whenever you ask.
a/n: i’m gonna be so fr i wrote this entire thing sitting on the toilet after a shower my back hurts i need to lay down bru
like my work? please like and reblog to help me reach a wider audience!
Cw: Other than the smut, it's relatively tame, and the smut is brief I think. p in v and fem bodied reader too
(In which Varka is clumsy, and hot times turn into silly times?)
Strong hips slam into your own as your belly rubs against the soft blanket of Varka’s bed. His hands have your waist, though they travel every so often, the thumb of one hand between your thighs as he rubs circles into your clit, little sparks building in your spine.
It’s not the first round of course, a mix of your juices dripping down your thighs as he adjusted you just so, and then does it again a second later.
“The other way was better,” you pant, honest and desperate as you try to chase the pleasure he’s been building for you.
“Ngh-! Got it…don’t worry darlin’ I‘ve got it,” Varka grits out, strained for once. It’s unlike him to get winded so easily, so when you raise your face off the pillow, propping yourself on your forearms, you note a wince in his brow that shouldn’t be there.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The question is the only thing you’re able to get out before you feel the bed shake and buck and a pop nearly echoes as you’re left empty. You hear a whimper that doesn’t come from you before a yelp, though you can hardly believe it’s Varka.
The shock of the emptiness partnered with the heavy smack of a body on the floor keeps you frozen for a moment, catching your breath. Peeking over the bed, you see the illustrious Grand Master of Mondstadt sprawled on the floor in a heap as he rubs his leg furiously, groaning as he rolls into the same position you were in. He’s ass up face down, though you hope you look a little less pitiful when you’re in it than what you have now in front of you.
“Leg cramp,” he rasps as you watch him trying to stretch the muscles in his leg. No one would believe it if you’d told them, but the man in question has taken down perhaps thousands of monsters in his years only to be bested by what you assume is a product of dehydration.
“Oh my poor baby,” you coo, stifling a laugh. “Do you want my help?”
You roll off the bed with a groan, landing next to him and the look he throws you can only be described as severe sulking. “Thought I could power through it,” he chuckles, self deprecation clear in his voice.
“What do you mean ‘power through it’?! How long have you had it?”
“A couple minutes? ‘bout right when you soaked the sheets last,” he says as if it doesn’t both baffle and embarrass you to hear.
“Please don’t record time based on when I’ve finished,” you say dryly, helping him up. He limps his way around for a moment with your help, finally getting the movement he needed. “Y’know…this does mean you’re getting older. Gotta hydrate more.”
“Kicking a man while he’s down?” he snorts.
“You might be down, but something is still very much up. Are you a masochist? I’ve never seen you this hard before,” you gasp in shock now, your eyes widening in faux innocently.
He sighs, head hanging for a moment before your feet leave the ground and you’re very promptly thrown onto the bed again.
“Masochist or not, you aren’t leaving until I’m the one helping you walk around,” he huffs, the look in his eyes oh so competitive as he tries to crawl up you again, settling himself between your thighs with a grin.
It’s only a matter of minutes before he’s collapsing face first into your chest, once again plagued by another cramp.
“I told you-“ you laugh, watching him scramble to get back up.
summary — something about calling varka "daddy" just felt right.
themes — daddy kink, anal, established relationship, age gap (20s-30s vs 40s), knights-of-fav!reader, varka calls ya pumpkin, light humor, lil squirting, jean is tired of y'all
WC: 695
thanks @/swansloves for the idea! her daddy!varka hc's had me so awgh T_T <3
The first time you said it, Varka was eight inches in your ass, making you squirt all over the sheets beneath you.
“Fuck me,” you had sputtered, overwhelmed by the sensation. Then, clawing at the sheets beneath you, you had desperately said, “Daddy.”
It had flown so naturally from your lips, and yet, when you realized what you had said, you burned with embarrassment. Varka’s hips had stuttered, but with another thrust, he groaned and came inside of you.
“Wh…what did you say?” Varka asked, his hips pressed flush to yours.
Your heart pounded in your eardrums. Obstinately, you muttered, “Nothing.”
“I thought you…hm.” Varka paused. “Well…good job, pumpkin. You came, yeah?”
He dropped down onto your back, his warm, heavy body providing comforting pressure against yours. When he kissed your temple, you closed your right eye.
“I squirted,” you mumbled.
Varka let out a loud, hearty laugh. “That’s good, then. You really like anal, don’t you?”
You pressed your smoldering cheeks into the pillow. “Please shut up, Varka.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Not trying to make fun of you or anything, I promise.”
He kissed you again, gentle on your cheek. Relaxing, you allowed yourself to recall that heated moment. Why was it that you had never even called him that before, but it left your lips like it was his name when he was fucking your brains out?
“Wanna clean up?” he asked.
Quietly, you nodded.
The second time you said it, Varka was two fingers deep in your cunt, fingering you in his lap as he ignored his work duties.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, your head leaning back against his shoulder. “Daddy, please.”
Immediately, you tensed up. Instantly, Varka said, “Aha! I knew I didn’t imagine it last time!”
“I didn’t say anything,” you replied quickly. “Tell me I didn’t say anything, Varka.”
He laughed against your ear, curling his thick fingers into you so far, you were crumbling in his lap. Your hand reached back for his head, gripping his hair in your fist, and against your ear, Varka murmured, “You can call me that if you want, pumpkin.”
Fuck, why did that make you throb? Fuck, were you already cumming?
“Oh,” you whined, soft as you rutted into his palm. “That feels so good, Varka.”
“Daddy,” he replied in a deep rumble.
“Daddy,” you echoed, your eyes budding with pleasured tears. “Daddy, I’m cumming.”
“Mhm.” He kissed your ear. “Good job, pumpkin.”
