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her-satanic-wiles · 9 months ago

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Kinktober Day 16 - Exhibitionism

Papa Emeritus I x Reader

You are a sex worker at the Ministry, performing sensually behind double-sided glass, indulging in fantasies of being desired by Primo. As Primo watches you with intense longing, he succumbs to his own pleasure, yet his desire for you only deepens, fueling a craving to possess you completely.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 4.4k.

Reading Time: 18 min.

Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, gang bang fantasies, masturbation, mentions of gang bangs, nipple play, objectification, self-objectification, vaginal fingering, voyeurism

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

Author’s note: Hi, everyone!

Today’s fic draws inspiration from the Edo-period (1603–1868) red-light district of Yoshiwara, where peep shows were a popular form of entertainment. Although the exact names of these peep show structures are not well-documented, they provided secluded, intimate viewing spaces. Visitors would discreetly observe courtesans or sexual performances, reflecting the controlled nature of these environments.

These voyeuristic setups were part of the broader ukiyo (“floating world”) culture—a space dedicated to escaping societal norms through pleasure, indulgence, and art. Activities ranged from public erotic performances to private encounters facilitated by intermediaries, such as in tea houses or pleasure chambers. Yoshiwara wasn’t just about sexual activities; it also fostered artistic expressions like ukiyo-e prints and literature, capturing themes of fleeting pleasure and desire.

In modern Japan, venues like Nozoki Beya (peep rooms) mirror some aspects of these historical practices. Nozoki Beya allows customers to watch performers engage in erotic acts, either live or behind glass partitions. These booths offer a voyeuristic experience similar to the setups of Yoshiwara, with a strict separation between viewer and performer.

The popularity of establishments like Nozoki Beya grew in part from legal loopholes created by Japan’s 1956 Anti-Prostitution Law. After World War II, Japan saw a rise in unregulated prostitution and forced sexual slavery. To combat this, the law banned prostitution (defined as vaginal intercourse for money). However, other sexual services—such as non-penetrative acts—remained legal, leading to the growth of businesses like Nozoki Beya.

These venues operate within legal boundaries by prohibiting direct physical contact between customers and performers. They require local government licenses and are subject to zoning laws, which restrict their operation to areas like Kabukicho in Tokyo. Adult entertainment businesses cannot operate near schools, parks, or residential areas, but the ambiguous nature of Japan’s laws creates some gray areas. Venues often navigate the fine line between legality and illegality, especially when performers’ actions approach the limits of prostitution.

While this fic takes inspiration from both Nozoki Beya and the historical practices of Yoshiwara, it is not a direct depiction of these activities. All characters featured are adults above the age of 21, and everything in the story is entirely consensual.

Enjoy the story!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The red glow of the octagonal room enveloped you, the soft light casting playful shadows that danced across the mirrored glass. You settled onto the padded lounger at the centre, the silk of your robe clinging just enough to tease the senses. This was your space, a sanctuary of seduction where you could lose yourself to the performance, even if the audience remained unseen.

You adjusted your position, allowing the fabric to slip from your shoulder, exposing a hint of skin. You caught your reflection in the glass—a captivating sight that both excited and empowered you. You loved the way it felt to perform, the thrill of revealing just enough while holding back the rest.

But tonight, beneath the intoxicating haze of incense, there was a yearning that stirred deep within you—a desire for a particular gaze. You wished Primo would come to watch. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, the ache of wanting to be seen by him amplifying the heat radiating in the room. You imagined his dark eyes on you, exploring every curve and movement, but the truth was, you had no idea if he would show.

With each languid stretch of your limbs, you painted a picture for the invisible audience. You smoothed your hands over your thighs, the subtle caress igniting a fire in your belly. In the back of your mind, you whispered a silent plea for him to appear, to share in this intimate moment, even if he remained hidden behind the glass.

You leaned back against the cushions, your lips parting ever so slightly as you exhaled, an invitation carried through the air—a sound meant for him, even if he was still just a thought. In this world of shadows and reflections, you held onto hope that he would find his way into your light.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the rhythm of your breath guide you. The anticipation thrummed in the air, urging you to embrace the performance. With a soft smile playing on your lips, you let the tension ease from your body, focusing on the sensations that rippled through you.

Opening your eyes, you began to move, each motion fluid and deliberate. You arched your back slightly, allowing the fabric of your robe to slip further down your shoulder, revealing more of your collarbone. The mirrors caught every angle, reflecting a beautiful illusion of yourself—a vision you hoped would entice anyone watching.

You leaned forward, your fingers grazing your thighs, slowly tracing circles on your skin as if inviting the audience to feel the heat emanating from your body. The room felt electric, each subtle movement weaving a spell of seduction that filled the air. You thought of Primo, picturing him in your mind as you performed, his presence a silent motivation that pushed you deeper into the moment.

You turned your body slightly, allowing the curves of your hips to catch the light, shifting to give the reflections a tantalising view. You imagined Primo’s gaze, how he would study every detail, and the thought quickened your pulse. Would he appreciate the way you teased the fabric, pulling it closer to your body, then letting it slip away again?

As the performance intensified, you let your hands roam, exploring your own body as though it were a work of art. The sensuality of it filled you with a confidence that radiated through the glass, mingling with the faint scent of incense in the air. You could almost feel the heat of his gaze upon you, igniting a deeper yearning that urged you to give more.

You shifted again, propping yourself up on one elbow, your body poised in a way that accentuated the curve of your waist. You locked your eyes onto your own reflection, the desire within you manifesting in a wicked smile as you teased the edge of your robe, letting it slip just enough to suggest what lay beneath.

With your heart racing, you let the energy of the moment sweep you away. The way the fabric caressed your skin sent shivers down your spine, urging you to explore further. You took a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of your body and the power it held in this intimate space.

You shifted again, letting your legs fall open slightly as you reclined back onto the lounger, propping yourself up on one elbow. The angle provided a tantalising view, showcasing the curve of your hips and the softness of your thighs. You could almost hear the whispers of admiration from an invisible audience, and you imagined Primo’s eyes drinking in every detail, a mixture of longing and desire.

You began to play with your hair, letting the silken strands cascade down your back and across your shoulders. With each movement, you wove your fingers through your locks, drawing attention to the graceful lines of your neck and collarbone. You could picture him captivated, lost in the way you transformed even the simplest actions into something alluring.

Feeling bolder, you lifted your hand to your chest, tracing a path down the fabric of your robe, teasingly pulling it aside just enough to reveal a hint of skin beneath. The warmth of your own touch sent a rush of heat through you, and you relished in the delicious tension that filled the air. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze pressing against you, urging you to go further.

Primo stepped into the booth, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and excitement. The moment he entered the dimly lit space, he was enveloped by the warm glow of the red lights that pulsed softly around the octagonal room. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, a vision of seduction reclining on the lounger, the silk of your robe glistening under the soft light. The way you moved was hypnotic; your hands glided over your skin with an elegance that left him entranced. Each deliberate stroke drew his gaze, the rhythm of your touch igniting a fire within him.

He watched as you leaned back, arching your back just enough to accentuate the curve of your waist. The robe slipped slightly from your shoulder, revealing the delicate expanse of your collarbone. He felt a surge of desire at the sight, his heart pounding as you showcased your body, unhurried and deliberate.

Primo shifted in his seat, the anticipation thick in the air. He didn’t want to miss a moment; your every movement was a tantalising tease that left him yearning for more. He could hardly believe his luck in being here, hidden behind the glass, able to witness this private performance. The thought of you, completely unaware of his presence, only deepened his desire.

As you ran your hands over your thighs, he could feel his pulse quicken. The way you traced your skin, as if awakening every inch of your body, sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned forward, entranced, hungry for the sight of you unraveling before him. The intimate atmosphere heightened every sensation, each flutter of your fingers igniting something primal within him.

