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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 10 months

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Destiny & Deliverance Chapter 3

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC

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Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “I felt like he was literally changing my brain chemistry by this point and I didn’t even care."

The next morning, I awoke to the faint sound of an alarm going off, but it wasn’t mine. I looked at the clock. It was an hour before I needed to be awake. I groaned and put a pillow over my head. Apparently, my neighbor was an early riser. After 20 minutes, the alarm went off again. No, my neighbor was definitely hitting the snooze button. I sighed and got up to take a shower. I guessed this is how my day was going to go.

I took my time getting ready. I did my makeup, dried my hair, and straightened it so that it would lay flat. Then, I pulled it back into an ornate low bun. Lastly, I got dressed in my business attire and double checked that I had everything I needed for the day in my leather tote bag.

At 6:50, I made my way down to the main entrance. When the elevator doors opened, I started to walk out just as someone came sliding in, bumping into me. I looked up to apologize and locked eyes with Dieter. He looked adorably flustered. “Hey... good morning,” I said and smiled at him as I continued to step out of the elevator.

“Sorry to bump into you like that. I forgot my phone and I’m running late. I guess I’m the fucking disaster today!” He laughed as he pressed the button for his floor. The doors closed while I stood there for a moment, a little stunned. That was unexpected and probably the last thing I needed this morning. What if I keep running into him like this? That’s a distraction I do not need.

When I walked outside a few minutes early, I quickly spotted Joe parked on the curb. As I approached, he gave me a sincere smile and said “Good Morning.” He opened the door and handed me a coffee and a small bag that he was holding. I looked at the side of the coffee cup. It was my usual order from my favorite coffee chain. I looked up at him, perplexed. “How did you know my order?” Joe let out a small laugh. “Ms. Aubrey shared it with Mr. Carrington,” he replied. “I got you a blueberry scone too.”

“If you keep spoiling me like this, you may not be able to get rid of me once this week is over,” I quipped as I got into the back seat with a smile on my face.

After Joe closed the door, I saw Dieter run out of the building and get into a vehicle that was parked a few spaces in front of us. He still looked flustered. I hoped to myself that his day didn’t go badly. I knew he was probably a ball of nerves.

Twenty minutes later, I was finishing my scone as we pulled up in front of a large skyscraper. A petite blonde met me when I exited the vehicle. She reached out her hand to introduce herself, “Hi Ms. Cohen, I’m Megan. I’ll be assisting you this week,” she said with a tight smile as she shook my hand. Then she handed me my security badge. “Please, just call me Talia,” I said as I put the badge around my neck. She shook her head nervously in agreement. I briefly wondered what she had been told about me because she looked terrified.

I glanced over at her while we were walking through the main entrance and asked, “Is there anything I should know about any of these guys before I get thrown in with the wolves?” She looked taken aback by my question. “What do you mean?” She asked with a full deer in headlights look. I sniggered at her.

“I mean are they all pretty receptive to this review, or no?”

“As far as I know they are, but I mainly only work directly with Mr. Carrington. I’m his assistant.”

“Wow, the big boss gave up his assistant for me? I AM getting spoiled.”

Megan let out a laugh, then stopped herself. She had that deer in headlights look again.

“You can laugh. It was meant to be funny. I’ve got jokes and sarcasm galore. Relax and enjoy. It should be an interesting experience,” I said with a smirk.

She smiled back. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting. They made you out to be kind of scary. I mean, I can see where the intimidation comes from, but I wasn’t expecting humor or sarcasm.”

Her face shifted, realizing what she had just said. I gave her a brilliant smile in return and said, “You keep talking like that and we might be best friends before this week is over. Please don’t be afraid to share your thoughts or commentary. I promise I won't bite. Too hard anyway.” We both chuckled as we reached the security check. They allowed us to walk through without being stopped.

“Do they always do that? Allow people through without checking?” I asked.

“It depends on who it is and who they’re with. They typically don’t check the senior level folks.” I nodded, making a mental note to add that to my list when I got a chance.

We got on the elevator and began ascending to one of the upper floors. Megan led me to a large conference room where six gentlemen sat chatting at a large executive style table. The man sitting at the head of the table stood and walked over to shake my hand. It was Ethan Carrington. He was tall and had sort of a 1990’s Pierce Brosnan look about him. At least the view would be good I thought. He introduced me to everyone. It was all of the senior partners and the head of the IT department.

We sat down and had several minutes of small talk. All the while, I was watching each of them. Trying to figure out what I should expect based on their behavior. As usual, the head of the IT department, Sam, seemed annoyed. I had a feeling that he didn't want his methods scrutinized and he wasn’t going to take constructive criticism very well. Typical.

Then my eyes landed on the CFO, Jay Brooks. He was watching me intently. Honestly, it made me a little uncomfortable. Something was off about him. He had an arrogant air to him that was unsettling. His ice blue eyes were unreadable as he observed the room.

Jay eventually spoke up and got straight to business, “So Ms. Cohen, have you had a chance to review all of the documentation that we provided in advance?”

I paused a minute before responding. Attempting to read his expression. I could feel my heart rate picking up from the anxiety I was feeling, but it was time for my poker face. I gave a small smile, attempting to exude confidence. I could feel my jaw tighten before I responded, “Yes, Mr. Brooks, I have. Multiple times in fact.”

“And what is your assessment thus far? Are we up to your standards?”

He said it with nonchalance, but he was testing me. I wasn’t sure what he was expecting. In my periphery, I could see Mr. Carrington looking back and forth between us. He was intrigued by the exchange just as much as I was.

“Overall, things seem pretty standard, from my basic understanding. Some areas won’t need much if any attention. I would, however, like to spend some time focusing on systems and data security. I would also like to review your on-premises data center and take a closer look at your backup procedures. I feel like the financial processes may need a thorough review as well. For security purposes, of course.” I gave him a reassuring, or possibly sarcastic smile as I leaned back into my seat. I couldn’t be sure which.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Mr. Carrington had a small smirk as he watched Mr. Brooks slowly nod to my response. Mr. Brooks’ jaw twitched ever so slightly, but it was enough for me to notice. He narrowed his eyes and replied as he tried to appear relaxed and unconcerned, “Well, it certainly looks like you have big plans then. Please let me know what I can do to help in my area.”

Mr. Carrington took that moment to speak up, “Well, Ms. Cohen, Aubrey mentioned that you’ll have your plans for the week set based on your preliminary review. So, you just let me know what you need, and I will see to it. And to everyone else here, I want to make it clear that she has full clearance for anything she asks for. If she asks for it, you are to provide it without question. This message should be passed on to your staff as well. Are we understood?”

Everyone shook their heads in agreement. All their faces were void of emotion, giving nothing away at that proclamation.

“Now that that’s covered, Ms. Cohen, what is the plan for today?” Mr. Carrington asked.

“Today, I plan to mostly observe. It’s possible I may ask the staff questions as I spend time in each of the areas. In the meantime, I have a list of document requests that I would like to be able to review, starting tomorrow.”

I passed copies of the list down to be shared around the table. They began looking down the list.

“This is a lot of data. I don’t see how you could possibly review it all in such a short time.” Mr. Brooks said as he was looking through it.

He continued, “I mean, you want six years of detailed financial data, an endless list of audit reports for all our software… I don’t understand how that information is going to help your review. An accountant has already looked at a lot of this information and didn’t see any issues.”

I took a moment to think through my reply. I was calculated with my words. I didn’t want to make it obvious that I was looking for something specific. I leaned forward slightly, making sure to control my breathing. A picture of composure even though I felt like my chest was about to explode from my racing heart. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

“I will not be using this information in the same way as an accountant. I am not running numbers for financial inconsistencies. It will help for data check purposes. I plan to compare data on each of the servers for discrepancies, data tampering, unintentional alterations… Those types of things. It will help alert us to any possible security breaches, for example. Of course, the more documentation you have that isn’t linked to software outputs, the better. I’ll take all the comparables you can provide. As far as time goes, my computer will do a lot of the work for me.”

Mr. Brooks attempted to appear relaxed as he listened, but I felt like he was beginning to tense up some. Perhaps there was something here that needed attention after all. I just had to figure out the puzzle.

The meeting concluded after that. I spent the remainder of my morning walking through several areas, observing, asking questions, and taking notes. During lunch, which was delivered, I got a head start on reviewing some of the reports I had requested. So far nothing was jumping out at me. The afternoon was more of the same. I was clearly going to have to think outside the box on this one or maybe I just hadn’t hit my “ah ha” moment yet.

At 5 PM, I pulled out my phone to check it before I started packing up. I had a text from Lauren.

LAUREN: Your man is supposed to be on one of those late night shows tonight. You should take a break and watch it. (wink emoji)

I stared at the text for a minute. I felt butterflies forming in my stomach. Why? This was so ridiculous. I scoffed and shoved my phone back in my bag. I wasn’t even going to bother to respond. Surprisingly, I hadn’t really thought about Dieter all day. Keeping busy was clearly a good distraction from that mess. That’s probably a good thing. This means I wouldn’t have to worry about running into him at the hotel this evening. Hopefully. Or were those things pre-recorded? I didn’t even know. I rolled my eyes at myself and continued to pack up my things.

I walked toward Mr. Carrington’s office to let them know I was heading out. Megan met me at the door and asked what my plans were for tomorrow.

“It will most likely be about the same as today. Wednesday, I plan to review a lot of the data in detail and start running some things on my computer. It would be nice if I had a fairly large space to spread out and access to a printer if possible. I would like access to that space limited to me, you, and Mr. Carrington if possible. That’s when things are going to start getting interesting.” I said with a smile.

Megan smiled back and nodded, “that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll get all that lined up for you. Do you have a lunch preference for tomorrow? Also, I think Mr. Carrington wants to have lunch with you on Wednesday, just to catch up and see where you are on things.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I don’t really. I’m not very picky. Surprise me and please tell Mr. Carrington I look forward to it. I will see you all bright and early,” I said as I walked toward the exit.”

Joe met me out front. He asked if I needed to go anywhere before returning to the hotel. I didn’t. It took about 35 minutes to get back to the hotel at this time of day. It was nearly 6 PM by the time I walked into the main entrance. I decided to stop in at the restaurant for dinner before I headed back to my room. I managed to get the large, curved corner booth in the back, which gave me a nice view of the whole restaurant and the lobby entrance. While I waited, I started looking through some of the reports that were provided later this afternoon.

The bartender came over and took my order. I opted for an appetizer night. I decided I would just keep snacking until I was finished for the evening. I asked for a glass of wine and for him to refill until I told him to stop. I warned him that I might be here for a while. He laughed loudly and said he didn’t mind the company because it was usually pretty dead on most weeknights.

As I sat there, I kept getting distracted by people going in and out of the hotel entrance. I realized that I was subconsciously hoping that I might see Dieter again. I snapped my eyes shut and shook my head to clear it as I looked back down at my computer. I needed to put that out of my mind.

About three hours into my work and wine binge, I was again distracted by movement at the entrance. It was him. He had a hat on again and looked tired. He was accompanied by two women and was looking at his phone while they waited for the elevator. That was all I needed to see. I rolled my eyes and went back to work. I felt a little disheartened, but really, what else should I have expected?

Forty-Five minutes passed when the elevator door opened again and caught my attention. The two women exited first. One was carrying a garment bag and men’s dress shoes. The other was carrying some sort of large square case. Dieter slowly walked out behind them and stopped. He looked like he was texting on his phone. He had changed into dark dress pants, a light blue button up dress shirt, and had a dark tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was styled and gelled. He was still sporting the light scruff on his chin and black rimmed glasses. I noticed he was still wearing his sneakers. Aside from the sneakers, he looked absolutely amazing. I could feel my heart rate picking up as I noted that the glasses looked entirely too good on him.

He looked up from his phone and began looking around. I assume for the two women he was with. I quickly looked down at my computer, but I could still slightly see him from the corner of my eye. He looked in my direction and paused. He saw me. His head jerked toward the front entrance. One of the girls had come back in for him. He quickly walked toward her and left.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I really needed to get it together. I had never had this type of reaction to someone before. He was like a magnet, and I was completely drawn to him against my will.

I finished off my latest glass of wine. I thought about the two women. They looked like they were possibly his assistants or stylist, maybe? Potentially a non-issue, I thought. He did stop and look toward me. I had gotten his attention. I stopped myself there. That was a brazen and presumptive thought that I should not be having. My imagination was running away from me. It had to be the alcohol again.

I eventually decided to call it a night. I gathered up my things and told Tim the bartender goodnight. I had a feeling Tim, and I were going to be good friends this week.

When I got back to my suite, my phone pinged. It was Lauren again.

LAUREN: It starts soon. Are you going to watch it?

ME: Absolutely not. I am going to bed. It’s late.

LAUREN: Party pooper.

I sent her the middle finger emoji and said goodnight. Then, I changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed. I turned on the TV and of course it was already on the channel he was supposed to be on. I held up the remote to change the channel and hesitated. I took a deep breath and said “fuck it” out loud to myself. For the first time in who knows how long, I was about to watch a celebrity on TV and have a fangirl moment. I felt like he was literally changing my brain chemistry by this point and I didn’t even care.

He was the last guest for the evening. When they introduced him, he came out dancing to the music and waving to the audience. He could dance well and looked hot as hell doing it.

I noticed he had changed into the dress shoes I saw the woman carrying and added a plaid blazer to his outfit. While he chatted with the host, he seemed confident and was oozing with charisma. His smile and playful personality was infectious. The audience was going crazy for him.

As he was listening to the host talk, he would slowly rub the arm of the chair. Alternating between the fabric and slick piece of wood on the front of the arm. I wondered if this was some sort of grounding technique he used to keep his anxiety in check. I found myself doing the same thing sometimes when I felt overwhelmed. He eventually set his arm up on the host’s desk and started feeling along the grooved edges of the desk as he talked. This was definitely a nervous habit for him. I felt my chest tighten like before. I know that feeling and I hated that he was having to experience it on national television. That had to be awful.

His interview only lasted about ten minutes. He mostly just talked about his new movie. Nothing earth shattering. As soon as he was finished, I turned the TV off and went to bed. It was another restless night as the visual of him rubbing the chair arm kept running through my mind. The thoughts were borderline indecent, but then I quickly scolded myself because I knew the reason he was doing it. It took some time, but I did eventually drift off to sleep.

A/N: Lots of Dieter next chapter and rather hilarious revelations. Next Chapter

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peachysamu · 2 years

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Tupperwares That Intermingle

Summary: you go over to Iwaizumi’s house with one tupperware only to be sent home with two.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff; pining; love found in food (it’s me. what do you expect?)

A/n: me reposting bc tags :/ and bc i really thought i forgot how to write fluff but all it takes is time skip iwa to get my heart going again.

you gather a deep breath, tote digging into your shoulder as your chest expanded before exhaling it all out and hunching over a bit. it’s no big deal, just a simple dinner at a friend’s house. it’s not even a date. he asked you if you wanted to have dinner and you’ve had many of those before. granted, dinner was usually a party that consisted of three or more people including your mutual friends. it was never just him and you and as much as you enjoy his company and believe him to be a fascinating meal partner, for some reason, you can’t even prepare a conversation to talk about besides weather and the latest update on the PlayStation 5 software.

(you only know this because you woke up to a notification from Apple News this morning. hopefully this dinner isn’t as dry as your phone is.)

“you got this.” you try and convince yourself. “it’s just eating. you do it all the time.”

you mimic the action in front of you with your hands as if you were an extra in the background of a restaurant scene of a theater play.

“just shovel, then nom. shovel then—“ Iwaizumi opens the door and his untimely presence finds you whispering to yourself and eating a mouthful of air. a sexy brow quirks with his lip.

he smirks down at you, obviously amused. his bicep hits his door frame as he leans against it with crossed arms and now you’re hoping he’s serving fondue so you can melt into the pot along with it. you want to sink to the bottom so no one can ever find you in the viscous, yellow abyss. maybe you’ll be left unstirred and then you’re nothing but burnt cheese too stubborn to be scrubbed off. it’s a better fate than this.

“i didn’t mean to bother you. go on.” he teases. he nods his head for you to continue. “i’m very interested.”

you fluster. if not at his words, then simply at his physique because even until now, you can’t get over the fact that you actually know a man as handsome as him, let alone have dinner with him.

“i was just practicing.” you huff with your hands now gripping your tote just so they have something else to do other than embarrass you.

“practicing.” he repeats with a small pause as he tries to connect the dots between your words and actions. “eating?”