Your voice slipped up an octave, your body rocking into his thrusting fingers. Eyes flitting open and shut, you dug your nails into his wrist and moaned.
“Good girl,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
Fuck, Varka, why?
“I’m cumming again,” you sputtered desperately.
“Ha! You’ll make an old man blush, pumpkin.”
Fuck, you loved it when he called you that.
“Kiss me,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Daddy, kiss me.”
Without a shred of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours. You came around his fingers once again, shuddering in his lap, and Varka’s laugh rumbled through the hollow of your mouth.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Grand Master, it’s Jean. Requesting permission to enter?”
Both you and Varka winced. You knew that Jean only asked permission when she was sure that you two were up to no good behind closed doors.
“Uh,” Varka said loudly, “maybe in ten! I, uh…I’m a bit busy!”
Jean only sighed. “Alright. But please, do remember you have work, Grand Master.”
“She’s right,” you said, when you were sure she was out of earshot. “I shouldn’t have let you get distracted. You have two new treaties to look over, and Sumeru is requesting an audience—.”
“Sorry to interrupt you, sweetheart,” he said, “but could you do an old man a favor?”
Your eyes narrowed. “Help you avoid your work?”
“Nah. Tell me to do it.” His blue eyes twinkled, a charming grin extended from ear to ear. “But call me daddy when you do.”
Your lips quirked into a smile. Stroking your fingers across the scar on his cheek, you purred, “Do your paperwork, daddy.”
“Heh.” Varka gave your hips a firm squeeze, his face pink. “Can’t say no to that, pumpkin.”
a/n: OH GOD I WAS SO EMBARRASSED WRITING THIS... ive actually never written daddy kink but shieetttt i wanted to do it so bad thanks to swan's headcanons xD happy late father's day varka ^q^ <3
this is a lil quickie! if you liked it, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡
⊹ ˖ fellow authors, i do not mind if you are inspired by my works to write something similar, but please credit me if you are. these concepts mean a lot to me, so i would really like to be credited for any of my personal ideas that inspire you.
synopsis:
you should have never opened your heart to varka. he doesn’t need to know the recesses of your mind, what haunts you in the midst of the night. he certainly doesn’t need to know the taste of your breath or the feel of your tongue. it was an idiotic night, preceded by ale-drinking and poor judgment, but you still should have never gotten to that point with him. because he doesn’t care about you. he doesn’t care about you at all.
you dig your teeth into your lower lip, a hot tear running down your face.
you wish you didn’t care about him.
or: your suppressants aren't working.
themes:
omegaverse, omega!reader, alpha!varka, prior toxic relationship between reader/minor male character, misunderstandings/jealousy, mild hurt/comfort, emotionally-hurt!reader, kinda-tsundere!reader, imprinting, requited unrequited love, age gap (20-30 vs 40s), pet names, breeding kink, kisses, declarations of love, thigh fucking, missionary, prone bone, creampies and orgasms
word count: 5.9k | ao3
You’re running for your life in the middle of Starfell Valley.
Heavy breaths enter and exit your lungs. You stumble into the trunk of a tree, your sword falling from your hand and onto the ground beneath. As your vision swims around the corners of your eyes, you try your best to calm your breathing. You shift your legs, and the unbearable wetness between them gushes through your bodysuit.
“Shit,” you hiss, collapsing to your knees in the hilichurl-infested field. “Not now, dammit…I don’t have time for this!”
Futilely, you slam your fist against the scaly tree. It does nothing for you but bust the skin on your knuckles open.
“I don’t have time for this,” you repeat, choking for air as your throat tightens. “Fuck me, this is awful.”
Harsh throbs wrack your core, strangling your insides in spasming, intermittent bursts. You dig your fingertips into the coarse bark, leaving lines of blood behind as your hand runs downward. You’re soaked, you’re throbbing, and every natural instinct you have is telling you to breed.
You slump onto the roots of the tree, pressing your back to the solid trunk. As your eyelids slowly blink over your blurry vision, you recognize the looming threat of a Mitachurl, gripping his flame-tipped axe as he closes the distance between you. The skin between your brows dimples, you reach for the hilt of your sword, and in an anguished snarl, you yell at yourself, “Get up!”
Your body refuses to listen. With each pulsation from your lower belly to the crotch of your pants, a thick slime only grows, robbing you of judgment. Your breath is shuddering like a leaf in the Mondstatian breeze, and as you watch the Mitachurl raise his axe over his head, you think to yourself that you just should have listened.
Varka has been concerned about you. He’s been trying to check in on you for the past week, but you never stuck around long when he was involved.
Did his persistence have meaning? Had he known something you didn’t? Or was he just thrusting his noble sense of heroism onto you, like he does for every other woman in his life?
“He doesn’t care about me,” you mutter, placing your hand on your cramping abdomen. “He doesn’t.”
And yet, in what you feel might be your final moments, you can only think of him. His rugged smile, the scar on his cheek. The way the whole room seems to rumble when he laughs. His wolfcut, how soft that hair had felt between your fingers, on that night where you made the terrible mistake of being vulnerable.
You should have never opened your heart to Varka. He doesn’t need to know the recesses of your mind, what haunts you in the midst of the night. He certainly doesn’t need to know the taste of your breath or the feel of your tongue. It was an idiotic night, preceded by ale-drinking and poor judgment, but you still should have never gotten to that point with him. Because he doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about you at all.
You dig your teeth into your lower lip, a hot tear running down your face.
You wish you didn’t care about him.
The Mitachurl roars, and your world goes black.
When you wake, you’re buried underneath a series of thick, fluffy blankets.
Your eyes blink slowly in the dimly lit room. The lamplight burns low, but the way that your heat dulls your vision is mostly to blame for the darkness. With a soft grunt, you attempt to extricate yourself from the bed you’re laying in.