“Sathanas, you’re stunning,” he murmured under his breath, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to draw you closer, but the barrier of glass kept him safely on this side of desire. It was both exhilarating and torturous, and he found himself lost in the depths of your performance.

You lifted your hand to your chest, teasing the fabric of your robe, revealing just enough to stir his imagination. His breath hitched as you let the robe slip further, showcasing your curves, your skin glowing in the red light. Every moment felt electric, the connection between you palpable despite the separation.

Primo’s breath caught as you pulled your robe down, revealing the soft swell of your breasts. The sight sent a jolt of desire through him, tightening his grip on the edge of the booth as he leaned forward, completely captivated. The delicate curve of your body, coupled with the seductive way you played with your nipples, was intoxicating.

You teased the sensitive peaks, rolling them gently between your fingers as you gazed at your own reflection, lost in the moment. Each flicker of your movements seemed to pulse with life, and he could hardly contain himself, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming. The glass barrier between you was both a comfort and a torment, separating him from the intoxicating beauty before him.

He adjusted his position, feeling the fabric of his papal robes shift against his skin, the weight of them rubbing against his hardness. The thrill of being here, watching you—bare, uninhibited, and so incredibly alluring—left him with an insatiable hunger that only you could satisfy.

The way you surrendered to your own pleasure stirred something primal within him. He imagined the soft sounds of your breaths, the way your body moved with an almost liquid grace. The tension between you and him felt electric, charged with the unspoken connection that bound you in this moment. He wanted nothing more than to see how far you would take this performance, to witness every nuance of your desire.

“Damn it,” he whispered, unable to tear his gaze away. You were exquisite, a living embodiment of sensuality. The thought of you writhing beneath his touch sent a rush of heat through him, and he clenched his fists, fighting against the urge to reach out and break the barrier that separated you.

You sneaked your hands lower, fingers gliding down the curve of your waist and past your thighs. The air in the booth felt charged, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away as you spread your legs, revealing everything to him. The intimacy of the moment was electrifying, leaving him breathless and entranced.

The soft glow of the room highlighted your most intimate parts, and the sight left him utterly captivated. His heart raced in his chest, the primal urge to reach out and touch you coursing through him with every passing second. You were so beautifully exposed, unashamed in your sensuality, and it took everything in him to remain still behind the glass.

He watched as you let your fingers explore, your touch delicate yet purposeful. The way you arched your back, the soft moans that slipped from your lips, ignited a fire deep within him. His pulse quickened with each small movement, every sigh echoing in his ears like a siren’s call, drawing him deeper into your world.

As you continued to caress yourself, he could see the way your body responded to your touch—the slight quiver of your thighs, the way your breath hitched as you sought pleasure. His fingers itched to feel your skin, to explore the soft curves that were so tantalisingly close yet impossibly out of reach.

Every instinct urged him to close the distance, to step through the barrier and claim this moment for himself. The tantalising notion of being the one to elicit those moans, to draw forth your pleasure, filled his mind. It was maddening, the way you performed with such confidence, utterly unaware of how completely you had ensnared him in your web of desire.

With a quick glance around the booth to ensure his privacy, he reached beneath the soft folds of his papal robes. His fingers brushed against his arousal, a low groan escaping his lips as he began to pleasure himself. The sensation of his hand moving over his skin was electrifying, an echo of the pleasure you were experiencing, and the thought of you heightened every stroke.

His eyes never left you as he matched his rhythm to the movements of your hands, each caress of your body a tantalising tease that drew him deeper into desire. You were a vision of pure ecstasy, and he could hardly contain himself as he watched the way you surrendered to the pleasure, each sigh and moan igniting a fire within him.

As he pumped his hand in time with your movements, he imagined what it would feel like to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. The fantasy of being with you, of tasting the sweetness of your body, pushed him closer to the edge. He bit his lip, stifling the sounds of his pleasure as he focused solely on you.

You were an exquisite performer, every inch of your body a work of art that left him breathless. He could see how you arched your back, the way your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. It drove him wild, the thought that you were lost in your own world while he was completely entranced by the scene before him.

“Please,” he murmured, the word slipping past his lips unbidden, a silent prayer to the universe for a chance to be closer to you, to feel your body entwined with his. The moment felt electric, every touch of his hand against himself echoing the rhythm of your exploration.

Primo’s breath came in ragged gasps, the world around him fading away until there was only you, your body, and the sweet tension that hung in the air. He was lost in the spectacle, a willing captive to the allure you created, his pleasure entwining with yours in a beautiful, forbidden dance.

As you reclined on the lounger, every movement felt amplified, each stroke of your hands igniting a flame of desire within you. The soft glow of the red lights illuminated your skin, highlighting every curve and contour, and you revelled in the feeling of being on display. There was something intoxicating about knowing that people were watching you, their eyes glued to your every movement behind the glass.

With each slow caress of your body, you felt a surge of confidence. The sensation of your fingers gliding over your skin was heightened by the knowledge that you were captivating someone—drawing them into your world of pleasure. You leaned into it, letting your hands explore, each stroke deliberate and sensual. The heat pooling in your belly grew as you imagined the desire radiating from the booth, the silent, hungry gazes locked onto you, drinking in the sight of your performance.

Being on display like this was thrilling, a rush of power that electrified your senses. You relished the idea that your body was an object of desire, a canvas upon which fantasies were painted. There was a heady mix of vulnerability and empowerment in sharing such an intimate part of yourself, and you leaned into that feeling, letting it wash over you.

The glass separated you from the outside world, creating a cocoon of intimacy that made the experience all the more exhilarating. You caught glimpses of shadows moving behind the transparent barrier, a silent acknowledgment of the connection being forged in that space. Each sigh that escaped your lips felt like a call to them, an invitation to join you in this moment of pure indulgence.

As you spread your legs wider, the thrill of being so exposed sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You played with your nipples, your body responding eagerly to your touch, and you savoured the sensations that coursed through you. The slight pressure, the way your skin tingled, all combined to create a symphony of pleasure that resonated within.

You felt like a goddess, commanding attention and desire, the thrill of the performance fuelling your every move. You enjoyed putting on this show, the way it pushed you to explore the boundaries of your own pleasure. You knew that your every gesture, every gasp, was met with rapt attention and longing, and it filled you with an exhilarating sense of purpose.

As you dipped your fingers inside yourself, a wave of pleasure coursed through you, intensifying the connection between your body and the exhilaration of being on display. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering to the sensations, but your thoughts drifted to him—Primo—and the way he would be watching you with such intensity.

But then your mind wandered further, teasing the edges of fantasy. What would it be like to be ravaged by all three papas? The thought sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You imagined Secondo’s bold, dominating presence, the way he would claim you with a fierce passion, igniting a fire within you. His touch would be rough yet tantalising, pushing you to the edge of pleasure and beyond.

And then there was Terzo, with his playful charm and mischievous grin. You could almost feel his hands on your body, exploring and teasing in ways that made your breath hitch. He’d pull you into a world of sweet torment, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging for release.

But it was Primo who held your attention now, the way his gaze penetrated you even from behind the glass, a silent promise of what could be. You pictured him joining in, commanding the room with his presence, taking control of the scene as he directed the two others to pleasure you together. The thought of being surrounded by them, each one focused solely on your pleasure, sent a wave of desire washing over you.

You thrust your fingers deeper, letting the pleasure build as you imagined the three of them, each taking their turn to ravish you, to claim you in their own unique ways. The heat coiled tightly in your belly, and you could almost hear their voices urging you on, calling you to lose yourself in the moment.

The fantasy felt so real, your body responding to the idea of being the centre of their attention, of being worshipped and desired by all three. You envisioned the scene vividly—bodies entwined, hands exploring, the air thick with the scent of desire and the sounds of pleasure. The thought of being at their mercy, of being claimed by each one in turn, made your heart race.