“yes, practicing. i have a tendency to forget how to do things when i’m nervous. anyways,” you try and deflect by taking a step forward. iwaizumi stands his ground and just the overbearing presence of him, his cologne, the sound of his quiet huff that might signify a laugh, has you quickly retreating and taking the one step back. “are you going to let me in?”

his eyes widen a bit before a tanned hand shuffles behind his neck in what looks to be an expression of embarrassment.

“oh right,” he chuckles his way through, “sorry, i guess i should have practiced opening the door too.”

you bite your lip as you scuttle past him with your head tucked into your chest. if you acknowledge what he means, pry even further, any answer he might give you, good or bad, would have the capacity to make you faint and truly, it really is a wonder how you’re even alive right now, alone in iwaizumi’s kitchen with the man himself.

although you’ve welcomed yourself to his home many, many times, it feels different. you’re nervous. you’ve always looked at his place as the setting for a night of social hour, but this time, as you tread through his hall and into the kitchen, it finally hits you that this is his home. he lives here and suddenly, all the little details he’s decided to display pop out at you.

there’s a photo of a young group of four boys, probably in their late teens outside of a shrine near the entrance. those must be his childhood friends he talks about. the knuckle of your index finger cautiously flits over the dining table and when you go to check, there is no proof of dust. a big tub of protein powder at the top of his fridge and one, lone cactus at the sill of the window near the sink, you start drawing lines, connecting stars, because these little intricacies fill the blank spaces of iwaizumi, the handsome man who can do it all. it brings him closer in a sense and reminds you that he isn’t a caricature. he’s a human being, just like you. mightily attractive, sure, but a human being who looks like he might have overwatered his cactus nonetheless.

“here,” he extends a hand and you have to stop yourself from ogling at the veins that line his forearm. your heart that beats may be weak, but your eyes that linger are definitely weaker. “let me hang up your bag.”

you reach for the contents in the bag before handing it to him with a grateful grin. even his manners are a feat to admire. iwaizumi has always been conscientious. it didn’t matter if anyone was watching. he simply abides by his morals. add that to the already superfluous list of great things about him because he truly is a wonderfully decent guy with even better looks to match.

“i brought back the tupperware you gave me from last time.” you hand the plastic back to him, subtly eyeing it. you may have washed it more than once at home but one final look couldn’t hurt. you’d shrivel up and die if you found out you returned it with grease residue still along the edges. “i cleaned it already.”

“you didn’t have to do that.”

the smile he flashes you almost has you tipping backwards. thank goodness you’re holding onto a barstool of his for support. you make a mental note to keep your alcohol intake low because there is no way you can handle it if he offers. he is too much of a presence without the buffer of your friends.

“of course i did. that’s yours.”

“okay, sure.” he gives out an amused chuckle and then pulls out the chair that you’re holding onto. “come, sit. dinner’s ready and i hope you didn’t forget how to eat.”

of course dinner is wonderful. there has been a permanent smile etched on your lips, sweet, serene, and smitten. you don’t know why you thought there would be nothing to talk about because conversation has been endless chatter. a mix of extraordinary to mundane, you recalled childhood memories and then discussed your quality of sleep from the night before.

“here.” he slides over two plastic containers to you. “leftovers for tomorrow.”

“you’re always making me bring home food.”

he shrugs. “i accidentally made too much.”

“accidentally?” you tease. “i’m pretty sure you’re one of the few people i know who know how to portion their food correctly.”

then with a bass tone to mock him, “by weight. it’s the only way.”

he snorts and turns his face away from you but there’s an inkling of a curve in his lip that makes your heart flutter. “you suck at that.”

“you suck at lying. is this your way of getting me to wash your tupperware for you?” you grab both of them into your hands. “i came with one and now i’m leaving with two.”

“you don’t have to bring them back.” he offers.

“yes i do. they’re yours.”

“no,” he points at the new one, the yellow one in your hands. “that one’s actually yours, remember? from last week? you sent me home with some soup.”

you give the piece of plastic an incredulous look until you realize that it is yours. you had totally forgotten all about it.

“they’re ours. i send you home leftovers and you do the same thing. it’s no big deal.”

no big deal. right.

“alright. fine you win,” you concede. then you hop out of your chair and bring the leftovers to your chest. “i guess we can continue doing this back and forth trade kind of thing.”

you do this shimmy with your shoulders to mimic movements your hand would make if they weren’t full of tomorrow’s next meal. you feel ridiculous.

“my tupperware’s your tupperware and your tupperware is mine.” okay, now you really need to shut up because iwaizumi hasn’t had a word in and all he can do is give you an unsuspecting stare. “anyways, thank you for dinner. and for lunch too, i guess.”

“no problem.”

he walks you out to the door and you turn back to find him leaning against his door frame again. this time, his arms are by his side, a hand tapping nervously against a jeaned thigh, as his gaze focuses on you. it looks like he has something to say, but as the minutes (really it’s seconds, but time ticks by slower when you’re breathless and drowning in his deep green eyes) pass, you decide that it might have been hopeful thinking on your end.

“thanks again.” you repeat only to have something to say.

“no problem.” he reiterates.

“okay, i’ll go now.” then you wave him off and turn around.

“text—“

“text me when you get home.” you finish in that mocking tone of yours. when you turn around, he’s rolling his eyes but the faux irritation is masked by a cheesy grin. “yes, hajime. i will text you when i get home. see ya!”

“goodbye.”

iwaizumi’s hand falls with a hard slap against his thigh. he watches you walk away and when the image of you disappears, he only curses at himself for not having enough courage to ask you to stay and to ask for more.

for now, he guesses he’ll have to settle with leftovers, with plastic containers balmy from residual heat. he hopes that, when you hold it precious to your chest, that it keeps you warm on the cold trek to your car. he wants his love to last from the ride home and through the steps of your door. he hopes it greets you good morning when you open your fridge to make breakfast without him. and after you sate your belly and eat your meal that hopefully resurface fond memories of the night before, he wishes that you’ll see how you make his heart glow iridescent like the suds along your sponge. then maybe you’ll give it back just for him to do it all over again until eventually, he finds the courage to ask you out.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #i am tempted to rename this #oh and q’d #i am hopefully in a cafe rn enjoying the ambience and working on hw and truly living my best life #q’d

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angelguk · 3 years

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what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended.

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears.

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny.

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision.

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin.

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue.

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features.

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do.

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens.

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more.

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you.

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.”

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though.

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds.

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!!#bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

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talesofarcadia78 · 3 years

Note

Hello! 😄 Can I request a fluffy oneshot with prompts: “And I love, I love, I love you.” and [a gentle “I love you too” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss] about Douxie attempts to confess his romantic feelings to shy!female!human! reader and he end up super flustered, but its okay because she thinks it's cute? Hint: She has romantic feelings for Douxie too! I live for flustered Douxie! 💖 Please?? ~🌼

A/n: Special thanks to @itsgabby.2021 for helping!

Confession || One shot

The wind picked up, letting out a quiet whistle. The leaves on the trees had started to change it's colours from the bright green to a warm orange. You wrapped your scarf around your neck and tugged on your jumper, attempting to get warmer.

You continued your way down the path to work.

The smell of coffee instantly hit you as soon as you opened the door of your beloved GDT Arcane Books. You hung your tote bag on one of the hangers next to the entrance.

"Good morning, Y/n!" a chipper voice called from the second floor of the store.

"Good morning, Douxie!" you called back.

You walked over to Douxie's cat, Archie, who was enjoying the morning sun by a window. You pat Archie on his exposed stomach, earning a purr before making your way over to the register.

You had been working at the bookstore for only a month but you felt like that you've been working there forever. Douxie was in urgent need of an employee as his last one had left the state with his wife. He had hung posters all over town, handing any passing person his business card and making calls to his friends to spread the word. Luckily, you had just moved from Europe to the small, quaint town, Arcadia, desperately needing a job.

One day, you were walking around in town, when you noticed a poster saying that GDT Arcane Books was hiring. You rushed over to the store to get interviewed. You were honestly expecting an ageing women/man to be the owner. But it turned out to be your pen pal, Hisirdoux Casperan. He was very happy to meet you in person after years of communicating through letters. He immediately gave you the job, no interview needed, since he knew practically everything about you and vice versa.

After a couple of days of working at the store, you had started to admire Douxie more than just a friend. You had developed a crush on him, which slowly turned into love. But, you knew that Douxie would never feel the same way, so you keep your mouth shut. You were happy with what you had and didn't want to ruin it by blurting out your feelings.

Little did you know, Douxie felt the same way for you.

The offer had been placed to stay at Douxie's place, knowing that you were new in town. But you politely declined, since you were already staying at a pink haired witch's apartment named Zoe Ashildr.

Turns out, Zoe and Douxie knew each other as fellow wizards. Douxie trusted Zoe to keep you safe and kept you company whenever he couldn't.

Back to the present, Douxie came down the stairs with two cups of coffee in each hand, whilst using his telekinesis floated empty boxes behind him.

"Here's a cup of coffee for a lovely lady," Douxie winked as he set a cup on the register as you were counting a new shipment of books.

"Thanks, Doux!" you called, keeping your self distracted as your cheeks had turned a crimson red from his comment.

+ + + + + +

You went to the back, needing to refill a few shelves with new novels.

Almost there…

Your fingers lightly brushed the book you wanted, but you failed to grab it.

You tried again, standing on your tip toes, even though you were on a ladder, you took the risk. This time you successfully got the novel but your foot slipped off of the ladder.

"Douxie!"

Douxie was walking to the back, wondering why you were taking so long, when he heard his name getting yelled by none other than you.

He rushed into the back room to see you falling from a dangerous height.

"Magna tawna truess!" Douxie incanted.

A sky blue aura surrounded you, saving you from the fall. You slowly got placed on the ground.

"You alright?" Douxie asked, frantically looking over you for any injuries.

"I-I'm alright Douxie," you replied.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Whenever you need to get something from that height, just ask me, okay?"

You nodded in response.

+ + + + + +

You handed the book to the petit, old lady, who gave you some cash, along with a tip, before she headed out of the store.

“Time to close up shop,” Douxie stated, coming out from the back room.

“Finally! It’s been a long day,” you replied, stretching.

Douxie laughed at your antics.

“Get some rest, Y/n,” he smiled, heading to the front door and holding it open for you.

“Thanks, Doux. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said as you walked past him, “I-- ummm… Bye.”

“Yes. Bye, love. See you tomorrow,” he chuckled.

You made your way to you and Zoe’s shared apartment.

You couldn’t help but fluster yourself as thoughts of Douxie ran through your mind.

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination, Zoe ready to greet you.

“Hey, Y/n!” Zoe called, leaning on the doorframe, “How was work?”

“Oh, y’know… same-same,” you answered as you entered the abode.

“I forgot to mention this earlier! Douxie’s coming over for dinner!” she hollered from her spot in the kitchen as if she didn’t expect a reaction out of you.

“W-w-what?!” you sputtered, spitting out the drink that was in your mouth.

“Yeah! He should be here at 7!”

You looked at the time.

6:45…

“But… that’s… t-that’s in 15 minutes!” you cried as you ran to your room and rummaged through your clothes for something to wear.

“Well, you better hurry!” she snickered, playfully rolling her eyes.

After rummaging through your wardrobe, you finally found (you choose what you want to wear, rather than the usual plain white shirt and black pants.

Abruptly, you heard the door bell rang.

Oh no… Douxie's here.

You scrambled out of your room and into the main room to see Zoe standing in the doorway, greeting Douxie. He walked inside and spotted you.

"Hey, Y/n!" Douxie waved.

"H-Hi Douxie," you said, “W-what a nice surprise…”

“Indeed. I thought dinner was cancelled when you left work, but Zoe reminded me,” he informed.

You all sat down at the dining table, Zoe serving you your meals.

Zoe and Douxie talked over dinner, exchanging quips and banters.

You just sat there with your mouth shut, afraid of saying something embarrassing in front of Douxie.

After dinner, you tidied up the table, carrying the dishes to the sink.

“Hey! We should get some dessert! How does ice cream sound?” Zoe asked.

You and Douxie exchanged excited glances and nodded in agreement.

“Sounds good,” you smiled.

“Great! Let’s go!” Zoe exclaimed, ushering you and Douxie out the door.

+ + + + + +

You all were enjoying your ice cream at the Bluff, as you all had found the ice cream truck there. Douxie and you were sitting on the bench that was provided, while Zoe was sitting crossed-legged on the ground.

You were showing Douxie all the constellations, pointing each one out to him. He was amazed by all of your knowledge on just stars and space. Douxie knew you had an interest in a lot of things, cooking, art, sport, space, and a whole other stuff. Now, he knows you also take an interest in constellations.

Suddenly, someone's phone began ringing. Zoe noticed it was hers and picked it up.

By the way Zoe's expression turned from happy and cheerful from stressed and worried, you could tell, something was wrong.

She hung up and jumped to her feet.

"Sorry, guys. I have to go. There's a problem at Hex Tech," Zoe explained. "Bye!"

She rushed off before either you or Douxie could say anything.

You both looked at each other and shrugged before going back to constellations.

+ + + + +

Now, you two were just gazing at the stars. Douxie was in deep thought.

He had fallen in love with you in the few months he had started to write letters to you. He had only seen you through a photo that you had attached of yourself in the second letter to him, but he also got to know you through the letters. You had poured your heart into those letters, telling him everything and anything. Douxie had done the same.

He wanted to confess to you so badly! Douxie had planned to confess his feelings a few days ago, though it didn't turn out so great.

Douxie had taken you out to lovely restaurant for dinner. Everything was going according to his plan, your hands were in his as he was going to say everything, when the waiter came and interrupted. And for what? The damn bill!

You being you, took out your card to pay. Douxie wouldn't allow that. So, you two started to argue over who was going to pay the bill. Douxie ended up paying, as he planned the dinner for you.

He tried again outside of the restaurant, where there would be no interruptions. Well, that's what he thought.

You had to go to a friend’s house just after the dinner, so they decided to pick you up. Douxie had no idea about this.

Again, he was going to confess, when a car pulled up beside you two, telling you to hop in.

You apologised and headed off.

After you were gone, Douxie kicked the ground and headed to his house.

Defeated.

+ + + + + +

As you were looking up at the night sky, star gazing, Douxie was gazing at you.

He had made up his mind. He was going to tell you. Everything. Right then and there.

"Uh… Y/n? I-- uh… I wanted to tell you something," Douxie spoke up.

You turned your attention to him, "Yeah?"

Douxie took your hands in his, which made you blush a little.

"Okay, here goes nothing. Y/n… ever since I saw you-- I mean… wrote to you… Well, after I got to know you through writing letters-- through the letters, I started to look at you differently. Not in a weird way! Just more than a friend? Then, when I saw you for the first time in Arcadia, before you came to the shop. I was shocked, like I was surprised that you were in Arcadia. It's not a bad thing! I thought you lived in Europe, but turns out you moved. Anyways, I started to admire you than more a friend. I've gotten to know so much about you over the past month. So, all I want to say is that… I love you…" Douxie stammered.

You giggled at his stammering and flustered state.

He is so adorable.

Douxie took a deep breath before he repeated, "I love you." He stared into your eyes before he pressed his lips onto yours, kissing you softly as you kissed back. You both pulled away, keeping your foreheads touching.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

Douxie's eyes lit up like a child before he pulled you into another kiss, though this time, it was more stronger than the first.

You both pulled away for air just as you heard a click.

You turned your head to the source, to see a pink-haired witch standing there with her phone out, clearly taking pictures.

"Aww! You two are so cute!" Zoe cooed.

You furiously blushed and buried your face into Douxie's chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Zoe Ashildr!"

Word Count: 1,900

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andromedasstarship · 3 years

Text

are you free tomorrow?

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - nothing! just a sweet & cliche ‘first meeting’ story :)

summary - midterms are coming up and all the good cafes on campus are filled, maybe the sweet looking curly haired guy in the back will share his table with you?

a/n - for my valentines day oneshot series! 'every table is full, but i really need to study, is there any way we could share?'

-------

Stressed, was a simple way to explain the current state you were in. The semester had snuck up on you, moving faster than you had ever expected. As the fifth week was coming to a close, you were getting dangerously close to the storm of midterms you had waiting for you in the sixth week. And you desperately needed to study. The only thing stopping you- surprisingly not your own procrastination-, was that it seemed as if the rest of campus was also in the same predicament as you.

This was the third cafe on campus that you had entered that was absolutely filled.

Your eyes scanned around the room, hoping to catch someone in the middle of packing their things. Nope. You considered circling back through the other two cafes you’d just been in or maybe even just going off campus. Except you couldn’t justify wasting more time by circling the same few cafes over and over, nor could your college student budget justify paying for coffee when you could just use your allotted campus cash.

