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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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The Quiet Ones 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I really gotta finish my paper (don't worry I'm like 3/4 done).

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The light is there again. Bright, green, searing into your vision as it shines against the wall, weaving in perfectly between the curtains. Every night. Taunting you. And in the morning, gone.

Can you call it a pattern after only three days?

You don’t know what to call it. You don’t know what he wants from you. If he wanted to hurt you, he would by now, wouldn’t he? Or is this a sick game he’s playing? Whatever it is, it’s madness.

You sit up and grab your pillow. You cross the room to the door and close it behind you. You put the pillow on the couch and pull down the folded throw across the back. You don’t expect to sleep out here either but you won’t have to stare at the insufferable dot.

You lay down on your back and sigh at the ceiling. You stare up at the plaster until your eyes close on their own. Your shoulders are tense, your back too, every muscle in you has been knotted for days. You tried a hot shower, even a bath, but both just made you feel vulnerable. You’ve never been overly comfortable being naked but now you feel as if he can see your every movement.

You tried some exercises in an effort to loosen up too. Those only made you dizzy due to your lack of sleep and rationing. Those should be a sign for you to rethink your strategy but your only other option is to face the danger. You know better than that.

You huff as the last gray days pile on you. You open your eyes and bring your hand up to your forehead, trying to rub away the stress. You pause as a gleam flashes over your flesh. You drop your arm back down and raise yourself on your elbows.

Jeez.

Right there in the middle of your chest is the dot, rather a sliver of it. You look up as it glints in between the verticle blinds. You drop back down. Fine, whatever, if he’s going to shoot, he should just get it over with. You hate this limbo. It’s easy when you know what you’re waiting for. This is just torture.

A sudden jarring jingle cuts through the din. You sit up, heart beating. It isn’t the deafening gunshot you expected. The green laser ripples through the darkness as you stagger up to your feet and cover your ears. You follow the blaring noise into the bedroom.

Your phone lights up on your nightstand, flashing as you cross the space. You grab it and quickly silence it, staring at the screen in confusion. You keep your phone on silent, always. You never really use it for more than your banking and emails. On the screen, you see a map of your neighbourhood and a speck pulsing at the centre; your apartment. Huh.

You remember dismissing that feature before. Several times when you got the phone it kept offering to set up the ‘find your phone’ app but you figured you wouldn’t need it. Yet, here it is, chiming and chirping at you. It isn’t a coincidence. It’s him.

You peer over at the window and the green glare pours through. You look down again and find the dot right there. You shake your head and back away, hugging yourself as you flee back into the living room. It’s all so messed up and confusing. You don’t get how this can be happening.

You go into the kitchen. No windows to haunt you there. You put your phone down and lean on the counter as you hold your head. You blow out a breath and you close your eyes.

You try not to let yourself ask the questions but you’re so tired, you can’t keep fighting this hard. Who is he? How did he find you? Was that day at the cafe the first? Were you so obtuse that you never noticed him before? Does any of it matter?

The silence shatters again as your phone erupts in a cacophony once more. You back away and cup your ears. You’ve never done well with noise, especially loud noise, or too much at once. It’s a sort of dissonance that makes your head spin.

You scramble to grasp the phone, eardrums pulsing, and you hit the button again to hush it. You close out of the app and a notification pops up at the top of the screen. For a moment, you’re confused. The only messages you get are obvious scammers or stupid adverts you need to unsubscribe from.

‘Get some beauty sleep.’

You scowl as you stare at the text. What does that even mean? Even if the number is private, you don’t need to guess. You know it’s him. He’s messing with you. You won’t respond, not even in writing. You delete the conversation entirely and shut the phone off.

You leave it on the counter and go back to the couch. The laser awaits you. You lay down under it and resign yourself to your fate. The only comfort is he’s still out there and you’re in here. A ripple of fear courses through you as you wonder how long that can last.

👄

Your mail doesn’t come to your door. It’s left in one of the dozens of metal boxes near the front door. Typically you go down to grab it twice a week. You haven’t gone once in the last six days. You don’t plan on it either. You get digital statements for everything anyhow.

Yet, that doesn’t stop the special delivery from sliding underneath the door. You’re in your kitchen when you hear the soft whoosh. You go to the doorway and stare at the envelope on your floor as you lazily stir your instant coffee. You’re too tired to react with more than a yawn.

You think it could be a notice from the building. They usually leave one when they have to do an inspection. Yet, there’s not sign of the rental companies logo and the envelope is black. You doubt they’ve rebranded.

You sip from your coffee and sit at your desk. You login to the portal and open up a task. You don’t need to worry about all that. You muster all you have left for your daily toil. It’s the one thing you can’t forego; the one thing you share in common with other people, you need money to survive.

You empty the coffee with careless gulps as you key through several tasks. The hours drag by, the clock ticking in the corner of the screen, second by second, minute by grueling minute. The days don’t matter, they all blend together in this hazy purgatory.

You’re drawn from your mindless typing by the agonising growl of your stomach. You’re starving. Those times when you do let yourself eat, it isn’t much. Finally, your humanly needs have overcome your lack of appetite. You can’t deny it any longer.

You return to the kitchen with your empty mug. You go to rinse it and water spurts forth, for just a second, then the pipes grind and run dry. You put the cup in the sink and cross your arm. You march out to the bathroom and try the sink in there with the same result. The faucet in the tub runs a little longer but peters out to a single drip.

Hm, maybe that’s what the letter’s about.

You sweep back out and scoop up the envelope. Just bending down makes you see stars. You put it on the counter and go to the cupboard to take out the salted crackers. You unfurl the top of the sleeve and wiggle one out. You munch on the stale square and slip your thumb under the flap of the envelop and tear.

You put down the crackers and rip open one end of the envelope. You shake out the contents. It isn’t a letter. Just a folded pamphlet with something smaller inside. You unfold the spa booklet to uncover the all-inclusive pass within. You drop both and grip your head.

Is this some sort of bribe? Bait? He’s trying to draw you out and with what? The worst experience you could think of? The smells, the touching, the people...

You put it all back in the envelope. You don’t want it. You don’t even want it in your apartment. Your safe space. He’s invading it little by little. He can’t have it.

You go to the door and shove it back under the bottom. You push it as far as you can and fall back, catching yourself on the wall. Your head hurts, you’re tired, you’re stressed, you’re afraid. You just want everything to go back the way it was. You want to be alone. That’s all you ever wanted.

👄

You use your phone to authorise the two-factor sign-in to your bank account. You set it aside after confirming and wait for the screen to load. Your heart nearly stops as you see the balance. A few times you came too close to the red but this is not what you’re expecting. There’s about fifty thousand dollars extra. It has to be an error.

You click on your chequing and bring up the next screen. There is is ‘50,000’ in bold green letters but it doesn’t say where it’s come from, just ‘authorised payment’ next to it. What the heck does that mean?

Right below it you see your work deposit. That appears as usual. Company name, amount, account number. So what happened?

You click the chat icon at the bottom of the page and wait for an agent to connect. You go through the typical automated questions; what is your issue? Account number? All of that. When you finally have a representative and explain the extra zeros in your account, the response is only three dots.

You shake your head. You don’t need this. You have enough going on. Your water’s still out, you’re almost out of coffee, and you haven’t even started work. Halfway through and it feels like you’ve only just started a new week. You frame your face as you await the response.

‘Hello, miss. Thank you for your patience. We have found no error in this transfer.’

You lean back and whine. That doesn’t make sense.

‘Can I know where the money came from?’ You type.

‘The payee is listed as London Fog LLC. It appears to be a business payment.’

You close your eyes. What? That makes no sense. It... can’t be.

‘Can you reverse the payment, please?’ You input.

‘We can attempt to reverse this. This might take a few days to process. We will keep the ticket open until this is done.’

‘Thank you.’

You close out the chat. That’s as best as you can do. It’s all so weird and you can’t deny the nagging truth. It’s not an error or a coincidence. It’s that stranger. He is playing a very confusing game.

Your phone lights up and your eyes flit down. You lean in to glimpse the notification before it minimises. ‘Happy hump day <3’. You quickly black out the screen and flip it over. Leave me alone!

👄

You almost expect the knock on your door. Deep down, you knew it was coming. Noon, on the dot. It’s Wednesday.

“London Fog express!” He calls through. “Ew, this one’s gone a bit bad.”

You hear him shifting around before the handle turns without give. He wiggles it and sighs. He huffs and you can tell by his shadow he’s leaning on the door.

“Look, jellybean, I came all the way here, even burnt myself on this thing,” he says through the door, “you know, I’ve had some late nights...” he pauses as you sit silent, unmoving at your desk. “You don’t have to do more than open the door and take the cup. Promise, I won’t try nothing. I mean, I’ve been pretty patient, haven’t I?”

You press your fingers to the edge of your desk to keep from shaking.

“Right, I guess... I haven’t even introduced myself. How forgetful. Name’s Lloyd, but you could call me like L or love bear or... snookums. Something sweet like that.”

You can’t. You’re going to pass out from absurdity. This man is psychotic.

“You know, I’m a pretty handsy—handy guy. I could fix that water issue you got going on--”

Holy cow. How does he know—how could he? He wouldn’t be able to just shut off your water. Right?

“See, I get you, baby face, you’re the quiet type. You like to keep to yourself. That’s fair but everyone needs someone. I see that now,” he rambles through the door as it groans against his lean, “I didn’t before. Then I saw you and everything changed. It’s me and you, cupcake.”

You stand and shudder, walking stiffly around the corner and towards the door. You step up and try to see through the peep hole. It’s still black. You exhale and sniff.

“What do you want?” You croak.

Silence. The door shifts as he takes his weight off of it. He soles scuff on the other side.

“Hi,” his voice softens, “how are you, jellybean?”

You close your eyes. You just want an answer. You cross your arms and rocks, a soothing gesture as your nerves bubble up.

“Yeah, that’s okay, I know you’re not much of a talker. We balance each other out like that. I’m doing okay, you know? Cafe was a bit crowded but I got your latte. Foam shouldn’t have fallen yet so if you just want to open--”

“What do you want?” You step closer to the door and raise your voice.

He scoffs into a hum, “isn’t it obvious, babes?”

You open your eyes and bit your upper lip.

“You, baby cakes. Simple as that,” he drawls, “so why don’t you grab your tea and we can have a little sit down.”

“Go away.”

He huffs and clicks his tongue, “don’t be like that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know you--”

“I’m Lloyd, your love bear--”

“Stop. I want you to leave me alone.”

Another sharp exhale from the other side. A lull that prickles across your skin.

“I can’t do that.”

You wince, “please...”

“All you have to do is open the door, jellybean. You know I’m a good guy. I’ve been looking out for you. Every night,” something drags down the door. “You can’t lock yourself away forever.”

You step back and lean on the wall weakly. He’s delusional and you’re so tired. You’re almost tempted to open the door just to get it over with. You sink down onto your butt and hug your knees.

“No.”

That’s all you say. It’s all you can eke out.

He taps on the door lightly and sucks his teeth. “Well, guess I gotta amp up my game.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man #series #the quiet ones

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riaki · 4 months

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sick days ! gojo x reader ‧˚ - take a soda break…!

the rain outside your window is incessant.

it slides down the foggy glass panes in small rivulets that merge together and break apart, like the people outside on different paths of life. a sea of umbrellas moves like liquid in the streets below; a school of fish in a rainy city, under those fluorescent neons that shine like vibrant coral in the puddles of rain on the concrete.

there’s beauty even in the humid showers of tokyo, reflected in the broken lights and flickering signs; those food stalls full of warm life and fancy clothing stores that you always go in just to not buy anything, and best of all— the vending machines that dot the map.

watching raindrops race was one of your favorite hobbies as a kid. even now, you find yourself absentmindedly tracking the movements; the erratic nature of the blurry droplets as they slide down the glass makes you wonder if there’s hidden ridges on the panels that guide those watery paths.

your train of thought is rudely interrupted by another bout of coughing; that dry, itching feeling in your throat that you just can’t get rid of. drinking water to quell the cough has the same effect as telling your study buddy to stay focused for longer than five minutes. gojo is playing something on his phone again; a rhythm game, by the way he curses under his breath every time his fingers stutter and miss a beat.

you cover your mouth with your elbow, trying to expel the ghost dust that makes your breath hitch every time you try to speak, and he glances up at you, shifting in his seat. his lanky legs are cramped beneath the desktop; his frame doesn’t fit in your room. he has to duck when he enters, lest he hit his head like the first time he came over. like you, he has his head resting in his elbows. unlike you, he isn't ill with a fever so hot it burns cold and the stuffiness in your voice, and he also isn't studying.

"you sure you still wanna be reviewing? this exam doesn't really matter, y'know." gojo remarks, peering up at you from his arm pillow. "you should probably take a break, ’cus you look like shit."

he grins cheekily, pushing a pile of his papers and notes to the edge of the desk, where eraser shavings and broken bits of lead from when he couldn't solve a math problem are crammed. there's scratches and ink stains on the desk, a reminder of how you'd accidentally scribbled past the page’s edge in a sickness induced delirium. it’ll leave permanent marks; at this point you’re convinced you’re writing yourself a secret letter to the future. have you confessed to gojo yet? that’s what it’ll say. right now, it just says something unintelligible.

hopefully you’re still literate in the future, but you’re half-convinced you’re getting dumber every moment you spend caged in with this dunce of a genius.

you lean back in your chair, pulling your knee up to your chest. your pencil falls to the desk with a faint clack, soft yellow lamplight washing your faces warm as gojo scoots closer and peers over your shoulder at your progress. he has a pandora’s box of knowledge in that blue-tinted brain of his; he just refuses to apply it. it’s cocky, spoiled ego in the finest. you should hate him for it.

he snickers. "you're dumb."

"you missed forty-three notes." you countered, shooting him a glare as you point at the disappointed looking character next to a review of the stats from the song he was playing on his phone. gojo grimaces, pulling back like a sad little dog, floppy white hair covering his eyes.

"i was playing with my thumbs."

you ignore him, leaning against the wooden desk before hiding your face in your elbows again and letting out a long sigh. your hot breath curls up in the confines of your body, making you recoil slightly; uncomfortably. heat is the last thing you need with the fever you’re pretty sure you’re running.

"i hate being sick. and i hate studying. can we please give up?" you complained, glancing up at him out of the corner of your eye. your hair obscures your vision, so you can only see a faint glint of amusement in his azure irises as he studies you for a moment before scooting his chair back and standing up. without another word, he leaves the room.

wow. okay.

a moment of silence passes as you sit there, lamenting over your runny nose and the way you sound like you're about to cough a lung up every time you breathe, until you hear the soft sounds of his feet padding on the floorboards coupled with what you presume is ice clinking against glass, signaling his return. you lift your head, blinking blearily. each time you breathe in through your nose, your nostrils burn like dry ice pressed against your skin, only adding to your misery. the dreary weather outside isn't helping much, either.

the cold glass leaves a dark stain on the table, an uneven circle of condensation that soothes the aching in your fingers when your sick skin makes contact. gojo pops the can open, and you watch as he picks the glass up, tilting it to the side to pour the soda in.

“why are you holding it like that?” you asked curiously, a small yawn escaping your lips as you lean against the table. he glances down at you, a cheeky, tiny smile gracing his lips. the sound of bubbles fizzling and popping fills the cozy, cramped room; that cool, sweet liquid seems like the only thing that’ll cure your nasty cough.