As you continued to pleasure yourself, you moaned softly, your breath hitching as the fantasy enveloped you. You were lost in the throes of ecstasy, the image of the three papas circling your mind, igniting a fire that left you gasping for more. It was a delicious thought, and you reveled in it, letting it guide you deeper into pleasure, unashamed and utterly consumed by the fantasy.

You thrust your fingers deeper inside yourself, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. With each movement, your mind remained locked on Primo—the way he watched you, those intense eyes filled with desire. The thrill of being on display for him alone heightened every sensation, every gasp that escaped your lips.

You imagined him leaning closer, captivated by the sight of you giving in to your own pleasure. The very thought of him watching you, taking in every intimate moment, stoked the flames of your desire even higher. You could almost feel the heat of his gaze enveloping you, making you feel alive and exposed in the best possible way.

As you continued to tease and caress your body, you relished the idea of him being the sole witness to your pleasure, the one person who understood the intricacies of desire. You could picture him leaning against the glass, his breath hitching as he watched you pleasure yourself, each gasp and moan pulling him deeper into the web of your exhibitionism. You reveled in the idea of being the star of his fantasy, a beautiful spectacle designed solely for his enjoyment.

The way he must have reacted—his breath quickening, desire coursing through him like wildfire—made you want to push even further. You arched your back and spread your legs wider, giving him an even better view, and you felt a thrill race through you. You were not just performing; you were offering yourself to him, inviting him into this moment, even if only in his imagination.

With each thrust of your fingers, you thought of how he would react, the pleasure reflected in his eyes as he watched you give in to the waves of ecstasy. The connection between you two felt palpable, as if the glass that separated you was nothing but an illusion. You imagined him whispering sweet nothings, encouragement urging you to let go, to revel in your own pleasure and the thrill of being seen.

You could feel your climax building, a wave of heat pooling low in your belly, and you surrendered to the fantasy of him—his presence dominating your thoughts. The intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, and you savored the connection that seemed to transcend the barrier between performer and observer.

As you neared your release, the thought of his eyes on you, filled with longing and desire, pushed you over the edge. With a final thrust of your fingers, you cried out, the sound echoing in the intimate space as pleasure coursed through you. In that moment, it felt as if it were only the two of you in the world, lost in the shared experience of desire, connection, and the exquisite thrill of being on display for him alone.

Primo leaned back in his booth, the glass between him and you amplifying the thrill of the moment. Watching you was intoxicating, a sensory overload that consumed him entirely. The way your fingers glided over your skin, the gentle arch of your back, and the soft sighs escaping your lips stirred something primal within him. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as he realised how much he craved this—craved you.

His heart raced as he observed every intimate detail of your performance. The way you surrendered to your own pleasure, completely unguarded and exposed, ignited a fire deep inside him. He imagined what it would be like to join you, to feel your body beneath his hands, to taste the sweetness of your skin. The fantasy enveloped him, pulling him deeper into the realm of desire.

He watched as you dipped your fingers inside yourself, the sight sending a rush of heat through his veins. It was a sight he could have only dreamed of, and the knowledge that you were performing just for him heightened every sensation. Each thrust of your fingers seemed to draw him in closer, making him feel as if he were part of the scene, even from behind the glass. He could hardly breathe, caught between the beauty of the moment and the longing that surged through him.

Primo’s hand moved instinctively, mirroring your movements as he began to pleasure himself. He matched the rhythm of your fingers, the connection between you two electric. Every moan that escaped your lips was like a sweet invitation, urging him to give in to the raw, primal urge coursing through him. He imagined the warmth of your body, the taste of your skin, the sound of your breath—everything combined to create a world where only the two of you existed.

He could feel the tension building within him, an overwhelming urge to break through the barrier and claim you. The thought of being the one to worship your body, to push you to new heights of pleasure, sent shivers of delight down his spine. You were a vision of pure ecstasy, and the sheer thought of you belonging to him, even for just a moment, was enough to drive him wild.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, the sound of your cries echoed in the small space, wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. Primo’s own release was imminent, and he let himself be lost in the moment, caught in the exquisite blend of desire and satisfaction. The image of you, utterly consumed by your own ecstasy, pushed him over the edge. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that washed over him, feeling every pulse and throb as he gave in completely.

As the wave of pleasure crashed over him, Primo surrendered completely to the moment, his body tensing with the intensity of his orgasm. He watched as his release spilled forth, hitting the floor in rhythmic splatters that echoed softly in the intimate space. The sight was primal, raw, and it only heightened the exhilaration coursing through him. Each pulse sent shivers down his spine, a testament to the fierce desire that had been building within him since he first laid eyes on you.

But even as he rode the waves of his climax, his thoughts remained fixed on you. The scene was etched into his mind, the image of your body writhing in pleasure, fingers buried deep within yourself, and that glorious expression of ecstasy on your face. It was intoxicating, and as his heart raced and his breathing began to steady, he felt an even fiercer craving ignite within him.

Despite the release, his desire for you burned hotter than ever. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to taste every inch of you that had been laid bare before him. The throes of his orgasm only served to amplify the need that coursed through him—a desperate ache to possess you completely.

Primo could still see you, the way you were lost in your pleasure, utterly uninhibited and inviting. The thought of all the ways he could worship your body, of how he could take you higher, sent a fresh rush of need through him. He wanted to be the one to make you moan, to feel you quiver beneath him, to guide you to the brink of ecstasy time and again.

He leaned closer to the glass, a silent vow forming in his mind. This was only the beginning. The tantalising connection he felt—though brief—had awakened something within him that couldn’t be easily quelled. Each pattern his release left on the floor was a reminder of the intensity of the moment, and it made him crave you even more.

Even as he began to come down from the high of his orgasm, he knew one thing for certain: he wanted you. The fierce desire that coursed through his veins felt almost unbearable, a need that demanded to be fulfilled. The thought of you lingering in his mind, a haunting echo of what he had just witnessed, was enough to stoke the flames of his passion anew.

He wanted to know the taste of your skin, the feel of your body beneath his, and he could only hope that this performance was just a prelude to something far more intimate. For now, he was content to watch, but deep down, he knew that he would do anything to make you his—now and forever.

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goth-mami-writer · 1 year ago

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💙 Reserve 💙

~ (AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader one-shot/drabble

~POV: You're an exotic dancer who is a potential lead on the missing person's case Leon is assigned to. When his chief suggested that Leon provide round the clock supervision for your safety as the case continued …it was the least to say that he wasn't happy.

☆☆☆☆☆

《 “Well-” Leon's boss suggested as they both sat in his office that morning, “I can't put her with one of our married men around here, Kennedy. She's a stripper for God's sake!!”

Leon hung his head in defeat, not wanting to argue with his chief further on how exactly they needed to keep you safe as they caught this perp. He was profiling dancers in nightclubs, and the disappearances just kept coming.

You worked at one of the more lucrative clubs in town, so you knew johns that came and went throughout the night. Your information would lead to a breakthrough in this case. He knew it. But Leon shook his head wondering why he needed to be the one to babysit you.

In his own home?

“Leon, the mayor is on my ass about this-” The chief murmured, lowering his voice when he mentioned the mayor,

“I know it ain't ideal. But just keep her shacked up for a couple weeks, eh?”

He agreed with a heavy sigh and said unamused, “When do I pick her up?”

The chief mentioned that you were already waiting in his office, which meant that this little meeting was more-so a warning than a suggestion. Leon rolled his eyes and stood now to retrieve you.

It wasn't that he disliked you. It wasn't some kind of bad stigma with your career either. In fact it was the opposite. He'd only spoken to you twice and it was easy to say that he was attracted to you. This little infatuation distracted him from his work on the case. Even as he enjoyed your overly friendly attention, he sometimes wondered if it might be some kind of seduction plot just for your own entertainment.