Just as you were about to give up and leave- begrudgingly deciding that studying in your room would have to be good enough-, you spotted a man sitting alone towards the back of the cafe. He sat at a large table with plenty of space; even though he had one of the largest stacks of papers you’d ever seen one individual possess.

You weighed your options, internally debating if it’d be worth potentially hurting your pride by asking him to share the table and getting rejected. Seeing as the other option was definitely hurting your pride by hovering the same cafes like a hungry park bird, you tightened your grip on your tote bag and started walking towards him.

Whatever he was reading must’ve been exciting, as his focus didn’t stray even for a moment nor did he notice you at all until you were right up against the chair across from him. You awkwardly cleared your throat to catch his attention, giving him a tiny wave when he looked up at you.

“Hi!”

“Hello?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, just every table is full and I really need to study and I know it’s not the best, but could I share this table with you?” You asked anxiously, holding your breath as you waited for his answer.

As he opened his mouth to respond, you quickly added. “I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here!”

He gave you a ‘please calm down’ look and you felt some of the weight dissolve from your shoulders as he nodded his head. “Take a seat, no worry at all.” He told you, adding a kind smile as he looked back down at his stack of papers and pulled them closer; giving you more room at the table.

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and hit the ground with a thunk, relieved to no longer be carrying the physical weight around. You clasped the top of the chair in front of you, leaning towards him just so. “Thank you,” you said, giving your best gracious smile, “let me get you a coffee or something?”

He looked almost shocked- or was he flustered? you weren’t sure-, quickly shaking his head in response. “No! You don’t need to do that at all.” He assured you, but you weren’t so quick to back down.

“It’s the least I can do, please?” You pressed, giving him a very exaggerated pleaaaase look, “with all those papers you must need some serious caffeine.”

You thought he was going to continue this little back-and-forth with you, but you watched as his body relaxed ever so slightly, signs of what you hoped was him conceding. “Just a black coffee.”

"Just black?" You countered, raising your eyebrow, leaving it unsaid that he was just choosing the cheapest drink they had.

"Room for cream? I'll fix it up myself." He replied.

----

From the line, you had your first opportunity to really give this guy a look. The papers in front of him had sucked him back in as soon as you stepped away from the table; meaning you weren’t too worried about him catching you in your little…, creeping moment. The student population was large, but it was still small enough that you found yourself repeatedly seeing the same strangers. Yet, you’d never seen this man before. And you were sure you would’ve remembered this man, had you seen him before. What? He was undeniably attractive. There was something about the way his hair just perfectly curled around his face that made you just want to reach out and ruff- that’s weird. Even his little sweater-tie-button up outfit was doing it for you. Maybe today won’t be so bad.

The line moved quickly and you found yourself carrying the two drinks back over to the table in under five minutes. You set his cup by him, taking care to put it away from the massive stack of papers. You set your cup down next, sliding in the chair diagonal from him.

“You know,” you started, hefting your bag up into the chair next to you, “I never got your name?”

“Thank you,” he quickly got out, holding up his coffee as he did so. “I’m Spencer, uh…, Spencer Reid.” He told you, a faint red creeping up from under his collar.

You gave him your name in return, a bit distracted as you pulled more of your things from your bag. From the corner of your eye, you saw him hold his coffee up again, nodding his head towards the cream and sugar station before walking off to fix his drink up properly.

In his absence, you pulled out the rest of your books, debating which subject you should tackle first. You were glad you were finally towards the end of your college career, meaning the majority of your classes were specific to your interests rather than a four hundred student gen-ed; not that it made you any more excited to study for this exam.

When Spencer came back he set his coffee down with a slightly shaky hand. “Did you know coffee is actually classified as a fruit?” He asked, as he slid back into his seat against the wall.

“I didn’t know that.” You replied, shaking your head.

“The coffee bean itself grows on a bush and they’re actually the pit of a berry, which is what makes them a fruit. They come in two main varieties, green and red.” He rambled, as if reciting from some magic book stored in his brain. As soon as he was done he clamped his mouth shut, remembering how most people reacted to his ramblings.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but your face didn’t show any signs of annoyance. “Big coffee fan Spencer?”

“Big fan of facts.” He corrected, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Oh yeah? Well you seem pretty smart then, which class should I study for first?” You asked, holding up two of your textbooks.

He looked at both books curiously, trying to take a guess at what your major might’ve been. He pointed at the one in your left hand. God’s, Monsters and Mortals.

“Are you an…, English major?” He guessed, wondering if the book was some supplement for a unit on the Iliad. Not to mention the other book you held up was quite literally called ‘Literature Through The Ages’.

You shook your head, putting the book he chose down on the table while you returned the other one to your bag. “Close! Classics,” you said, giving him a sheepish grin, “I know, it’s a bit niche, kinda ridiculous, but there’s something about how we immortalized memories of ancient times through literature that are just fascinating. There’s something about the lessons of the past that I think a lot of people are ignoring today, ya know?” You replied, quickly closing your mouth before you’d go on some incredibly long tangent about your interests and studies. Didn’t you say it’d be like you weren’t even here?

“No, no!” He hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Understanding the lessons and patterns of the past and how they’ve morphed humanity today? That’s cool!” He assured you.

“Well what about you, Spencer Reid? What’s your major, you must have some horrible professors, if that stack of papers is the norm.” You joked, liking the way the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“I’m uh…, a professor here.” He responded, his face cringing ever so slightly as he watched your mouth drop open simultaneously as your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

“You’re a…, professor?” You repeated, extremely confused as to how someone who looked only a few years older than you was somehow employed to such a degree.

“Just a visiting one!” He clarified, clearing his throat. “I’m on a sort of, uh, sabbatical from work.”

“Isn’t a sabbatical when someone gets away from academia?” You countered, smiling to show you meant no actual aggression.

“Big fan of facts, remember?” He repeated plainly, but you caught the joke in it and you smiled wider at that.

“No offense Professor, but you look a bit young to ya know, be one.” You said, hoping he’d give his age in response.

“I’m 29.” Ah, only four years older than you.

“29 and already a professor at a university like this? What, do you have like 20 Phds. or something?” You asked jokingly, laughing a bit as you said so.

“Three actually.” He replied, a mix of shyness and pride across his face.

Your mouth dropped back open again, trying to wrap your mind around the man in front of you. “What are you? A genius then?”

“By some standards, yes.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that. Him paying special attention to each paper he graded- you wished all your professors cared about student work the way he seemed to-, while you were busy deciding which parts of the taught units were the most important.

After what you imagined was nothing short of four hours you felt your head begin to throb and your eyes were starting to go fuzzy. In that time, the two of you had downed at least five coffees each, going back and forth over who paid for them. You had managed to create an individual study guide for nearly all your upcoming exams and a quick glance told you that Spencer still had a few papers left. Unbeknownst to you he could have finished those papers hours ago, even with the in depth comments he entered into the computer for each one; there was just something about you that drew him in.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the funny unfiltered comments you’d make sporadically while you worked or the way you actually seemed to be interested in every little tangent he had gone on whenever one of his students brought up a particularly good or amusing point in their papers’. His therapist had recently recommended that he engage in conversations with those not already well acquainted with him and it seemed like the world had lined up perfectly to put you in front of him so soon after.

You loudly slammed your textbook shut with a groan and let your head fall against the table. “Why does academia have to be so boring?” You asked rhetorically, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is it some requirement to get published? Your work needs to put college kids to sleep?”

“The works that you’re reading are quite literally ancient, in their defense. The term ‘academia’ itself comes from the school of thought taught by Plato himself in ancient Athens.” Spencer explained, putting down the paper he had been grading.

“And now, all these years later I have to suffer because Plato was such a bore.” You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes.

“You said you were studying the downfall of Icarus weren’t you?” He asked, once again unbeknownst to you, he remembered everything you had said today. “It’s one of my favorites of ancient Greek mythology. The power of the mind of man, yet how quickly that very power could be taken away if man oversteps. Really makes us wonder if we’ve overstepped as humans yet, if we use Icarus’s fall, quite literally from grace, as a lens for other devastations we’ve seen across history then-”

“Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” You asked, effectively cutting him off.

He looked a bit like a fish, the way you had stopped him mid sentence and his mouth hadn’t yet closed. His eyebrows turned up, head tilting with them. “Tomorrow? The 14th?”

“Yeah, are you free tomorrow?” You repeated, holding back your nerves.

“Oh.” He said, eyes going wide as you assumed he finally connected the dots, “Oh!”

You were about to speak again, retract your question completely before he could reject you, suddenly wondering why you decided to go out on whim like that at all. But he beat you to it.

“Yes, yes I am.”

------

happy valentines day (almost) i love yall!!

tagging a few people who asked + a few mutuals i think might like this (no pressure!!) - @hqtchner @ssahoodrathotchner @kylorendrip @feverdreamreid @homoose

permanent taglist - @sunflowersandotherthings

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #vday oneshots 2021 #spencer reid #spencer #reid x reader #reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #'stori writes #are you free tomorrow?#spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid/gn!reader #gn!reader

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mooshys · 3 years

Text

anon: How about the manager seeing Atsumu being gloomy? So, she cheers him up by feeding or treating him food?

a/n: repost from my old account, based off msby black jackals online which can be read here!

He was having an off day.

Not that there was anything wrong with this. No one can be in perfect condition 365 days a year. There were going to be some slumps along the way.

At the end of practice, Atsumu didn’t go through his usual routine of lighthearted chatter with the rest of the guys. He kept his mouth shut, finished his cool down stretches, and then sat himself down at one of the benches. Towel draped over his head, he kept his eyes focused on the ground. His body was leaned forward, elbows pressed against his knees as he kept deep in thought. All the mistakes he made throughout the day played back to him like a movie.

It pissed him off.

And it was obvious to everyone on the court. The other members kept their distance from him. Just the way he was clenching his jaw showed that he was ready to snap if you got too close. His knuckles were turning white and he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop himself from blowing up.

One side of you wanted to let him cool off by himself, let him take this moment to reflect on his plays and what went wrong during practice. After all, you weren’t a coach or a trainer. What expertise could you provide to him through talking it out?

But then, the other side knew that maybe a little bit of reassurance was needed. He was a great player, there was no doubt about this. A few sympathetic glances were thrown his way. Every professional athlete had gone through a rough patch like the one Atsumu was going through.

So, after much deliberation, you took the initiative to plop down beside him. He acknowledged your presence, taking a quick peek, but then went back to his brooding.

“You had a bad day,” you said, tone gentle. On the court, Bokuto and Hinata watched. As soon as you made eye contact with them, they quickly turned around and exaggerated their stretches and faked a conversation. “It happens.”

Atsumu grunted in response. Expected since he was in a mood.

Taking no offense, you continued talking, “Some practices are going to be worse than others, right? Today you didn’t do your best, but tomorrow you’ll do better.”

Boktuo and Hinata twisted their torsos and stared for a second before turning the other way. You pretended not to notice.

“And I’ll be here tomorrow to see it,” you said. Digging your hand into your tote bag, you fished out a small treat. It was a fun-sized Kit Kat you were saving for yourself after work, but maybe it would be best to give it to him. With a light touch, you grabbed his hand and gave him the snack. “So good luck.”

There was a dumbfounded look on Atsumu’s face as he alternated his stare between the candy in his hand and your face. Not really noticing his flustered state, you stood up from the bench, brushed your hands on your jeans, and took a couple steps towards the exit. Before you were out of an earshot from him, you turned and gave a final wave.

“We’re filming more practice shots tomorrow, so I’ll see you then.”

Once you were out the door and gone, Bokuto and Hinata rushed off to where Atsumu was at the bench. The sudden attack made Atsumu yank himself upwards, the towel on his head slipping to the ground.

“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto was excited and started shaking Atsumu’s shoulder. Hinata stood beside and nodded his head, he wanted to hear the juicy details. “What happened between you two? Let us know!”

A sly grin made its way to Atsumu’s face. He held up the candy by the edge of its wrapper and flicked it in an attempt to show it off. Both Bokuto and Hinata were staring starry eyed and congratulating their team member as he usually would have gotten the cold shoulder from you.

Sure, he had an off day, but at least it ended on a high note.

notes:

Kit Kats are regarded as a good luck food/charm in Japan. There is word play with Kit Kat to mean “You’ll surely win” which is why many Japanese students will get Kit Kats as good luck charms for their entrance exams or sports events.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #hq #msby black jackals online!#haikyuu!!#hq!!#reposting this and another #listening to yeah! by usher

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse; you were the weird girl in the park. Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing. myg x named f!reader. s2l.

genre + rating. college!au. fluff, angst, smut. explicit.

tags / warnings. light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!). there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic. i’m not sorry. lol.

wc. 8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink. You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket. Sometimes, he reads. Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno. Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes. Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.

They’re all interesting in their own ways.

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts. He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine. He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them. He reads a lot, too. You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf. Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool. You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods.

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party. You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her. He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip. It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer. He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be. He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk. You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more. It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class. You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model. He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble. It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person; it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook. They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them. Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears: boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black. You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library. You’re practically best pals by college standards.

And then, of course, there’s him. Your muse. The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to. The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them. The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen. The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible.

Min Yoongi.

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear. You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes. You sometimes add his glasses; you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon. You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day. Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs. You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all.

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense.

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.

No, not getting caught. Not in the traditional sense, at least. He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day. You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment.

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is.

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night. You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots. You were always so careful. You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.” You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream. The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.

“It’s here somewhere.” The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…” Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild. “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers.

Lucky for her; unlucky for you.

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly. You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit! Shit!” Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag. Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens. You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.

“Don’t forget,” she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her. “Thanks, Ji.” You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.” It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall. Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples. You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped. You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!” It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee. You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless. Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly. You can’t deny you’re a little envious.

“Your face is all red. You’re out of breath. Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess. “No, I’m good.” It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.

“You sure?” He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas. He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist. Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail; he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.” There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge. You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter. You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake. Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?”

“Did you say…” You can’t finish the sentence. You feel like you’re about to be sick.

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal. It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips. It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks. At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy. Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.” As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half. “You’re really good at capturing his boredom. That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.” You should make conversation; it’s the polite thing to do.

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook. Better him than someone else, right? Better him than Yoongi himself? That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay. Semi okay. Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse. You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings. “You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing to say - not really. You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making. Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention. It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone.

“This is Miru.”

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues.

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.

“Ohf, phey!” With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables. They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion. He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly; you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Do you want to join us?” It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow. “I’m Jimin, by the way.” He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this.

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery. Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. If looks could kill, you think.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you. It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice. “Sometimes, he gets like this.”

You want to believe it. Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face. Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top. It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears.

“I’m so sorry.” It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.” Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare. He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words. It’s not the Yoongi he knows. It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.” It’s thinner, but just as reproachful. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth. “Mean what? Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.” Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such. Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce. “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.” Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises. “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days. Well, not really.

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory. You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries. You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right. Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.” You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up. From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate. It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault. And she had to pick up the pieces! It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.” She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green. She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can try,” you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.

Try - and fail, it seemed. You’d already run into him twice. Twice! Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize. You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.

The second time was yesterday afternoon. You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up. Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency. You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face. Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,” Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness. She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs. It’s a bit dramatic, you think.

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person. Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump. You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious. “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.”

It all falls into place then. Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy. It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her. You’ve always had an unspoken agreement; you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days.

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things. You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!” She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice. It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp. You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh. Dammit.

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.

Your heart stutters at the sight of him. It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.

“What?” You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You have nothing to be ashamed of. At least, not right now. You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.

“I said—” His words are glacial and biting. It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be. You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t be cold when you’re dead. “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression. It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth. He says nothing.

“Really. I’m not.” You’re insistent, apologetic. Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red. The tips of your fingers are tingling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wonder if he’s baiting you now.

“For…” Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care. “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,” he returns, completely deadpan. He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful. “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often. So I couldn’t let it go.” You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices. “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears. A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment.

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately. Fair.

“I’m sorry.” Again. More. Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare. “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face. There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize. You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more.

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time. It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle. You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face. “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame. “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action. He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days. You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.

“Then… can I sketch you?” You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it. You can’t help it.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity. He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that).

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied. He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully. His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced. He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot.

Over time, though, it comes - comfort.

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you. It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun. You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.

You know he gets it, though. He always does. It’s a Yoongi thing.

“You can relax.”

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks. The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree.

“I am relaxed,” he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up. He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon. Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class. You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No. You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.”

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning. It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side. It makes your heart skip a beat.