“pouring it like this prevents the bubbles from escaping. you like it fizzy, don’t you?” he grins.

condensation clings to his fingers like morning dew upon flower petals as he sets the glass down. you watch the ice cubes bobble about in the soda, clinking against the cup like a mini wind chime. you’re sore from sitting in the same place with terrible posture for three hours, and there’s an ache between your fingers from gripping your pencil tight while you write.

you take a sip from the glass, letting out a contented sigh as the refreshing liquid drains down your scratchy throat. it’s not lemon honey tea for a cold, but it certainly helps. next to you, gojo takes his seat again, grabbing the throw blanket on your bed and tossing it over his legs before he grabs his pencil again. he’s using one of those short pencils, shaved down to a stub from months of use. you always offer him a mechanical pencil, but he refuses.

you sit there, waiting for him to get back to work before you realize he’s staring at you, legs crossed beneath the fuzzy blanket.

you frowned, shifting to face him as you lean against the desk. “what?”

“you’ll take care of me if i get sick too, right?” he tilts his head, like a curious bird.

“why would you get sick?”

you’re too relate to react when he makes a mad grab for your glass of soda, holding it out of your reach. a few droplets spill out and spatter onto your notebook, forcing a sigh from your lips.

“gojo…” you groaned, rubbing your temple with your fingers and praying for strength.

he just smirks, taking a lengthy sip. you watch his adam’s apple bob as a bit of condensation builds on his chin and trickles down his throat.

“you know what? i dont feel like studying either.” he announces, setting the glass back down on the wooden table with a loud thunk.

“so? what do you wanna do?” you huffed petulantly.

“download project sekai, and we can do a co-op live.”

“…you’re kidding.”

#billet-doux #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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darkwolf989 · 2 months

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Outside the Office Part Six

Hi All!

A trigger warning before you begin. It's only fair to reader that she learns the dark side of Valentino- the side he's so far he's kept hidden from her. This was a difficult one to write, but I hope you enjoy the juxtaposition between who Valentino is with reader, and the V's, and who he is with the rest of the world.

Enjoy- and as always, let me know your thoughts!

I stood in front of the mirror, Velvette behind me as she fixed a button on the back of my outfit for the day. Wonderment washed over me as I saw myself, my real self, for the first time since I entered hell.

I didn’t recognize the reflection.

My features had grown clearer since my arrival. My hair, once broken and cut in a shaggy trim, was now blonder than blonde and my blue eyes seemed sharper. Velvette had stopped gluing fake nails on and instead opted to cover my natural nails in a hard polish. Gone was the exterior rough and tough soldier my father had raised, replaced by something ethereal, something beautiful.

“Totally different than when you first came here, right?” Velvette asked as she saw me stare at myself. “Hell looks good on you.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I had fully settled into my life with the V’s. Each morning I woke up alone in my bed, ate breakfast, hit the gym and the shower and went to see Velvette. She dressed me to her pleasing and either she or Vox had my assistance for the remainder of their work day.

“Alright. Vox said he needs you today, so off you go. Oh! And check out last night's posts. You looked lit, girl.”

My head buried in my phone as I reviewed the sinstergram photos, I hit the elevator button without looking and stepped out onto what I assumed was Vox’s floor.

It was the scent that hit me first, a mix of sweet strawberries and sweat.

I looked up from my phone, expecting to see the entryway to Vox’s studio. Instead, I came face to face with a bed surrounded by lights. In the center of it lay a demon, naked, bound and gagged. He struggled as two larger demons held her down.

His screams were muffled, but piercing. I watched as blood trickled out of him, its source unknown. I watched the demons fumble as they ungagged him and he looked straight ahead to the directors chair.

“Punish me, Daddy.”

The larger demon grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the bed. From where I stood, his eyes grew larger and he laid back as the demons mounted him again. From the side I watched Valentino backhand another demon before taking the glass on the tray. The demon flinched and skittered away.

What the fuck had I just walked into?

“Cut! That’s a wrap!” He demanded, his voice sharper than I had ever heard it. He stood up, glass in hand as he made his way down the hallway.

Against my better judgment, I followed him. Much like the hotel I had once stayed in with my father, numbered doors lined either side of the hallways, some open, some closed. I caught a glimpse of what was inside the open ones. Bedrooms, lounge areas and even a hospital bed. The walls between rooms were decked out with photos of naked actors, all with Valentino’s name at the bottom. I felt a sick feeling in my gut as I continued to trail behind him quietly. This wasn’t my Valentino.

He pushed open a door and I peered in from the doorway. I watched him study a group of demons, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of red smoke into one of their faces. The demon inhaled deeply and gave him a dirty smile, reaching out and grabbing his jacket. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Her. She’s perfect. Bring her to studio two. Now. I want that cunt I signed on earlier today in studio one. Be rough. Our deal needs to be finalized, and she better get what she signed up for.” He growled to the demon behind him. He yanked her hands off of him, and turned as if to walk back out the door. I saw him turn towards me and I quickly stepped back, skittering across the hall, stepping inside the room and behind the open door.

Thankfully, Valentino hadn’t seen me. I held my breath as I waited for him to pass by. I stepped out from behind the door and he was gone. I looked around the room I was in, my instincts screaming that I was in danger. The inside was dimly lit. White powder was spread in neat lines all along one table. Another held vials and what looked like used syringes. I started to put Valentino’s narcotics comment from all those weeks ago together with the scene.

Fuck, Val wasn't joking.

“Hey! New girl! What are you doing out of your room?” I heard an angry voice behind me.

I turned to face them, preparing to defend myself. I landed a few blows before rough hands grabbed me, pinning me to the wall. Adrenaline rushed through me as my instincts kicked in. Face to face with two giant, hairy demons, I punched, kicked and fought as best I could.

Unfortunately, I was no match for them. One twisted my arm and I heard myself cry out in pain.

“Aw, did Daddy not give you your fix?” the demon taunted, leaning in closer. “Aww, poor little thing. You asked for this, sweetheart. Just remember that.”

“Valentino!” I screamed.

The sting of being backhanded knocked the wind out of me. I gritted my teeth and kicked as I continued to struggle. It was like being in my prisoner of war training camp all over again. Much like my father had taught me, I did my best to shut down and let my survival instincts take over. They would not get what they wanted from me.

“Stop being a fucking bitch.” He snarled, picking me up and slamming me into the wall. “Or I will bring you to Val. Let him deal with the worthless slut you are.”

“That’s what I want you fucking moron!” I snarled. “Bring me to Valentino!”

Both demons snorted in amusement.

“I’ve had enough of this shit. Just drug her. I’m not fighting dirty whores in front of Val.” The bigger demon snarled and shoved a cloth over my nose and mouth. I held my breath as I kicked, trying my hardest to get away from whatever it was they wanted to do to me.

“Fucking dumb bitch!” he snarled. I felt his fist make contact with my chest and I involuntarily gasped as I fell to the ground. My world went dizzy, and I felt my body hit the hard floor.

“Yeah, that’s it. You like your high don’t you, you little slut?” I felt cold chains wrap around me and my body, helpless under the influence of whatever they had given me, was dragged out of the room.

“Hehe, you can tell she’s fresh meat. Look how little it took to get her there.”

I felt my body being pushed down and the next time I came to I was sitting upright in a chair, my arms bound behind me and my legs tied together. I realized though my haze that I save for the chains around my neck and body, was totally and completely naked.

“Hehe. The little slut comes to..”

My throat felt parched and I could taste blood. I struggled against the bonds that held me in place. My entire body tingled, swollen and bruised. No amount of workout during my time in the military could have prepared me for this. I tried my best to look around, to figure out where I was. I could barely make out the bed next to me, bright lights and empty directors chair I had seen earlier in the day.

Another hot slap across the face.

“Wake up. Otherwise, you’ll piss off Mr. Valentino.” The demon yanked on the chain around my neck, choking me with each painful breath I took. He leaned in closer. “Remember, you’re the bitch who scratched her dumb name on the line.”

I wanted to struggle, but my body wouldn’t let me. I felt harsh hands on my thighs. No! Angel’s didn’t- I didn’t and I hadn’t. My back arched from the pain as he spread my legs wide open before walking away.

“Hehe, look at her. She’s already dripping. Val will be pleased."

“Alright, let’s take it from the top!” Valentino’s familiar voice echoed across the studio. “Fucking bitches, this the new girl? God, she better be worth more than the last three fuckwits you assholes brought in.” His smile flowed across the studio. “Alright sweetheart, give me a reason to sign you on.”

I could smell the familiar smoke and tried to fight against my restraints. Val promised he wouldn’t hurt me. Val wouldn’t do this to me. Val wouldn’t…

Realization struck. He didn’t know it was me.

“And action. Show me some struggle, babydoll.”

I couldn’t struggle if I wanted to. The bright light burned my eyes as I willed myself to move, even a little. A few seconds passed and Valentino cursed again.

“For fucks sake, how much did you give her? Christ this isn’t a corpse film. Though I’m sure there is a kink for that. You there! Write that down. Could be a fucking million dollar idea.”

The shrill shriek of Valentino’s phone cut through the air. I closed my eyes and somewhere in me I felt my body start to grow cold and my thoughts drift away. Fuck. That wasn't good.

“What do you mean, you can’t find her?” Valentinos voice roared across the studio. The familiar voice, except this time full of anger screamed and I watched a glass shatter against the wall. From the directors chair, Valentino stood, surrounded by a cloud of red smoke.

I could barely see Vox’s face popping up on the big screen to the left. Vox’s voice echoed across the room.

“Her vitals are linked to my watch, but something is jamming the location signal. Based on the past half hour of data, wherever she is Val, she’s hurt- bad. And there is only one teeny tiny place in this entire building that could jam that signal.”

I heard the crack of a gunshot and the TV went black. I heard Valentino stomp around the studio, his boots coming closer to the chair where I sat.

Valentino stood in front of me at full height. I felt the familiar claw grab my face, could feel the warmth of the red smoke burn against my skin and heard the slew of curse words rush out of his mouth. The chains that held me down vanished as sharp as the gunshots that went off next to me. In as much as I could move, I cowered and watched the expression on his face melt from anger to absolute horror.

“Fuck!”

Six gunshots went off as he lifted me up, tossing his red jacket over me as he held me against his body. I could feel the cold metal of his second gun press against my bare hip as he carried me across the studio into a smaller room. I gripped him, the raw feeling of security running through me as my skin touched his. I closed my eyes. It wasn’t him who hurt me. It wasn’t him who hurt me.

He slammed the door behind him, shaking the entire frame. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He cursed.

He set me on a desk and I pitched forward into his shoulder, closing my eyes. Please don’t let me go Val, the thought flitted through my mind.

“Fuck. No, stay awake.” he commanded frantically.

I heard banging, the sound of frantic rummaging through drawers and then his hands rubbing my thigh. A pinch.

“Come on babydoll. Stay awake for me.”

“What the fuck Val?” Vox’s voice echoed through the room, electricity cracking.

The rush and the buzzing in my brain slowed. The fog that had threatened darkness only moments ago began to drift away. I opened my eyes just enough to see Vox rush across the room. His usual suit jacket and red bow tie were gone, and instead his white shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He must have come running out of his office to be seen in such a state.

“What the fuck have I told you about shooting up the studio? What was the reason this fucking time? And where the fuck did she go?” A pause and another angry yell.

“What the fuck happened?!”

Valentino pulled me against him, lifting me up off the desk. “I won’t know until she tells me. But if you can’t control your anger Vox, you need to leave. Go review the fucking cameras and try to figure out how the FUCK she ended up gagged and bound in my studio!”

Vox cursed and I heard the crackle of electricity as he stormed out of the room. Valentino looked pained as he cupped my chin, tilting my head towards him.

“You won’t be able to walk, mi a more. I’m sorry. I don’t know how long those drugs were in you, but I’m sure I didn’t stop them soon enough.” He cradled me against his chest, and each step he took sent a jolt of pain through my body. “I’m going to take you upstairs, princessa. Alright?”

I couldn’t have protested if I wanted to. I laid limp as I heard him open the door. He stopped moving, my line of sight blurring as I tried to make sense of the office we were about to leave.

“Don’t look.” He commanded, using a free hand to cover my eyes before he started walking again. “You don’t want to see.”

He was probably right. It wasn’t like I could open my eyes up very far anyway. I could feel the bruising start to set in, washing me in pain. I felt the motion of the elevator and I blacked out.

“This is going to burn, I’m sorry mi amor.” Was the next thing I heard Valentino say.

I yelped as the hot water touched my skin and tried to hold onto him as he lowered me into the bath.

“We have to get you cleaned up.” He said evenly, almost as if to himself. “I’m sorry- it won’t feel nice.”

I whimpered as he carefully titled my head back under the running water. Almost instantly, the water went from clear to red. Panic began to set in.

Vox’s voice behind him. “Lucifer knows.”

“And?” Val asked steadily. “ You’re safe now, love. I’ve got you. Keep your eyes closed for me.”

I felt his fingers move gently through my hair, moving my head out from under the water. “You’re alright princessa. You can open your eyes now if you want to. I’m here.”

I blinked a few times, trying to make out his features. They were still fuzzy.

“He wants to know who is responsible.” Vox’s voice continued.

“That person is dead.” Valentino replied flatly.

“He wants to see the video. He wants heads, Val.”

“Then he can have mine. After she’s taken care of. And for fucks sake, close the door behind you, Vox. Give her some shred of dignity.” Valentino lifted up my arm and ran the cloth over it. His thumb ran over the bruises that had bloomed, and anger boiled in his eyes, but he kept the gentle touch.

I tried to choke back the panic as he ran his hands over my body. Flashes of the studio, my mind fuzzy. No, it wasn’t Val who hurt me- but I needed him away from me. Just for a minute, while I tried desperately to make sense of it all.

“Never thought I’d hear the day you’d say someone is deserving of that.” Vox stated. “Shit, she’s really beat up.”

“Please, Val- please. Don’t touch me. I need a minute. I’m sorry.” I finally choked out, pushing myself as far away from him as I could.

The realization came across his face and I watched his expression turn even more upset. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You’re all taken care of for now, I’m going to let Vox take my place- alright? Vox. Please.”

I watched him step back from the tub and Vox leaned over and gently ran his arm under mine, as if to help me stand up.

A rush of darkness swept over me. I felt his power before he entered the room. Valentino moved to stand in front of Vox and I.

“Where is she?” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the room, danger and power crackling as the air swirled around us, tinged in black and red.

The door slammed open and a burst of outside air hit my face. I winced against the sting, my mind clearing up even more. I reached for Valentino, my hand touching the back of his leg. He glanced down and took a step closer, shielding me from Lucifer.

“She’s right here. She’s suffered enough without having another person see her without coverage. Lucifer- I promise you she’s being taken care of. Please. Let me finish with her and get her covered up. Then you can have her.” Valentino answered calmly.

The voice that was Lucifer roared and a flash of red and black flames wrapped around Vox and Valentino. Something inside my mind cleared up and I willed myself to yell.

“No. Uncle Lucy, stop. Please.” I choked out as best I could, sinking beneath the water as I tried to hide myself. “Uncle Lucy! Stop!”

The flames vanished. Silence filled the room.

“Just…just stop. He didn’t do it to me. They didn’t hurt me, Uncle Lucy.” I felt my voice grow stronger. “Please, stop!”

“You weren't kept safe either.” He snarled. “They didn’t do the one FUCKING thing they needed to do!”

“Uncle Lucy, please.” I begged as loudly as I could. “It wasn’t their fault. Free will, remember? I- I hit the wrong button. I went into the studio. I followed Valentino- they told me not to! They told me to stay out of his work area and I disobeyed. It's my fault.”

I could feel Lucifer’s power recede.

“It was not your fault.” Valentino said softly, reaching down and offering his hand.

I took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. No, if anything it was the demons who pinned me down. I had questions, questions that needed to be answered. But now wasn’t the time.

“Angels see the best in everyone, don’t they?” Lucifer snarled, frustration evident in his voice.