You liked watching him squirm and wince with flattery from your flirts and teases. He knew the redder he grew in the face while next to you, the more joy you'd find in torturing him slowly. But he had a job to do and he couldn't afford any detours in his focus.

He opened the door to his office and saw you sitting in the chair across from his desk. Your long legs were crossed, already in high heels at 9am. Clearly, your hair was wet from a shower, probably from being woken by an early call about this new living arrangement. Even in a thin sleeping slip that your mink coat covered- God you were beautiful. You just didn't need the makeup and club attire.

Your eyes shot up with an alluring, mischievous smile that wadded his insides every time and you purred as you greeted him playfully,

“Mornin’, Roomie.”

He scoffed with a smile and closed his door, knowing he wouldn't need anyone seeing him get flustered just by talking to you. He felt stares already from just hearing your voice inside of his office.

“I take it you heard the plan.” He said, noticing that you came with a duffle bag and a backpack, undoubtedly full of your clothes and other belongings.

“Oh, yeah.” You said bouncing your ankle softly as you spoke,

“Bossman and I hashed it out. I'm not gonna cramp your style, am I?”

He wondered if you were serious with that remark. Tensely, he came close, sitting in the opposite chair to speak to you with what felt to be an urgency about how this living together… thing would work out. He mostly wanted to lay down ground rules about how busy he would be during the day. And how he couldn't have any nighttime temptations to deter him away from work.

You watched as he tensed his hands together, trying to gather words but your attention quickly fell to the eyes that peered into his partition glass. You recognized a few of his coworkers as once paying customers and it made you chuckle softly. Leon watched as you raised your hand up to wave facetiously across the office and he yanked the blinds shut aggravatedly.

He sighed your name with the bridge of his nose pinched stiffly and you shook your head before mentioning the obvious,

“Detective, you're a little inexperienced with ladies, aren't you?”

“I'm not a virgin-” He snapped back defensively in a mutter with his face red.

You gasped to hear that his first interpretation of that mention was about sex. Your catching smile grew at its widest when you finally sized him up just right as to why this new change in setting would be so hard for him,

“Well, I didn't say anything about screwing, honey. That was you. ”

Leon shrunk back defeatedly after realizing he had given his true feelings away just then. He scoffed in surrender and looked at your silent enjoyment of his misery, making him become a little vulnerable.

Truth was, when he spoke to you he was always so strangely…comfortable. You treated him like he was understood and validated in his woes and worries. It was part of the turn-on. Besides the obvious show-girl appeal that he was reluctant to admit that he liked.

When he finally spoke, his words moved slowly with careful emphasis,

“I won't ask you to do this again. But..can we keep this little talk between us?”

You smiled, becoming fascinated by his means of discreteness and you nodded, telling him to be as honest as he liked, you could handle it.

“...I'm gonna fuck up this case if you're bunking with me. I just know it.” He said with softer eyes that begged for you to understand where he was coming from. You smiled to reply now in that playful, come-hither tone that often made him twitch,

“Why is that, detective? Am I a distraction? Come on. It's not like I'm strutting around naked-”

Your eyes narrowed in to antagonize him but he didn't falter when he replied with words that froze your playmate demeanor from moving any further.

“-You don't have to be.” Leon said before you finished your thought,

“You look at me, and I'm distracted.”

He thought in that fleeting moment of the first time he saw you. After speaking with him on the phone, you invited him down to your club for a one-on-one about the goings-on that could lead to a break in potential suspects.

He felt dirty walking into a gentleman's club, even a high-end one. Especially when he had to ask for one girl in particular using a rather salicious stage name. But when you crossed the floor, he realized that this couldn't have been something he regretted.

You were cunning and witty. Obviously, you knew the ins and outs of conversation. He couldn't play into the back and forth, but God, he wanted to tell you that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever talked to. Even about nothing more than the case.

You felt your jaw drop for a different reason now. Secretly, you expected some half-cocked fantasy of what he wanted to do with you when he took you home. Not this. Not this softness and sincerity. You shifted uncomfortably now, but only because that chord struck differently than the others.

The truth was…it wasn't an act. You didn't put on bedroom eyes to play your part in being the warmly erotic, street-smart dancer that was too good at her job. Leon was desirable. Not just handsome or intelligent. Your very feminine nature made you pursue him for his level headedness and maturity almost as if it was instinctive. As if even your insides knew he was a good man.

You leaned forward now to match his discreet manner and motioned with a finger for him to do the same.

“Is it my turn for secrets?” You asked in a soft murmur as you stared right into him.

He smiled, being quiet for you to tell your side of the situation,

“Every night that I work, I always have men tell me how bad they want to sleep with me and air out their dirty little secrets about me. But you know what I really like in a man? Something that I can't find in a room full of them?”

Leon felt his eyes focusing in and he asked what it was. But you waited. You knew how you wanted to answer but it was something you didn't want to tell him.

You wanted to show him.

You stood from your chair, not letting a sound escape from your throat other than the breath of courage it took to do this to a cop. One that wasn't paying for it, at least. Your knee planted down beside him before you straddled his waist entirely, letting yourself now gently sit in his lap to face him.

This was always the position you assumed right before a lap dance, and Leon tried not to gasp when you became so close. He could smell your sweet perfume - feel the warmth of your body.

You felt his chills and saw the breath he shakily let go of. It was a face you saw everyday. But his bothered expression was far from a dime a dozen. It was a work of art to see before you now. Your hands slid up his arms, your middle finger dragging against his sleeved shirt to feel the soft tone of muscle and brawn below. He must have been a masterpiece naked but you put that to the side for the sake of your own bothered expression appearing.

Leon's pulse throbbed but his hands remained on the arms of his chair as you touched him. He swallowed heavily and kept his eyes with yours, trying his best to judge what exactly you were doing. It felt so real. But was it? Nothing could have brought it on. Was it a test?

His eyes searched in yours to find the answers to the questions that were surmounting as his blood turned hot, flushing his face when your hand gripped at the choke of his satin tie, loosening the bind from his collar. He huffed in want when you looked to his mouth, leaning in for what he prepared to be a kiss but he closed his eyes, not leaning forward to meet your lips.

"She knows I'm at work. She knows I can't do this. This is a test.” Leon thought behind his closed eyes as your lips brushed against his with the same gentleness as a breath.

You opened your mouth, wondering if you could entice him to move- to follow his want for touch when a girl like you was perched in his lap.

You made one last move to prove your jagged point and you said breathily with what you knew to be a voice latent with desire,

“Touch me, Leon.”

You watched his hands remain still, glued to the chair practically and his eyes were begging you to have mercy on his needs.

He answered, firm and calculated in a grunt,

“No-...No.”

“There it is.” You said warmly in his ear, confirming to him that this was in fact nothing more than just a little test of his nature.

“Reserve. That's the sexiest thing a man can have for me. Men tell me that they'd scream from the rooftops to sleep with me. But I've been looking for the one that'd watch his hands shake just by the thought of it.”

Leon's heart drummed in realization that the feeling was mutual when he looked down to his trembling hands. Of course he'd never touch you for his own gratification alone. Even if you performed for money. He wanted you in ways that went so far beyond seeing you naked in a dark room. It was an attraction. But lust was merely the surface.

He was unsure still if he should try to make a move but your weight shifted. He sighed in relief when you climbed down from his chair, returning to your own with a small chuckle to his spent expression as he readjusted his tie.

“I hate to rush- but 9 in the morning is the middle of the night for a night owl like me. Think I can go ahead and get a tour of where I'll be sleeping?”

Leon still needed a second to recover from that rush of adrenaline but he nodded with a sigh,

“Yeah, I'll get you home. I'll make up the guest room for ya.”

“Aw-” You mentioned with a playful act of disappointment as you gathered your bags when he opened the door to his office- en route to the car,

“No room in your bed? I'll scoot over?”