“Go ahead then,” he continues. The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow. You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”

You always offer. He never says yes.

A part of you thinks he likes the attention. It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful. You think he might like the quiet, too. The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more. “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue. It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.

“What?” You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with. “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour. It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me? Why not someone else?” He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him? Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,” you answer, perhaps too honestly. “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.” How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel. “I didn’t expect it to be you. I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject. But I just… couldn’t?”

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?” It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you. He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning. You’re not used to it and certainly not from him. You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.

You’re not weird. You don’t want this to be weird. But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time. One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months. “What if I told you I was glad?”

“Glad?” It feels like an echo chamber. Repetition. As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard. “I’d say the same thing. I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon. He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you. His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad. You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”

It’s not a surprise, really. It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore. Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…” You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?” The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope.

“I’d say you’re welcome. For choosing you.” The confidence isn’t your own. It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys. Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness. Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face. It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade. It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him. Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same. In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important.

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point. “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once. There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to. It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun. All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours. It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard. It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing. “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,” he states, solemnly. You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind. Not if it gets you another kiss.

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust. You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks. You’d like to find out.

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide.

You don’t know how you ended up here.

Actually, that’s a lie. You do. All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,” he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.” Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.” To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said. It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation. Yoongi was only painting you. This was a bonding exercise. Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician. Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow. So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat.

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.” He levels you with a look. You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful. “I wanted to make something beautiful but…” Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea. “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands. The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.

“You’re silly.”

“ You’re silly,” he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

The roll of your eyes is undeniable. “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right? Not your best choice, making fun of me.” He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers. Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist. A line here, a circle there. Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint. Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside. He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs. A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.

“Can I take this off?” It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours. There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders. He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him. He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice. It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine. You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you. You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside. You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now. Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” Mellifluous and adoring. Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?” He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs. The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive. He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses. Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing. He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin.

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts. It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder. “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest. You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.

“I think I love you.” It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.

“I think I love you, too.”

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away. It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it. He’d been your inspiration and now you were his. The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.

“You don’t have to say it back.” It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight. Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks. “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness. His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone. He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins. It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own. He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect.

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again.

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him. A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips. He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs.

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering. The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw. “Then it’ll be a good death.”

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body. He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop. A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit.

“Do that again.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds. Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience. Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.” Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence. “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,” you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact. He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins.

“Just tell me.”

“I want this. I need this.” You hope he believes you. You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t. “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this. He loves it. “I need to stretch you out. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks. It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything. He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.

You’re a dream come true. He never wants to wake up.

“More. Please.” You’re so polite, he almost laughs. You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now. He can’t deny how proud he is. It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other. You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot. He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”

Your nod is enough of an answer.

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot. In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning. You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—” Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles. He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy.

“Please, please, please.” There are tears in your eyes. You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping. “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs. You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin. The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones.

“Are you tired?” Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips.

You are, but it doesn't matter. You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring. A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes. “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager. He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless. It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.” So pretty, so ready. He can’t resist.

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand. The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye. It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.

“I love you,” you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too. You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips. “I know.”

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest. You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.

“Holy shit,” he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue. “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him. It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.” It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind. He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust. It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt. It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

“Yoongi - please.” You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him. His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high. The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice.

“One more, love. Once more for me, okay? I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over. You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place; it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.

“I love you,” he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow. It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly. Yoongi doesn’t mind though; he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste. He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair. “So, thanks, Taehyung?”

“Can you not?” It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.

“Sorry.” A beat. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly. “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note. this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer and i kind of just... ran with it. oops.

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catgrump · 3 years

Note

“I’m alive?” [For Sondham Sonia/GUNDHAM?] Your writing is 💕💕💕

I’m so glad you like my writing 💛💛💛

This is an Idea for a little scenario from Cruise Ship AU! I have plans for a full-fledged Sondham fic in Cruise Ship AU so this is a taste of what’s to come I guess lol

🌻🌻🌻

Gundham stared at his reflection in the cramped bathroom, leaning on the faux-marble vanity

He sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Could this cost him his job? Potentially. He’s thought about that. He can’t remember the last time he was disciplined, so maybe this would be worth the risk.

The ship was docked at its private island. He’s never actually stepped on shore. And when she found that out, she insisted he abandon his post for the day to spend time with her.

“I was going to do so many things alone! It would much more fun with a companion!” She pleaded

And he gave in. When he first met her just a few days ago, he felt like he lost his inhibitions. She’s captivating. He looks forward to stopping by her family’s suite each day for a chance to see her. She’s kind, and curious. She’s asked about him and his life.

So he’s taking a chance.

Not like he isn’t taking a chance whenever he goes out of his way to see her. But this is something entirely different.

He left the employees’ quarters to meet her on the dock.

He stepped onto the gangway and felt the sun beat down on his pale skin, and felt like he could sweat immediately seeing Sonia sitting on a nearby bench

She’s beautiful. Her long blonde hair was gathered into braids that cascaded against her frame, adorned with a sleek swimsuit, dark shorts, and a sheer black shawl. She was glistening in the sunshine.

And then she saw him. She grinned ear to ear and stood up, gathering a bag closer to her and waving with unbridled enthusiasm

He walked down to join her. “I am so glad you are here!” She was practically bouncing with excitement, “Part of me was not expecting this.”

Gundham shrugged, smiling, “I do not take promises lightly.”

“Then come with me! I have a reservation in fifteen minutes,” she took hold of his wrist and practically dragged him down the dock toward the island

Gundham followed Sonia’s lead as he took in the sights around him. The island itself was clearly designed to be accomodating to vacationers. Before the bombastically colorful front gate, one of the first things you saw were giant water slides towering into the sky.

The sky was perfectly blue and the waters looked crystalline. The sand on the shore was almost was white as the clouds. It was almost too perfect

Sonia continued to hold on to Gundham as she trudged through tourists. They passed by souvenir stalls, rows of chaise lounges, private waterfront cabanas, snack shacks, musicians playing calypso, and tropical flora and fauna— which Gundham always took note of. There were far more lizards here than he anticipated, which was exciting.

By the time Sonia finally said “we made it,” Gundham thought she had made a mistake.

When Sonia said ‘a reservation’, he thought it was for a meal. But there was a shack in front of them, storage lockers behind them, and... water vehicles of some kind parked in the water beside them

They weren’t boats; they were much too small. Gundham had never seen a vehicle like this before. It appeared to be a scooter or motorcycle on water

Sonia finished talking with the attendant in the shack and approached Gundham, jingling a small key on a ring. “Anything you do not want getting wet goes in a locker,” she chirped

Oh. So she did have a reservation to... ride. He didn’t take her as someone who’d want to do those sorts of things.

Gundham did his best not to stare as she removed her shawl, revealing more of her figure. He swallowed, but then quickly averted his eyes when he saw her start to take off the shorts she had on. He could feel himself growing more and more flustered as his imagination ran wild

He bit his lower lip as he looked at his feet idly kicking the sand

He had to snap himself back when he felt a finger tap his shoulder. Sonia was standing in front of him expectantly. “If you have a phone on you, I suggest leaving that in my bag in the locker,” She giggled

“Right,” he nodded and followed her advice, taking his phone out of the pocket of his swim shorts and placing it in her tote bag once he was at their locker.

She has not said anything, Gundham paused, standing still in front of the locker, contemplating an insecurity of his, I do not think she will make any remarks...

He took a deep breath and decided to remove the shirt he had on. Sonia had only previously seen him in uniform— a uniform where he was able to cover his scars. They adorned both of his arms, and he had some across his chest. When on the clock, he went out of his way to appear more friendly and approachable than he desired to be. Even with his brooding presence, Sonia had led him this far. The last thing he wants is for her to be scared of him.

Gundham did his best to control his breathing while he folded the shirt. We ARE on a beach, he told himself, This is perfectly acceptable.

He took one last deep breath before turning around to face her. A weight fell off his shoulders when she smiled and clasped her hands together with glee.

“Come on,” she instructed, “We have to listen to the safety information!”

They sat among strangers and listened to an instructor guide them through driving the vehicles, which Gundham learned were called ‘wave runners’.

His leg bounced with anxiety as he tried to focus his nervous energy on gripping his own knuckles

When the presentation was over, they put on life vests and went to the docks.

“Is it alright if I drive?” She asked with pleading eyes. But they were entirely unnecessary.

“Y-yes, that is fine,” Gundham did his best to hide his fear. This is not the type of activity he would do to seek a rush of adrenaline.

Sonia climbed on, taking hold of the steering handles with zeal. Gundham waited for her to settle in before cautiously sitting behind her, and searched for some sort of handle on the side of the vehicle to grab.

There was no such handle.

Well, he had to hold on somehow. He very carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, doing his best to maintain a respectful distance between them. She’s beautiful and she did invite him out, but he can’t make any assumptions.

On the insteuctor’s cue, the fleet of wave runners started off. Sonia turned over her shoulder and asked “Are you ready?”

Gundham nodded yes with a tight, forced smile.

He felt like he was flying. And not in a graceful, peaceful way. It was as if he were a crash-test-dummy in a race car, headed toward his inevitable demise. Sonia’s profile over her shoulder was the last thing he saw. Removing one of his senses just amplified the others. He couldn’t look at anything, but he could hear the motors speeding through the waves, he could smell the salt of the sea as it hit his face, he could taste his mouth getting drier, and he could feel how he had suddenly grasped on to Sonia with all of his might. There was no distance between them anymore. His brain was telling him that if he let go, he would fall off, and who knows what would happen after that?

He was squeezing his own arms for stabilization, and listening to Sonia laugh, trying to center himself. This went on for what felt like eons.

Until they suddenly stopped. “Gundham?” He heard her say his name and opened his eyes. He picked his head up to see her looking down at him with wisps of hair in her face and a concerned smile

“I’m alive?” Were the first words out of his mouth

She laughed, and covered her mouth with one of her hands. “Yes, we made it back! Our time is up.”

“Oh,” Gundham suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, “That was not... so bad.”

“Gundham, you have not let go of me.”

She was smiling, but Gundham instinctively released his grip. Was his face heating up from the sun, or because of her?

“I think I owe you a stiff drink after that,” she continued, swinging a leg over the side of the waverunner, “Come on; my treat.”

She stepped off the vehicle and offered Gundham a hand. With his heart in his throat, he accepted it.

Prompt from This List: feel free to send in a request!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi if you can 💛 Fics will always be free; tipping is optional 💛

#danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa fic #sonia nevermind #sonia x gundham #sdr2 sonia #danganronpa sondham #sondham #gundham tanaka #sdr2 gundham #danganronpa gundham #cruise ship au #danganronpa au

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twooneztaylorthecat · 3 years

Text

When Nobody's Around - Adam Stanheight / Reader

A/N. There was a clip of the song 'Better' by Khalid on TikTok, and that inspired this story. Anyway, continue.

It was dark in the area, December twenty-fourth. The wind howled loudly as it whipped through the tree branches and sent snow spraying everywhere. The air was freezing cold, and the ground was icy. Even snow boots couldn't dull the slip from anyone who tried to walk on it. It was difficult not to tense up against the chill, or even not to zip up the jacket around one's shoulders, but no matter what you did you just couldn't get warm. You kept your head bent and plowed on through the snow. The coffee in your Starbucks cup made your palms hot, but you liked it that way; you didn't like the cold anyway. Adam Stanheight was following closely behind you, along with your best friend. You guys had a mixed friendship, or so it seemed. You knew what you had with your bff, you didn't need to question it. But your relationship with Adam was quite another thing entirely, it dissatisfied you, dismayed you. Often times he'd play off his flirting to be nothing more than jokes, and it hurt you a little. His mixed signals were confusing you. You clutched your tote bag closer and sped up your speed. Getting home was your biggest priority right now; you felt so flustered being around Adam. It made your heart beat faster and your stomach swim chaotically.

In your head you knew there was something there, or at least you wished there was, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling it. You rounded the corner very urgently. You were in the lead, Adam and your friend had been talking earlier about politics, you didn't want to discuss that. But unfortunately for you, your friend called out to you. "What's your opinion?"

You, who had not been listening, turned around slowly and looked at them dumbly. You could not remember what they had been talking about before. "I wasn't paying attention," you admitted.

"Oh, come on. I was asking-"

"-No, no," you interrupted. "Right now I have other things to worry about than what side of the political spectrum you are on. I'd like to keep our friendship strong before Christmas, then we can ruin it."

"Fine. Then at least tell me this. What side of the 'romantic relationship' are you on? You know, with..." Your bff elbowed Adam in the ribs.

Adam made a face. " 'Romantic relationship'?" He repeated skeptically. "What the fuck are you on about?"

You turned back around and started to cross the street, your heart heavy. The light, which was blurred by the snowy fog, changed red suddenly, and you were pulled back by a strong force. It wasn't like you could have saved yourself, but you did appreciate the thoughtfulness. Not to mention, there weren't any moving vehicles out right now to plow you over, so it didn't really matter. "Thanks," you mumbled, and pulled your arm out of their grasp, you expected it to be your friend.

"Hey. Where are you going?" The voice sounded right behind you. It was quiet and soothing; it sent chills up your spine; like it always did. Apparently the political conversation was over now.

"A-Adam..." you gasped. "I... wasn't expecting you to be there."

"No?" Adam pressed up against your side. "You seem cold. Mind if I warm you up?"

You gagged, feeling embarrassed, and tried to get away, but Adam held you close. "Where are you going?" He asked again.

Your best friend came up to you. "Yeah. No romantic relationship here. What's up love-birds?"

Adam released you. "Tch," he scoffed. "What are you talking about? We're just friends. Can't I care for my friends?"

You stared at him miserably. "Christmas at my house?" You asked, changing the subject.

Your friends looked at you cluelessly. "Oh sure," your bff agreed. "I won't have to rearrange any plans if we go to your house."

"You live in the same place," you muttered.

"That's the point..." your friend grimaced.

Adam had fallen behind you both while you discussed this. He seemed quiet now, and lost in thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. You wished he was talking with you again. You wished he would try snuggling again.

The discussion wasn't a long one, and it ended right as you reached the other side of the road. "So, Adam," you hummed out quietly. "You need anyone to help with baking? I know you said you would like it if someone came over tomorrow morning."

"Only one someone..." Adam winked at you, and laughed. "In all honesty, I just want the company. It gets lonely over there."

"So... No baking?"

"What would you guys be baking?" (Bff's name) asked. "Not like Adam is having anyone over. Not like he CAN. Everyone would be falling on their asses."

Adam muttered something under his breath, then spoke up, "No, you're right. I... will do the baking myself." He chuckled. "That is, if I stop taking pictures of it first."

"You're not planning on doing any baking, are you?" You realized.

"I... was? Actually."

"Pffft." Your best friend sounded dubious.

You yourself were a little doubtful too, but you had the sense to shut up about it. You blew out a breath, which made your bangs fly into the air.

"You look kinda cute when you do that," Adam commented and held your hand lightly.

You blushed, waiting for his infamous 'jk' or stupid reasoning as to why he was 'pretending to flirt' with you, but it never came. You exchanged glances with you friend, but alas Adam caught it, and let go. "I should really stop doing that, shouldn't I?"

You huffed. "I... like it..." You said inaudibly.

Adam had heard you, but he chose not to respond. He started talking about the snow instead.

Fuck, you thought.

Faulkner walked you both to your condo, and held the door open. You were the first inside, but didn't get too far. Adam called you back as your best friend stalked past you to the stairs. You fell back and leaned against him. What was going to happen now? Adam got all cozy with you when you guys were alone, and now that your friend had left, you wondered what was going to happen. "Hey, Y/N?" He looked directly into your eyes. He never flinched or gazed away, but his body language said he was nervous.

You felt obliged to ease his stress. "Yeah? Are you cold, why don't you come in for a minute and warm up?"

"No," Adam said boldly. "I... just wanted to..." He looked away finally. Your heart nearly stopped in anticipation. "Well, you see... I've been thinking about this for a while. Ever since October."

You stared at him silently, hoping he wasn't psyching you up just to joke with you again. "What is it?" You asked in irritation. "Are you playing with me again?"

"What do you mean by that?" Adam didn't seem to understand that you were referring to his 'fake flirting.' Honestly, sometimes you thought that he was completely unaware that he did it. Or maybe he simply pretended to be innocent?

"I'm not kidding around right now, I'm being serious. Here's the deal. I-I wanted Christmas at my place, if that's alright with you. I don't mind if you bring

(Bff's name,) But... Yeah."