As soon as you sit up, you let out a sharp yelp. Your hand presses to your stomach, feeling a sharp, cramping pang beneath it. Your crotch is unfortunately still coated in thick, hot mucus.
Your brows twitch as they come together, your teeth gnashing all the while. You haven’t been in heat in a while, not with the help of the omega suppressants you typically get from the Favonius Alchemists. This dose has served you adequately for years, so why would it fail you now?
Suddenly, you hear the creak of the door. Your head snaps to it, teeth bared like an animal’s when you snarl, “Who’s there?!”
It’s still hard for you to see, but you hear those heavy footsteps coming towards you. You smell him before he comes into your field of view.
“It’s me,” Varka says. Something beside him clatters, like a plate to a nightstand. “You okay, pumpkin?”
He reaches for your hair and you immediately smack his hand away. Your nails stab into the thick blankets.
“Don’t call me pumpkin,” you growl.
“...My bad,” Varka says, wincing. “It’s a force of habit.”
“You should break it. I’m not a child anymore.”
“I know you’re not.” He rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head at you. “But forgive me when I tell you this…what you did out there was terribly childish. I mean, responding to a hilichurl outbreak by yourself? When you’re in heat like this?”
“I wasn’t—,” your breath hitches, “I wasn’t in heat before I left.”
“Come on, kid. This past week you’ve been stumbling around headquarters like you’re in a daze. Surely you noticed your suppressants were wearing off?”
“I didn’t.” Your lips form a deep frown. “This has never happened to me before. I didn’t…I didn’t know.”
Varka’s eyes widen. You aren’t sure why at first, but then he lifts his fingers to your cheek. With a light brush, he draws a bead of tears off of your face, returning his hand to himself soon after.
Your lower lip trembles. You stifle a sob, forcing your head down so you don’t have to look into those knowing blue eyes. As tears roll down your face, running their salt into your wailing mouth, Varka sits quietly before you, patient. You wish he’d just go away—but something within you begs for him to stay where he’s at.
The throbbing in your core intensifies. Tearing your fingers into your skin-tight bodysuit, you let out a strained gasp.
Varka’s hand rises, then hesitates. Right when another soul-ripping contraction shoots through you, he places his warm palm to your face.
“Oh,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut.
His hand feels nice. It’s warm and large, and it imparts his scent right into your sniffling nose. The pain within you quells for a moment.
“...How did you find me?” you ask.
“...I was worried about you,” he answers. “I noticed your pheromones were different from usual, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t taking another solo mission. Imagine my surprise when Herta told me you ran off on your own again.”
Your brows furrow. With your eyes still closed, you ask, “How did you even notice something like that?”
“Hm? I’ve known you for a long time, pumpkin. I’m used to your scent.”
Your core pulsates again. You reach up for Varka’s wrist, pressing your panting maw into his fingers.
“Please leave me alone,” you say, but your grip on him grows stronger.
“I can’t do that. Not when you’re like this.”
“So what?” you drawl. “You gonna fuck me?”
“I…uh…”
Your eyes slide back open, narrowed Varka’s way. It’s hazy, but you can see how far that red color sits on his cheeks. He’s a man through and through—excited at the chance to violate you—a dog just like the rest of them. Even when they have something they want, they’ll always crave more.
“I don’t think Nicole would like this,” you growl.
Varka immediately raises an eyebrow. “Nicole? What does she have to do with anything?”
“Ugh, don’t play dumb with me. I’ve seen how you look at her.” Your voice is sharper than the edge of your sword, even though your heart cries out in pain because of it. “Always giggling and teasing each other…she’s too beautiful of a woman for you to go cheating on her like this.”
“I think we’ve got a major misunderstanding here,” he answers, blinking rapidly. “Nicole’s a talented witch, sure. I respect her, but I’m not in a relationship with her. I’m not even sure why you’d think that…”
You can’t trust a dog like Varka—those warm eyes of his are just a farce. Just like any other alpha who’s tried to court you, he’s only after one thing. He’ll fuck you, tell you how much he loves you, then walk away from you like all the others. Because you’re too high maintenance. You ask for too much. You demand perfection, and no one can give that to you because no one is perfect in the way you want me to be, you bitch!
“I…I’m just gonna keep a lookout,” Varka explains, his throat bobbing. “Make sure you get through this okay. And that you don’t go wandering off to Starfell Valley trying to cut down hilichurls again. Are…you thirsty?”
He tries to move his hand, but your fingers form a vice-like grip around his wrist. You feel the stretch of his other arm reaching over his torso, then the cool sensation of a glass against your cheek.
“You should probably drink something,” he says.
You open your lips. He pauses, but then he brings the glass to your mouth for you.
One slow swallow, two. You’re done now.
“You should drink more,” he insists.
You obey, even though you don’t want to. The heat’s probably getting to your head.
“That’s good. Are you hungry at all?”
“No,” you mumble. “I’m just in pain.”
“...Sorry.”
“It’s not like it's your fault.”
“Well, uh…I’ve been wondering about that.” Varka gives you an awkward smile. “I think, uh…maybe I came onto you a little hard. That one night.”
“Ugh,” you say, your nose furling in disgust. “Don’t remind me of that. We were both drunk out of our minds.”
“Right, right. Super intoxicated and everything…I’m guessing that means you don’t remember what you said to me.”
Varka’s wincing. You’re wincing too.
“I told you about my ex—.”
“—you told me you wanted to be imprinted on.”
You both speak at the same time. When Varka’s words settle in on you, your grip on him goes from hard to harder. Blinking furiously, you feel heat consume your face in a fiery vortex when you snap, “Did you fucking imprint on me?!”
“You asked me to!” he sputtered back. “And you were really cute about it! And I…I think you’re a great woman. You’re beautiful and you’re strong and capable…so at the time, I thought…why not?”
“I was drunk!”
“I was too!”