“Don't-” He said, trying not to laugh, feeling that involuntary smile find his mouth. You'd caught on that he enjoyed the teasing, but just how much was something he'd still like to keep under wraps.

For now at least. There was a still a case to solve.

“Don't push it, okay?” 》

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

#leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #drabble #one shot

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courtingchaos · 1 year ago

Note

Anything with Steve! LOL

Dream Barista

Nightmare!Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

A/N: My dearest @bettyfrommars has let me borrow her Nightmare Steve for this little ditty. I’ve been thinking about the blurb she wrote for me during her prompt requests and I really just wanted to toss him in a situation. I’ve been suffering a bit in these first few weeks of summer so here’s a little spooky season for you.

No warnings!

18+ No Minors

“Do I know you?” You’ve been staring at the barista making your coffee for almost five-no…five minutes? Seriously how long has it been?

“Me? I’m not sure, I think I’d remember you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You frown when you say this, banter that feels weird in your mouth. Come to think of it your mouth just feels weird in general. Dry and cottony all of a sudden and a too big tongue. “I’m sorry, this is gonna sound stupid, but what did I order?” You’re eyes have not left this man but when he dips down to pull a container of oat milk out of the fridge there’s a flash of red, the back of his neck deep crimson under his fluffy brown hair.

He holds up a paper cup with your name scribbled on it. “Hazelnut Macchiato.”

There’s a huff behind you, a customer upset with their wait and the packed cafe probably, but you lean forward into the glass partition to get a closer look at the scribble. “I don’t usually get hot…drinks…” The black marks mean nothing. That isn’t your name and whatever has been written isn’t legible. Another huff behind you, closer now and you can feel the heat coming off of this person. “I don’t think that’s my drink.”

The barista suddenly seems nervous, eyes flicking behind you a few times before you catch his gaze again he smiles tightly at you. “This is gonna be stressful, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s just an iced coffee.” You try to make a joke but it comes out more like a cough when one of those bodies behind you bumps you forward into the counter. Words knocked out of you in a puff you try to turn around to ask what their problem is when you notice the cafe is packed. Full to the brim, to the gills, with a crowd of black eyed anger. People in all states stare at you as their voices raise to yell about wasted time. Meetings they’re late to. Children they have to pick up. Useless employees who can’t move faster. Rooted to the spot you stare back at them and panic. This really is your worst nightmare when they start moving forward to press the counter and you do the only thing you can think to do; climb up and over the counter and partition, kicking the espresso machine and banging your knee on your way down the other side.

No other employees are there as steam wands continue to push steam and grinders pull beans. A clatter behind the register makes your head snap over and there is one barista, the brunette man that was making not your drink. He’s taller than he was a moment ago and you try to say sorry for climbing over the equipment and breaking about a hundred food safety rules but the flash in his fist makes you choke. Long bread knife pointed at you-no, past you, but he advances with an apologetic look pinching his face. That crowd that grew is suddenly climbing like you did and you decide to run for the swinging black door to the back, hoping that you’re not making a mistake. It’s cramped and twisted but the chaos behind you pushes you forward into the maze, especially when you catch sight of that knife behind you. The twists are sharp, too many to make any sense but you can’t think of that right now, you need to get to that back door. Find that cold air outside and the stretch of highway that has to be out there where you can run in the open and find someone, anyone.

Like a mirror in a funhouse that fire exit is right in front of you for you to slam your body into, hands grasping at the large push handle that won’t budge. Voices raise in a cacophony of accusations but one rings out clear with your name. Of course it would be the knife wielding possible red skinned barista but when he makes it to you it almost looks like he smiles at you. The handle pushes open suddenly with a hard slap of your palm and cold air fills your lungs just before you get taken out at the knees with the large trash bin. Tangled immediately in blue bags of grounds and paper cups you feel the bin roll. Fingers grasp for the edge of plastic that should be right there but instead you grapple with bags that try to drown you, right until they don’t. A large hand pushes through and grabs yours, pulls up hard and there he is.

“Time to get out of here, if you know what I mean.” He grins and suddenly it dawns on you as he looms over you with longer hair curling up behind his ears. Paper with string and then red skin and dark eyes. “Devil.”

“Yes! Devil!” He points at the enamel pin on his black apron, a little horned devil next to a grinning skull. “You do remember me.” He smiles even as the beating behind the heavy door continues, even when it bucks against his impossible hold on it. The bright joy takes over and you can feel yourself smiling too, right until you get a tingle up your spine. Hairs on the back of your neck stand upright just before the air smells of ozone and lighting strikes the blacktop next to you.

You barely scream before he’s pulling you out of the large bin and dragging you across a parking lot that seems to morph under your feet. The horde from inside streams out from the back door now but the asphalt buckles and craters as more of them follow. Somehow the two of you walk fine but these monsters seem less monstrous now as they fumble and fall, grasping onto one another for balance as the coffee house parking swallows them up in big black clouds of dust.

“Steve what is-”

“Hey, you remembered my name!” He turns back to you fast and you’re not sure if you see it right, if his eyes were black and then soft brown. They’re warm when they’re on you though, smile touching the crinkles in the corners.

“Of course, I just don’t…what is going on?” This has to be a dream. A nightmare actually when you think about the customers turned hungry mass and the thunder that has suddenly shown up. Before you can pull at him to slow down it’s like a switch is flipped. Rain falls in a sheet turning the world grey. “Steve hold on!” You have to shout over the din of the rain hitting the ground, spattering in the mud that your shoes are stuck in now and-

“Am I dreaming?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” It’s obvious now. Is this what lucid dreaming is? You look around to see the world has changed. Through the heavy rain you make out small hills around you, molding you and Steve into a valley wreathed in trees showing off their golden colors. Thick maple leaves cling to branches and wispy ginkgo flutter to the ground as the rain begins to lighten up. Your fingers still clutch at Steve’s but it’s only drawn him in closer, another shift in reality as he holds a leather jacket out to you from seemingly nowhere.

“Here, it’s gonna get a little cold.”

It’s warm like he’s been wearing it the whole time and he holds the collar up so you can slide your arms in. “I’m really confused.”

“I bought us a little more time.” He nods his head towards an incline and holds up an arm for you to fall under. “Not much, but enough for me to actually show you some stuff. No mermaids tonight though.”

“The face eaters?” You remember this suddenly, a motorcycle rumbling between your knees as you clung on for dear life before…before what you can’t remember that but it doesn’t matter right now. Steve is warm and he holds you against him as he takes you around a thicket of trees to a little set up.

“Did you make a picnic?”

“Kind of.” He’s bashful and you finger the pins on his lapel, nail tracing the raised edge of the devil horns. “More of a resting place.”

“Oh, morbid. I like it.” The flannel blanket is soft under you. The sunset burns oranges and purples in unrealistic hues and the trees around you drop endless leaves that tap lightly on their falls. Steve sits beside you, quiet and watching the side of your face, studious like you might disappear at any moment. If you’re right and this really is a dream, you suppose that could happen. Tonight though you’d taken some of those sleep gummies so maybe he’d be stuck with you for longer than planned.

“That doesn’t really have a lot of bearing on all of this.”

“Can you read my mind?” You ask with a laugh and sharp look. Steve shrugs and sighs before he winds a hand around your hip to pull you closer and back towards him where he falls backwards onto the blanket.

“A little?” He says it like a question but you find you don’t much care. Not with him it seems, not with this comfort you’ve found in sleep, something that has eluded you for most of your adult life. The sun isn’t setting like it should, it just hovers along the horizon and you watch little smudges of black flit across the light, either bats or birds or something other. Trying to get comfortable against Steve’s shoulder you realize your hair is still wet while the rest of you is dry like the grass around you.

“Sorry about that, I just needed a quick transition.” His smile is soft like his hair and his eyes and you feel lulled. Safe and comfortable like you’ve made a bed out of nature and him and dreams.