Your stomach felt hollow after hearing that. Whatever you had been expecting was entirely not up for debate. You were simply 'friend-zoned', at least it felt like it. You thought about his words for a short moment, then stared at him questioningly. "Will your apartment be clean enough?" It was a joke, but not really. Adam was notorious for have a messy living quarters.

"Haha," Adam said sarcastically. "I cleaned it yesterday... well enough, that is..."

You nodded halfheartedly, still feeling disappointed. "Sure. I'll tell (Bff's name,) the change of plans."

"Yeah," Adam agreed.

It was awkward after that. Adam stayed in the doorway, and you kept the door open. Neither of you knew what to say after that, but you didn't have the heart to close the door and leave him there. It was so intense that you could feel heat rising to face in the cold forty degree (Fahrenheit) weather. Snow was starting to fill up the inside. "I guess you should go?" You didn't want to be rude, but asking it instead of saying it didn't help the bluntness of the sentence.

"Um..." Adam shrugged. "I was wondering something else..."

You looked at Adam in disbelief. In the fifteen minutes standing in the cold, he didn't think to bring this up? "Well, alright then. Any time would be... perfect." You noticed for the first time, how fidgety he had become. You'd never seen him like that before. Something else was on his mind, you knew him well enough to know that. "Go on," you encouraged.

"Why don't you come to my place for the night?" Adam asked unexpectedly. He got straight to the point, you liked that. He added clumsily, "Unless... Uh, you're busy... in the morning? I understand, you know. Of course I understand. Um... Y-Yeah, I just- I wanted to make sure you knew the invitation was there."

You smiled shyly. Having Adam stumbled over his words was a little bit cute. And then you realized what he had actually asked you. Wait a minute!? This couldn't be real! Stay the night with Adam Faulkner Stanheight!? Who could turn THAT down? Not Y/N. Definitely not Y/N. "Okay," you agreed politely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You ran your hands over your clothes quickly, trying to smooth them out. But Adam didn't care about the wrinkles in your shirt, he just wanted you with him. He pulled you outside again, the chill biting you immediately. You huddled up next to him, trying to get warm.

Maybe this time it would be different? Maybe he'd snuggle with you?

But Adam was not as observant to his surroundings. He led you to his car, which was parked beside the road.

"What's with the car, Adam? We live close enough, you know," you joked.

Your companion only scowled at you as he snapped, "I was at a client's house when you called. And I decided not to leave the car here on the way home."

You sat down in the passenger's seat happily. Adam, of course, took the driver's seat, and as he started up the car the radio blasted you guys unexpectedly, hollowing out each one of your ears. Instead of turning it off, Adam just turned it down. He seemed much more laid back now that it was just the two of you.

In the silence, however, you were able to pick up what song was currently playing. It was Better by Khalid, and this surprised you. You didn't usually listen to this artist very much, but the radio seemed to love playing this song in particular. You hadn't been expecting it to come on while you were in Adam's car though.

Due to the quietness you could hear the words now. You'd never really listened to them before, but now that you could hear them, you felt suspicious.

"Say we're just friends, but I swear, when nobody's around. You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now?-"

Adam rolled down a window suddenly, cutting off the next part.

You raised an eyebrow, thinking to yourself. Why the hell am I relating to this song so much? No wait, an even better question is, why would it come on the radio when I'm in the car with Adam? It doesn't add up right.

Almost instinctually, you asked, "D-Did you do this on purpose?" You hadn't meant to blurt it out. In fact you usually were pretty good about thinking about what you were going to say or do before actually performing it. This was a rare scenario.

Humiliation engulfed you as soon as the words left your mouth. You rolled your window down hurriedly, trying to act like you hadn't spoken. It was all for naught.

"What?" Adam asked dully.

"I-uh..." you stammered for a minute, then quickly regained yourself. "Yeah. I was just wondering if you chose the song, or if it was the radio?"

"Why would I have chosen it?" Adam sounded confused. "There would be no reason for me to choose it."

"oh... You're right..." You stared out the window and let the wind blow into your face. It was cold but you didn't say it out loud. You did wonder though, how Stanheight managed to live through it. It was so cold it felt like it was burning your skin off. You closed the window again.

Adam pulled to a stop in front of his apartment. "Don't mind the neighbors," he warned. "They don't like newcomers."

"I know. We've had this discussion before."

"I know," Adam said regretfully. "But... I just... like to remind you."

As you both shuffled into Adam's apartment, you gazed at the floor. He told you he'd cleaned up yesterday, and it showed. The normal empty boxes, or bits of laundry, had been taken care of, as well as the large stacks of photographs laying around the place. Adam was nothing if not passionate about his job, and that made you happy. It still amazed you to be able to see the wooden floor beneath your feet, and you desperately tried not to notice the counter, on top of which was an ashtray, which was piled with cigarette ends. The scent of cigarette smoke was thick, definitely fresh, but... you didn't mind it really.

Well, that was a lie. You did mind it, a lot. But that was the thing, that smell reminded you of Adam, so... you didn't mind it THAT much. Come to think of it, having the scent of smoke remind you of someone was probably not a good thing. Not for you or Adam. In fact, Adam probably had it worse. Imagine hearing someone say that the scent of smoke reminded them of you. That didn't seem like a positive thing to hear.

You shuddered at the thought.

"Come sit down over here," Adam said from the couch. "Sorry about the... Everything... I did try to keep the windows open but... it was way too damn cold. And I guess I couldn't stop... If you know what I mean?"

You did. You could understand completely.

Gently, you sat next to Adam, crossing your legs over each other delicately. It was warm in here, or was it Adam's body heat? You were sitting so close to him it was hard to tell. "I'm glad you came over," he said nervously. "You know... It's kinda stupid, but I only said I wanted your help with baking 'cause I didn't know how to invite you."

You smiled at him. "That's sweet. I would have done the same thing," you reassured Adam.

Adam slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. In a low tone, he said, "I didn't get you anything for Christmas. I'm sorry, I... Well, I mostly didn't know what kind of things you liked and didn't like."

"It's okay," you said. "I wasn't planning on having Christmas here until my parents' flight got canceled."

"So, you didn't get me anything either?" Adam's voice held some relief.

"Well, no," you tried to disappoint gently. You knew how it felt when you realized you weren't the only one who had done something a certain way. It was very reassuring. Maybe a bit too reassuring. You didn't want to crush his bubble so violently, but there wasn't any way to say it softly. At least, not one that came to mind. "I actually did think of something."

"Oh?" Adam didn't seem bothered, that was good. "What is it?"

You scoffed. "Like I'd tell you. You have to wait."

You had baked everyone some cookies this morning. That's what you were going to give your friends for Christmas. It was the first thing that came to your mind last second.

Adam leaned away from you hesitantly. "Well, there might be something that I thought of, too, but... I don't know... I guess I got scared..." He glanced at a nearby clock, and shrugged. "Is one fifteen AM close enough to Christmas?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I'd say, at least six AM."

"Fuck that," Adam exclaimed. "I... don't think I can wait any longer." He laughed nervously. It lasted for so long that you started to wonder if you had missed the joke.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. "I don't think... I follow."

Adam stared at the floor. "No, I'm sorry, that was unnecessary. I just got... scared?"

You narrowed your eyebrows sympathetically. "What is it, Adam?"

"Well... Will you be my significant other? The time we spend together means a lot, not to mention I enjoy your company a lot, too. Our dates have been nice... I know I should have asked you long ago, but... I don't know... I couldn't get up the courage..."

You smiled, but it was only out of uncomfortableness rather than actual happiness. You had no idea if he was playing with you or being honest with you. "Uh... Heh. You're joking, aren't you?"

"No," Adam gasped. He looked flabbergasted. "Why... What makes you ask that? I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Oh, right, you thought dryly. Just everything else about our relationship.

Out loud you said quickly, "Nothing." You regretted doubting yourself. It just made this situation very embarrassing. You felt the need to clarify your answer now. You didn't want to leave Adam hanging after such a significant question. "Well, Adam. The answer to your question is yes! I thought you were never gonna ask me. Well, actually, I thought you were bullshitting me the entire time."

"I didn't go about it the right way," Adam admitted. "That's my fault." He pulled you down so that your head was on his lap, and started to comb his fingers through your hair. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," he murmured. "That's my gift to you."

You inhaled deeply, feeling a strong wave of affection flood you. You had no idea anyone could feel so much emotion at once. It awed you. Gazing at the ceiling you felt your heart swell up. It beat in your chest heavily, loudly, nervously, but you felt soothed at the same time. And in this exact moment, you had good feelings. Maybe it was too soon to tell, however something in your gut told you that you were going to have a long, successful, future with Adam. "Wow," you hummed out quietly. "Christmas is going to be a hell-of-a-lot different this year." Adam didn't stop brushing your hair. You yawned and smiled. "But I can't wait for it."

#adam faulkner stanheight #saw movies #saw franchise #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #christmas #december

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 4 years

Text

Rejuvenation

For @jamaisjoons ‘The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition Collab’

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok (featuring Jungkook & Jimin w/ mentions of the others)

Genre: non-idol AU; Spa Owners/Workers, fluff, smut, dash of angst

Prompt: Treat Yourself to a Spa Day

Word Count: 12.5k+

Summary: You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek.

Warnings: cursing & vulgar language, sexual innuendos, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (female/male receiving), protected sex, body worship, praise kink, butt plug, nipple play, nipple clamps, hair pulling, choking, sex toy play, exhibitionism, triple penetration, anal play, pussy slapping, spanking

------------

The quaint stone building in front of you was the quintessential facade for a spa. The cobblestone walkway, the rocky texture on the outside walls, and the elaborate fountain surrounded by perfectly manicured foliage all perpetuated the illusion of escape from reality.

You looked at the matte black card in your hand and noted the embossed logo on the front. The mirrored geometric shapes were reminiscent of doors opening. You turned the card over and read the golden script scrawled across it.

Bangtan Blossoms Spa Member Referral Code: STAYGOLD 613 Journey Road Appointment: 9:00 AM

Your friend Danae could not stop talking about this place and when she’d handed over this referral card, you had half a mind to refuse it, but the appeal of a free relaxing spa day was too great to pass up. So you took the card and tucked it away, promising to call and make your appointment as soon as your lunch date was over.

Once you entered the lobby, the comforting scent of lavender enveloped your senses. The diffusers near the entrance were emitting wisps of scented fog, and your mind was immediately eased.

“Welcome to Bangtan Blossoms Spa,” announced the tall drink of water behind the reception desk. “I’m Jungkook, how can I help you today?”

You took a second to drink up the sleek raven hair tinged with blue, the tight black shirt clinging to a perfectly sculpted chest, and the unbuttoned modern hanbok hanging from his shoulders. His delicate pink lips were pulled into an eager smile and you couldn’t help returning it in kind.

He’s way too sweet and too young to be a spa worker. Maybe’s he’s an intern?

“Hi,” you smiled while handing over your appointment card. “I have a 9:00 am appointment.”

“Ok, let me get you signed in,” Jungkook exclaimed while typing in your information. “Oh, wow, you got one of the 2 for 1 specials? That’s awesome!”

“Really?” you asked Jungkook while peering over at the screen. “Where does it say that?”

“It says right here that you got the [Stay Gold Sope Summer Package],” Jungkook confirmed with a jubilant smile. “That means that Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung will be your specialists. You’re in for a real treat today.”

“Jungkook!” called out a sharp silvery voice. “You are supposed to use their professional names when we’re at work.”

Jungkook visibly wilted and you noticed his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. From behind a set of thick curtains emerged a perfectly coiffed head of platinum blonde, and you were momentarily stunned by his sumptuous rosy lips collected into an adorable pout. His sharp eyes flickered across Jungkook’s sheepish figure and he shook his head in disappointment.

“Seriously,” the blonde vision sighed airily. “This is why I don’t like leaving you alone at reception. You’re always breaking the rules.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook groaned before panicking and correcting himself. “I mean, I’m sorry, Jimin.”

Jimin stepped past the curtain and smoothed out the smoky silk shirt draped across his delicate physique. Jungkook reluctantly relinquished his position in front of the computer and he pouted as Jimin shook his head at him in disapproval.

“It’s ok, Jungkook,” Jimin insisted in his mellifluous tone. “Just try to remember how we’re supposed to behave while we’re here. We want our clients to think of us as professionals, ok?”

“I know,” Jungkook replied. “I just forget sometimes, that’s all. Anyway, she’s here for her treatment. She has the [Stay Gold Sope Summer Package].”

“Ah, yes,” Jimin grinned while turning to address you directly. “Your specialists today will be Suga and J-Hope, or as we like to call the pair, Sope. My name is Jimin and you’ve already met Jungkook. Here at Bangtan Blossoms Spa, we make sure that our clients are given the very best that we have to offer. I hope you will enjoy your experience with us today.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at Jimin. “Jungkook was very welcoming and he was very helpful. Don’t be too hard on him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jungkook smirked. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Your face flushed with heat at his words and Jimin giggled at Jungkook’s slip of the tongue.

“Jungkook, why don’t you let Suga and J-Hope know that their client is here,” Jimin suggested. “I will show her to her room so she can get ready for them.”

Jungkook nodded and smiled sweetly at you. He reached over to lift your hand to his lips, and you gawked at the assortment of tattoos peeking out beneath his hanbok sleeve. Jungkook released your hand and bowed slightly to you before lifting his brilliant cocoa colored eyes to meet your gaze.

“Have fun today,” Jungkook murmured cutely. “Maybe next time, you can choose me as your specialist? Satisfaction guaranteed.”

His lips pulled into a seductive smirk and he winked playfully before dashing behind the curtains out of sight. You felt a rush of heat creep across your body and Jimin giggled at Jungkook’s little flirtatious display before turning his attention back to you.

Ok, there was no preparing for that. That boy has trouble written all over him. Literally.

“Cheeky, isn’t he?” Jimin mused. “He’s our youngest specialist, but don’t let that fool you. He’s highly qualified and has outstanding client reviews, just like the rest of us here at Bangtan Blossoms Spa.”

“Good to know,” you smirked. “So, now what?”

‘Now, my lovely client,” Jimin continued while he stepped behind the reception desk and lifted a large canvas tote with the spa’s logo printed on it. “We take you to get ready for your spa treatment. This summer special entitles you to our finest combination of treatments and it will take some time. I promise that you will leave here feeling like a new woman.”

Jimin handed over the tote, and you gasped at the fluffy white robe embroidered in purple with the spa’s logo. There were also various items tucked beneath the robe, but there was no time to look at them. Jimin offered his arm to you and gently escorted you behind the curtain and into a long hallway with numerous doors. He stopped in front of the room number “7” and handed over an elaborate golden key.

“This is your private room for today,” Jimin announced. “You will have the only key to the room, so feel free to leave your personal possessions within. You may also enjoy the complimentary refreshments, and please don’t hesitate to use the intercom to call me at the front desk. I will be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” you smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

“Please do,” Jimin quirked lasciviously. “I would love to be of service to you.”

He lifted your free hand and planted a lingering kiss on the inside of your wrist. After giving you a smile full of insinuation, Jimin turned and walked down the hall toward the curtained entrance. He paused and ran his fingers through his blonde locks before shooting one last smoldering look at you then disappearing into the reception area. You released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Is everyone here just insanely attractive and fueled by desire? My brain is getting flooded by naughty thoughts.

Still flustered, you fumbled with the golden key in your hand, but once you were inside, you couldn’t help but gawk at the plush interior. There was an overstuffed purple lounger, a small walk-in closet, a full bathroom, a vanity table complete with LED bulbs along the edge, and a fully stocked wet bar. The side shelf displayed a variety of snacks and drinks, as well as various bath products infused with various essential oils. You noted the plethora of labels with bright green leaf stickers announcing the presence of either THC or CBD hemp oils.

Well isn’t that interesting? This place just keeps getting better and better.

You were no stranger to the wonders of cannabis and hemp; in fact, you and your girlfriends kept CBD and THC products in stock for medical and recreational purposes. You lifted a glittering bath bomb labeled Mikrokosmos and ran your thumb across the CBD sticker reverently.

“I bet you feel amazing,” you whispered to the tightly packed purple granules. “A nice hot bubble bath with you to soothe my aching muscles? Yes, please.”

A soft knock resounded behind you and you dropped your things on the lounger before walking back to open the door. The two men who greeted you were unbelievably attractive, and you were awestruck by the bright shining smile on one face and the mysteriously stoic face of the other.

“Hello,” chirped the ball of sunshine. “My name is J-Hope and this is my partner, Suga. We’re here to give you the ultimate Sope spa treatment.”

‘That was not the introduction we agreed on,” grumbled his partner. “Why did you make me practice that intro if you were just going to commandeer the entire thing?”