“Fuck,” you say, burying your face into Varka’s palm. “You’re telling me the reason I’m in heat right now…is because you went and imprinted on me two weeks ago? And you didn’t think to tell me?!”
“I was trying to,” he says, his brows sloped with concern. “But you’ve been avoiding me like crazy since then. I haven’t had a single chance to talk to you.”
He has a point. You’ve been avoiding Varka like he’s the spawn of the devil himself, all because you were embarrassed by what you shared with him. You had lamented your grievances about your past relationship, how your partner refused to imprint on you despite claiming to love you more than anything. Then, how he up and left you one day, claiming you were too needy for him to force himself into a lifetime of commitment to you.
You’re crying. Varka brings both hands to your face, stroking his thumbs along your cheekbones. Your vision is already hazy from your overpowering heat, but the tears falling down your face make Varka’s face blur. You despise that you can’t get a clear picture of him, of that ruggedly handsome face with that charming scar.
“This is my fault,” Varka says. “I should have known better.”
Your lip trembles. In a soft whine, you ask, “You regret it?”
“Huh? No, no—of course not. I mean, I regret that I made such a life-altering decision for you when we weren’t in our right minds…but I don’t regret imprinting on you.” His face comes closer, so you can see him better. His clear blue eyes hold yours steady when he says, “You’re the only person I’ve met who’s even made me consider it. Even before that night.”
Your heart skips a beat, but your rational mind overrides it—Varka’s well over forty by now. He’s just being a dog, deceiving you like all the others. There’s no chance that a man like him, as handsome and loveable as he is, hasn’t found the perfect life partner yet. And even if he hasn’t, there’s no way that it’s you.
You run your hands along the ridges of his forearms. Throat tight, you whisper, “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“Hey. Do I look like I’m lying to you?”
His eyes don’t stray from your own. For once, Grandmaster Varka isn’t wearing a shiteating grin, but a solemn line across his lips. That face is far too sincere for you to doubt its intentions.
“But,” you whimper, your shoulders trembling with another sob, “I’m needy.”
“Then let me know what you need.” His lips quirk up at one corner. “That’s pretty simple, isn’t it?”
Your core throbs again, hot and begging. Still, you ask, “What if my expectations are too high?”
“Then…I guess I’ll have to grow a bit taller.”
He gives you a stupid grin and you love it. Something within you propels you forward, right into that pink-lipped smile of his, and kisses him with a grazing touch of your lips.
Immediately, the room feels ten times hotter. You smell something woodsy and bold, growing more and more fragrant by the second.
Varka abruptly pulls your kissing lips away from him. With a loud and bumbling laugh, he says, “Oh, uh, would you look at the time? I’ve really gotta go all of a sudden!”
“What?” You frown, your nails digging into his toned arms. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Nevermind,” he says quickly. “I’m staying right here.”
A shiver runs through your skin when you realize that your omega call has already begun. Varka’s all but powerless to disobey you now, as the alpha who swore his undying fealty to you on that drunken night. The desire to serve and be subservient runs red through the both of you, ejecting to the very tips of your soul with every provocative heartbeat.
Another painful throb clenches your insides. You moan, and Varka moves to kiss you again. It’s chaste, just like it was the last time, but it helps somewhat. That woodsy smell continues to loom around you, drifting by, yet never quite wrapping itself around you. If you could blanket yourself in it, you would.
Ah, so it’s his fault that you can’t bask in it the way you want to. Frowning rather pointedly at him, you hope that look gets your intent across.
“Wait, you…” He chuckles, nervously. “Don’t tell me you don’t want me to suppress it. I mean, if it builds up too much, you might hurt even worse, pumpkin.”
Your frown deepens. “But I want it.”
“Well…fuck,” he chuckles. “Guess I can’t say no when you put it like that.”
As though a latch has been popped open, Varka’s pheromones flare. The smell fills your lungs, warming your chest with earthy tones and firewood fragrance. It’s comforting, wrapping around you like the blankets at your lap, caressing your pain away under the softness.
“…Ngh.”
Varka lets out a small, strained noise, lowering his head from your gaze. You immediately whine—you want to see his eyes.
“Sorry,” he says, thrusting his face back into your view. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” you answer, stroking those broad forearms of his up and down. “I like this.”
“Well...alright. I’m here if you need anything else.”
“Mm.” Your eyes fall shut. “I know you are.”
When you wake from your nap, your face is still cradled between Varka’s palms. His eyes widen when they see yours, and with a rather alarmed look on his face, he surveys you up and down.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fi—ow.”
Your voice dies in a hiss. Your belligerent uterus is back at it again, chiding you for not filling her as she demands it. She sends even more moisture out of your protesting hole, making you so wet, you’re concerned for the sheets beneath you. Before you can apologize for the mess, another wave of pain knots your insides.
Varka hesitates, but then he leans forward. He presses his mouth solidly to yours, just his lips, but he lingers a bit longer than the last few times.
The feeling doesn’t dissipate like it had before. This brush of contact barely even hampers it. You keel forward, anguished.
“Wh…” Varka’s tongue flicks across his lower lip. “What do you want me to do?”
You’re hurting too much to think right now. Irritated, you snarl, “Can’t you decide that?!”
As soon as the words leave your lips, you’re regretting them. They’re far too harsh for a man who’s only trying to help you. Too high maintenance. Your lips furl into another frown, your eyes well up with tears, and you whimper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—mm.”
His lips press to yours again, but this time, his hot tongue enters your mouth. He shuffles forward on his knees, bringing his body closer to yours on the edge of the bed, and strokes your face as his lips work against yours. It’s a far deeper kiss than those prior, almost like the one you shared that night he imprinted on you. When you exhale into the moist cavern of his warm mouth, you feel him moan against you.
Immediately, he pulls his mouth away. He’s blushing. “Feels better?”