“I like the rain, it’s just sometimes the thunder scares me. Makes me feel like the world is gonna spin out.” You curl into his chest and catch a whiff of coffee for just a moment. Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids suddenly. “Were you…did you make me coffee earlier?” Sleep has caught you it would seem and you can feel how lax you go, fingers falling out of their places twisted in his shirt as his own grip tightens around your shoulders. Under the roasted scent there’s a latex smell, something sweet and aged with a hint of pumpkin. Cinnamon? God it smells like something you can’t put your finger on.

“Maybe. I do make a great a cup.” He’s quieter now as you seem to fade fast, his grip more secure as you relax further. “Next time I won’t chase you out with a bread knife, okay?” He whispers into the crown of your head and it gets a tired chuckle from you. “I’ll leave the thunder out too, I just needed you a little scared so I could get some more time.”

“No I liked the storm. Bring that back with you.” Another deep sigh before it feels like you’ve missed the last step into the basement and suddenly, you remember. “Halloween.”

“What?”

“Halloween boxes, decorations. It’s your mask.”

He feels your last words spoken into his shoulder as you mumble them against him and he can smell it now too. In your hair and his jacket, something sweet and warm that makes him think of aisles of masks and taper candles. Pumpkins that match the ever present deep sunset on this horizon and the dry leaves that stick to the damp, dying earth.

You’re gone before he realizes it and he slaps a hand down hard on the flannel blanket where you just were. The stage under him reverberates with his hit and the lights above him switch from warm tones to cool. He can’t linger for long, not when Ed has already brought more eyes down on this department, but he does linger. You remembered the mask and his name and next time? Next time you’ll remember the sunset and the warmth. When he stands and picks his jacket up he catches the fading scent you brought with you and he braces himself to leave the small sound stage.

Tomorrow night, he thinks to himself, tomorrow night I’ll bring you a sweeter sleep.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Fluff #Steve Harrington x Reader #Nightmare Factory Steve #My Work #My Fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Wasted 9

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

(Yes I'm procrastinating rn)

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You sit behind the glass and yawn in the deathly din of the transit office. You lazily scroll a finger over your phone. The brief rush has dissipated so now you're free to read old forums about the cult classic show you've been bingeing.

Despite your hours being cut, every shift feels too long. The time is dull as most people buy their passes online or get tickets at a kiosk in the mall. So you work is minimal and the pay even less. Not to mention, your patience.

You lean your chin in your hand and press your finger to your lashes, trying to keep the old mascara from stinging your eyes. The chirp of the sensor has you sitting up and you nearly bite your tongue as you try to greet the customer. Not him!

“Closed,” you lie and reach for the metal gate above, struggling to clasp onto the handle.

“Hours say–”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” you snarl and hop, rolling down the grate and slamming it into place.

You swear as it hits your phone, knocking it through the small slot under the glass partition, locking it out and you in. You lock the bottom, not caring about the burner. Fuck it, you only ever text Snicky.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky stops by your phone, bending to pick it up, “how many of these you lost so far?”

He wiggles the phone at you, am eighty dollar Polaroid piece of shit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, what's happened to customer service these days?” He tuts and comes closer, shoulder broad and rolling. “Look, I'm not here for me, right?” He tucks your phone in his jacket pocket, “my friend, Steve, the string bean, he likes you.”

“I don't fucking know you. Or him. And I don't wanna know you–”

“You don't? Cause I think I got to know you pretty well–”

“Fucking ass–”

“Let's not keep going through this, alright? Now, I've been pretty damn nice. Do you know how much you can learn from a phone? I know you're about thirty-seven dollars in overdraft and your Instagram keeps popping up with pictures of that dumb girl that hangs off you.”

“How, I–”

“Locked me out? You think,” he taps on the glass on the other side of the gate, “what if I made you a deal?”

“I'm not into the hard stuff,” you scoff.

“Didn't seem to mind it,” he winks, “maybe coulda gone for something lighter…”

“What do you want?” You bark.

“Alright, alright, like I said, it's not me,” he smirks, his gaze creeping up and down your figure. “My friend, he's got no luck with the girls. Told me you stood up for him. That's sweet despite… being you.”

“So you wanna be my pimp? Oh, fuck off–”

“A date. That's it.” His hand tightens in his pocket, gripping your phone. “Humour him. He's been moping about you all week.”

“Yeah right, I'm not stupid–”

“You won't see me. Really, I got plans. Saturday's are good for business, not worth the cut.”

Your nostrils flare. You want to be done with it, him, that club, and all the losers who hang out there. You bite down and cross your arms, glaring at him.

“How about… three hundred?” He offers. “Up front.”

He shifts and pulls the phone out of his pocket. He sets it before the slot in the window then reaches into his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and counts several bills.

“He'll pay for dinner. He's the old fashioned type, you know? Just wear something sexy.”

You scowl, furrowing your nose as your mouth dries. You can't believe you're even considering this. Are you that low?

Well, hes offering as much as you get in a week and the last chunk of your rent. So yes, you are.

“Saturday?” You ask crisply.

“Seven,” he slides the money and phone against the bottom of the gate, “I'll send you the time and place.”

“If I even hear your name–”

“Relax,” he backs up, “I got mine. Just take it easy on my pal.” He smirks and uns his thumb along his bottom lip, “he's a virgin.”

“You're nasty.”

“Oh I know I'm just your type but he's better for you,” he chuckles and turns, stalking to the door, “and if you don't show, I'll be back to collect and trust,” he pauses, “I always get what I'm owed.”

The door swings shut and you stare after him. Slowly you look down and unlock the gate. You push it up and reach for the phone and the bills. The skinny one can’t cause you that much trouble, can he?

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the club #au #drabble #series #wasted #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

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myuntachi · 10 months ago

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Yodaka Natsume Novel - Ten Nights of Dreams

The Fifth Dream

proofreading: aca, aera, niri, tsukimi

— Such was my dream.

The world of the far, far future.

I was held captive in this world, having been charged with some serious crime after violating the laws of space-time travel. The details were unclear. I had no clue what I had done. I tried to remember, but I just couldn’t.

It was always like this.

Incredibly important matters were always left forgotten; no matter how hard I tried, they would always slip through my fingers. There was something I was always hoping for, waiting for as I wandered aimlessly, akin to a wrecked spaceship left adrift in the cosmos.

“Hey, Barkeep… No, Yodaka-san.”

Yuda stood on the other side of a glass partition. He stared at me intently with a pensive look on his face.

I raised my head and Yuda blinked, just once, tapping his fingers twice upon the table.

“You’ll get the death penalty at this rate. Are you really okay with that?”

It was inevitable. If it had already been decided, there was nothing that could be done.

Just one more time.

I want to meet them once more.

But, who?

… I couldn’t remember even that much.

“You can’t keep waiting for them. You and I, we’re going to live,” Yuda said.

His voice was gentle in its invitation, his tone almost pleading. However, I could not accept this.

“Please. If you’d just take my hand, I could save you.”

I knew that if I took Yuda’s hand, I certainly might be able to escape those vast worries and regrets.

“This void of yours, your future, I’ll fill it all for you.”

“What do you say… Alright, I’ll wait for your answer, until dawn breaks and the birds sing.”

In that case, birds, I hope you never sing.

“Ahhh… Yodaka-san reeeally is a wimp. Or, maybe you’re just stubborn?”

Indeed, with this forgetful brain of mine—

“If you’d just accept it, I could get you out of here.”

“Their” voice rang out as if delivering a divine message.

“Ah…!”

”Cock-a-doodle dooooo~ It’s morniiiing. Well, actually it’s still pitch black outside, but it’ll be morning soon~.”

“...”

“The last customers went home while you were dozing off. Should we get to closing?”