With each passing second I remembered more and more of how I had ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Half angel. Not everyone.” I answered finally. “But it isn’t Valentio’s fault. Or Vox’s I made those decisions- despite being warned not to. And besides, this is nothing compared to what I’m used to. Being battered and bruised is nothing for a former exorcist angel.”

Lucifer sighed heavily and turned away. “When she’s cleaned and covered, bring her out to me.” The door slammed behind him and I jumped, wincing from the pain.

“Do not blame yourself.” Valentio said softly. “What they did to you…shouldn’t have happened.” His voice dropped an octave. “Let me help you up, princessa. Please. I need to see how badly you are hurt.”

I used what strength I had to lean into Valentino and slowly stood up, shaking as pain once again flooded through my system. I gripped his arm as I tried to steady myself, stepping out of the bathtub.

Both he and Vox cursed at the same time. I caught sight of myself in the full length mirror. My face sported bruises and two black eyes. My shoulders, chest, belly and thighs were a mix of bruises and cuts. Valentino gently turned me around and I saw him shake his head.

“Mi amor, this should not have happened to you.”

Vox quickly wrapped me in a towel and with another, Valentino gently dried my hair before sliding his tee shirt I slept in last night over my head. I leaned into him as he helped me step into a pair of loose pajama pants. I leaned into him for both balance and comfort.

“Tell Lucifer that she’s covered.” Valentino said to Vox. “And that he should come assess her injuries.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my full weight into him. The door opened a moment later and Lucifer walked in, radiating the black and red energy.

“It’s bad.” Valentino said to him simply. He turned his attention to me. “Princessa, will you let me lift up your shirt to show him?”

All three waited until I nodded. Carefully, Valentino lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing only the bruises on my belly.

“She needs to go to the hospital. Now.” Lucifer said sharply.

“No.” My voice wasn’t loud but it was audible. “I don’t. Angels heal quickly. I should know. This isn’t the worst I’ve ever been beaten. I promise.” I grimaced. “ My dad would have told me to throw some dirt on it and get back out there. I promise, I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

All three looked horrified at the idea.

Lucifer gritted his teeth. “Angels may be fucked up like that, but down here sweetheart, you’re my responsibility. And this isn’t a matter of your decision. Sorry to say.” Lucifer’s voice grew louder with each word, the anger pulsing in his voice.

I shrank back against Valentino. The idea of letting someone else see me naked today was mortifying at best. “I thought I had free will.” I said shakily.

That seemed to resonate. Lucifer gave me a hard, frustrated look. “Fine. Let’s make a deal then. I get a doctor over here right now- a real doctor. And a nurse. They can examine you here. And if he says you need to go to the hospital, you go without complaint. Do we have a deal?”

I looked at Valentino, then to Vox. Both nodded.

“Deal.” I whispered.

Bright red and black tinged chains appeared on both my wrist and Lucifers’ vanishing as soon as they appeared. I looked at Valentino, hoping he would elaborate. Neither he nor Vox seemed to even notice their brief existence.

“For fucks sake.” Lucifer said as he walked out of the room, dialing on his phone.

I could hear him barking orders from the other room.

“Let's get you to lay down.” Valentino suggested, gently guiding me out of the bathroom. He laid me on my side on my purple blanket and I did my best to bite back the pain that shook me. I gritted my teeth. Of all the questions I had, I needed to know exactly what they had done to me.

With Lucifer out of earshot, I looked to Vox. “What did they do to me? I need details. All of them.” I paused. “I deserve to know what happened to my body.”

Anger pulsated through Valentio’s eyes.

Vox put his hand on Valentino’s shoulder, and then turned his attention to me. “If you’re asking if you were raped- you wern’t. Just drugged and beaten. You’re lucky they mistook you for Valentino’s newest employee, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so fortunate.” He glanced at Valentino. “Despite appearances, every person in that studio is required to consent to what happens to them. His newest conquest hadn’t yet- not all the way. And that’s what saved you. Otherwise…” His voice trailed off. “That’s why I told you to stay the fuck out of his studio.”

“It isn’t her fault,” Valentino said sharply. “Her mistake did not earn her this violation. I should have made it clear at the start that she is one of us, and not part of my business.” Anger and frustration cracked through his voice. “You can be sure I will make it known going forward. This will never, ever happen again. I promise, princessa.”

Vox opened his mouth to say something but closed it as the door opened. Two demons walked into the room, escorted by Lucifer.

“One look at her belly and you’ll agree with me,” he mumbled to the doctor. He turned to me. “Sweetheart, let the doctor examine you. Please. I promise you, it's much more…technologically advanced than heaven’s version of medical care. And much less invasive.”

I nodded my consent and let the doctor examine me, mindful of the three sets of watchful eyes on him as he worked. I winced as he gently pressed on my stomach, trying my hardest to maintain composure. The doctor took a small screen out of his bag, along with a small white wand. He ran a wand over my belly, and then to my chest. He studied the small screen with a practiced eye. Finally, he pulled the wand away.

“Shockingly, the injuries I thought I would see are not there. Everything is intact, none of her major organs are swollen or ruptured. Not even a cracked rib.” He stated as he pulled his gloves off and tossed them to the side. “She’s very fortunate she’s only bruised.”

He nodded to his nurse. “I’m going to put an IV in, take some blood and push a round of painkillers and antibiotics, and hang a bag of fluids to rehydrate you. Just to be on the safe side, and make the next twenty four hours more comfortable. Otherwise, a week or two of rest and you should be fully healed.” The doctor caught Valentino’s eye. “I’m sure you can take it out when the bag is empty.”

Lucifer gave Valentino a hard look. Valentino nodded, an expression I couldn’t quite read flitting across his features.

“I told you guys, Angels are tough.” I said lightly as I held out my arm for the nurse. “We heal fast too, just fyi.”

Lucifer looked at me, clearly displeased. “That’s good to know dear. Thank you for sharing.”

The nurse slipped the IV in and pushed two vials of liquid before setting a bag above my head. The doctor stood up, and talked quietly to the three of them. After a few moments, he turned to me.

“If something doesn’t feel right, let Lucifer know and I’ll come back. Otherwise, I’ll be back in two weeks.”

Across the room, Lucifer opened the door to walk them out. I could hear the scrabble of frantic footsteps and Velvette burst into the room, shoving him aside.

“The fuck?” Lucifer demanded, watching as she darted across the room.

“With all due respect, go fuck yourself, your highness. How dare you keep me out of the room?” Velvette snarled, standing next to me. “Jesus fuck, are you alright reader?”

Lucifer’s expression turned from annoyed to amused. He, the doctor and nurse walked out of the room, the door closing behind them.

Vox grabbed her waist. “Hey hey, calm down Vel. She’s fine.”

“She doesn’t look it. Who did this? I’ll fucking kill them. Touching my reader.”

“I already took care of that Vel. Breathe.” Valentino said gently.

“Doc said I’m fine, so I’m fine Velvette. I’ll be okay. Trust me- I’ve been through worse.” I said lightly.

“Toughness has nothing to do with it,” Velvette added, arms crossed. “Though I’m glad you’ll be okay. Gotten used to having a fourth V.”

“My name is reader though, I can’t be a V.”

She snorted. “Being a V doesn’t mean your name has to start with V, you know. It’s about power, and toughness and you…ugh! I can’t believe this fucking happened.”

She turned to Valentino. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor.

“And you. You need to come up with a plan so this never, ever fucking happens again. Bestie or not I will kill you my fucking self!” She reached up as high as she could and jabbed him with two fingers.

Valentino gently took her hand and handed it to Vox. “I know Vel. Believe me, I know.”

“Alright, sweetheart, settle down. You’re right, she’s one of us.” Vox said softly, taking her hand and gently pulling her away. “We’ll come up with a plan, the four of us. Tomorrow morning. I promise.” He glanced to me.

“I have questions that need answers.” I said firmly. “So whatever plan you want to come up with is fine- but I want honest, full answers. From all of you.” I looked to Valentino meaningfully. “No ducking out or giving me half assed explanations. Is that fair?”

“Of course, princessa. Whatever you want.” Valentino answered immediately.

Vox raised an eyebrow at Valentino. “Right. Agreed. Come on Vel, you need to settle down and reader should rest.”

“Don’t you tell me to settle down!”

With that Vox lifted her up and hoisted her over his shoulder. She flopped against him and Vox sent me an apologetic look as he carried her out of the room, leaving me alone with Valentino.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked softly, sitting next to me.

I shook my head no. “I’m good, Val.”

A few seconds later, Lucifer walked back and stood next to my bed, arms crossed. He shot Valentino a look and Valentino stood up and stepped off to the side. Lucifer reached forward and put his hand on my forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He hesitated. “Unless you want to come home with me? After this, I won’t force you to stay here.”

I shook my head. “No. Lucifer, I stand by what I said. This was my fault.”

“It. Was. Not.” Valentino hissed.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow to me and then looked at him. An expression crossed his face that I couldn’t quite read.

“If you’re sure honey. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

And with that, he vanished.

“Valentino.” I said softly.

“Reader.” He returned to his seat next to me on the bed.

I reached for him and he hesitated. “Princessa, you don’t…”

“Hold me. Please? Val…please.”

He laid down next to me and carefully laid my head against his chest. The feeling of security once again flooded through me. I pushed my head into his chest.

“Careful, mi amor. When the….” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “Medicine the doctor gave you wears off, you’re going to feel every bruise.”

“I’ll heal fast. Don’t worry. Again…not the worst beating I’ve ever taken.”

He tilted my chin up, studying my face. “You’re asking the impossible, mi amor. After tonight, I don’t think I’ll do anything but worry.” He guided my head back to my chest. “You said you had questions, my love. Your reaction to this….event, the things you have said…lead me to have questions for you. I promise to answer honestly if you promise to answer mine the same. In the morning. Tonight, I need you to sleep. Do we have an agreement?”

I noticed he didn’t say the word deal.

“We do.”

“Good. Then please, princessa. Sleep.” He tucked his head against mine.

I closed my eyes against his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily.

“You’re safe, as long as you’re in my arms. I promise.” I heard him whisper, feeling him kiss the top of my head. “I promise.”

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #vox x reader #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino #x reader #fem reader #valentino x female reader

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wasjustred · 1 year

Text

Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you.

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings.

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen.

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you.

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew.

She’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore.

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down.

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck.

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅#don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well!#i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too!#my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now – relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’#and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇#n e ways hope you all enjoy :)#lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

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dusty-cobweb · 29 days

Text

Julian realizes that Garak is still hurting weeks after the incident with the wire. He intends to help.

tw // mention of suicide, animal death (not explicit)

Garak lied. He knew how to mold his face, suppress the suspicious lilt of his voice and stim of his hands. Yes, Garak was a very good liar.

However, today, merely a few weeks after the wire incident, his facade trembled. It wasn’t obvious, not at first. But Julian knew Garak, or at least knew how he acted.

He would smile coyly, maybe move the replicated flowers from the center of the table, press his hands together politely while Julian got his meal. Afterwards, they would exchange barbed words, meant not to hurt but to puncture holes in the other’s argument. It was fun, for the most part. One they equally enjoyed.

Now, Garak still smiled, but his lips pressed flatter than usual, painting a thin line against dull scales.

“Doctor? I do hope I’m not boring you?” Garak’s voice fluttered in, almost amused at his lack of attention.

“No! No, not at all Garak. It’s just…” Julian tried to find the words, tried to place what was so wrong with the picture in front of him.

“Just..?” Garak questioned.

“Your scales— they’re not shiny like they usually are.” Julian ended up saying, cursing himself as he did. Garak seemed just as surprised as himself, his brow ridge shooting a bit higher than usual.

“You know how work goes. Lots of commissions make for not much time for scale treatment, you understand,” He says, “Now about the Mirabal sisters; I can see what you were trying to say with the story, but in Cardassia a leader such as Chujillo”— his accent slithered out—“would never have taken power in the first place. Our peer-reviewed system prevents this.”

At any other time, Julian would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dissect what peer-reviewed meant (he suspects that’s why Garak said it), but right now all he could think about was finding out why Garak was so evasive.

“Garak,” He needled in what others have said is his “doctor’s voice”. “Do not try to avoid the subject, not with me.”

For a moment, Garak’s eyes darkened. Not in anger, but something more soulful; a bone deep exhaustion that settled heavily on armored shoulders. It was like all the life had left his body, leaving only the aftermaths of the wire in its place. And then— just as quickly as it came— it left, leaving only Garak’s saccharine sweet smile.

“My dear, there is no need to worry.” He said simply. No further explanation, no more platitudes, no lies. The worry in Julian’s heart turned desperate.

He was losing Garak.

Julian sat quietly with that thought. Garak sipped his tea. Finally, “I had a cat when I was younger.”

Garak looked at him over his tea.

“And here I thought I knew everything about you, my dear doctor.” Garak smiled lightly. Smiled as if Julian wasn’t plunging down a rabbit hole of what-ifs.

“She was the cuddliest thing— a calico, meaning she had all these multicolored spots on her fur. Gosh, she was beautiful. And wherever I went, she followed. Always my little shadow. If I sat down, she jumped onto my lap. If I showered, she would wait in the sink. Every night, she would find a way to sleep on me, even if I turned over.” Julian smiled sadly at the thought— it had been so long since he thought of Mu’izza.

“While that’s quite touching doctor, I don’t know how that’s related to totalitarian dictatorships of Latin America.” Garak once again took up his teacup.

“One day, she just got up and left. Jumped out of an open window, maybe. I don’t know.”

Garak frowned, “I’m sorry my dear, that must’ve been heartbreaking,” After a few moments of considering pause, “If she was fed well, taken care of—loved— then why did she leave you so suddenly?”

“Because cats hide when they go off to die, Garak. They don’t want to be vulnerable in front of others.”

Julian looked at Garak, really looked at him. And Garak saw his desperation, his pleading for him to understand. And of course Garak understood; the doctor was hardly ever subtle with his metaphors.

“Ah,” Garak said simply, tea cup placed gently back into its plate.

“Sometimes I think if Mu’izza stayed and let me take care of her, that maybe I could’ve saved her.” Julian’s voice got softer at the end, cushioned by a long standing sadness.

“Or maybe you couldn’t have. Maybe you would have just prolonged her suffering by helping her. Doesn’t she deserve to die when she wants?” Garak retorted. He was angry, he realized suddenly. He was so angry. Garak wanted to snarl, to bear his teeth and swipe their meals off the table, watch his delicate tea cup shatter. He wanted to throttle the doctor, make it so he could never breach his psych again.

Through his newfound fury, Garak heard the doctor’s voice flutter in again, “You’re right. Maybe she would’ve been miserable. But we’re peddling hypotheticals again. The fact of the matter is my little Mu’izza was still vulnerable when she died. It didn’t matter where she went to die, she always would’ve been powerless. At least with me, I could’ve had her in my lap, could’ve shielded her from the cold, could’ve—“ Julian’s voice wobbles, just slightly. It’s enough for him to pause, take a deep breath, and look away. Garak notices the barely there shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Oh, my dear Julian, Garak realizes. The anger at the doctor ebbs, turning into an aching love that moves him to wrap his hands around the doctors’. Julian looks back at Garak, surprised. For a moment all he does is look at their enjoined hands and Garak worries he miscalculated. Then, slowly, Julian squeezes.

“I just… I just wish I could’ve said goodbye. That’s what I really want.” Julian whispers, just for Garak to hear.

“I see that now, my dear. I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Garak returns the squeeze.

“Are you sorry enough to not make more bad memories?” Julian asks. His voice was like a molten sword dipped in oil, fiery words hidden beneath a tempered tone.

“You cannot ask that of me, my dear. Please do not ask that of me.” Garak pleads. Julian frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth. Finally, he nods.