Your mouth slowly presses shut. You swallow down the taste of Varka, your eyes gazing after him longingly as your craving deepens.
Then, another throb of pain wracks through you. It’s not as bad as the ones before, but it’s still a nuisance.
“Kiss me again,” you mumble.
He doesn’t waste any time. Catching your lower lip between both of his, he sucks you with a gentle pressure. His tongue presses into that lip of yours until your mouth’s widening, and then his breath’s back in your throat again. You crane your head for him, but you barely need to move to reach him. Even on his knees like this, Varka’s so tall that his face lines up with yours perfectly.
Those hands on your face pull you away, but before you can whine, they pull you right back in. Your nose flattens against his.
The pain in your core shifts to overwhelming pleasure. You’re sure Varka can smell it as well as you can—the call of your biology, knocking down the doors to his DNA. Your body carries a simple message: Breed me.
Varka’s hands squeeze your face, practically mashing you into him. That woodsy smell of his is turning deeper, muskier. When his breath tickles your throat, you moan.
You want to be wrapped in more than just his scent. Those forearms you’re stroking up and down, the broad ones that could throw you over the bed effortlessly if he wanted to—you want them to wrap around your back, hold you up in the air, and give him the leverage to fuck you.
When he draws away from you, your breath comes in short, desperate pants. A thin trail of saliva connects your lips, and when the strand breaks, you whine.
“H-hang on,” he says. “How do you feel?”
Nothing hurts.
“That’s good. I think we should take a break.”
“No,” you mewl. “Kiss me again.”
“You’re breathing way too hard for that.” Varka chuckles. “Catch your breath first, pumpkin.”
You guess he has a point. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now you’re aware of your shoulders as they heave up and down. You’re envious of Varka and his tall lungs, how they make him so adept at kissing you breathless. You try to press your lips closed, but it’s too hard to carry air through your nostrils alone. Dropping your jaw once again, you continue to gulp for air like a fish out of water.
“Kiss me,” you demand still, half-delirious. “Kiss me, Varka.”
“You’re gasping for air, pumpkin—.”
“Kiss,” you spit, “me.”
Hesitation crosses over his face. It’s an apprehensive look, one that you know all too well.
You’re asking for too much again. You always have to go and ask for the moon and more, don't you? Now you’re starting to make Varka doubt his choice, doubt his fealty, doubt his sworn loyalty to the princess you clearly think you are.
Tears are back. Archons above, has your heat always made you so volatile? It’s been a good while since you’ve actually endured one, what with your suppressants and all, but you can’t recall ever being so turbulent.
Varka doesn’t ask what you want him to do this time. Instead, he cranes down, pressing his lips to your neck.
It tickles when he peppers his mouth down your skin. Your breath is still ragged and fast, and with each brush of air through your larynx, Varka’s lips make you feel like you’ve got a feather at the back of your throat. He slowly descends the length of your neck, sweet and soft kisses all the while, before coming to the flat of your upper chest, just under your collarbones.
The hands on your face fall away like leaves drifting on the breeze. Slowly, surely, they curl around your hips, the warmth of his hands permeating through the fabric of your clothes. You’re still gasping when he opens his mouth, but when he sucks at your skin, you let out a wrangled cry.
His pressure is gentle, but as his jaw moves, his chin rubs against the chest of your bodysuit. Your breasts crave for his attention, the blunt edge of his chin making you envision something else there. You imagine it—pink and pulsating, spewing precum. Maybe even shooting his hot seed onto your tongue, making you swallow it. Curling your fingers into Varka’s tousled blonde hair, you chew your lip and groan at the fantasy. Your thighs squeeze around him, daring to entrap him against your soaking heat.
“Ngh,” Varka grunts, pulling his kissing lips from your touch-starved skin. “That…that good enough, pumpkin?”
No, of course it’s not. You never learned how to take one instead of taking all, especially not when you knew you deserved it. Archons forbid you demand the most of your partners, when it should be them bowing to address your every need. Just like Varka does for you now.
Ah, you’re so happy you could cry again. But then a different kind of smell grips hold of you, one tainted with the odor of sweat.
You turn your gaze to Varka. His shoulders are heaving like yours had been just moments ago, his eyes focused on your chest. As his fingers flex around your hips, the lump in his throat bobs.
You slip your hand to his cheek. His eyes flick up to yours, heady with something you can’t name. He exhales a shuddering breath.
“Sorry,” he says. “Your pheromones…they’re so strong right now.”
Meaning…?
“I’m…really hard.”
Well. You suppose he has been working valiantly to meet your needs. Maybe it’s about time for you to return the favor. You’ll hit two birds with one stone this way, right?
“You should—.”
“—your thighs,” he says over you, his face saturated with rouge. “Could I…just use your thighs?”
Varka didn’t want you to take your clothes off, but now he’s hovering over you completely naked, every inch of his glorious skin yours for the perusing. As he props your crossed ankles over one shoulder, he caresses your shin with a tender stroke.
His cock sits between your thighs, so thick that you can’t mistake it, so long that it reaches your navel with every pump of his hips. Even with a layer of fabric separating your cunt from his shaft, your own arousal penetrates through so thoroughly that you almost feel like he’s gliding against you.
You place your hand to your torso, just above the point Varka hits on the curve of your belly. If you wanted to, you could reach down and touch it, feel the twitch of his glans against your fingertips.
Varka lets out a breathy sound, light but low-pitched. You can’t see him all that well with your heat-acquired nearsightedness, but you sure hear him breathing. They’re hard and shaking things through his mouth, punctuated by the rub of his hips.
“This okay, pumpkin?”
“Mhm.” You blink your lashes slowly, trying to make out the contours of his musculature with your hazy eyes. “You can go faster if you want.”
“Sure,” he says breathily.