The bar was empty, devoid of life. Instead, the subtle scent of alcohol, the aroma of the flowers Nagi had delivered, and the classic jazz Chouun was playing filled every corner of the room.

“A bird… I see, so it was a chicken…”

“Ah, well, if you woke up from it, it must’ve been a rooster’s call.”

”I thought he was talking about a different kind of bird.”

“I guess you woulda preferred a pretty little cuckoo? You had another weird dream, huh.”

I gave a hesitant laugh; he was right on the mark.

“I was in a far-off world of the future.”

“...... That so.”

For some reason, Yuda seemed at a loss for words, biting down on his lips. But after just a moment, he returned to his usual cheery self, smiling brightly.

“I don’t really dream much. Must be nice to get to see so many interesting things while ya snooze~”

That may be so. I'm sure there are people who'd enjoy experiencing an adventure in these dreams. But, my mind was filled by a void, and I often found myself unable to distinguish between dream and reality.

The future and my memories always pass me by like flowing water, not stopping for anything.

"Perhaps it's even possible that ‘this here’ is a dream and ‘that over there’ is reality."

Yuda blinked, just once, and tapped his fingers twice upon the counter.

“Yeeah, yeah. Well, I don’t really get it. But doesn’t that just mean you’re the one who gets to pick which is which?”

“… That’s, true.”

”Why don’t you try deciding now? What’s a dream, and what’s reality, that is,” Yuda said with a laugh, but I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that right now.

“I’m not very good at making decisions. It’s a bad habit of mine, you know.”

Every time I awaken, I find that the border between dream and reality becomes blurred. Standing on that border, I find myself in a constant loop of thinking and forgetting.

Reality is a dream, and dreams are reality.

Which was better? As for me, right now—

I still wasn’t sure.

[previous]

#myun translations #18trip #18trip translation #l4mps #yodaka natsume #natsume yodaka #i hope you enjoy this took me two months and multiple migraines to finish

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furnitech · 2 days ago

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Best Space-Saving Office Partition Ideas for Small Offices

In today’s fast-paced work culture, having a functional and space-efficient office layout is more important than ever—especially for small businesses and startups operating in limited square footage. When designed smartly, your workspace can not only feel bigger but also promote collaboration and productivity. At Vlite Furnitech, we understand the challenges that come with setting up or renovating compact offices. That’s why we’ve put together this guide on the best space-saving office partition ideas for small offices.

Why Office Partitions Matter in Small Workspaces

Office partitions for small offices are not just about creating boundaries. They help with space management, privacy, noise reduction, and better workflow. When chosen well, partitions can give your workspace a professional and organized feel without making it look cramped.

1. Glass Partitions for Office – Add Space and Light

If you're wondering how to make your office look bigger with partitions, glass is your best friend. Glass partitions for office spaces are sleek, modern, and allow natural light to pass through, making your office appear more open and airy. Frosted or tinted glass can provide privacy while still maintaining a connected atmosphere.

2. Modular Office Partitions – Flexible and Future-Ready

Looking for a flexible option? Modular office partitions in India are a top choice. As a leading modular furniture supplier, Vlite Furnitech offers ready-to-install modular solutions that can adapt to your changing workspace needs. Whether it’s a growing team or a layout shift, modular partitions allow you to reconfigure your space with ease.

3. Vertical Storage Dividers – Combine Function with Form

A brilliant idea in space-saving office furniture India is to use storage units as partitions. Think tall shelves or cabinets that act as office space divider ideas while providing storage. These dual-purpose solutions are great for maximizing small office spaces.

4. Sliding Partitions – Save Room for Movement

One of the best office partition ideas for small spaces is the sliding partition. These partitions don’t take up swing space like doors do, and they can be easily pushed aside when not in use. They're excellent for creating temporary meeting zones or separating workstations.

5. Folding Panels – Flexible Privacy On Demand

Folding screens or accordion-style panels are great when you need temporary privacy or want to hide clutter quickly. They’re lightweight, easy to move, and an affordable solution for startups looking for affordable partition solutions.

6. Desk-Mounted Panels – Define Without Dividing

If your office uses an open-plan layout, desk-mounted screens are subtle yet effective. These are perfect for individual workstations and provide enough privacy without enclosing the entire space—making them ideal modern office partition solutions.

7. Creative Use of Colors and Materials

Sometimes, you don’t need a physical wall at all. A change in flooring, ceiling design, or even paint color can act as an invisible divider. When paired with space-saving office partition ideas, this technique enhances the visual appeal of small office interior design India.

Tailor-Made Solutions for Indian Offices

Every office has unique requirements. That’s why custom office partitions India are a great choice. With the right materials and dimensions, Vlite Furnitech can craft partitions that match your brand and functionality needs.

Partnering with the Right Experts

To get the best results, consider hiring professionals offering office partition installation services and office space planning services. At Vlite Furnitech, we provide end-to-end office design and build services in India, including office renovation services India, ensuring you don’t have to juggle multiple vendors.

Our team of office partition contractors in India are experienced in delivering high-quality installations that maximize every square foot.

Quick Tips for Space Optimization

How to divide small office space smartly? Use glass or modular partitions with integrated storage.

Which partition is best for small offices in India? Glass or modular depending on your layout.

Interior tips for maximizing small office spaces include vertical design elements, light-colored partitions, and reflective surfaces.

Office layout ideas to save space should avoid permanent walls and use multi-functional furniture.

Why Choose Vlite Furnitech?

As experienced modular office partition suppliers in India, we understand what it takes to design a workspace that’s functional and inspiring. Whether you're a startup, a growing company, or renovating a compact workspace, we offer tailored solutions that are affordable, stylish, and space-saving.

Let us help you create a workplace where your team feels comfortable, focused, and ready to grow—no matter how small the square footage.

#SpaceSavingOfficeDesign #OfficePartitionIdeas #SmallOfficeSolutions #ModularOfficeFurniture #ModernWorkspaceDesign

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spacetech7 · 20 days ago

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Transform your workspace with SpaceTech Interior Systems Pvt. Ltd., your trusted partner for Glass Partition Wall Pune solutions.

We specialize in designing and installing premium Office Glass Partition Wall Pune systems that offer a perfect blend of style, privacy, and functionality. Ideal for modern offices, our glass partitions create open, light-filled spaces while maintaining professional boundaries.

#glass partition wall for office #office modular furniture pcmc #modular furniture supplier pcmc #acoustic sliding folding partition #office modular furniture supplier #acoustic sliding folding partition pune #glass partition wall pune #ceiling baffles supplier pcmc

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fjotla-vithir · 3 months ago

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VierApril Day 6: Criminal

Rating: E

Warnings: SA, blood, gore

Read below!

The Golden Canary was the Family’s most visited tea house in Othard, its halls and back rooms always packed with patrons from every corner of the star. The front garden was a beautiful Hingan oasis that had an ethereal koi pond at the center and several Sakura and maple trees scattered about the lawn that deposited leaves of red and petals of lilac onto the finely kept grass. Small stones were placed here and there to add a rougher decor that complimented the serenity of the garden, some of which had couples sitting atop their rocky surfaces either chatting away happily or engaging in public displays of affection that bordered on indecent.

Beyond the front doors was a grand sitting room filled with many kotatsus, each separated by a partition to give guests as much privacy as was available. The tables were surrounded by plush cushions and had a single water pipe on its surface as well as an incense burner and an ashtray. Occupied tables had tea sets or sake cups, sometimes both, and those sitting around them were drunk and happy as could be. Staff wandered about the tea hall in their native Hingan dress, serving tea or food to the various people at the tables. Behind a desk near the entrance was an elderly Auri woman, reading through a ledger over her moon-shaped glasses with a feather quill in hand. She would take notes here and there, and occasionally would be interrupted by a staff member to order an “additional service” for one of the patrons.