“Then, I only ask that you let me say goodbye. Will you allow me that?”

“Of course, my dear doctor.”

Julian squeezes his hand and makes to let go, but Garak holds on. Perhaps it’s selfish of him to cling to the doctor. But now that he’s felt the warmth of his hand and the breadth of his care, Garak can’t imagine letting him go now.

yeah this is bad but idc. no beta, no thoughts, just pure procrastination from finals.

good night everyone ! sweet dreams to me (i will be playing solitaire until 3:30 AM)

#garashir #julian bashir x elim garak #julian bashir #elim garak #fanfic #writing

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sinswithpleasure · 1 year

Text

For All To See (ft. LOONA's Yves)

—---------

Happy New Year, everybody!

Enjoy this porn / brain rot filled mess!

Tags:

Squirting,

Pissing,

Exhibitionism,

Golden Showers,

Piss Drinking,

Public Sex,

General Degeneracy / Debauchery.

—---------

Everyone has kinks they don't want people to know about. Some people want it hidden out of shame. Some hide it out of fear. Maybe they have a reputation to maintain.

One such person is Ha Sooyoung, aged 25.

By day, she's known as Yves, a famous dance instructor with a semi-decent following on quite a few social media platforms for her impeccable dancing. Sooyoung's passion for dancing knows no bounds, and it shows in all the dance content she makes on YouTube and TikTok. On most nights, she's still just the regular Ha Sooyoung—she lounges about at home gaming, watching Netflix, or reviewing dance videos for YouTube. However, the things that happen on the few nights where she's not home doing the usual…

—-------

Sooyoung's watch reads 9pm, and she gets up from her couch. After a stretch to loosen up her muscles, she switches off her TV and tugs her hoodie over her head, the cloth sliding off her body. She holds the garment in one hand, her other one busy unclipping her bra. In her room, she pulls her shorts and panties off together, leaving her naked.

It doesn't take long for Sooyoung to have her clothes folded neatly in a pile on her bed. She stands in front of her wardrobe, a white sports bra and similarly white curve-cut FBT shorts in hand.

'What else do I want to wear…?'

Her eyes fall on the white tee she typically wears to bed, translucent from too many washes. She'd usually never wear it out, but on a night like tonight…

'It'd be modest enough, but people could see I'm naked underneath if they looked hard enough…'

With such tantalizing chances, Sooyoung puts it on and admires herself in the mirror.

'God, I'm so naughty…'

That's right, the famous dancer Yves Ha Sooyoung is a huge exhibitionist. One night a week, she goes for her night run, partially to keep herself fit, and partially to indulge in her sinful desires. Of course, she'd never want to be caught, but oh, the thrill…

That thought drives Sooyoung to blush, her legs squeezing together in arousal. Her nipples tent the cloth of her shirt, and Sooyoung bites her lip, imagining someone chancing upon her dressed like this on the way down to her car.

A few steps takes Sooyoung to the door. A mask covers her face—she can't risk her career and reputation while she indulges in her dirtiest fantasies, after all. She peers left and right down the hallway—both sides empty—and she steps out. The cool breeze down the hallway feels refreshing against her body, warmed with arousal, but with the cool air brushing against Sooyoung's hard clit, she can't help but softly moan at the pleasure it brings.

The ride down to the ground floor is quiet—save for the moans Sooyoung lets out as she masturbates under the watchful eye of the CCTV camera. She knows no one checks those unless something serious happens, and nothing usually does. The guards are too busy sleeping on the job all the time, and she needs the relief right now. Sooyoung's fingers slide deep within her pussy, the soft curl of her middle and ring fingers stimulating the most pleasurable of spots deep within her dripping cunt. Her other hand tweaks her nipple over the thin cloth, and she can't help but tremble in excitement and fear at the possibility of someone catching her if the lift stops. She'd love for them to watch her cum…

Alas, this short self-love session is interrupted by the lift doors opening on the ground floor. To Sooyoung's bittersweet relief, no one is around to catch her. She withdraws her slick fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips as she slides out from within herself, and she tugs the mask off her face to lick her own juices off her fingers. As expected, the guard is dead asleep, as always. Typically, Sooyoung would be annoyed at the lapse of physical security borne out of irresponsibility, but this time, it's a huge blessing for her.

The breeze is even cooler on the first floor, and Sooyoung's nipples are hard as diamonds against the thin cloth. Sometimes, the force of the winds even raise the hem of the T-shirt up, which exposes Sooyoung's body to anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse. The girl in question loves it—more eyes on her means more people she can exhibit herself for.

Sooyoung reaches her car in no time. Her first action once she gets into her car is to divest herself of the shirt—she's feeling particularly kinky tonight, and what better than to drive to her favorite park in the nude for any driver to see? With a click, the stick shift lands on D, and Sooyoung begins to pull out of the lot. As her car turns to join up with the other traffic on the main road, she can't resist staring at the other cars driving past her. Every streetlight she passes illuminates the interior of her car for a short while, and she knows anyone can see her nude form in those moments. It is this exact knowledge that has her biting her lips, wishing she could squeeze her legs shut to alleviate some of the sexual frustration she has. No one would know it was the famous dancer Ha Sooyoung either, with her mask on…

Sooyoung decides to risk it—she rubs her dripping pussy with her fingers as she drives. At the stop lights, she can't help but rub herself harder—she knows some of the people crossing the road are able to see her, with the streetlights above shining right into her car. More and more slick drips from Sooyoung's sex with every brush of her fingers across her clit, the towel beneath her soaking every droplet of her arousal. Sooyoung knows from experience how wet she can get by exhibiting herself, and without this towel, she'd have so much slick to clean up.

Finally, the entrance to the park off the main road towards the park draws closer and closer. Sooyoung turns to the right and drives her car to the last parking space all the way at the back of the parking lot. While she usually wouldn't entertain such a dimly lit and potentially insecure parking space, right now, it fits every criterion for her to carry out her next few planned actions. There are only a few cars parked, all of them far apart from each other, and their owners don't appear to be present as per Sooyoung's cursory glance during her drive in. Without any attention given to proper parking, Sooyoung carelessly swerves her car into the final lot.

From there, Sooyoung's next few actions are simple. Under the cover of the foliage above and the lack of illumination, Sooyoung throws the door open and lunges out of her car, then slams the door shut. Never mind that the engine is still running—if Sooyoung doesn't fucking cum right now, she thinks she might die. Her back crashes against the metal frame of the car—ow!—but that doesn't matter. The warmth emanating from beneath the car flows around Sooyoung's spread legs as she widens her legs for support. Her right middle and ring fingers plunge deep into her dripping, needy cunt with a loud wet squelch, paired with a loud moan of relief and pleasure. Her free hand immediately reaches for her breasts, and without a care in the world, Sooyoung fucks herself right there in the carpark, anyone watching be damned! Every curl of fingers against wet flesh draws loud, lewd moans out of Sooyoung. With how much teasing she's put herself through, she's beyond even attempting to mask her need to cum. Furthermore, no one's around anyway—she can afford to let the world know how fucking good it feels to fuck herself for anyone to watch!

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

Sooyoung doesn't bother controlling herself. She's so damned fucking close anyway, so if anyone catches her, she'll just have to cum harder for them to watch.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sooyoung catches a car turning into the carpark…

Car. Driver. Light rays flash across her naked body—

Sooyoung's shrill scream breaks the peace of the night air, just as her orgasm tears through her body. Her pussy explodes—a straight gush of squirt rains all over the tarmac as her hips buck hard, knees buckling beneath her. She manages to grab onto the roof of her car to support herself, but the gush of squirt never ends—Sooyoung expels her earlier pent-up sexual frustration, now in the form of pure sexual pleasure, all over the tarmac of the parking lots under the night sky. She rubs her clit furiously, the hiss from the violent streams of cum flowing along her labia almost deafening. Sooyoung doesn't care that her squirt is drenching her legs with every flick of her fingers across her clit—she just needs more, more, more, more!

All good things must come to an end—even with the prolonged pleasure that Sooyoung still tries to keep going, her orgasm does end up subsiding as her squirt ends, the final few droplets running down her thighs. Sooyoung pants against the mask, and her body trembles under the cool air of the night. The exertion of having the strongest orgasm she could've enjoyed is evident in the way sweat drips down her body—down her forehead and cheeks, along her neck, between the valley of her breasts, and down her ripped core and beyond. Her long, straight hair sticks to her skin, and Sooyoung wonders if she should take a few selfies right now—

Wait—where's that car—?!

Sooyoung's head snaps around to look for the car from earlier. One look, and she catches the same car parked all the way on the other end from where she is, in the other dark corner of this car park. There's no one there—it seems as if the owner left without noticing…

Sooyoung breathes a sigh of relief as she tugs off her mask, finally letting herself enjoy the cool night air across her face. She opens the car door and grabs her phone, throwing her mask onto the seat, then she wanders over right under a streetlight. With the bright lighting and her camera, she begins to style her messy hair in preparation for her impromptu nude photoshoot.

Strike a few poses—a peace sign over her left eye, a half-heart on her cheek just like her outros for her dance videos, her signature first-love grin, Sooyoung captures more and more of her little nighttime escapade into memory. These nude photoshoots are Sooyoung's favorite parts of these nights—she loves getting off on them when she's home.

'Fuck, I really need to pee right now.'

Sooyoung bites her lip as she looks around. Once again, there still is no one present near her, and she releases a shaky breath of anticipation as she switches her camera to video mode. She raises the phone up and hits record, flashing a bright grin for the camera with a peace sign before she puffs her cheeks…

"Oh, fuck, yessss…"

A warm trickle flows down Sooyoung's skin before a clear stream erupts from between her meaty thighs. Slowly, a puddle forms between her spread legs as Sooyoung empties her bladder, the unblinking eye of the camera recording every second of her relieving herself. Sooyoung shudders in pleasure—the thrill of urinating naked while recording herself, visible for everyone to see, keeps Sooyoung's arousal high. The strong gush of piss splatters all over the ground, the loud hiss of her stream against her labia, and the sound of the soft night breeze around her body is all picked up by the microphone, and when her stream softly tapers off into droplets left, Sooyoung deigns the camera another first-love grin before cutting off the recording.

With her desires temporarily sated, Sooyoung finally sets out for her original plans for the night. The screen in her car reads 9:45pm, and she reaches within to turn the engine off before finally putting on her sports bra and FBT shorts. She ties her hair up into a messy ponytail and does a cursory check of her outfit after.

'Oh, the shorts…'

Sooyoung's sweat from earlier hadn't dried off, and with her shorts being white, it was now semi-translucent. With more physical activity, the sweat would definitely soak through—her shorts would be transparent.

'Ehe, I'd love that…'

The thought of essentially being bottomless during her run causes a streak of warmth in her tummy. When paired with the bright sports bra, she knows she'd definitely get eyes on her easily, with her color choice contrasting with the darkness around her. If anything, Sooyoung gets even fucking hornier at the thought, and she's already ruining her shorts thinking about it.

With a few stretches to warm up her body, Sooyoung begins her run for the night.

—--------

The cold night air does wonders for Sooyoung. The run is enjoyable—Sooyoung loves running and keeping herself fit, but what keeps her on edge is how wet she is. Her shorts are soaked through now from a mixture of both sweat and slick. There aren't many people around still, only a few runners and cyclists, none of which seem to really notice her situation. Emboldened by this, Sooyoung begins to entertain her dirtier fantasies.

'I might as well take this off…'

Sooyoung doesn't hesitate any more. She runs to the side of the path and pulls down on her FBT shorts. The garment falls to her ankles, and she steps out of it. With her ass and pussy exposed fully to the night air once again, Sooyoung resumes her run further deeper into the park.

Another ten minutes goes by with no one coming in the opposite direction. Sooyoung can feel her slick running down her thighs, and the familiar desperation to get herself off begins to curl around Sooyoung's mind. Tonight is one of Sooyoung's more active nights, and her libido is definitely on the higher side. When the running trail forks into two, one brightly lit, the other not so much, Sooyoung takes herself down the dimly lit path in search for a quiet place hidden away from the more public areas. Experience tells her she'll reach the pond where she'd usually run by on a normal night, but for tonight, she'd step on the bridge across it, where there's a deck with benches facing the water.

Under the darkness, Sooyoung's lustful thoughts go into overdrive. Without a second thought, she begins to tug on her sports bra, her petite breasts bouncing out of the garment as she pulls it off her sweaty body. Naked again, Sooyoung begins to tease her hard clit as she jogs the final few meters that takes her onto the bridge and to the bench.

"Oh my God, fuck!"

Sooyoung winces at the cold stone against her skin when she plants herself down on the bench. Her clothing is thrown aside on the bench, and immediately she spreads her legs wide open, her fingers rubbing along her slick folds and over her clit, now out of its hood. Her other hand kneads her petite breasts, paying special attention to her taut nipples. The combined pleasure of her actions draws loud moans out of her as she throws her head back against the backrest. Sooyoung doesn't waste time—two fingers plunge deep in her dripping cunt, gliding along her slick walls and ending in a curl against her G-spot. The wet sounds of Sooyoung fucking herself mixes with her lewd moans.

"Oh, fuck, just like that, fuck, so good!"

In Sooyoung's pleasure-addled mind, she briefly recalls this spot of the park being used for some form of free concert or something a few months back. Right now, her brain morphs that memory into fantasy—she's now on stage, naked, spread, exhibiting her most intimate moments for a large crowd to see. She imagines all of the crowd masturbating with her, to her, the blatant display of eroticism multiplying her lust tenfold. The thought of so many faceless, nameless individuals, all of their eyes on her "performance" for them has her pushing her third finger into her pussy.

"Fuck, it feels so good, I feel so good! Watch me, watch me fuck my needy pussy, watch me fuck myself!"

Sooyoung's words go out to the masses, and yet at the same time, to no one but herself. Reality blends with fantasy—she can hear and feel the caress of the night breeze across her body, burning with lust, but at the same time, she can see the crowd, hear them pleasuring themselves to her. The pleasure of this session clouds her mind, the tendrils snaking around her consciousness, drawing her deeper and deeper into her fantasy. The roar of the crowd begins to rise in volume, just as her orgasm begins to build…

'Come on, Sooyoung, add that last finger…'

Sooyoung obliges to her inner devil's instruction. She stretches her pussy with four fingers, her slick drenching her palm with every stroke. Her forearm burns with how hard and fast she fucks herself, but she's unable to stop—not when she has an audience. It doesn't matter that the audience is imaginary—she's too far gone to even register that.

'God, I wish I had a cock fucking me right now…'

This thought draws a loud, broken moan out of Sooyoung's throat. Her fantasy morphs once more—this time, she has a man on top of her, his cock fucking deep into her cunt. She doesn't even bother making up an identity—he's nameless and faceless, just like the crowd, with his chiseled body and strong arms wrapped around her body as he fucks her with his thick, warm, hard cock over and over and over. Her moans get even louder, hands even rougher. Sooyoung fucks herself just as hard as she imagines the man would fuck her, and the crowd cheers in approval at the "live" sex show.

"Fuck, faster, faster, just like that, just like that—!"

Sooyoung's imaginary partner obliges, and she bucks her hips in response to the surges of pleasure through her veins that she draws from her hand. The pure lust coursing through her veins all comes to a head as the tension builds and builds—she doesn't even feel the soreness of her forearm anymore!

"Oh my God, oh my God, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking squirt, watch me squirt, watch me squirt all over!"