His strokes quicken. It’s nothing desperate, but each time his pelvis snaps to yours, a wet smack reverberates through the room. You twitch between your thighs, relinquishing a small grunt.
“Fuck,” he breathes, then, “Sorry.”
“…Are you apologizing for swearing?”
“No, I…” He groans. “My scent. You feel so good, that I…it might get worse.”
If by “worse” he means “more pungent”, then as far you’re concerned, that’s a good thing.
“I don’t want to overstimulate you,” he says. “Maybe I should just stop.”
“No,” you say, squeezing your thighs around him. “Keep going.”
“Pumpkin,” he gasps, “you’re gonna end up needing me to mate with you if I don’t stop.”
“You don’t want to?”
It’s blurry, but you can read that expression across his face all too clearly. He stares at you with lust in his eyes, his jaw hanging low. A feral sounding rumble starts up in his chest, vibrating through your mind like the engine of a distant motorbike. It’s Varka’s call—the call of your alpha.
“I want to,” he whispers.
You immediately maneuver your right leg over his head, settling your ankles on either side of him. You reach down between your legs, pulling the wet fabric laid over you aside.
You’re curt.
“Do it then, Varka.”
You’re practically folded in half under Varka. Thanks to the stretch of your legs, pinned by his shoulders, his face is only a hair’s breadth from your own. It hurts a little, but getting to stare into his sky blue eyes makes it so worth it.
His tip smears thick fluid along the length of your cunt. He’s working his shaft in his hand, rubbing himself up and down against you as he pants breathily onto your face. Shakily, he asks, “You sure?”
When his thick head rubs against your clit, you let out a hot whimper. Your cunt clenches again, hungry for him. Nodding desperately, you sputter, “Just put in.”
“A-alright…”
The pressure of his glans alone assaults every nerve ending you have. As he presses forward, you stretch to accommodate him, a bit at first, then gaping. You always knew that Varka was big—the glances you routinely stole at the crotch of his trousers was a testament to that—but by the Archons, you were not expecting him to rip you apart.
“You okay?!”
Varka’s voice is panicked. He stops, just his tip inside of you, and with hot tears pouring down your face, you whine, “Please don’t stop. Please.”
“But you—!”
“Fuck,” you wail, your fingers clawing into his biceps. “Varka, can’t you just listen?”
Rushedly, he says, “Sorry.”
Pushing further into you, his girth forcing your inner walls farther apart, you lean your head back and cry. You want him to keep going, until he’s stuffed you full of him, until his cock’s so far in, it just might fuck straight into your womb. You claw at him, gripping for purchase along the backs of his arms, and with a start, realize you’re chanting, “Please, please, please, please, please—.”
Varka lets out a hiss. His fingernails bite into the sheets by your head, the scrape of them tearing through the fabric. As you listen to the linen rip, you feel your insides behave similarly.
“Oh, Gods,” you’re sputtering, blinking the tears out of your eyes. “Blessed Archons. Oh, fuck.”
He withdraws, your walls following the shape of him, and with a wet squelch, he stuffs you full again.
“Varka,” you’re moaning, your head tilting back into the pillow. “Varka, please.”
He reaches down, cupping your face between his palms. With another rough, womb-bruising thrust, Varka pulls your eyes back to his, making you look at him as he pants over top of you. The sensation of his weight fixed to your legs, of his length as it rams into you—it’s almost too much.
But you never learned how to stop at your limits. No, you were born to crave more.
“Kiss me,” you choke out.
It hurts, but he puts more of his weight onto you so he can do what you’ve asked of him. It hurts, but it feels so sweet when his mouth collides with yours, when the flavor of Varka’s mouth burns itself into your tastebuds. He’s calling again, rumbling in his chest like a purring animal, and you respond by moaning your own call down his throat. Breed me, you’re saying. Breed me.
Your hands move down to his thighs, thick and sturdy. As you cling onto them, Varka moans and fucks you harder. The bed’s shaking, the room probably is too, and your brain’s going fuzzy from the way it vibrates in your skull. Varka’s kissing lips move to your chin, giving you a possessive bite as he growls, “You feel so good, pumpkin.”
Oh, Gods, Varka. You can’t handle it when he talks to you like that.
“You’re doing such a good job,” he snarls. “Taking me so well.”
That snap of his hips is cervix-numbing.
“You’re so good, pumpkin. You’re so, so good.”
No, no, no, not yet—.
“Go ahead,” he growls between sloppy kisses to your face. “Go on and cum for me, honey.”
Oh, fuck.
Varka’s mouth comes back onto yours. He’s kissing you so deep, you’re not sure if you’re cumming from the thrust of his tongue or that of his huge dick. Hot, wet squelches of skin-on-skin accompany your cries, drowned out by Varka’s kissing mouth. Your hole grips him, relaxes, then grips with a fervor. You want him to cum with you.
He laughs, his cock coming to a stop inside of you. You don’t feel it twitching.
“Varka,” you whine. “You didn’t cum.”
“You did,” he replies. “I think that’ll be good enough to keep the heat cramps at bay.”
Who cares about the heat cramps? You just care about getting bred, getting pumped so full of Varka’s seed that you’ll carry it in your belly for months. He withdraws from you, your own cum trailing out in his wake, and you’re so incredibly frustrated with yourself.
“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I’m not good enough.”
“What? No, no, no!” He presses butterfly kisses to your forehead. “No, don’t say that, pumpkin. You’re perfect.”
“Then why didn’t you cum?” The tears run down your face in rivulets. “I wanted you to cum.”
“I just,” he sputters, “I’ve got a bit of a libido, I guess. But you seem tired, so—.”
Your nails claw into his triceps.
“Keep going,” you wail, crying for him like an omega cries for her mate. “I can keep going, Varka, I promise. I can do this for you.”
“Pumpkin—.”