Those who ordered such services were then brought to the back rooms, a long warmly lit hallway lined with doors that had finely painted numbers in gold on their wood. Each room was a private quarter for customers to engage in a number of different activities, ranging from simple companionship to full blown sexual encounters. An individual’s tastes determined which room they received, but the escorts were all uniquely tailored to each customer. And then there were the “trial rooms”, where a person could order a cocktail of pleasurable experiences and explore the many different realms of ecstasy.

The Don offered a lot in his tea houses, but this was the house that offered the highest variety of services, thus there was a waitlist to even get a reservation for a table at this establishment. The demand for a spot was high, the supply even lower, so the Family was able to charge more exorbitant prices for the food, beverage, and many services. This, coupled with the extremely high quality of it all, led to The Golden Canary being one of the Family’s wealthiest criminal businesses on Hydaelyn. And with high-class dining came high-class whores, which Fjölla paid handsomely for their work - the nastier they were willing to get, the more they would earn for the job. Some customers wanted sick shit from the Don’s tea house employees, so whenever something particularly egregious came up, he was always sure to have one of his Capos, if not himself, be present in case something went horrendously wrong. There was usually also an apothecary and chiurgeon on the premises, but that couldn’t always be promised and when medical help was needed, it was Carrot who would be there to provide proper care.

Business was booming, but there existed major cons to the success. For one, Fjölla was operating all of his tea houses without paying any sort of tax to the governments of Othard, Kugane being the biggest complainer when it came to the Don’s doings. Additionally, though paid sex work wasn’t necessarily illegal in Othard (Kugane had its fair share of whore houses), several organizations had gathered with the core belief that what Fjölla was doing in The Golden Canary was not sex work but torture and corrupt. Several law officials were reportedly still negotiating on whether or not this was true, but there had been no real progress in determining what services were legal or not. Then there were the drugs. So. Many. Drugs. Most of Fjölla’s “party favors”, as they were dubbed, were peddled out of drug dens in impoverished parts of the larger cities, however a lot of people that frequented The Golden Canary were known to develop horrendous addictions to whatever poisons they were choosing within the establishment. The Don made it a rule to not sell out of his prized tea house, but rather get people hooked on these very dangerous substances and force them into situations they were unable to escape from.

Fjölla ruined lives with his so-called “victimless crimes”, he made a fortune doing it, and he loved it. But the one thing he loved more than making money through crime was committing the crime of murder. Something about taking the life of another really spoke to his soul, and he wondered if that had any relation to the voidsent he’d contracted. There was always a part of him that couldn’t stop thinking about the creature he’d met, the thing that demanded to be fed constantly and plagued his thoughts and nightmares. Killing was a hobby for the Vieran Mafia Boss, something that wasn’t always on his mind the way sex was, and it hadn’t been as such until recently. He had a hunger for blood, death, and gore, a hunger that was only sated by shredding his enemies to ribbons. It was rare that Fjölla unleashed the demon within, but when he did it was never a pleasant sight.

However, there had been times when the voidsent broke free just enough to manifest and influence the Don’s actions without fully being freed, resulting in some creative disposal methods. One merchant had been found stealing from his protection dues and was found hanging from a tree by his balls, strung up with fishing wire. Another man tried to turn in one of the Family’s Capos as she was in the midst of an extortion collection, and not only was she never arrested but the snitch was found in a back alleyway with his mouth sewn shut and his forehead blown out from behind.

Aside from being a place to eat, drink, and fuck, it was the establishment where Fjölla would have most of his meetings. A separate hallway led to a single extravagant door which opened up to a lavish private tea room where the Don conducted business. Payments were made here, complaints could be raised, and sometimes the trash had to be taken out. The only way to get into the room was the one door, and you could only gain access with an invitation from the Don himself. Mostly he would sit at the head of the kotatsu with his Jewel at his side or in his lap, and to his right and left would be his two highest ranked Capos: Carrot and Baby Doll. Together they would drink, smoke, and be merry while they took money orders from those they exploited.

On one particular rainy day, Fjölla was in this very back room with his partner on his hip, drunk and high as could be while he kissed his lover’s neck and listened to the women gossip amongst each other over the table. The final collection of Gil had been taken for the week and the small group was celebrating with liquor and cocaine. Försjár never partook in the latter - and neither did the Capos - leaving the Don to be the only one burying his nose in the powdery substance and further his inebriation. The Jewel didn’t mind it; in fact, he generally loved the results of his husbunny when he was strung out. He was more fun and paid much more attention to him.

“Another bottle of sake, Cortontail?” Försjár heard his husband inquire.

“I think so, Bun Bun,” he answered, planting a kiss to the Don’s cheek. Standing up and hearing the Capos giggling behind him, the sandy-haired Viera stumbled drunkenly out of the meeting room and down the hallway. He instinctively knew where the alcohol cellars were, allowing him to focus more on walking normally than on where he was going, and he certainly didn’t notice when he was being followed.

Down into the cellars Försjár went, finding the switch for the lights and flipping it on, but the bulbs flickered and several of them went out. Huffing angrily, he moved by what little illumination he did have over to where the bottles of sake were stored. The rows were easy enough to locate, but even with his perfected Vieran eyesight, reading the labels in the dark was almost impossible, and his drunken state didn’t help things much. As he was perusing the bottles, squinting heavily at the letters printed on the labels, he didn’t hear or see or even smell the odor of another person in the cellar, all owing to a number of things interfering with his expert senses. He didn’t have time to react as he was being grabbed by the ears and neck then forced up against the shelves. As bottles fell from their places and crashed onto the stone floor, Försjár tried to call for help but his mouth was filled with thick fingers that pushed down on his tongue and made him gag. Tears welled up in his eyes as a sick, gravely voice snarled in one of his ears, in a language he didn’t understand but whatever was being said was clearly something horrendous, for behind him he could feel his perpetrator’s erection growing on his lower back.

Up above, the sounds of tea drinking, conversation, and hearty laughter drowned out the rancor coming from the cellars, but from within the Don’s tea room Fjölla thought he heard … something. His ear had twitched subconsciously and at first he thought nothing of it. But then he felt as if the air was off, as if an omen had possessed it and he was breathing in its warning. It was thick and tar-like in his lungs and it made him suddenly jump to his feet, demanding that Carrot follow him.

In the cellars, Försjár was desperately fighting for his innocence, mouth covered with a stranger’s hand while the other had delved down the front of his pants. The Viera was in tears, sobbing and trying to break free but the force behind him was too strong. His entire form was pressed against the sake shelves, pinning his arms in a position where they couldn’t be moved from in front of him. The poor man tried to move his legs, even just to make himself a little more comfortable, but with the way the freak behind him was standing it was impossible to make the limbs even budge. When Försjár felt the back of his pants being pulled down over his ass, exposing it to the cold environment of the damp, musty basement, he for sure thought that this would be the end. He almost wished his attacker would kill him first, if only to prevent him from having to endure the terror of what was about to happen. When he expected the worst to ensue, however, it never did. Instead, he heard a gurgling sound, and soon something warm was dripping onto his back. Suddenly, the weight on his back had been lifted and he was free to turn, but he wasn’t quite ready for what he saw.

It was Fjölla and Carrot. His husband was standing in the entryway to the aisle where he was being assaulted, and even still plastered he could see the raging fury in his lover’s expression. Carrot was the one who’s caused the villain to stop, having come up from behind him and sliced into his throat with a dagger from ear to ear. But she wasn’t done. Per the orders of her Boss, she then turned the man around and reached into the opening with one hand, where she grabbed hold of his tongue then pulled it through the neck cavity until it was hanging over his chest like a necktie.

“Carrot, tell Baby Doll to get rid of this shit,” he snapped at his subordinate. “I need you to finish upstairs. Then you’re both free to go.”

“What about—,” she started to say, worried about the Jewel, but her Boss quickly shut her up.

“I’m taking him home. Not to the Family home. Do not follow us.”

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