The peace of the night is torn with Sooyoung's shrill scream, akin to a blade through cloth. At the same time, mixed in with the scream is the sound of Sooyoung's pussy gushing. Violent jets of squirt cover everything in front of her as her body spasms uncontrollably, writhing, convulsing, and seizing, all while her eyes roll back in her head, the orgasm consuming every bit of her rational mind. Sooyoung swears she can hear the roar of the crowd as she achieves orgasm, all while squirt splatters all over the wooden floors of the observation deck. Sooyoung's second violent jet of squirt sprays between the railings, just as her third and fourth jets do. Spray after spray of Sooyoung's squirt gushes into the pond, the loud splashes of her cum against the water adding to the sexual mess of sounds in the night. When Sooyoung's orgasm subsides, she lies exhausted, delirious, and giddy. She barely even registers as the warm trickles of pee begin to flow from her cunt, before the stream begins to pick up. All Sooyoung can do is sigh in relief as she relieves herself and empties her bladder all over the observation deck, the puddle flowing between the cracks into the pond below.

Minutes, maybe even hours pass—Sooyoung doesn't know how long. When she finally catches her breath and the world stops spinning, she picks up her clothing and staggers along the path back to where it rejoins the other running path. A cursory check of her watch shows 10:45pm, and it is at this point that Sooyoung decides to return back to her car to head for home.

The path back to the car is long—it'd take her a while to go back by walking. Sooyoung decides to run back, but this time, she doesn't bother with clothes any more. She'll run the whole way naked, and if there's anyone that catches her, she doesn't care. They can look all they want!

'And maybe, they can fuck me if they ask…'

That dangerous thought stems from the fantasy from earlier. Sooyoung can't deny it any more—she's craving cock, and while she usually can manage this desire, she's not gotten laid in a long while. That fantasy from earlier drove the devil out of her, and if she gets any opportunity tonight, she just might take it.

But first, she desperately needs a drink to hydrate herself after all those orgasms. Thank God for the nearby water dispenser.

—--------

Sooyoung begins her run once again, along the brightly lit path back. It doesn't take her long to meet someone coming in the opposite direction—two girls, both of whom almost seem to ignore her. A short while later, she runs into two male cyclists who wolf whistle at her as she passes. She can feel their lustful gazes across her body, and she feels her pussy drip down her thighs at the attention. However, they let her pass by without making any more passes, and Sooyoung sighs in disappointment as the missed opportunity for a public threesome. She needs a good fuck, damn it!

Sadly, there are no more people on the route Sooyoung takes. Soon enough, she nears the car park she left her car at, and she notices the fewer number of cars left. One more check of her watch—11:10 pm—and Sooyoung steps over to her car and opens the trunk to grab a towel and some slippers before retrieving her discarded white shirt from within her car. The run, as well as all of the masturbation, left her sweaty and sticky, and she desperately needs a quick shower to rinse herself.

Sooyoung locks her car once more and makes her way to the bathroom, now wearing slippers instead of socks and shoes. Her eyes scan the building—whoever designed the bathroom left the showers outside, right in the open, where anyone could see someone showering. Whatever the architects were doing, they definitely didn't think it through, but for Sooyoung, it doesn't matter. All she cares about is which side to choose—male or female?

It doesn't take long for Sooyoung to make her way to the male toilet. She steps into the bathroom and casually places her white shirt onto the sink counter before grabbing her towel to leave for the shower—

"Ah!"

"Fuck!"

Two cries of surprise echo in the empty bathroom, just as two pairs of eyes meet each other. One rakes across a naked body, the other trembles in fear and dread at the surprise.

"Y-Yves?!"

Shit.

"Oh, fuck."

Sooyoung knows it'd only be a matter of time before this happened. Someone would recognize her eventually, but in a male bathroom which she was trespassing in, all while nude…

She lunges for this dude, who backs up in surprise. Her hand claps over his mouth to muffle his yelp, and she begins to speak.

"You caught me, Mister. That's right, I'm Yves."

She doesn't give him time to reply. Instead, she begins to cut herself a deal.

"I knew this would happen someday, and I need you to keep this a secret for me. Can you do that? Please say yes, please!"

When the man nods yes, Sooyoung relaxes and releases her hand from his mouth.

"Y—You're Yves, the dancer!"

"Ah, yeah…" Sooyoung can't find it in her to cover up—he'd seen all of her anyway. "Nice to meet you." She reaches out a hand.

"I—I'm a big fan, um… It's nice to meet you too, I'm Lee Min Jun."

When their handshake ends, both Sooyoung and Minjun stand awkwardly in front of each other. Minjun's lustful gaze travels across Sooyoung's body once again, and Sooyoung bites her lip as she considers the situation she's in right now. She's naked, in front of a random fan, and he's looking at her so naughtily…

"Minjun-ah, I need you to keep this a secret for me, okay?"

"Ah—sure, yes, um…"

Sooyoung sees her chance and makes up her mind.

"If you… If you keep this secret for me, I'll… I'll make sure you get a reward worth your trouble."

Minjun perks up in anticipation and undisguised lust, though he tries not to show it. Sooyoung thanks the heavens that she's not meeting someone who'd choose to have his way with her against her will.

"You came here to pee, right?"

"Yeah…" Minjun's voice trails off, the realization beginning to dawn in his eyes.

"Hmm…"

Sooyoung steps up to him and pulls him towards her. She throws her towel aside and pins him to the counter, her naked body pressing intimately against his warm clothed one.

"Have you ever given a girl a golden shower?"

"Wha—?!"

"Have you ever pissed all over a girl?"

"N-No…"

"Do you want to?"

Minjun hesitates, but Sooyoung knows he'll crumble. The temptation is written all over his face.

Sooyoung ups the ante, going all in.

"If you piss all over me right now, I'll let you fuck my pussy and cum in me."

—----

'I'm such a dirty slut,' Sooyoung thinks, as she works Minjun's shorts off his hips. She engages in a fierce liplock with him, their tongues swirling against each other's as she helps him undress. They break the kiss long enough for Minjun to step out of his shorts and pull his shirt off, and Sooyoung throws his clothes aside on the counter before crashing her lips to his in another desperate kiss. Minjun pulls Sooyoung against him, his hard cock pressed between their bodies. Sooyoung giggles when she feels the precum stain her skin.

"You're really wet huh, Minjun? Can't wait to pee on me?"

"I've thought about it, fuck…"

Sooyoung doesn't waste any more time—she kisses and licks her way down Minjun's body while jerking his cock until she squats between his legs. She looks up at Minjun, her big eyes filled with so much lust.

"I need to pee too, Minjun…"

"Fuck it, Yves, just pee with me. I wanna watch you pee."

"Okay." Sooyoung flashes him a huge grin, and she gently jerks him off before aiming his hard cock down over her body.

"You can start peeing, Minjun."

A short moment passes…

"Yessss, fuuuck…"

Minjun's warm, golden piss begins to rain down on her as he releases his control over his bladder. Immediately, she directs his cock to cover every inch of her skin with his pee, specifically across her face and on her breasts. Sooyoung even wraps her lips around Minjun's tip to drink his piss from the source, then she licks his length up and down and takes his balls into her mouth to apply a gentle suction on them, all while Minjun urinates freely all over her.

Sooyoung's never felt so slutty before—indulging in her exhibitionism and piss kink together with a man she's just met is not something she'd ever thought she would do, and here she is, letting a stranger urinate all over her and even drinking it with the promise to let him fuck her after.

At the same time, as Minjun pisses all over her, Sooyoung begins to relieve herself as well. A strong golden stream gushes out from between her legs as she takes Minjun's golden shower, and both her and Minjun moan in pleasure and relief as they empty their bladders together. The couple's lust for each other reaches an all time high when both of their respective streams end and Sooyoung rises up from between Minjun's legs, lust and seduction written all over her features.

"Did you like it, Minjun?"

"Fuck yes." Minjun bites his lip, his cock pointing straight. Sooyoung giggles and flips their position—now, she's the one leaning against the sink. She turns around and meets Minjun's gaze in the mirror, their eyes never breaking contact as she bends over and pushes her ass towards him.

"Come fuck me, Minjun, and cum in this wet, naughty pussy."

Minjun's loud curse is the last sound Sooyoung registers before she releases the sultriest moan of the night. Her voice echoes around the empty bathroom and into the night as Minjun shoves his cock right into her pussy with one stroke. Sooyoung doesn't even get a second to rest before Minjun begins to pound her pussy, his grunts mixing with her loud moans.

"Oh, oh, fuck, Minjun, ah, ah, ah~!"

"Mmgh, fuck, Yves, fuck, you're so fucking tight—!"

No more words are exchanged after—Minjun's animalistic grunts and Sooyoung's broken moans fill the space. Minjun's hips clap against Sooyoung's ass with every harsh thrust he sends into her pussy, and he reaches around Sooyoung to fondle her chest as they begin to make out.

Minjun's cock stretches out Sooyoung just the way she wants to be. Sooyoung swears Minjun's cock is just like what she dreamed of earlier. Her pussy is a tight fit around his cock—she gets the breath knocked out of her whenever he hilts on every thrust. Slick gushes around the gaps between Minjun's cock and Sooyoung's cunt on every exit, and both her and Minjun let themselves get lost in the pleasure of their impromptu sex session. Their moans get louder, their curses more frequent, and the slaps of flesh against flesh as they fuck harder and harder breaks the peace of the night.

"Fuck, fuck, you fuck me so good, fuck!"

"That's right, Yves, fuck, I'm gonna fuck you so hard everyone's gonna know we're fucking!"

Sooyoung's pussy clenches around Minjun's cock at his words. Minjun's bold statement plants the idea of people outside listening to them have sex, and it is with this thought that Sooyoung is thrown over the edge—

"FUCK, I'M CUMMING!"

Sooyoung screams as her knees buckle, and a huge gush of squirt sprays Minjun's feet. Minjun holds Sooyoung up by her hips and pistons into her as she cums all over him. Sooyoung's pussy quivers around his cock, and Minjun lasts no more than three thrusts around Sooyoung's orgasming cunt before he slams his hips against her ass. Semen erupts from his thick cock right into Sooyoung's womb, white hot shots of cum painting her insides white with every hard spurt. Minjun fucks Sooyoung through both of their orgasms, and he wraps his arms around her body in a bear hug as both of them come down from their respective highs. Both of them stay cuddled up until Minjun pulls out, his cock beginning to soften. Thick white semen flows out of Sooyoung's used pussy almost immediately, a testament to how much Minjun came while within Sooyoung.

"Minjun-ah, I'm gonna pee…"

Almost immediately, Sooyoung's urine begins to trickle down her legs. The trickle becomes a stream as Sooyoung empties her bladder again, as she usually would after a round of sex.

"Yves, I need to pee too."

"On me, again."

With her instructions given, Minjun raises his rapidly rehardening cock with his hand. A second goes by, and he begins to sigh in relief—Minjun proceeds to join Sooyoung in emptying his bladder, but he urinates all over Sooyoung's ass, pussy, and legs. Sooyoung moans as Minjun's warm pee washes over her privates, and she rubs her pussy as she watches him pee all over her again, his urine dripping all over her hand as she indulges in the last bit of debauchery for the night.

When Minjun's second golden shower slowly tapers to a few drips, Sooyoung turns around to kiss Minjun fully on the lips. None of them care about how dirty they are—they're beyond that—and instead, they enjoy the deep kiss they share.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

Sooyoung giggles, and she lets go of Minjun, though she keeps his hand in hers.

"Let's shower together."

—-------

Both Minjun and Sooyoung towel themselves off after their brief rinse—Sooyoung with her own towel, Minjun with an extra Sooyoung has.

"Minjun, where's your phone?"

"In the pocket of my pants."

Sooyoung walks over to Minjun's pants and fishes it out. She passes it to Minjun for him to unlock it, and when she gets it back, she punches her number into it and calls herself.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling myself. I want your number too."

A naughty smile graces her features as she boldly reveals her next thought.

"I wanna do this again with you, Minjun…

"But next time, I really want you to pee inside me…"

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #loona smut #loona yves smut #yves smut #ha sooyoung smut #piss kink

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gemini-sensei · 1 year

Text

Today I am thinking about poly Eli and Demetri who have been working a lot recently. Demetri spends some overtime at his office job working on a project and Eli took on another class at the dojo. They want to make a little extra money to surprise their lovely little wife with a vacation away, so they're hard at work looking to make that happen.

Downside is that they come home later. Demetri is overseeing a whole group of people, so the reports he'd usually review in the morning, he stays in late to go over for that overtime bonus. Eli's new class goes over a few days and then he finds himself cleaning up or fixing things around the dojo, even running errands. Anything for a little more cash for his pretty wife. But sometimes they come home and she's already in bed, fast asleep, their dinner on the stove with a little ily note.

She'll wake up in the morning amd they're leaving, giving her quick kisses on the cheek and lips, telling her they love her to the ends of the earth before walking out the door. They hardly have time to talk, which is a real problem for Reader.

For weeks, she's needed to sit down with them. However, they come in needing a shower and go straight to the bathroom with little hellos to her, or they're drop dead tired and all they want is to go to be so they can get up in the morning and do it all over again. Weekends would be ideal if only Eli didn't teach those days. It's turning into a big mess and she doesn't even understand why.

Finally, she throws a wrench in this routine when they walk in and find a box on the living room table. It's not very big and there's a piece of paper on top. They sit down and Demetri reads the small note aloud:

I know you two have been busy, but so have I. There hasn't been a good time to talk to you and that's okay, I know you work so hard for us to live as well as we do. However, there's been something on my mind that I thought you two should know about.

I'm already asleep, but you van open this without me. I hope you like what I've been working on, it's taken a lot of time and energy so far.

Love, Reader ♡

With that said, Eli tries to open the box, but Demetri stops him.

"We should really wait for Reader," he tells his husband, feeling bad that they haven't been able to spend time with their wife recently. "I mean, this is obviously really important to her."

"The note said we could open it now, so we should just open it nlw," Eli argues. He has the box lid in his hands, ready to rip it off. "Plus, if we don't open it and she asks us tomorrow how we liked her surprise, she'll be upset we didn't open it."

Demetri bites his cheek, then nods. "You have a point there."

"I know I do," Eli smirks, then turns his attention to the box

When he pulls the lid off, they both peer into the box and are shocked by what they see. Inside are two baby onesies laid atop two rolled up baby blankets. On top of that is a string of ultrasound pictures and two pacifiers and two rattles around them.

The lid falls from Eli's fingers as he stared and Demetri takes out the pictures. They look at them closely, silently letting the surprise sink in.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it," Demetri mumbles.

"Well believe it," Eli tells him, picking up one of the onesies and reading the front of it that says MY DADS KICK ASS. He can't help but smile. "Reader wouldn't make this up."

"I mean I can't believe we didn't know," Demetri clarifies.

Eli looks at him, deadpan expression on his face. "I wonder why that might be."

They argue about the logistics of knowing versus not knowing before they turn back to the pictures and stare at them. It's another several minutes before Eli points out how they're labeled A and B, at which point he starts crying because holy ahit it's all sunk in and they're having twins.

Demetri has to hold him and calm him down, but Eli is just so happy and bawling, hugging the onesie to his chest. Dem won't let him go to their room where Reader is sleeping until he stops crying, so once he's calmed down, they get up and go get ready for bed as quietly as humanly possible. Eli carries that fucking onesie with him too.

Then once they're ready, they crawl into bed with Reader. Eli's so soft and needy, Demetri lays with him and holds him while he holds Reader, making Eli the middle spoon. He puts his hand over Reader's belly and for the first time he feels how different it is.

Instead of her normal pudgy fat that he loves to squeeze from time to time, it's more solid and firm. There's a roundness to her belly hidden under his hold sweaters and Deletri's punny t-shirts. He realizes she's hidden this little secret so well so that they could be thoroughly surprised, which is a far better one than they were going to give to her.

He falls asleep with his face buried in her neck, whispering "I love you" over and over again softly. Demetri doesn't fall asleep for a while, just watching over the two loves of his life, pleasantly happy with the idea of calling in one of his vacation days tomorrow so that they can all celebrate their twins and Reader.