“Let me do this for you,” you gasp. “Please.”
Varka’s voice quivers. Brushing his thumbs under your eyes, he murmurs, “Okay. Let’s get your legs down, though.”
You don’t realize how badly your muscles burn until he sets you back into place. You bring your lip between your teeth, pleased with the aching pain.
“Can I…turn you over?” Varka asks. “Put you on your belly?”
Breath shaking in the woodchip-scented air, you immediately nod.
You quickly decide that you love this angle.
Varka’s cock fucks into you from behind, pressing you between the mattress and his solid weight. His lips kiss the back of your neck as he ruts forward, giving you hot licks and the occasional, possessive bite. He was light at first, but when you told him you needed more, he let his teeth out, let the bruise of his ownership sink into your skin.
His knees push your legs out further across the mattress, one at a time. The way it opens your pelvis for him makes you shudder.
Harder. Faster. More. You demand it because you know he’s capable of it.
His tongue drags across your neck, hips bucking down harder. You feel the prod of his tip bulge through your belly with each thrust, like he’s trying to fuck himself through your pussy and into the mattress beneath. It sends searing stars through you, but it’s so good that you never want it to stop. Your toes curl up, your feet brushing against Varka’s calves as you absentmindedly lift them, too overcome with pleasure to properly control your limbs.
Your gnawing teeth break through the linen of Varka’s pillow. Downy feathers stick to your wet lips, and you sputter in an attempt to get them out. When Varka notices what you’ve done, he laughs, and it makes you moan.
God, do you love that laugh of his. It’s possibly even better than the rumble of his call.
“Oh, pumpkin,” he says, as if he’s heard your thoughts. Low and rumbling, he growls, “You’re gonna have to take it.”
You erase your previous thoughts from your memory. Nothing is better than that feral call of his.
“Fuck,” he snarls, rugged and heavy. “You’ll take my cum, won’t you, honey?”
Yes, yes, yes, of course you will. It’s what you’ve wanted more than anything, before he stuffed you full of him, before you kissed those lips, before you even fell to your knees in that monster-infested field. You don’t know how you’re only just realizing it.
“I love you, Varka,” you whine into the damp pillow. “Please cum in me.”
His teeth pierce through your skin. You wail, he groans, and with his hips smacked solidly to yours, he does what you’ve asked of him. This whole night has been riddled with your requests, but he answers perfectly to each and every one. He doesn’t complain about it, he doesn’t call you needy, and he makes you feel so incredibly cared for.
“I love you too, hon,” he purrs into your skin. He laps at the spot he’s bitten, licking your pain away. With another shallow rut of his hips, he throbs within you, spewing hot seed against your most delicate inner walls. Against your ear, he says, “I’ve loved you for a long time now.”
Fuck, you’re crying again. “How long?”
“A few years,” he murmurs. “But I knew you were in a relationship, so I didn’t want to say anything.”
“You should have just told me,” you whimper.
“Ha…you’re right.” He grins against your ear. “We coulda saved a whole lotta time, huh?”
He chuckles, and that makes you smile. Reaching back for his cheek, you stroke it with your fingertips, letting your eyes fall closed. You’re full of unbridled affections and Varka’s love, and you couldn’t be more content if you tried.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he croons. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
With a soft laugh, you nod.
a/n: ive seen some people share 5k+ word fics on tumblr...so i decide to go ahead and try it too! hopefully that helps my readers who would rather stay on tumblr!
thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments appreciated! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡
masterlist
state mandated breaks — varka x reader, NSFW, oneshot
summary — varka needs to stop drinking and focus on work. your genius strategy includes becoming his temporary supervisor. unfortunately for you, if it's not drinks that distract him, it's you instead.
themes — office sex, creampie, big dick dicking ya down, smut and humor, established relationship, kof!reader, reader's a good knight, varka is not
WC: 1.5k | ao3
⭐ chai's readers' favs
Grandmaster Varka had a bad habit of overindulging in drink and underindulging in work. You drafted a simple solution to help him remedy this.
“Act Three of the proposed solution to remodeling the new knights’ training program, huh…”
Slap!
“Owch!”
“No drinking. Focus.”
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with a little drink here and there, right? You know you want some.”
You knew Varka was grinning and popping his eyebrows based on his blasé tone alone. Seated in his lap, you refused to give him the satisfaction of your ireful gaze. Pointing at the legal documents that lined his desk in copious stacks, you said, “Until you make it through at least three codices, no drinking for you. I’ll join you in solidarity, if that helps ease your mind.”
“Solidarity, huh?” he asked, his breath ghosting across your cheek. “You know what else you could do to show some of that good old solidarity, pumpkin?”
“I’m not doing your work for you, Varka.”
“Ha! It was worth a shot.”
Varka's arms curled around your waist, pulling you further into his lap. Placing his lips by your ear, he said, “You know, you’re something of a distraction yourself, hon’. Do you really want me to finish these boring papers, or do you have an ulterior motive?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, please,” you replied with a sigh. “When I supervise you from across the room you just sneak drinks in when I’m not looking. That, and you pretend you’ve finished your work in an unreasonably short amount of time. I figured this might be the best method to keep the unruly Grandmaster in line.”
“Keep me in line, huh? Sounds interesting.”
His large hands traveled down to your legs, squeezing your thighs beneath the skirt of your dress. You felt warmth flood your face as your brows furrowed, your hands moving immediately to reposition his. With a slight turn of your head his way, you asked, “Do you have to make everything I say sexual?”
“Not everything you say…just most things?”
“Varka—.”
Your breath hitched when his fingers crept along the flesh of your inner thighs. He kissed your neck before raising one hand to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze through your clothing as his other hand slipped under your skirt. Your body jerked involuntarily, your fingers curling tighter around Varka’s wrist as he began to swirl his hand, two thick fingers pressed right up against your clit.