“Whoops,” giggled Mr. Sunshine. “Sorry about that. We can do it again, if you want.”

Mr. Grumblecakes pouted and shook his head slightly. You almost cooed at his knitted brow and puckered lips, but then he spoke again.

“What’s the point? The moment’s lost now,” Suga responded in pout. “Besides, we have more important matters to attend to, don’t we?”

His feline eyes lifted to meet your own and his pouty lips pulled up into a flirtatious smirk. You were taken aback at the duality between his previous cuteness and the unmistakable swagger that now greeted you.

“So, are you going to invite us in, beautiful?” he quipped. “Or should we wait for you in the hallway?”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologized quickly, while ushering them into your room. “Jimin didn’t tell me when to expect you.”

“Ah, Jimin,” J-Hope chuckled while nudging Suga’s arm. “We’re going to have to give him hell later. RM already talked to him about staying focused while on the job.”

“I know,” Suga grinned. “We should’ve just left Jin or V in charge of reception. They’re consistently attentive to the clients.”

“Yeah, but they’re both in high demand right now,” J-Hope guffawed. “Tall, dark, and handsome are hard to resist in this business, aren’t they, sweetheart?”

You glanced at him before sweeping your sharp eyes across their lean frames. Whatever they thought they were lacking in physical appearance was diminished by their larger than life personalities. J-Hope’s infectious aura perfectly balanced the sultry stylings of Suga, and together, you could tell that you would have your hands full.

In more ways than one...oh, if only…

“Actually,” you replied. “I don’t focus too much on physical appearances. I’m attracted to what’s underneath.”

“Oh really?” mused Suga while tugging at his waistband. “Is that an invitation to take off our clothes?”

“What?” you sputtered. “I didn’t mean-”

“Relax, princess,” J-Hope giggled, coming to your rescue. “Suga is just a big flirt. I see Jimin remembered to give you the complimentary spa tote. Why don’t you take it into the bathroom and read the enclosed card? We’ll wait for you here and then take you for your first treatment of the day. How does that sound?”

You took one last look at the smug look on Suga’s face before he wrinkled his nose at you and you couldn’t help smiling at the cute facial expression. His face bloomed into a full gummy smile at your reaction and you blushed in response.

These guys are adorable and deadly. This is going to be a long day.

J-Hope chuckled as he handed you the spa tote and gestured toward the bathroom door. You took one last glance at the charming pair and closed the door before your mind started wandering further.

You reached into the tote and found a creamy envelope nestled in the fluffy robe. The thick ivory card inside was inked in deep purple and read:

Welcome to Bangtan Blossoms Spa! Please undress to your level of comfort and feel free to use the complimentary robe during your stay with us. We’ve also included an assortment of special spa items that you can use to enhance your spa experience. Please be assured that every experience at Bangtan Blossoms Spa is based on your consent, so don’t feel pressured to indulge in any spa experience that makes you uncomfortable. Just give your specialists your comfort level based on the scale below. Your satisfaction is our ultimate goal, so please don’t hesitate to speak yourself and we promise to comply. Enjoy your stay with us today, and we look forward to your visits in the future!

~ Bangtan Blossoms Spa

COMFORT LEVEL INDICATOR

(Very Uncomfortable) 1 to 7 (Absolutely Comfortable)

You read the card twice and the words “consent” and “comfort” piqued your interest. Typical spa experiences were pretty standard: massages, mani-pedi packages, facials, etc. Your imagination wandered down a path that was completely inappropriate as you tried to conjure up a spa experience that would be concerned with your comfort and consent, especially if it involved a particular pair of specialists.

I could definitely think of a few things I would consent to with them.

You set the card aside and pulled out the robe. As you were unfolding it, you glanced at the bottom of the tote and saw a pair of spongy sandals as well as several boxes and bottles. You pulled out each item and laid them on the counter, marveling at the variety of lubricants, lotions, oils, and adult toys in the collection.

What the fuck? Are they serious? Am I really allowed to use this stuff at the spa?

You quickly read the card again and giggled slightly. With one more look at your newly acquired playtime items, your curiosity reached epic proportions.

Oh, hell yeah. My comfort level just shot up to 7.

With a whirlwind of possibilities circling your brain, you undressed and covered your bare body with the fluffy bathrobe. The luscious fabric felt incredible on your bare skin and the sandals were already doing wonders for your feet.

I don’t know where they get their spa swag, but the quality is amazing.

You unpacked the various toys from their packages and slipped them into your tote along with the other items. You took one last look at your reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath.

Let’s see what these guys have in store for me today.

--------------

“Go ahead and have a seat, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “Suga and I need to get a few things ready before we start this treatment. Go ahead and put your hair up with this before we get started.”

He handed you a scrunchie and you pulled your hair into a tucked ponytail. The small room was outfitted with a padded table on one side and a set of cabinets on the other. Suga and J-Hope were busy mixing various oils and minerals into a large bowl with their gloved hands.

“I’m guessing this is some kind of salt scrub?” you predicted aloud. “You guys going to scrub the evil out of me?”

“Not exactly,” J-Hope replied. “This is a mix of coarse salt and raw sugar. The different sizes of granules polish off any dead skin or imperfections on your body. We’re also adding extracts of ginseng and cayenne to stimulate your pores and get some of those toxins out of your body.”

“So you can keep the evil, beautiful,” Suga quirked. “Keeps things interesting.”

“You guys aren’t like other spa specialists I’ve encountered,” you commented. “Most are so reserved and formal.”

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met some of those people,” J-Hope chuckled. “So uptight.’

“Our company policy is to make the customer as comfortable and satisfied as possible,” Suga continued. “Happy customers are repeat customers. We’ve discovered that we can spread more happiness by just being ourselves and by offering customers a more immersive experience.”

“How immersive?” you probed, thinking of the items in your tote.

J-Hope grinned and looked up at Suga, who smirked before winking at you.

“As immersive as you want, beautiful,” Suga replied. “J-Hope and I are yours for the day. Just let us know what we can do to make your stay with us as pleasurable as possible.

Your eyebrow quirked at his mention of “pleasurable” and you leaned over to open your tote and pull out the wireless vibrating egg and a bottle of lube. Suga’s gummy smile made another appearance and J-Hope’s grin increased in wattage as you fiddled with the buttons on the sleek black toy.

“Want me to help you with that, princess?” J-Hope offered sweetly. “There are some functions on that toy that I think you’d be very interested in.”

You smiled at his offer and held the toy out to him. He lifted his hands out of the bowl to discard the gloves and walked over to the side sink to wash his hands. You glanced over at Suga to gauge his reaction.

“Go ahead, beautiful,” Suga murmured. “I’ll finish getting this ready while J-Hope preps you.”

“Did you bring your phone with you, princess?” J-Hope queried. “We have a wireless charging station over here if you’d like to charge it.”

“Ummm, sure,” you replied, standing up with your phone in hand and the egg in the other. “Does this also need to be charged?”

“No, we make sure they are all fully charged before we give them to the clients,” J-Hope assured you. “What’s a toy if you can’t play with it right away? Here, let me show you how to use it, yeah?”

J-Hope put on a new set of gloves and helped you download an app to control the functions of your new toy and even showed you how to sync it to a music playlist which would match the vibrations to the rhythms of each song.

“So pick out your music and you’re good to go,” J-Hope remarked. “Would like me to get you started, princess? I think Suga is ready to start your treatment.”

You glanced over at Suga with questioning eyes and his lips quirked into a small smile.

“It’s ok, beautiful,” Suga cooed. “You and I can play later, I promise. Why don’t you get that robe off for us and lie on the table, huh?”

You giggled at his adorable response and handed over your phone and toy to J-Hope before stepping away to disrobe. You unabashedly slid the robe down your body and tossed it on the chair before laying facedown on the table. You shifted your gaze to Suga to catch his eyes roving over your naked form in appreciation. You both shared a wicked smile as J-Hope turned on the toy and filled the room with a soft buzzing sound. He made sure the velvety egg was properly synced to your phone and then walked over to the table.

“Now, princess,” he began. “Do you have a preference on where I put this little toy?”

“Specialist’s choice,” you challenged. “I trust you.”

A large slender hand wrapped around your calf causing you to jolt slightly. Your elevated heart rate slowed as J-Hope massaged your calf lightly.

“Comfort level, princess?” J-Hope asked. “I need to know before I continue.”

“7,” you hummed. “Definitely a 7.”

“You’re so eager,” Suga chuckled. “I like that. Are you ready for your scrubdown, beautiful?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed out as J-Hope continued to massage your legs. “Whatever is in that bowl smells heavenly.”

“We added some essential oils to relax you as we scrub,” he informed you while grabbing a handful of the mixture. “I have to warn you, this treatment is a little intense. The ginseng is going to energize you, but the cayenne is going to make your skin feel heated. If it’s too much, you need to let us know.”

“I will,” you promised. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Ok, then I’m going to start,” Suga announced. “J-Hope will join me as soon as he gets that toy of yours situated.”

“Oh yeah?” you mused. “And when is he-”

Soothing instrumental music filled the room as J-Hope started your playlist. You yelped as you felt the pulsating vibrations on the back of your thigh. J-Hope began simultaneously massaging your lower limbs while trailing the vibrating egg along your skin.

“Ah, J-Hope,” you preened. “Don’t tease me.”

“No?” he giggled. “You seem to like it? Just look at how aroused you are right now.”

J-Hope slipped the egg between your legs and gathered the arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubbed the tip across your glistening slit and relished the subtle undulations he was causing.

“Hold still for a moment, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “I need to get this inside of you so I can help Suga.”

The vibrations left your body as Suga stood at the front of the table just in front of your face. He leaned forward and spread two handfuls of the scrub mixture across your back and began lightly massaging it into your upper back and shoulders. The rough texture paired with the soothing scent felt magnificent and the slight pressure he was using caused you to moan out softly.

“That feels so good, Suga,” you gasped. “Your hands are magical.”

“Magical, huh?” Suga smirked. “Just wait until later, beautiful. My hands can do so much more.”

He continued to scrub your shoulders and arms while you noticed the buzzing sound approaching the table once again. Before you could ask any questions, you felt a hand grip the back of your thigh. J-Hope’s thumb rubbed small circles while getting closer to your dripping center. The now lubricated egg made another appearance at your entrance and he slowly worked it inside while reaching underneath you to stimulate your hardened clit.

Once the egg was fully inside, you could feel it grazing just below your G-spot and your hips writhed slightly trying to reach that one spot. You tried to arch your back, but both Suga and J-Hope braced your body to hold you still.

“Try not to move too much, sweetheart,” Suga suggested. “This treatment works best if you hold still. Let us move your body for you.”

“But it feels so good,” you whimpered as the vibrations to the beat of your selected playlist.

“I know it does,” chuckled J-Hope. “Be a good girl and let us take care of you, yeah?”

You took a deep breath and resisted the urge to squirm on the table. Four hands began scrubbing your skin with the oiled salt-sugar mixture and you couldn’t decide what was more distracting: their skilled hands or the little bundle of pleasure edging you with every down beat. Each sweeping motion tingled and the added bonus of exfoliation intensified the overall sensations you were experiencing. You started to find a manageable position to endure both their ministrations and the stimulation down below, but then Suga tapped you on the shoulder and asked you to turn over.

As soon as you got onto your back, you realized that you were in trouble. Your nipples were standing fully erect and both J-Hope and Suga now had a clear view of the copious arousal leaking out of your hypersensitive sex. In addition, the ginseng and cayenne were at war on your skin, spreading a soothing warmth and also inciting a surge of energy that only facilitated more stimulation. You moaned out at the simultaneous stimuli and your specialists grinned.

“Problems, princess?” Suga teased. “What’s your comfort level?”

“U-ummm,” you stuttered. “A 6, but only because I’m a little frustrated.”

“Frustrated, huh?” J-Hope giggled. “Can you hold out a little longer, princess? Suga and I promise to take care of that as soon as we’re done with this treatment. These materials can irritate your sensitive areas, so we need to be careful.”

“O-ok,” you pouted while shifting slightly on the table. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s right, beautiful,” Suga expressed while scrubbing your arms. “Who’s our good girl?”

“I am,” you sighed while closing your eyes. “I’m your good girl.”

Suga leaned down and brushed his lips across your cheek before sliding his hands down your chest and onto your breasts. You gasped as his fingers pulled on your hardened peaks, but then you felt another set of hands join him and you involuntarily moaned out.

“Oh, she liked that,” J-Hope affirmed. “Your tits are amazing, princess. So full and plump.”

“Are you really that surprised, J-Hope?” Suga chuckled. You felt how firm and luscious her ass was. She’s fucking perfect.”

You squealed inwardly at their laudatory statements, you couldn’t help smiling as they continued to shower you with compliments about your body. J-Hope and Suga began alternating their hands across your body while scrubbing into every possible crevice, spreading the lovely tingling warmth to all of your extremities.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope announced. “It’s time to rinse. Let Suga help you off the table. I’ll get the shower ready.”

Suga took your hand and helped you sit up on the table. Once you stepped down, he led you behind a wall of glass bricks which hid a small shower area. J-Hope adjusted the temperature of the water before turning on the spray nozzles mounted on top of the wall.

Once Suga removed your hair tie, he maneuvered you under the nozzles, and he and J-Hope began sweeping their hands across your body to remove the excess granules and oils lingering on your body. Each caress caused jolts of pleasure which were intensified by the ceaseless pulsations between your legs. You shifted your weight back and forth trying to build up some friction, but their actions didn’t allow enough stimulation and you were left whining slightly as your gratification drifted away time and time again.

On the plus side, both J-Hope and Suga were showing more of themselves than before. The white linen was clinging to their skin as more and more of their clothing soaked up the sudsy water. The two of them seemed completely unconcerned about the fact that their clothes were getting completely drenched. You licked your lips as lean muscle and hard lines were revealed bit by bit.

Not that I’m complaining. These two are a sight to see, especially when they’re dripping wet.

Once they were satisfied that your skin was clear of the scrub mix, they grabbed a couple of loofahs and began lathering your skin with a spicy scented body wash. You wanted to argue that you could wash your own body, but the lingering touches and gentle gropes quickly put that idea to bed. You didn’t fail to notice that their fingertips paid extra special attention to your breasts, ass, and inner thighs.

These fucking teases!

J-Hope pulled back to wring out his loofah and place it back in the basket and Suga did the same. You squirmed in exasperation as their hands left your body and another whine escaped your lips as a heavy bass line started up on your playlist. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the vibrations while rubbing your thighs together slightly.

“Still feeling frustrated, princess?” J-Hope murmured into your ear. “Would you like a reward for being such a good girl?”

“Yes, please,” you groaned lightly. “Thank you.”

“So polite,” Suga chuckled. “I like her.”

J-Hope reached down and dipped his middle finger into your slippery folds. The soft squelches caused him to hum with delight.

“You hear that, princess?” he asked sweetly. “You’re soaking wet down here. Is this all for us? Did we get you this excited?”

“Mmmm, yes,” you moaned while gripping his shoulder tightly. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything else while you were touching me.”

Suga placed one hand on your lower back and reached up with the other to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. You yelped as he pinched it slightly and pulled, but it quickly morphed into a moan as J-Hope tugged on the egg and pulled it out of your drenched pussy. He circled your swollen clit with the vibrating toy and pulled moan after moan out of your mouth. You were so distracted by his actions that you didn’t realize Suga’s hand was dipping further south.

You squealed with pleasure as his deft fingers slipped into your aching core from behind and your hips rocked back against them impatiently. You were desperately trying to reach your climax, but it just kept building higher and higher.

“Come on, beautiful,” Suga gruffed into your ear seductively. “Just let go.”

His raspy voice snapped your synapses into place and the orgasm you’d been chasing exploded like dynamite. You nearly screamed as wave after wave of ecstasy erupted across your nerve endings, and they held you in place and helped you ride it out like true gentlemen. Once the pleasure shifted into overstimulation, you tugged at their wrists.

“3, guys,” you groaned fretfully. “Give me some time to recover.”

They immediately ceased their actions and allowed you some time to gather your composure. You stepped back into the stream of water and quickly swept away any excess arousal from between your legs and let out a large satisfied sigh. Once you were done, they turned off the water and began putting things back in their place.

“That was incredible,” you proclaimed. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it was our pleasure, beautiful,” Suga drawled. “Did you enjoy your first treatment?”

“Enjoy it?” you blurted out. “If all of the treatments are that good, I may never leave this spa. How many treatments am I getting anyway?”