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cheolhub · 1 year

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for science what are your favorite scoupsie hcs 🤓 i don’t think i’ve seen anything like this yet but i’m kinda lowkey obsessed with the idea of loser cheol 🌵

OKAY I DID TWO PARTS TO THIS ASK LOL —

MY FAVES HCS? HMMM

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE HC is that cheol loves fucking in front of mirrors. especially if you had said something mean abt yourself, he literally won’t let it slide. he’s sitting you in front of a mirror, split open on his cock n he’s like, “no, baby, open your eyes ‘n look. look at me fuckin’ my pretty baby—“ AND IF YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES, HE THREATENS TO STOP.

he also makes you repeat after him n everything T-T “who’s my pretty baby?” “i-i am.” “good, say it to me now.” “i-i’m your p-pretty baby.”

i think hes a really good boyfriend in general. never fails to tell you how much he loves you or tell you how beautiful you are. wants to eat all of your insecurities bc to him, you’re literally a perfect doll and you deserve nothing but the world

i also like that he gives off sugar daddy in a sense where he just spoils the fuck out of his partner. if you want or express even the slightest interest in something, it’s yours before you can blink— price doesn’t matter bc you are priceless to him

he’s a soft dom through an through. like he loves praising you for taking him :( loves the way you babble for more of his cock even though youve cum countless times :( loves making you go stupid all for him while he just coos and tells you how much a “good baby” you are

EVEN THO HES A SOFT DOM, i think he’s also #1 brat tamer. he will not put up with an attitude and is so quick to put you back in your place. he’ll entertain you for a lil, but the second you start getting testy, he’s bending you over and making you apologize and beg if you wanna cum

PUSSY EATING KING !!!$$!!!!!! HE JUST KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING

hmm, i also think he’d be really possessive [which is so fucking hot to me] and he’d say my in front of any pet name. [i.e. my baby, my angel, my princess, etc.]

personal preference, but i would enjoy calling him sir and i think he’d fuck with it

———

AS FOR LOSER CHEOL?! i’ve literally never thought of him as a loser, just someone that can ruin me but maybe i can think of something…..

maybe ? english lit major loser!cheol who nearly cums in his pants every time he sees you. he always thinks you don’t notice him staring at you from across the lecture, but you do, and you think it’s really cute that he has a crush on you. you give him a chance because, yeah he’s kinda dorky and really good at english, but he’s… definitely not ugly. quite the opposite, actually. and the more you think about him, the more you think about him with his head between your thighs, foggy glasses framing his face??

so you stop him after class one day and he looks so shocked, about to stutter out an apology for no reason. before he embarrasses himself, you ask him if he can peer review one of your essays for the class and he … generously (and nervously) agrees.

so now you’re in your dorm and cheol’s trying to read your words on the page, but they’re starting to blur together because he can smell you. he can smell your sweet perfume on you and on your bed sheets and now he’s hyperaware of the fact that … he’s in your room where you sleep and where you shower…. naked… in the bathroom over…. how you probably have spent nights with your fingers in your cunt on the very bed he sits on.

and it’s almost too much, but he literally loses it when your hand touches his arm. “cheol? is it bad, you look like you’re in pain?”

“fuck-“ he curses under his breath, the quietest whimper coming out and you piece it together. he’s turned on. “i-i need to—“

you smile, feeling flattered. “i can take care of you, cheol… if you proof my paper… i can offer my mouth?” you suggest and when he gives you wide eyes, you panic over the fact that you may have misread the situation. “i-i, nevermind- sorry, that was w—“

“please?” he breaths out, moving the paper fro out of his lap to reveal the large tent in his pants. “please, i’ll do anything…”

#maybeeeee full loser!cheol fic????#no im kidding i dont even know if that plot was good shshbfd #[💌: 🌵]#CHEOL LOML #💭 sar is thinking…#seventeen hard hours

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spnfanficpond · 1 year

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March 2023 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

WELCOME TO THIS MONTH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE (you don’t have to be a member) CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. Everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that this fun, thoughtful award will do just that. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for Tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THIS MONTH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @iprobablyshipit91

I've Got You by @spnexploration

This story is super sweet protective Dean and I loved it so much. It’s everything I love to read 😍

Motel Diablo by @waynes-multiverse

This was just hilarious, it had reader and Dean smut as well as some brotherly squabbling and Deans love for his car. Brilliant!

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Rumors (series) by @deanwinchesterswitch

If you're in the mood to get your ripped out and stomped on, this is the series for you! Dean did his usual stupid stuff and pushed her away. And then he regretted it, but she was gone. Can they fix it? Holy moly, this one hurts!!

What You Need (series) Part 1 & Part 2 by @thinkinghardhardlythinking

SO MUCH PINING!!! I love me some juicy pining and this has juicy pining AND Sam being a snack with gooey insides and I LOVE IT!! I can't wait to see how this goes!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @princessmisery666

All Out of Options by @julesthequirky

This is short and to the point and it broke my heart all the same!

Tattered (series - link and review are for part 8) by @stusbunker

Another amazing instalment. I love these 3 and though the situation is a bit messed up, Dean STILL puts Sam first. Perfect characterization. And that ending has me holding my breath…

Rumors (series - link and review are for part 3) by @deanwinchesterswitch

This whole series is heartbreaking and I never have the words to express how much I love something. So I'll say it again, I LOVE THIS, it hurts so so so so so so so good.

~*~*~

Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

Ceremonial Boning by @agenthellcat

Not over the top with angst, cute, sweet and sexy! Excellent writing and most of all, she didn’t write that Dean was scissoring his fingers.

~*~*~

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Never Doubt The Best Man (series) by @stusbunker

This one's been around for a couple of years, and yet, I forgot to read more than the first chapter until last month. And boy am I glad I did! It's soooo sexy and soooo Dean and fun and SEXY. And swoony. And it's Stu, which is always an automatic, duh, I'm gonna read it.

Muffled by @hoboal87

This is sweet and sexy and quick, but you can also feel the love. Those are sometimes the very best.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Apple of my Eye (series) by @bamby0304

This is such a great series! I love what she did with this! The fact that it started in the « normal » world is what makes this series interesting!

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AWESOME WORK AND GREAT FEEDBACK!

These are not actual awards, as in, there is no competition! This system is set up so everyone has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author in the Pond that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#angel fish awards #angel fish awards masterlist #spnfanficpond #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #spn fic rec #supernatural fic rec

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thaleiathorne · 8 months

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Dimileth + Fluff Prompt: Nap

summary: Modern AU Officer workers. Byleth has a terrible day at work, Dimitri makes it better with a surprise. More domestic fluff

(Check out on ao3 part of my dimileth drabble collection:)

Byleth’s day had been agonizingly slow, like no matter how long she ignored the sound of the clock ticking, time refused to move.

The day has already began as a list of unforeseen circumstances: rolling out of bed at the ungodly hour of 4:00 am, elbowing her partner awake on accident, stubbing her toe in the shower, and spending a total of 13 minutes scrambling to find her set of keys before rushing to get to work.

She attends meeting after meeting, without little reprieve. She stumbles out of her last one of the day, delirious and starving. She grumbles as she slams her office door shut, and tries to will away the building headache forming at the base of her skull.

Byleth is finally able to find a moment of solace in the confines of her office, even if there is still so much to do.

Her list of tasks so far: responding to vendor emails, reviewing the content for new hire training, calling back the candidates she interviewed, crossing checking employment references, calling the contractor back to see—

A knock at her office door interrupts her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, By?”

A familiar voice calls from the opened door. A head of blonde hair pops out from the opening, and Byleth is blissfully greeted by Dimitri’s grinning face.

He wedges the door open, so he can lean against the frame, eyes sparkling and clearly elated to see her. He is dressed impeccably: with a two piece linen suit, perfectly tailored, paired with solid platinum cufflinks (gifted by her, of course), and onyx leather loafers.

He stands with a brown paper bag, speckled with grease, in one hand and a steaming cup of something suspiciously smelling like coffee in the other. Dimitri enters her office, and clicks the door shut behind him.

She cannot raise a brow at how he locks the door as well.

“I knew you rushed out this morning in a frenzy, and I figured you haven’t eaten.”

Her stomach comically answers for her, growling at intermingling smells of grease and coffee.

She peers up at him, clutching her stomach, unable to keep the blush from rising in her cheeks.

“Sounds like I was right.” Dimitri sets the food on her desk, and moves to kiss her on the cheek. The kiss is quick, but it leaves her heart racing. His flashes a 1000-kilowatt smile, and affection blossoms in her chest.

Dimitri Blayyaid is too handsome, too generous, too rich, and entirely and wholly hers.

Food long forgotten, Byleth launches herself into his arms, face nuzzling against his chest. She snakes her arms around his waist, and soaks in his spicy cologne.

“Thanks, Dima. You have no idea how much I needed this.” How much I needed you, Her heart longs to correct.

“Beloved,” the baritone of his voice vibrates against his chest, echoing in her senses. When he chuckles, she wants to swallow the sound and somehow have it live inside her. Muscled arms lock around her, and even though she is hungry, she is completely overtaken by the sense of safety that settles over her.

Dimitri presses his lips to the crown of her hair, and hums contently.

“Can… we just stay like this? I think… I just need a recharge.” She hopes her voice doesn’t sound as small as she feels.

One of his large hands moves from their place at her waist, to snake up and cup her chin. He tilts her head so she can peer up at his sapphire eyes. “I can do you one better. If you eat the food I brought you, then I can show you the surprise.”

“Surprise? Dimitri, if you bought me something—-“

A slender finger presses against her lips, silencing her complaints. “No, I didn’t buy you anything. But, sweetheart, you should know you cannot keep me from spoiling you.”

With a final kiss against her temple, and Dimitri’s thumb that brushes against the contour of her cheek; he regretfully breaks their embrace. He maneuvers her back to her desk, and plants her back in her office chair. He even pats her head for good measure.

Byleth has never met a man who enjoys babying her as much as he does.

She resists the urge to pout, as she finally decides to devour the fried food and black coffee he bought for her.

Dimitri steps to the storage closet, where she keeps extra files and her winter accessories, and pulls out a bundle of blankets and pillows. He then flicks out the lights, and walks back to the couch on the far side of the wall.

“Are we… taking a nap?” Byleth stares in wonder at how he lays the blanket against the couch, and removes the stiff cushions. He neatly removes his shoes and unbuttons his suit jacket.

She swallows, as he unbuttons the first few buttons of his button up revealing inches of his sculpted neck, and pale collarbones. When he is finished, he matches her gaze, full of adoration and understanding, and he gestures for her to come to him.

Byleth is not as graceful as her husband-to-be, she rips off her cardigan, undoes the clasp to her bra, and kicks off her pumps haphazardly. With deft fingers, she pulls her nude bra out of her blouse, and breathes a sound of relief as she settles onto his lap.

Dimitri pulls her against his chest, tucking her body into his. They both fall against the feathered pillows, arms intertwined like tree branches. She tosses her thigh over his muscled one, to fuse them even closer, and they let out a mutual sigh of bliss.

Before she can even ask he says: “I canceled the rest of our meetings for the next 2 hours. You should be able to rest for a bit.”

She is already drowsy, but she is able to tilt up to kiss him slowly. Nothing too hot or demanding, but slow, everlasting, comfortable, and tender. His hold on her tightens, and the world falls away.

She dreams sweetly, only of him.

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backandimbamon · 2 years

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i’ve missed you guys 🥹 finally updated dark seas, palm trees and mangoes! hope you enjoy, leave me kudos and a review if you did. hope you all are okay! muah muah!

“So what exactly are we pitching a tent for?”

They’re still in the Dominican Republic, enjoying their sunny days and humid nights before Bonnie calls on him to help with the structure of her sturdy little tent at sunset.

The beach is in front of them and the resort isn’t too far away with a tide low enough for her to set up comfortably on the expanse of slightly dampened sand. She presses at the humidity on her forehead absently while reviewing the instructions.

Damon has already made a vow to himself to be on his best behavior for at least the rest of their time in the DR. His mind has been so far in the gutter lately but luckily Bonnie’s spell released its hold on him around 1:27 this morning and well, he was in the shower for far too long.

He thinks that merely existing so close to him, Bonnie has a way of bringing the best and the worst out of him-what’s left of his humanity and the beast- but he always gets mixed up on which part is which.

However, today is the perfect day for him to make an active effort to control all parts of himself.

Zero hungry gazes. No physical or metaphorical boners. Not one naughty musing. He will be good if only to prove to himself that he can.

He can do this.

He chances a glance at Bonnie, her flyaways blowing in the ocean breeze. She looks pretty, and innocent, and like she would probably throw a shoe at him if she could hear his inner dialogue about her the other ninety percent of the time.

“I’ve always wanted to go camping.”

“On the beach?”

“What better view?” She gestures behind her to the orange and purple skies, the saltwater a perfect pink. “It looks like paradise.”

“I’ve had my fair share of camping with Stefan. Humans always taste a little better when you eat them with s’mores.”

“Wow, that is definitely demented.”

“Our emo phase, dare I say it.”

She shakes her head.

“Why give up a bed with its own area code for a sleeping bag?”

“It’s the principle. And you have to stay with me tonight since you’re my only lookout.”

He barks a laugh. “But the all-powerful Bennett witch needs no saving.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” She says it jokingly though the words linger in his mind almost as long as the taste of her lip gloss in his mouth.

Damon can probably count on one hand the amount of times the little witch has needed his help. His specialty was always messing things up anyway, but still…

When he thinks back, he can only recall Elena who needed the rescue, the only one with the big, orange raft. Elena whom he buckled in with the life jacket while everyone else sank around him. She is the only one he remembers writing SOS in the sand.

So what about Bonnie?

“Are you gonna help me or what?” She waves the creased paper of instructions in irritation before folding her arms across her chest, shaking him out of his musings. “Can’t you set this thing up in record timing?”

“And risk an estranged mortal finding out that I’m a…” Damon takes a pregnant pause and looks around him in angst. “…a vampire?”

Bonnie stares blankly.

“Tough crowd.”

The tent is smaller than she’d planned, from peering into it. Big enough that Damon can lay down comfortably but she can tell by looking at it that they’ll hardly be any space between them.

Damon clutches his chin in thought when he reviews their dilemma, before deciding on a sigh. “I guess you’ll just have to sleep on top of me.”

She rolls her eyes.

When they both crawl their way in, Bonnie feels odd. Like the one thing she’s been determined to escape has found its way through that little entrance arch and has no plan to leave. Like it’s the only thing holding up the tent now, bouncing around and through.

They’re sitting upright, Damon in his usual uniform of all black, Bonnie in a sundress, but their thighs are touching and it’s different from her teasing him for revenge. It’s different because before, there was space. Lots and lots of space. She could back away, come and go, tease, leave. Breathe. But now, in such a tight space, the only thing she breathes is Damon.

Not to mention, their vacation has created some sticky situations, made their bond a slippery slope, sometimes a tightrope. It’s obvious their relationship, (friendship,) has gotten complicated to say the least but when wasn’t it? And those ginormous vacation beds are big enough to bury the night’s emotions with the rising sun.

However…

In this tiny tent, there is no room to forget. She can’t help the feeling that the walls are pressing in on her, forcing her to acknowledge the charge that’s always been there between her and him.

Damon seems unaffected. Or not unusual to how he normally is- flirty, devil-may-care, kind of dastardly.

“Our little hut isn’t so bad.”

She lets out a lifeless chuckle and Damon’s eyes shoot to hers with a question wondering what might be wrong.

She looks away quickly for fear he can see the mango from Jamaica on her mind and how she wishes Damon had tasted if only to have their teeth, tongues and mouths on the same thing at once.