“How cute, sweetheart,” he murmured, rumbling and ticklish against your windpipe. “You’re already wet.”
“S-stop that,” you answered, blushing fiercely. “You’re so coarse.”
He laughed. “You must have really been thinking about it, huh? Maybe…you were gonna treat me to something like this after I obeyed your orders?”
“You’re ridicu—lous!"
You leaned your head back, moaning when he rubbed your clit faster. Varka’s touch was incendiary, leaving you hardly any room to breathe pressed between him and the pine-topped desk. He loosened your collar to free one of your breasts, letting out a satisfied croon when his large palm met your supple flesh.
“You’re so cute, hon’,” Varka purred. “Fuck, I’m getting hard.”
“V-Varka! This isn’t appropriate at all! Anyone could come to seek an audience with you, and you’re—! Erk!”
Thick fingers thrust into your hole, fucking you up to his knuckles. Varka had been right when he mentioned your wetness—the motion of his fingers between your inner walls made slick noises as they curled back and forth inside of you, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive patch of nerves. Embarrassed, you stifled a breath with the bite of your teeth and made as though to pull his hand away.
“Don’t like it?” he asked coyly.
“Shut up,” you murmured.
“Ha, my bad. How about something a little bigger then?”
Breathless, you nodded.
On your honor as a knight, you should have known better.
Slam! Slam! Slam!
As the desk rocked back and forth, your eyes were focused on the man above you. Golden rivulets of beer ran down his face as he chugged his flask, one hand supporting your calf as he pounded you atop of his paperwork. He let out a refreshed-sounding sigh when he brought the flask away, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand before letting you taste the alcohol on his thumb.
Your mouth opened compliantly, your face growing hotter when Varka pushed against your tongue. You closed your lips around the pad of his finger, pressing your eyes shut while you gave him a gentle suck.
He laughed, a low-pitched sound that always managed to make it into your dreams. Pressing his calloused thumb against your smooth tongue, he encouraged your jaw to fall, smearing spit along your cheek as he withdrew with hand. Your brief respite was replaced by Varka’s tongue on yours.
His mouth tasted of Varka, tonic, and gin—your favorite flavors as of late. As he kissed you, he continued to rock his hips, filling you with his thick, long cock every time. Sparks shot through you with each mash of his head against your womb, but your legs locked around his hips anyway, giving him encouraging pulls with each of his cervix-abusing thrusts.
When he pulled his mouth away from yours, a shimmering strand of saliva connected you to each other. He paused for a moment, breathing your air and making you taste his, all while his blue eyes remained focused on yours.
A flush spread across your face. Embarrassed, you threw your gaze elsewhere.
With another hearty laugh, Varka returned to his full standing height. He shot you a charming grin, showing you his picture-perfect teeth as he seductively popped his brow. You followed his hand to your pelvis, then his thumb, slick with your own saliva, to the nub between your legs.
Your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your voice. Back arching, you instinctively tightened your leg-lock around Varka’s hips. Pleasure flooded each and every one of your nerve endings, leaving you searing under his touch.
Varka laughed at you, his eyes twinkling with mirth. As sweet as he was on the Mondstat streets, he showed you no mercy when it came to his sheets. Overstimulated and flustered, you threw your arm over your eyes and grit your teeth.
“Come on, honey,” he said, panting. “You’ll make me proud, won’t you?”
“Varka,” you choked out. “You’re insufferable.”
“Love you too, pumpkin.”
“Oh, Gods above,” you mumbled, your cunt clenching hard. “Varka—.”
Your back arched once more, strong contractions wracking through your lower body as a rush of euphoria hit you like a tidal wave. He chuckled as he watched you, rubbing your clit even harder as your legs splayed on either side of him. With a solid grunt, his hips came to a stop, and eight inches inside of you, you felt the rapid twitch of his cock. He was cumming, and so were you.
You were breathless. Placing your hand over your lower abdomen, you felt the lump prodding out into your skin, Varka’s tip. As he withdrew, the lump in your belly receded until you were free of him. His cum trickled from your hole and onto the files below you, but you were too lost in the sensation of your spasming cunt to care.
Varka leaned over you as your orgasm continued, cupping your cheeks between his hands and giving you a warm, sloppy kiss. You gripped his wrists, squeezing as you parted your lips to kiss him harder. He let out a pleased moan, his deep voice rumbling through the membranes of your throat and into your brain.
“Pumpkin,” he murmured between sweet, lavish kisses. “Wanna go again?”
As you came down from your peak, his request slowly dawned on you. Staring up at him in bewilderment, you were lost for words. The skin between your eyebrows dimpled.
“You’re just trying to get out of doing your work!”
“I-it’s not like that!” he replied, but his grin was laced with guilt. “I just think our time might be better spent with one another.”
You huffed. “I’ve tolerated this for long enough, Grandmaster. Now help me up and get back to work.”
He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I must say, Varka—I hate reading through codices as much as you do, but does that mean you have to hand me the…sticky ones?”
Kaeya’s eyes had a knowing glint to them as he slid the stack of papers across Varka’s desk. The Grandmaster gawked, half-smiling, half-cringing, and fully glad that you weren’t around to bear witness to any of this. You’d probably beat him into next week if you ever realized he had doled out codices with a side of you.
“My bad,” Varka said quickly, trying his best to make his awkward grin meet his eyes. “I must have, er. Spilled some milk. I’ll be sure to deliver you a proper copy by noon.”
Kaeya scoffed through his nose. Smirking, he said, “Sure thing, Grandmaster. Don't worry—I won’t mention it to her.”
Bowing his smoldering face to his palms, Varka let out a sigh of relief when the door to his office finally swung closed.
this is a crosspost of my oneshot state mandated breaks. if you liked it, please consider leaving a kudos! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
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