“7, actually,” J-Hope smiled. “The scrub was your first, and the second is some time in the steam room. Let me get you a few towels and show you to the sauna. Suga and I will get changed while you enjoy your steam.”

“You’re not joining me?” you asked. “I’ll be all alone?”

They exchanged a look and grinned at your pouty face. J-Hope tossed a fluffy towel over to Suga and they began to dry off your body and hair. J-Hope wrapped your torso in an oversized towel while Suga began to pat your hair dry.

“If you want us to join you, we certainly can,” Suga responded while meticulously squeezing the excess water out of your hair. “Just give us a sec to get changed. We can’t go in there soaking wet.”

“You could just take your clothes off, y’know,” you joked. “I mean, I’m just going to be wearing a towel. You guys could do the same.”

“Let’s listen to the gorgeous client, J-Hope,” Suga argued. “She makes some very valid points.”

“Ok, ok,” J-Hope snickered. “If princess wants us naked, then naked we will be. You can’t hold us responsible for any shenanigans that may occur while we’re naked though.”

“Deal,” you confirmed with a smirk. “Who knows what might happen when we’re all hot and sweaty?”

The two specialists laughed at your insinuation and they lifted their linen shirts over their heads. The fabric landed in a soggy heap on the floor, and your eyes roved over the glistening skin revealed to you. J-Hope’s honeyed skin was rippling with lean sinewy muscle, while Suga’s alabaster skin gleamed under the lights like fresh cream. You didn’t even realize you were biting your lip until Suga reached up to pull it out from between your teeth.

“Hungry, beautiful?” he mused. “I could get you a snack, if you want.”

“I’m good on snacks,” you countered with a wink. “But I am a little thirsty.”

J-Hope shook his head and chuckled at your words. Most clients took a while to let loose, but you jumped right in and he was loving it. He noticed Suga’s tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and he decided to let the two of you have a little fun. It was only fair since he got to play with you first.

“Since our princess is so thirsty, let me go get her something to drink,” J-Hope proposed. “Suga, will you show her to the steam room?”

“With pleasure,” Suga agreed. “Come along, beautiful. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Suga led you across the room to a frosted glass door with the word “Sauna” scrawled across the front in swirling letters. As soon as he opened the door, a wave of humidity assaulted your senses and your skin prickled with goose pimples at the shift in temperature.

“Your skin may be a little sensitive after the scrub,” Suga explained as he felt you shudder. “Give the steam a minute or two to regulate your body temperature and you will start to feel better. Have a seat inside, beautiful. I’m going to get myself into a towel and then I will join you, yeah?”

“Ok,” you pouted. “Don’t be gone too long.”

You took a seat on the corner of the L-shaped bench and stretched your legs out. True to his word, the discomfort you’d felt upon entry was slowly dissipating with every drop of perspiration that left your pores. Somehow, the scrub invigorated your skin and the steam was now bringing it back down to a state of complete relaxation.

They really plan these treatments out well.

The door opened to reveal both Suga and J-Hope with towels wrapped around their waists. J-Hope was carrying three large bottles of water, and he handed one over to you and one to Suga. They sat on either side of you, with Suga pulling your legs over his lap and J-Hope wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope began. “You get a 15 minute steam, and then we’ll take you to your next treatment. How does that sound?”

“Only 15 minutes?” you whined. “Why so little?”

“The steam is going to dehydrate your body, beautiful,” Suga explained while rubbing your feet. “After scrubbing you down, your body needs to sweat out the excess. The shower only does so much.”

“Drink your water, princess,” J-Hope reminded you. “We can’t have our lovely client thirsty, now can we?”

You nodded and took a long drink of water, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. Suga’s hands continued trailing across your skin and you were mesmerized by the prominent veins gleaming under the surface. You didn’t even realize that you were breathing heavily until J-Hope’s delicate fingers caught your towel just as it became untucked from your heaving breasts.

“Someone is a little excited,” J-Hope teased while moving your hair away from your neck. “Aren’t Suga’s hands pretty on your skin, princess?”

“Y-yeah,” you gulped. “They really are.”

“Would you like to see what else they can do, beautiful?” Suga challenged while licking his lips. “I only gave you a little taste earlier.”

“I mean I’m not gonna say no,” you giggled. “But I’m also wondering about that tongue of yours.”

Suga grinned a big gummy smile at you before pulling your leg up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle and your breath hitched. He suckled lightly at your skin before you saw a flash of pink sneak out and trace a long stripe across the top of your foot. J-Hope’s fingers tugged lightly at your towel, and on the next lick Suga’s tongue inflicted on your skin, the towel fell open to expose your heated skin heaving in anticipation.

“So pretty,” J-Hope commented while kissing your bare shoulder. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you, princess?”

“She really doesn’t” Suga chuckled in a dulcet tone while nipping at your toe with his lips. “She just sits there looking like some kind of goddess, tempting us over and over again.”

Suga slotted himself between your legs and licked his way up to your center. With one fluid motion, his tongue swirled the arousal nestled around your clit and he groaned as he swallowed.

“Holy fuck, that’s good,” he hissed. “We gotta get you out of here, beautiful. We might break the sauna if we turn the heat up any more.”

“Don’t stop,” you whined. “I want more of that tongue of yours.”

“You’ll get more, princess,” J-Hope promised. “We just need to get out of the sauna. We can’t risk getting too physical in here, it’s not safe. Come on.”

He helped you stand while Suga wrapped the towel around your body, making sure to tuck in the end so it wouldn’t fall. Suga walked over to the door of the sauna and held it open as you and J-Hope walked out, grabbing your tote as you exited. Suga held your robe open while J-Hope removed your towel and tossed it in a laundry bin. Once you were wrapped up in the cozy terry cloth, J-Hope and Suga traded their towels for a clean set of linen clothes.

They led you down the hall and into a large room with a wide in-ground pond full of steaming purple water. There were sprigs of white and purple flowers floating on the surface and a lovely sweet scent filling your nostrils.

“That smells amazing,” you sighed. “What is that?”

“That is the soaking pool,” Suga explained. “After your mud bath, you get a 20 minute soak in the pool. We had it prepared with lavender and vanilla blossoms just for you, beautiful.”

“A mud bath?” you queried. “Didn’t you just get me all cleaned up? You’re going to get me dirty again?”

“In more ways than one, princess,” J-Hope teased. “Let’s just say that your spa treatments today will alternate between dirty and clean.”

“So what’s next?” you purred. “I hope it’s dirty.”

“Oh, it’s very dirty, beautiful,” Suga murmured behind you. “You’re gonna love it.”

J-Hope pulled you over to the other end of the room next to a massive Japanese soaking tub filled with sludgy gray liquid. You stood on the thick padded mats surrounding the tub while the two specialists gathered an assortment of bottles and glass containers and then spread them out on a shelf by the tub.

“Ok, princess, it’s time to choose,” J-Hope informed you. “The mud is already mixed with crushed volcanic rock to help with exfoliation, but we do have additives that can make the experience even more satisfying.”

“Really?” you wondered aloud. “Like what?”

“Well, there’s the usual things like flowers or plants,” Suga explained. “We have a lot of combinations that can soothe your skin or create a scent while you bathe. However, there are some infused oils we can add that can give you a different kind of experience.”

“You had me at different,” you smiled. “Tell me about these oils.”

“We have a few cannabis infused oils here that we harvest from our farm,” J-Hope pointed out. “There are THC oils and CBD oils, so depending on whether you’re looking for relaxation or recreation, you can choose what to mix into your mud bath.”

You perused the collection and picked out a CBD oil called Otsukare and you noted the amount of CBD infused into the oil. Considering the insanity of the school year you just finished, you needed a nice deep relaxing experience. You handed the oil over to Suga and he nodded once before pour the oil into the tub. He hit a button on the side and a small motor started up, filling the room with a soft buzz.

“The oil needs to be mixed in completely before you can get in, beautiful,” Suga explained. “We will just have to find something to occupy our time until it’s ready.”

J-Hope stepped behind you and ran his hands up and down your arms, his nose nuzzling against your hair as you released an enthusiastic hum.

“What did you have in mind?” you breathed out.

Suga stepped in front of you and parted your robe before reaching down to feel the slickness between your thighs. Your breath stuttered as he delved into your folds with his skilled digits.

“You’re still so wet, beautiful,” Suga groaned. “I love how responsive you are.”

You stifled your moans by biting on your bottom lip, embarrassed by the loud echoes bouncing off the walls. J-Hope chuckled at your display of restraint and tilted your head back so he could point to the silvery globe in the corner of the room.

“Why hold back, princess?” J-Hope whispered. “Jimin can see everything going on in every inch of this place. I guarantee he’s been watching us this entire time.”

“Oh, definitely,” Suga agreed. “If not him, then it’s probably Jungkook. So let go of that lip, sweetheart. Let us hear how good we’re making you feel.”

Your eyes widened at the thought of someone watching this lewd display and the shock loosened your tongue completely. Your wails reverberated across the walls as Suga’s fingers began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. J-Hope slipped your robe off completely and cupped your breasts with his large hands as he nibbled on your earlobe.

You closed your eyes as you imagined either Jimin or Jungkook witnessing the debauchery unfolding. Just the thought of those delicious specimens caused you to clench around Suga’s fingers and he groaned at the sensation.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Suga mused. “I think she likes that the boys are probably watching us ravage her, J-Hope.”

“I think you’re right,” J-Hope snickered while pulling gently on your nipples. “Let’s give the boys a real show, yeah? What’s your comfort level, princess?”

“It’s a 7, fuck,” you croaked out as Suga curled his fingers along your G-spot. “Yeah, it’s totally a 7.”

“Would you like to play with some more of those toys you have in your tote?” Suga asked. “We’d love to help you give them a test run.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” you mewled as he pulled out his fingers and ran the excess arousal around your swollen clit. “Pick something out. I’m ok with everything in that bag.”

Suga lifted his fingers and sucked on them while smiling. He took his shirt off and dried off the excess before walking over to retrieve an item from your tote. J-Hope spun you around and kneeled so his tongue could dive into the mess Suga left between your legs. You ran your fingers through his light brown tresses as he bestowed your pussy with a neverending onslaught of French kisses. You were so enthralled by his fancy tongue work that you didn’t realize Suga was behind you until you felt his fingers sneaking between your ass cheeks to spread a slippery liquid that warmed as he probed at your puckered rim.

“Guess what I found, beautiful,” Suga teased. “J-Hope and I are going to make sure you release some more of that tension before we put you in that mud bath. Let’s get you prepped first, yeah?”

His skilled finger worked its way into your well lubricated asshole and one finger quickly became two as he scissored your back entrance open. The dual stimulation from both Suga and J-Hope tingled across your nerve endings as your body was finely tuned with pleasure. Your moans went up an octave as you felt something smooth and blunt vibrate against your lubricated hole.

“Comfort level, beautiful,” Suga said in a raspy voice dripping with lust. “Tell me before I put this in.”

“7!” you wailed. “Please, 7!”

“You heard her,” J-Hope groaned as he stood up, wiping his glistening face. “Go ahead, put it in.”

You braced yourself against J-Hope’s chest as you felt Suga’s slowly push the vibrating toy in. You whimpered at the stretch, and J-Hope stroked your hair and kissed your temple until you felt the toy taper off and then nestle snugly just inside your ass.

“I guess you found the butt plug, Suga?” you gritted out. “Not what I thought you’d choose.”

“You did say we could choose anything, beautiful,” Suga shrugged before laying his hand heavily across your right ass cheek. “And this ass is too perfect not to play with.”

“Where’s the remote?” J-Hope asked. “I want to play with it.”

“I set it to alternate patterns every 3 minutes,” Suga informed him. “We have other things we can play with.”

J-Hope’s wolfish grin sent a chill down your spine as the vibrations changed from a steady buzz to a series of sharp pulses. You yelped at the transition and then nearly purred when you saw both specialists shedding their clothes once again to reveal their fully erect penises. While J-Hope’s cock was a dusky pink, Suga’s was a shade lighter. What they had in common was impressive girth and a turgid length that made your mouth water.

“Hungry again, beautiful?” Suga teased. “Do you want a little taste before we wrap them up for playtime?”

Suga began languidly stroking his dick while J-Hope slipped his fingers into your hair and pulled your face toward him. The fire dancing around his dilated pupils made you tremble with anticipation, and his voice dropped an octave when he finally spoke.

“Comfort level, princess.” J-Hope gritted out. “Things are about to get a little intense, and we need to know that you’re ok with it.”

“Still a 7,” you whined. “You’d be surprised how much I can take.”

J-Hope chuckled and leaned in to nip at your earlobe as Suga stepped in to do the same. You sighed at their lavish treatment and started running your hands along the hard planes of their bodies. A harsh pull from J-Hope’s hand stopped your exploration and you sucked in a deep breath.

“On your knees, princess,” J-Hope instructed. “Make sure we’re good and ready for you.”

Your knees hit the mat the instant that J-Hope released your hair and you gazed up at your pair of pleasure specialists. Suga tossed a condom over to J-Hope and they looked down and smiled at your acquiescence.

“Such a good girl, isn’t she?” Suga cooed. “Look at how pretty she looks on her knees, just waiting for us to wreck her.”

You smiled widely at his words and pulled your lip between your teeth before reaching out to take both of their cocks into your hands. They both reached down to stroke your hair as you began sinking onto each of their lengths, dragging and swirling your tongue to collect every drop of precum that presented itself. They each had a unique flavor and mixing the two together proved to be an intoxicating combination.

He and Suga were alternating soft moans as you continued to stroke, lick, and suck at them hungrily. You started rocking your hips back forth, desperate for some kind of friction down below. The butt plug was still sending jolts of pleasure in alternating rhythms, but it simply wasn’t enough.

“Easy, princess,” J-Hope groaned. “We don’t want you tiring yourself out before we get a chance to play with you.”

Suga gently pulled you off his dick by your hair, but you refused to have your new toy taken away from you, so he pulled a little harder to get your attention. You whined in protest as they both helped you to your feet, but you were quickly silenced by Suga’s magnificent tongue diving into your open mouth. You were so distracted by his hypnotic kisses that you almost missed the sound of a condom wrapper being opened behind you. Suga pulled back and pressed one last lingering kiss to your mouth before spinning you around to face J-Hope.

“I hope you’re ready for me, princess,” J-Hope announced. “Because I’m going in.”

J-Hope pulled you into his arms and picked you up bridal style. As he was kneeling onto the mats, you latched onto his lips and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. As your ass hit the mat, you immediately spread your legs to accommodate his svelte frame. You only released his lips to moan when you felt him teasing your clit with the head of his cock. A copious amount of arousal collected onto his throbbing length and he groaned as you rolled your hips against him.

“Be patient, princess,” J-Hope begged. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Yeah,” Suga smirked while rolling on a condom. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You felt J-Hope breach past your glistening folds as he sheathed his cock inside your velvety walls in one thrust. You were so aroused that he slid right in, stretching you out so nicely that you mewled in ecstasy. The vibrations from the butt plug caused you both to groan as they shifted yet again to a different rhythm. You clenched tightly around his shaft in response and he moaned deliciously above you.

“Oh my gods,” J-Hope murmured. “You’re squeezing me so tightly, princess.”

“Well, that’s great for you,” Suga mused. “But how am I going to fit if she doesn’t relax a little?”

Your lust-addled brain flickered into clarity briefly to consider what Suga just uttered.

Fit? What does he mean fit?

J-Hope’s shallow thrusts increased in pace until you were writhing against his hips to multiply the amount of friction. You were losing yourself to the wondrous sensation of J-Hope’s dick plunging into your depths and the shifting vibrations of the butt plug, so you dismissed Suga’s odd comment.

“Hold on, princess,” J-Hope muttered. “I want to see you ride me.”

With amazing coordination, he rolled onto his back while keeping you both connected. Now that you had control of the situation, you planted your palms on his golden chest and started bouncing away on his stiff cock, loving the erotic sight of his hair splayed on the mat and his half-lidded eyes watching your tits as they defied gravity over and over again. You were well on your way to a blazing orgasm when you felt Suga wrap his long fingers around your neck.

“That’s it, beautiful,” Suga murmured in an impassioned voice. “Get that pussy nice and wet for me.”

His fingers tightened slightly around your throat and you gasped slightly as your vision became a little fuzzy. You felt him kneel behind you and then wrap his other arm around your waist. J-Hope’s hands gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth on his dick while Suga’s fingers quickly found your clit. With both of them working in tandem, you soared into a blinding orgasm that left you shaking and lifeless on J-Hope’s chest.

You were just about to try and lift up your head when you felt Suga pushing the blunt head of his cock against your quivering entrance.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Suga prompted. “Relax a little and let me inside. I want to feel this glorious cunt that J-Hope keeps whining about.”