As with her cocktail, that flittering satisfaction she felt when he sipped from the same spot she had- the lightest imprint of her gloss bringing color to his lips. Damon returned the glass to her in a way that made their fingertips brush, (because how else can he return a champagne flute?) and an overwhelming impulse to lick the rim of the glass-right where he drank- bubbled up in her. The feeling came almost as fast as it went but the worse part was that he could provoke some animalistic urge within her without even knowing. She hated his undeterred ability to make a moment so average an aphrodisiac.

She wiggles her ankle as if it could rid her of the phantom feeling of his knuckles on her back tying her bikini straps, she blinks long enough to raise concern. Her pulse is jumping.

Damon leans forward and wraps his hand around her ankle to still her, offer some sort of peace, make her laugh with a comical look on his face like she’s batshit crazy, but she swears it takes every ounce of her being to stifle her groan. How pertinent of him to think he’s making the situation better when his hand around her ankle feels like a test.

Damn him.

If he hadn’t looked at her like he saw fireworks for the first time in his century-and-a-half life.

If he hadn’t pulled that jealous boyfriend act.

If he hadn’t enjoyed her angry aneurysms so much that even when he was on one knee in pain, the want in his eyes was enough to make her dizzy.

If he hadn’t said he loved her like that….

She puffs out a breath, humidity building under her breasts like her heart is sweating or something.

“I need air.”

more here

#bamon #bamon fanfic #bamon fanfiction #bamon fic #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #damon x bonnie #bamon ff #bamon prompt #tvd ff #tvd fanfiction #tvd

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bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

〈Kuroo never seem to get the promotion, unless he has the help of his good luck charm(s)

❉Genre: NSFW 18+ (minors dni) ❉warning(s): tw: blood, Poly relationships (Bokuroo x Reader), DDLG dynamics (Papa and Daddy titles used), fingering (female receiving), oral (male receiving), slight exhibitionism. ❉Character(s): Timeskip! Bokuto Koutarou x Kuroo Tetsurō x Fem!Reader

❉

Fucking hell.” Bokuto murmured to himself from the back seat of the sleek sports car he sat in. The white button up he had decided to wear to the job today was sprinkled with droplets of blood. It had been a messier shift than usual, and now his shirt had paid the price.

His thumb brushed over his collar bone, grumbling out an annoyed “fuck” when blood was smeared along the pad of his finger. Akaashi looked to Bokuto through the review mirror, before he turned into the private driveway with ease. “You’re usually never this messy, Bokuto-San.” “Yea well, that guy was an asshole.” The grey haired male barked out, knowing very well it wasn’t Akaashi’s fault but sometimes unable to hold back his frustrations. He hated coming home like this, despite Kuroo working along side him most of the time. He just didn’t like when YOU had to see it, the violence or the dark stuff that came with the jobs him and Kuroo had to do. Even though you were all aware and stayed with them regardless, he still didn’t like bringing it home. “Thanks for the ride Akaashi. See you tomorrow.” Bokuto spoke as he quickly opened the door. Akaashi nodded to his leader, rolling down the window to speak. “Did you need me to call someone to come pick up that suit? They’ll get all the blood out.” Bokuto waved a yes, knowing Akaashi knew him well enough for his answer without having to actually say it. The male sighed as he easily clicked open the front door. He expected to be welcomed home by at least one of his partners, but it only made his brows furrow with more irritation to be met with silence. “Hello?” He called to the open hallway, finally hearing the muffled voice of Kuroo. “One moment please— Bo, in the office love.” Bokuto was rolling up the sleeves of his dirtied shirt as he headed for the office. “Are you on the phone or something Ro? Where’s Birdy? I thought she’d be home. Today was such a shit sh—“ He paused when he finally walked into the office, his eyes meeting those of Kuroo’s which were currently lit up with devilish mischief. He was indeed on the phone, having it pressed up against his ear with shoulders as his palms...

One was pinning your arms against your back, while the other was buried between your trembling thighs. You were stuck over Kuroo’s lap, ass up and bruised and body naked. You looked to Bokuto and whimpered softly into the tie that had been stuffed between your lips, the one he assumed belonged to Kuroo. “Ah~ this is why y’all couldn’t respond.” Bokuto murmured, lowering his voice as Kuroo continued on with his business call, fingers still causing a mess between your legs. Bokuto had to chuckle, approaching slowly as to not make a sound. He took hold of your chin, slowly rose your face so you could look him in the eye. They were wide and filled with tears, another whimper muffled through fabric making Bokuto’s grin grow even bigger. He bent at the knees, thumb quick to scoop up the tear that slipped from your eye. “You look so pretty like this Birdy...~” Bokuto spoke in a whisper, his eyes darting up to Kuroo only to see that his voice didn’t disturb the call. “Daddy’s really been giving it you huh?” You nodded desperately, wanting to reach for him but only having Kuroo’s large palm grip your wrists tighter, his fingers only leaving your core to give your rear a quick swat before going back to work. Your eyes widened as your body jolted, facing lulling into Bokuto’s warm and inviting palm. Bokuto chuckled again, this time slowly pulling the tie from between your swollen lips. You gasped softly when it was removed, chest heaving as you caught your breath, whined softly at Bokuto. “P-Papa~” you pleaded, only to be shushed by Bokuto who ran his thumb over your bottom lip, knowing you’d happily suck it between your petals. “Only a little longer Buba, you’re Daddy’s good luck charm remember?” Bokuto encouraged, pressing kisses along your dampened face. It was more that Kuroo just loved teasing you while he was on business, the threat of someone hearing your pretty cries turning both you and him on. But things did seem to work in his favour whenever he had you begging and whimpering for him while on a business call. So it became a regular thing. Kuroo let out a hearty laugh into the phone, his eyes peering down at Bokuto and sending a wink his way, all the while two of his fingers pressed into your sweet spot. You bit down gently on Bokuto’s thumb, an attempt to stay quiet as possible and failing as you curled your toes in sweet delight. Bokuto’s hissed softly, biting his own lip as his own excitement seems to build within his pants. Considering his suit was already a mess from earlier, he thought a little more fun wouldn’t hurt. “Let’s keep you quiet hm Birdy? Want papa to help you?” You nodded, struggling to find proper words as Kuroo massaged that spot within your spongy walls, edging you on closer and closer to a high. Bokuto pulled his thumb from your lips with a pop and was back to standing. He eased his belt off, unzipping his slacks to easily pull his cock free of its confines. It was semi hard as he held it towards your face, watching the ways your eyes glazed with desire and your mouth lulled open submissively. “That’s it pretty girl.” He praised, easing his length between your lips. You kept your eyes glued on him as he pushed all the way into your shallowed cheeks, gagging ever so softly as his tip brushed against the back of your throat. Bokuto groaned softly, rolling his hips at a low pace so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing a handful at the nape of your neck that had your eyes watering. He looked to Kuroo again to see he was blushing a bit , eyes clouded with desire as he watched Bokuto thrust into your pretty mouth. “Sounds good, what day do you think we can have this all planned?” Kuroo spoke into the phone, the pace of his fingers suddenly picking up within your clamping walls. It had you gagging around Bokuto, fists curling up tight as you sat on the very edge of pleasure. Bokuto had to lick his lips, picking up his pace just a little bit as your little moans of delight sent vibrations all the way up his spine. “Good girl, let’s both cum for daddy and give him double the luck? Can you do that for me Birdy~?” You nodded as best you could, nosing into his pelvic bone as he stuffed your mouth with his cock. Kuroo was smirking from ear to ear at that remark, and yet his voice stayed so professional over the phone. Bokuto’s grip on your hair tightened as he picked up his pace, the lewd sounds of him thrusting into your mouth almost making him moan out loud. You had such a perfect mouth, and you took him so well as he fucked into your hallowed cheeks. You could feel the way he pulsed against your tongue, drools dribbling down your chin as you let out the softest whimpers around his shaft. When your core clumped down on Kuroo’s fingers he had to take a deep breathe, his smirk grown to it usual cat like grin as his employer gave his usual bullshit ending speech. Kuroo took that has his que to press harshly against your sweet spot. Your eyes widened, body jolting as you gagged on Bokuto’s cock and finally gushed over Kuroo’s fingers. His fingers kept up that pace so you could ride out the high, the feeling of you squirming and whimpering in his lap only making it all that much more satisfying. All the while Bokuto bit back a moan, finishing quicker than usual as he watched you crumble so easily under Kuroo’s touch. He saw the way your cheeks bulged, tears finally spilling as he shot his warm load down your throat. “Thank you so much Sir for your time, I look forward to working with you.” Kuroo spoke, before he hung up the phone. As soon as the conversation was done let out a hearty laugh, his fingers finally slowly down between your throbbing walls. “I got the promotion!! It was going south so it’s a good thing Bokuto came home when he did.” “Congrats babe...” Bokuto huffed out, his cheeks still a bit red as he slowly pulled out of your mouth. He groaned softly when he pulled out with a pop, watching your naked form slump into Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo hummed, finally letting go of your pinned arms so he could massage them out instead. “C-congratulations Daddy...~” Your voice was raspy as you spoke, which made both of the boys chuckle softly. “I couldn’t have done it without you and this perfect pussy kitten~” Kuroo teased, allowing you to nuzzle yourself in his lap to calm down after the high of your orgasm. Kuroo looked up to Bokuto then, brows furrowed when he finally noticed the blood that stained Bokuto’s shirt. “Oh? A messy day huh? Why don’t we all shower together then?” “Movie night?” You questioned softly, finally rubbing away the drool that tried to dry on your chin. Kuroo held you tighter then, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Bokuto happily agreed, stripping down right there in the office. “Oh fuck yea. We’re cuddling all night long.”

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officialscaramouche · 3 years

Text

Three is company— a gift for @ambers-glider ‘s fic here! I told y’all I’d get to writing today!!!!

EDIT: Tomo is the friend (Tomo is short for tomodachi which is friend in japanese)

pairing: Kazuha x Gorou x reader

tw: a couple curse words

wc: 2,178

You squatted around the fire with your colleagues, eating your food straight from the can. “[Y/N]!” You hear your squad leader call out from his tent. You turn to look at what he wanted and note him standing with a messenger from the base of operations you just left. He waved what looked like a white flag. It piqued your interest, you had to admit, stretching out your legs with your can in hand.

“Yes, sir!” You salute, slapping your ankles together in form.

Your squad leader extended his hand, exchanging an open letter with you. “A letter. From the resistance,” he says simply. “From the second in command himself.”

It didn’t take the second sentence for you to know who it was. Of course, Kokomi was the leader of your resistance— all of you worked for her. But her second in command was none other than the tricky Gorou, known for his sly and mischievous ploys. “Thank you, sir,” you salute once more before dipping to tear into the letter.

It sucked that none of your mail could go through unopened, but it made sense considering that any one of you could be shogunate spies. It was a small price to pay for your cause, even if the letter was a bit personal.

[Y/N], it read. I hope this letter finds you well. After yours and Kazuha’s leave, I dove into my work to try and distract myself from the aching in my heart. Seeing many of my comrades fall in the recent ambush made me long for you more. I cannot ignore it much longer, so I have written to both you and dearest Kazuha in hopes that we may once again be reunited. We should all be returning to base in two weeks for the monthly review. Please find me there. I look forward to seeing you. Gorou.

“Oh?” A voice came behind you. “Everyone wondered what was going on between you and the shiba boy. I guess this proves true?”

You pulled the letter to your chest, scowling at the man who sat beside you. “Do you need something, sir? Why is my business important to you?”

He smiled, throwing an arm around you. “Damn, I was just curious!” You shook his arm off of you and turned your back to him. “I’m sorry that we have to go through your letters. But I’m sure you understand.”

You frowned as your eyes scanned the letter again. “I do,” you sigh. Bringing the letter to your nose and breathing in the scent. It smelled like otogi wood. It smelled like him. “But it does suck that everyone in command knows about my affairs.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You peer over your shoulder and glare. “I do mind you asking.” You hissed.

The two weeks went by painfully slow. Your team was sent to do reconnaissance once more after the ambush that Gorou mentioned in his letter. While it wasn’t your team that was tasked with scouting that area prior to his arrival, it was your command team that got in trouble for it. Everyone was expected to do seamless work and the weight was on your team’s shoulders.

You double checked your field of observation; replacing your traps, checking the knots, and notating all of your activities. Signing off and turning in your report, you packed all of your equipment and belongings and darted out of the camp.

It was good to finally be back on base. All you wanted to do was get into your room and hop into the shower. You weren’t about to meet your exes sweaty and covered in dirt. You step inside and stop at the front desk. “Welcome back [Y/N],” the receptionist greets. “What number did you reserve?”

“Twenty three,” you slide over the key, lugging your duffel bag onto the table. You unzip the bag and fish for your personal belongings as the receptionist grabs your locker key. “I’m returning the reconnaissance pack and some gear.”

The receptionist scratches out your name on the clipboard and pulls the bag across the desk. “I heard you’re meeting with Master Gorou and Lord Kazuha.”

You slap your forehead with a groan. “Ugh, does everyone know?”

“Not everyone. I heard from Master Gorou himself. He told me to tell you he’d be in his office.”

“He’s here already?”

“Since seven this morning. He seemed rather eager to meet you.” The receptionist hands you the forms you signed to borrow the equipment. “Sign and date, please.”

You take the pen off the desk and begin to scribble on the document when the door slides open with a ding. “Oh, [Y/N],” a calm and melodious voice says. “What great timing!”

You shudder at the voice, turning slowly to confirm your suspicions. “O-Oh, hi Lord Kazuha…I just got back.”

The samurai walks up and places a hand on the small of your back. “Is Gorou here yet?”

“Yes,” the receptionist answers, taking the clipboard back from you. “He should be waiting in his office.”

“Great,” Kazuha smiles, grabbing your belongings off the desk and ushering you away with him. “Let’s go, shall we?”

You twiddle your fingers nervously as you walk. “I haven’t showered yet, my lord.”

“Oh that’s alright. I haven’t either.”

That wasn’t the point, you thought, reaching the elevator. “Well, I was hoping I could stop at my room and shower.”

Kazuha pushed one of the buttons on the elevator panel. “We’re already here, though.” You scratch your head and frown. “It’s okay,” he continues. “Master Gorou won’t mind.”

“Why do you smell like incontinence?”

You bury your face in your palms as you listen to Gorou and Kazuha speak. “Because I’ve been hiding in the trenches,” Kazuha laughs, opening his arms for a hug.

“You know I have a strong sense of smell,” Gorou whined as he embraced the samurai. “And [Y/N],” you look from between your fingers and notice the warm smile and faint blush on Gorou’s face. “It’s so good to see you too.”

The shiba boy walks up to you and pulls you into a tight embrace, his face nuzzled into your neck. “You’re stinky too.”

“Hey!” You shout, your hands reaching to wrap around him. “Kazuha didn’t want to stop at my room.”

Gorou pulls back and gazes into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “That’s okay. I’ve been waiting around anxiously for both of you. Come,” he gestured, extending his arm out. “Please sit with me. I’ve got cookies and tea.”

Kazuha tucked his hands into his sleeves and grinned. He knelt down on the tatami pillow, sitting down on his knees and reaching for a cookie. You followed suit next to him, sitting back on your heels and taking the teacup from Gorou after he poured some tea. It was nice and light until Kazuha took a sip from his cup. “Why did you ask us to come here?” He said with a smile.

You stiffened at the question, your hair standing on end at the suddenly uncomfortable mood. You thought it was obvious why he arranged this meeting, but you guess that Kazuha wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

Gorou rubbed the back of his neck. “I mostly wanted to apologize,” he explained. “Whether or not you accept my apology is not my concern. But I do hope that we can agree to reconcile.”

“It’s very uncomfortable walking around after my superiors have gone through my mail,” Kazuha continued, closing his eyes as he sipped on his tea. “You could’ve at least been a bit more subtle with the delivery.”

“That was part of the problem, though.” The two of you watched and listened closely as Gorou spoke. When the three of you parted ways, it wasn’t on the best of terms. Being in each other’s presence was awkward enough as a result, but hearing him explain his side wasn't something that either you or Kazuha cared to understand. “Keeping both you and [Y/N] a secret was a problem to me. I understood that it would become a hindrance if people knew, but I couldn’t even hold your hand in public.”

Kazuha was silent as he spoke. Gorou and Kazuha had been a thing before you were introduced. But from the beginning you felt that things were tense between them. Being an outsider, the problem was more obvious than it was to them but it was something you felt they needed to work out. That’s why you left.

“And while it was okay for a bit,” Gorou continued, looking away as his words began to choke in his throat. “It was painful to love someone who didn’t even want to be called my ‘boyfriend.’ I don’t think you realize how embarrassing it is to say ‘oh, Kazuha’s my not-boyfriend because he doesn’t want to be tied down by titles.’ I understand that you don’t want a serious relationship but it felt like you didn’t care.”

“I was grieving,” Kazuha kind of snapped, his fingers curled into a fist. “Do you not understand that? My real boyfriend killed himself!”

“Am I not real to you?! Am I just your rebound to fuck and forget?! We are all grieving, Kazuha! We all loved Tomo! What about [Y/N], huh?! Is [Y/N] not real to you either?!”

Kazuha slammed his fist on the table. “Neither of you give a shit! Neither of you care about how I feel!”

Gorou stood on his feet, looking down at the man across from him. “Who was the person that begged you to stay, huh?! Throwing yourself into battle at every chance you got and then turning your back on me!! How dare you say I don’t give a shit!”

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence after both men refused to say anything else. All you did was sit there and listen, not really feeling as if your opinion mattered. You weren’t in the relationship for very long anyway, why would you have anything to say?

Kazuha looked away from the both of you, while Gorou’s eyes focused on him. You sat with your hands in your lap, waiting for someone to say something. “What do you think, [Y/N]?” Kazuha said finally, not looking at you.

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Gorou said, sitting back down and reaching for your hands. “You were a part of the relationship too.”

“I’m not sure though…it didn’t feel like I was.” Kazuha looked over his shoulder, his cheeks wet from tears he had been hiding. “I wasn’t even a part of the conversation. You left—” you said, pointing to Kazuha. “—and you ignored me.” Then pointing to Gorou.

You crossed your arms with a huff. “Kazuha didn’t even try to talk it out, and Gorou wasn’t patient enough. Neither of you had any care about how I felt. I don’t even think you guys care now! All you want is for me to agree with you and argue with the other! But you’re both wrong! We all loved Tomo, Kazuha. It’s not fair that you shut all of us out. And it’s also not fair to Kazuha to try and force him to get over it so quickly! Everyone grieves at different paces. Just because you’re more used to your friends dying doesn’t mean he has to!”

They were both silent again as your words soaked in. You were right, of course. Gorou thought about the things he said and how he could’ve done it differently. How he had pushed Kazuha away instead of helping. And Kazuha thought about how selfish he was being. He wasn’t Tomo’s only friend and he wasn’t the only one who cared about him.

Then the silence was broken. “I’m sorry.”

Both of the men turned to look at you with confused expressions. “Why are you sorry?” Kazuha asked, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to him. “It’s not your fault.”

Gorou came around and joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Yeah, [Y/N] it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No,” Gorou shook his finger. “I said I was going to apologize first.”

“Well too bad!” Kazuha shoved a finger into Gorou’s chest. “I said it first!”

Gorou laughed, pinching Kazuha’s cheek. “No, [Y/N] said it first!”

You pushed them away from you and chuckled. “Now that you’re both feeling better, I was going to say ‘I’m sorry is what you should say to each other.’”

Kazuha tucked your hair behind your ear with a soft expression, before Gorou swooped in and peppered your cheeks with kisses. “Promise you’ll work on it?” You asked.

Gorou and Kazuha looked at each other lovingly, leaning in to kiss for the first time in a long time. “We promise.” They said at the same time.

#writing #Kazuha #Kazuha x reader #Gorou #Gorou x reader #three is company #Kazuha x Gorou #kazugorou #Kazuha x Gorou x reader

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tricksters-captain · 4 years

Text

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 1

AN: So I watched the Queens Gambit in one day and I am officially obsessed with it. And how dare it bring back my crush on Thomas Brodie Sangster... Due to this... Have a fanfic...

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x reader

Word Count: 2,504

Warnings: (I know nothing about chess except what the show taught me so bare that in mind), none really

Another state, another tournament.

Your work had you travel round to even the smallest of Chess Tournaments to try and get the dirt on up and coming chess players or already existing champions.

You inhaled the familiar smell of a hotel lobby, taking in your surroundings as people bustled about the place.

It was one of the bigger tournaments fortunately and so you were hoping to run into some champions which tend to give you better pages which equals better pay.

You walked up to the front desk, your eyes scanning the small tables as far as the eye could see where chess boards were being studied in case you recognised any chess players.

You did but they were all the standard normies that showed their faces at these events. No one noteworthy yet.

“Can I help you?” The slim man behind the desk with slicked back red hair flashed you a toothy smile as he greeted you.

“(Y/n)(Y/l/n).” You introduced yourself and the man soon flicked through his booking sheets to find your reservation.

“Room 209. If you just head down this hall to the elevators, it’s on the second floor.” The man pointed towards the elevators where you managed to spot the flash of bright auburn hair entering one of them.

Beth Harmon.

You smiled with relief as you started to sew the piece in your head already.

“Thank you.” You took the key and made your way down to elevators.

As the elevator door dinged open, some commotion by the entrance of the lobby caught your attention.

The peak of leather through the crowd told you who it was.

Benny Watts.

Even better. You now had two top chess players you could focus on.

You decided to let the celebrity champion settle into his hotel before you mobbed him as a journalist and you also needed to freshen up after travelling.

You travelled so much that you barely bothered with your apartment. It was mostly rented out to other people besides holidays like Christmas where you actually could return home.

Everything you had was basically in two large suitcases which you dragged across the United States and Europe following chess players around.

You mainly liked travelling around Europe. You previously worked for a Parisian chess magazine but this year you took an offer to work for Chess Review which brought you back to the states.

You had mostly done smaller tournaments all year round so hadn’t had the pleasure in meeting Benny Watts or Beth Harmon yet.

Benny Watts had been one of the biggest names in chess for years now and Beth Harmon was a rapid rising star.

You knew this would be your big break in Chess Review to stop being handed the small tournaments and to document the important ones like the US Open.

You opened the door to your hotel room and smiled when you saw how nice it actually was.

You had stayed in some crap holes recently.

You dumped your suitcases to one side and immediately turned on the shower so you could relax your cramped muscles and feel a bit cleaner.

You undressed and let the hot water cascade down your back, covering your hair and face as you tipped your head backwards.

You took your time in there before getting out and blow drying your hair.

By the time you had washed, done your hair and make up again; it was time to pick a dress for the evening so you could go get something to eat.

You went for your favourite navy blue skirt and cream sweater, both hugged you nicely but were still modest, before slipping on some shoes.

You took a small purse to put your room key in and then left for the restaurant/bar that was in the hotel.

The restaurant was filled with chess players and spectators all buzzing with excitement about this weekend.

You managed to find a small table away from the majority of the hustle and tucked yourself away with your notepad.

You liked being a fly on the wall most of the time. You enjoyed observing, studying and learning about people. ‘People watching’ as some would call it.

The waiter brought over the cocktail you had ordered along with some grapes, cheese and crackers to munch on.

After writing some of the thoughts down that came to you in the shower, you looked up to see who was around you.

There was no sign of Beth Harmon which wasn’t unusual as she was known for practising in her room before tournaments.

You scanned the groups before your eyes stopped on him. Benny Watts.

His slick blonde hair fell slightly by his eye, his hat on his lap as he talked to the surrounding fans and admirers.

The man loved talking about himself and loved talking about Chess even more.

You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes were alight as he laughed amongst his peers.

Benny must've felt someone was watching him because a second later, his eyes met yours for a brief moment.

You looked down and pretended to write something down as Benny turned his chin this time to look at you again.

You were used to being invisible and in that moment you felt extremely seen.

However, the man didn’t move from his chair or even look another time after that.

You popped a grape in your mouth before taking a large sip of your drink. You’d have to talk to him tomorrow and you knew that but for the first time, you actually felt the bubbles of nerves rise in stomach.

“May I buy you a drink?” A voice brought you from your thoughts and you looked up to see Henry Cavilla, one of the regular American chess players whom you believed you’d seen only two months before in Denver.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You declined politely but the man sat down anyway, joining you at your table.

“I insist.” Henry’s smile spread widely on his lips as he waved a waiter over. “I saw you in Denver. You’re a journalist, am I right?”

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You had to hide your irritation at his boldness.

“How long you been doing that?” The man asked,

“Well I’ve been a journalist for three years, but I’ve only been at Chess Review for 6 months.” You admitted honestly as the man ordered two drinks for the table.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing reporting on chess? Thought you’d be more into what Beth Harmon was wearing than her Sicilian defence.”

“I could ask you a similar thing? What’s a mediocre, chino wearing, middle aged misogynist doing at a chess tournament where Beth Harmon and Benny Watts are playing?” You couldn’t help but let the words slip out of your mouth, slapping the man right round the face.

You watched the man’s smile drop following a small burst of laughter echoing through the restaurant.

Your head snapped round to see it was Benny Watts laughing, staring directly at your table. He must’ve heard what you said despite the rest of the restaurant noise.

“Listen here, sweetheart, you’re just a skirt hired to keep your boss man happy and to fuck the chess players into a one page interview so you can get your paycheck to fund your morning after pill from planned parenthood and buy yourself some clean panties you’d sooner have off anyways.” You hit a nerve with what you said and he seemed to hit one right back.

You threw the two new drinks in the mans face, causing most of the restaurant to stop and stare at the commotion as he jumped to his feet to retaliate.

You snatched your notebook and fled the scene before anything worse could happen or you get thrown out of the tournament all together.

You fell back onto your bed, kicking your shoes off as you did.

It wasn’t unusual for men to be putting you down, especially in the chess world and the journalist world but tonight you just weren't having any of it.

You groaned as you pushed your hair out of your face, replaying the event in your head. The way everyone stared after you threw the drinks in his face.

You did not need to be the centre of attention this weekend.

You put yourself to bed with the television playing so you could stop scolding yourself in your head and distract yourself to finally get some sleep.

The next morning you woke up early, getting ready quickly and making sure you had everything you needed for a full day of reporting.

You skipped breakfast, only taking a black coffee before you entered the battle field.

The chess boards were still being set up and from across the room you spotted the familiar hair colour that belonged to Beth Harmon.

“Beth? Beth Harmon?” You crossed the room to greet her. “I’m (Y/n)(Y/l/n) from Chess Review. I was wondering if I could get an opening statement before the tournament goes ahead this weekend?” You asked politely, trying your best not to attack her verbally this early in the morning,

“Uh, of course. I’m feeling very confident this weekend that I’ll quickly rise to the top, concluding the tournament opposite Benny Watts.” Beth admitted,

“Are you scared of Benny Watts?” You asked,

“Scared? No. I am merely curious to see how our game goes.” Beth admits.

“Well, good luck, Beth. I hope to catch up with you sometime this weekend for a brief interview of how you play your games if you don’t mind?” You asked politely, silently begging she’d say yes.

“I’ll speak with you tomorrow night. It’ll be the middle of the tournament so there’ll be plenty to talk about.” Beth was extremely nice in offering her time and you took it gratefully.

You left the girl to her own company and returned to the lobby where you could see a crowd already gathering.

“Mr Watts.” You spotted the leather jacket and hat as the man entered the breakfast room.

The man turned when he heard his name being called across the lobby and you quickly jogged to catch up to him.

“You’re the girl from last night who put Henry Cavilla in his place?” Benny Watts smirked at you as he recalled the previous nights events.

“Um.” You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I was just wondering if I could get a statement before the tournament began?”

“You’re a reporter?” Benny cocked his eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you up and down shamelessly.

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You informed him.

“Follow me.” Benny nodded his head sideways towards the table he was heading to and you did as you were told.

“I was wondering how you were feeling about this weekend and possibly going up against Beth Harmon?” You asked as you sat yourself down opposite the man.

“I won’t be possibly going up against Beth Harmon. I fully expect to be going up against her. Out of everyone here, she is the only person I see as potential competition.” Benny admitted, picking up his knife and fork as his breakfast was set down on the table.

“Are you sure there’s no one else? Harry Beltik went into his tournament in Kentucky assuming no one but Cullen was any competition to him and yet Beth Harmon came along.” You stated, jotting down some notes to avoid watching the man eat.

“Well then, they’ll just have to surprise me.” His eyes locked onto yours when he spoke. His lip just edging into a smirk.

“Thank you for your statement.” You felt your stomach flip and you jumped to your feet, gathering your things.

“Would you not like a full interview or was the three sentence statement enough?” Benny cocked his head round as you began to leave.

“It was four, actually.” You corrected him, tapping your notepad with your pen.

The man huffed out a short chuckle.

“I’d be grateful for an interview later on this weekend, Mr Watts, if you don’t mind?”

“I’ll find you when I’m ready.” Benny told you and from the look in his eyes, that’s what he really meant.

The day went by quicker than expected, it was impossible to watch every game of the day so you watched Beth’s and Benny’s and you filled yourself in with the plays of any others that would make good press.

You loved watching the game being played, you always tried to predict the outcome and 9 times out of 10 you got it correct except with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.

They surprised you and it was thrilling to watch. You admired Harmon’s intuition and her attacks. Watts had always been an interesting watch all through his career but you’d only seen him play a handful of times in person before today.

In the evening, you received a call from the big bosses asking how everything was going.

“I have an interview set up with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.” You told them with confidence.

“Good girl. Now get those interviews done quickly and send me a draft as soon as you can.” Your boss ordered before ending the call.

You sighed, running a hand over your tired face.

You picked up the bottle of wine you had in a metal cooler to see it was empty. Room service had taken so long to bring it up previously, you decided to just slip your slippers on and head down to the bar to get one final glass of wine before bed.

You were wearing a nightie so you pulled a coat on over the top in case you bumped into anyone.

As you walked down the hall, you could hear the familiar voice of Benny Watts behind you.

He was spewing some chess facts to whoever he was with as he walked.

You peaked behind your shoulder to see he was heading to his room which was three doors up from yours.

He spotted you too.

You went into the elevator to head down to the bar.

The bar was still busy despite the time and you had to wait for your wine.

You took the glass and returned to your room.

Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the hotel room of Mr Benny Watts as you thought of tomorrows games.

“You’re not stalking me, are you?” Benny startled you as he came up from behind.

“Jesus...” You gasped, spinning round to face him.

“Trying to get the dirt on who I’m sleeping with?” The man cocked his eyebrow, his hands tucked in his tight jeans.

“Seems like the other way round since you keep appearing behind me.” You referred to earlier.

“Maybe you just like being in my way?” You couldn’t deny that Benny Watts, the Benny Watts, was flirting with you right now.

“Goodnight Mr Watts. Good luck tomorrow.” You gripped your door handle tightly.

“Please, call me Benny.”

(NEXT PART HERE)

#benny watts #benny watts x reader #the queens gambit #the queens gambit imagines #benny watts imagines #beth harmon #Beth harmon imagines #Thomas Brodie Sangster #Thomas Brodie sangster imagines #newt #anya Taylor joy

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