J-Hope lifted your head and gently licked his way inside of your mouth. With your mind focused on his magnificent kissing skills, your body released the tension you were unconsciously holding onto and you squeaked as you felt Suga’s engorged mushroom tip glide its way into your yielding pussy alongside J-Hope. The burning stretch was slightly overwhelming, but with both men soothing you and the vibrations in your ass stimulating you, more and more of your golden ichor leaked from your pussy to accommodate both cocks as they began to grind their hips against you.

“Holy fuck, beautiful,” Suga grunted. “J-Hope wasn’t lying. Your pussy feels fucking amazing. Oh man, I think I live here now.”

“Told you, dude,” J-Hope groaned. “This precious little doll can take both of us and still feel tight as hell.”

The tightness in your clit was growing exponentially and as their thrusts grew more forceful, the overwhelming amount of stimulation started to push you over the edge once again. Suga started fiddling with the controls on the bottom of the butt plug and switched to a full blown consistent vibration which threw all three of you into a moaning mess.

Both men pounded into your pussy as a deluge of arousal gushed forth, and before you could try to form a coherent thought, your body seized up and white light flashed across your vision. Your body went completely still as wave after wave of pleasure crashed throughout your body. The orgasm was so intense that you squirted all over the place, which caused both Suga and J-Hope to lose control and empty themselves into their condoms.

Suga slowly pulled out and sat back onto his heels and J-Hope rolled you onto your side so he could withdraw as well. You whined at the overstimulation caused by the butt plug still vibrating at full speed and Suga quickly found the remote control to turn it off. Once the buzzing ceased, you truly relaxed into the mats and breathed out a small giggle.

“That was fucking intense, guys,” you admitted. “But I”m still at fucking 7.”

J-Hope’s eyes widened and so did Suga’s gummy smile. They were afraid that they’d pushed you too far on your first visit, but it seemed like they still had a lot to learn about your limits. Suga got up and walked over to the tub and checked the consistency of the mud.

“Your bath is ready, gorgeous,” Suga announced. “Let’s get you into the tub, yeah?”

“But I’m all dirty,” you protested. “Should I rinse first?”

“Princess, you’re about to get into a tub of mud,” J-Hope reminded you. “I think dirty is the only thing you can be right now.”

You all laughed at the absurdity of his words and you simply nodded in agreement as they helped you off the mats and into the warm mud. Once you were submerged in the slick liquid, rested your head against the wall and breathed out a sigh of relief. The warmth was doing wonders for your aching muscles and the gentle exfoliation of the crushed volcanic rock felt marvelous. You were just about to ask about the CBD additive when you started to feel a slight tingle creep over your skin. The tingle grew into a gentle buzz that sent your body into a languid stupor of relaxation.

“Oh my,” you sighed. “You guys weren’t kidding about that oil. It feels amazing in here.”

The two specialists chuckled and started cleaning up the mess around the tub while checking on the soaking pool. You were just about to drift off into a light nap when Suga tapped on your shoulder.

“Ok, beautiful,” he called out. “It’s time to get out.”

“What?” you asked incredulously. “No, it feels so good in here. Let me stay in a little longer, please?”

“Nope, sorry,” J-Hope called out. “That volcanic rock may feel good now, but it will start to burn if you stay in too long. Come on, get up, princess.”

Reluctantly, you stood up in the tub and pulled yourself onto the mats. Suga turned off the motor for the tub and led you over to J-Hope who had a nozzled water hose with lukewarm water streaming out. Suga was quick to remind you that you needed to remove your butt plug before entering the pool, so you leaned onto J-Hope for support as he gently pulled it out and cleaned it before setting it back into your tote.

After they hosed you down, they led you over to the soaking pool and helped you step into the hot sweet water. With the flowers floating around you and the wisps of scented steam enveloping your senses, you felt like royalty with your servants walking around doing your bidding. Your twenty minutes in the tub passed sooner than you expected, and you were soon being hoisted out of the pool, dried off, and wrapped up in your robe once again. Once Suga and J-Hope were dressed in yet another set of linen clothes, you grabbed your tote and left down the hall for yet another room with a padded table.

This room was different though. There were diffusers releasing curls of peppermint mist around the room and the table had a hole on one end. You tossed your tote into a basket by the door and walked over to the table to await your instructions.

“Time for your massage, beautiful,” Suga informed you. “Take off your robe and get on the table. J-Hope and I need to get ready.”

“You’re both going to massage me?” you asked. “How does that even work?”

“Just like it did before, princess,” J-Hope smirked. “One on each side.”

You blushed slightly, remembering your previous activities, and disrobed before climbing onto the table face down. You listened as they wandered around the room gathering sundry items before stationing themselves on either side of the table.

“This is a carefully coordinated massage, princess,” J-Hope stated. “So please hold still, or we will have to punish you, is that understood?”

“Punish, huh?” you snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, gorgeous,” Suga remarked cooly. “That tongue of yours will get you into a lot of trouble one day.”

“That may be today,” J-Hope muttered. “Let’s see if she can behave, hmm?”

Instrumental music started up from the speaker in the corner and you felt a drizzle of warm liquid trail across your back from top to bottom. You shivered as it trickled down your sides and into any available crevice. Suga and J-Hope placed their wide palms on your back and spread the oil in small concentric circles until your entire back was covered.

You heard J-Hope count off and then the gentle pressure transformed into an intricate choreography of their fingertips wringing out every possible knot and ounce of tension left in your body. The only response you could give was a series of whimpers and groans when you felt a particularly stubborn knot refuse to budge or if their fingers dipped into sensitive areas. They reached a stopping point and removed their hands from your body.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope said casually. “We need you to flip over. It’s time to massage your front.”

You whined loudly and huffed out an exhale of protest. Suga smacked your ass lightly and you lifted your head to pout at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” he reprimanded playfully. “Are you misbehaving? Do we need to punish you?”

“No,” you muttered while turning onto your side to face him. “I’m moving, I’m moving, geez.”

“So sassy,” J-Hope chuckled. “I think we should punish her a little anyway, just to work that sass out of her system. What do you think, Suga?”

Instead of replying, Suga simply smirked and walked over to the cabinet and started digging around for something. You turned onto your back and closed your eyes, feeling the stress of the past year just seep out onto the padded table.

I don’t know how much more relaxed I can get. These guys just chased all of those stress annoyances away with their magical hands.

A metallic jingle rang out in the room and you turned your head to see Suga holding up a length of fine chain connected to two small black clamps. The seven golden bells hanging along the chain jingled as he walked toward you.

“Since this is the Stay Gold Summer Special, let’s add a little more gold to your treatments,” Suga mused. “Every time you move and cause these bells to jingle, you will earn a spanking from us.”

“And don’t try to argue that we’re to blame,” J-Hope countered. “We will know when it’s our fault and when it’s not.”

You considered Suga’s words and decided that you were up to the challenge. You’d never tried nipple clamps before, but what the hell? A little spanking wasn’t going to scare you away from trying something new.

“Go ahead,” you prompted arrogantly. “A little pain never scared me.”

Suga chuckled at your response and leaned down to lavish your nipple with his tongue and J-Hope mirrored his actions on the other. Once both nipples were sufficiently erect, they each took a clamp and gently affixed it onto your hardened nubs. The pressure was sharp, but not unbearable. You took a deep breath and were pleased to see that your breath wouldn’t trigger a bell to go off accidentally. You were just about to close your eyes when a palm trailed across your thigh, causing your entire body to twitch involuntarily.

Ring, ring…

The seven bells jingled as your body twitched and you huffed out in frustration and glared at the offending hand belonging to J-Hope.

“What happened, princess?” he quirked. “Are we a little ticklish?”

“Just a little,” you admitted. “I can usually hold it in if I know it’s-”

SMACK!

You yelped in surprise as Suga’s heavy palm slammed down onto your exposed sex. The force of his slap left a harsh prickles along your clit and the telltale jingling sound that followed left you gritting your teeth. You snapped your eyes over to the smug smirk on Suga’s face and you narrowed your eyelids at him.

“What?” Suga shrugged. “We already told you. You move, you get spanked. I never specified where or when, did I?”

You pouted at him and his cool demeanor thawed just a bit. He leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Was that too much for you, beautiful?” Suga asked sweetly. “What’s your comfort level?”

“Still a 7,” you muttered petulantly. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“If you say so, baby,” J-Hope snickered. “Now hold still while we finish your massage, ok?”

You nodded slightly as both he and Suga began their intricate hand choreography on your supine form. With the tension collecting at the tips of your breasts, you found it difficult to anticipate their fingers brushing along your ticklish zones. Much to your dismay, on more than one occasion, the bells rang out because you could suppress the urge to jerk and jostle your body away from them.

J-Hope took it upon himself to count each offense as they collected exponentially. Suga would periodically deliver a sharp slap to your thigh or even a lingering smack to your drenched center. Each lick of pain increased your arousal and you silently cursed the metallic traitors attached to your tits.

“Alright, princess,” Suga piped up. “We’re all done with your massage. J-Hope, what was the last count?”

“We still owe her 7,” J-Hope giggled. “Let’s switch hit.”

“You heard him, gorgeous,” Suga pointed out. “Time to take your punishment like a good girl. If you count them down, then I’ll give you a prize, yeah?”

They helped you to your feet and bent you over the table gently. Your stiff peaks hovered over the table and you rolled your eyes at the glint of silver and gold in the warm light. Two palms began rubbing circles onto your plump ass cheeks and you braced yourself for the impact. You didn’t know who was going to go first, but you were ready to take your licks like a champ.

SMACK!

Both palms landed across your ass without warning and they rubbed both hits in gently as your body jerked forward against the table. The shock and subsequent jingling wore off quickly, and you remembered Suga’s promise and the bells ceased their taunting tinkling.

“One,” you gasped. “Two.”

“Good girl,” Suga replied. “Keep it up. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

They alternated spanks across both of your cheeks until the count reached seven. You spoke out the last count and slumped on the table trying to catch your breath. The combination of the spanks and the tension on your nipples was dizzying and you needed some sort of relief.

As though he could hear your silent prayer, J-Hope reached over and began rubbing a soothing cream over your reddened flesh. He murmured sweet nothings to you while he diligently chased away any lingering pain remaining from your punishment and you beamed at each uttered phrase from his lips.

“You’ve been such a good girl, beautiful,” Suga remarked. “Turn around, baby, and I’ll give you that prize I mentioned.”

You didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Suga falling to his knees in front of you. He kissed across your hips and all the way to your center and you spread your legs further to accommodate his slim frame. He meticulously licked his way to your sweet spot and lavished your dripping folds with unparalleled affection. Your delicious moans mixed in with the successive jingles from the nipple clamps and you entertained the notion that you’d become an instrument for Suga to play. His diligent tongue technique was befuddling your senses and you submitted yourself to the symphony he was orchestrating between your thighs.

J-Hope made his way behind the table and he hopped onto it so he could straddle your body from behind. He brushed your hair away from your face so he could get a better look at the erotic facial expressions you were making. The tears forming at the corners of your eyes spoke volumes about how worked up you were getting.

“That’s it, baby,” J-Hope coaxed you along salaciously. “Don’t hold anything back. Let it all out.”

Suga’s slipped two fingers into your creamy pussy as his tongue began rigorously concentrating on your throbbing clitoris. As if anticipating your impending climax, J-Hope abandoned your hair and began gently tugging at the clamps still firmly attached to your nipples. As your body locked up to process your orgasm, he pulled the clamps from your tits completely, leaving a sweet blinding sting behind that he quickly soothed with his warm fingers. Suga stood up and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face clean and his gummy smile at your satiated state brightened the room substantially.

“Feel better, princess?” J-Hope whispered against your tear stained cheeks. “Did you like Suga’s prize?”

“It was incredible,” you sighed. “You guys are so attentive, I don’t know what to say. I wish everyday could be like this.”

The two specialists laughed at your wishful thinking and helped you back into your luxurious robe. You retrieved your tote from the basket and let them lead you down the hall to a small room with a pedicure chair. Suga took your tote and set it aside while J-Hope helped you into the chair. While J-Hope fiddled with the foot soaking tub controls, Suga grabbed a brush and began gently brushing the tangles out of your still damp hair.

“Ok, princess,” J-Hope said as the tub began bubbling. “Put your feet in the tub. Suga will apply your hair mask and face mask while I work on your pedicure. While the masks are doing their thing, he will also do your manicure. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like heaven,” you admitted. “I’m feeling so pampered today. Two gorgeous men attending to my every need? A girl could get used to this.”

They hummed in agreement as they worked tirelessly to get you all set up with multitudinous spa treatments at once. The hair mask was thick and fluffy golden cloud on top of your head and the face mask was jet black with flecks of gold peeking through. Suga briefly explained the various elements of each mask, but you were too caught up in J-Hope’s foot massage to retain any of that information. By the time they were both done completing their tasks, you were floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

“Ok, beautiful, feet up,” J-Hope instructed. “Suga is going to help you rinse off those masks while I clean this up.”

Suga led you over to a large sink where he got your hair and face rinsed completely before dabbing them dry with a large towel. You felt a little wobbly from the rollercoaster of activities throughout the day, and you were hoping for a break in the schedule.

“So what’s next, guys?” you piped up. “What other adventure do you have in store for me?”

“Oh, it’s a good one, beautiful,” Suga professed. “You’re going to love it.”

“Oh yeah?” you quipped. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” J-Hope proclaimed. “We’re taking you back to your room for your last treatment of the day.”

Suga handed over your tote and the three of you wandered back down the hall to Room 7. You located your golden key within your tote and unlocked the door. Once the three of you were inside, Suga walked over to the closet and pulled out a stack of satin pajamas.

“Ready for your last treatment, baby?” J-Hope asked.

You looked at both of them and were perplexed. Nothing in the room suggested any form of debauchery or pampering, so what were you supposed to be looking at?

“What kind of treatment is it?” you asked. “I’m a little confused.”

“It’s a nap,” Suga beamed. “I know we put you through a lot of ups and downs today, but what better way to relax after all that than to take a nap?”

“What? How?” you sputtered. “The only place to nap is that lounger and we don’t all fit.”

J-Hope stepped forward and lifted the bottom of the lounger cushion to reveal a fold out bed. The mattress was topped with a thick memory foam topper and covered in luscious purple sheets. Suga nudged your shoulder and nodded at the pajamas in his hand.

“So which ones do you want, beautiful?” he murmured. “Pants, shorts, nightie, nothing?”

“I’ll take the shorts,” you giggled. “I think I need a break from sexual activity for a while. You guys wore me out today, but in the best possible way.”

Everyone changed into the soft pajamas and cuddled up on the bed. There was just enough room for all three of you to stretch out and snuggle into one another. You nuzzled into J-Hope’s chest and Suga curled around your frame as the big spoon. With a simple voice command, the room plunged into darkness and you felt the day slowly vanishing as you slipped into sweet oblivion in between your phenomenal new playmates. --------- “Wake up, angel,” a soft tinkling voice called out to you. “Wake up.”

You groaned slightly and stretched out on the bed like some kind of cat. When you opened your eyes, the room was dimly lit and both J-Hope and Suga were gone. Jimin’s angelic face smiled sweetly at you from across the bed. He was laid out beside you and obviously amused by your sleepy heavy face.

“Where did Suga and J-Hope go?” you pouted. “I thought we were taking a nap together.”

“You were, cutie,” Jimin confirmed. “But they had to leave a while ago to go prepare for tomorrow’s client. They didn’t want to wake you before you were ready. I came to check on you since we’re closing up soon.”

You sat up in bed and tried to shake the slumber out of your eyes. Jimin giggled softly and helped you stand up. You glanced around the room, wondering where to start.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and change into your regular clothes?” Jimin suggested. “I will gather up your things and prepare a little to-go basket for you. Does that sound good?”

You nodded and smiled at Jimin and you sighed at his adorable half moon eye smile.

Now that is something I don’t mind waking up to. The Universe blessed this boy with the most endearing features. I just want to squish his adorable face.

You changed into your clothes and walked out with the pajamas you’d worn. Before you could ask Jimin where to put them, he folded them and placed them in your tote. A loud knock boomed from the door and you could swear you could feel the annoyance seeping out of Jimin’s face. He opened the door to reveal an enthusiastic Jungkook carrying an empty basket lined with purple satin.

“Do you have to be so loud, Jungkook?” Jimin snapped. “Have some respect for our lovely guest.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook deflated. “Can I help make her basket, Jimin?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jimin waved him off. “Make sure you aren’t just putting in things that you like. Remember when we discussed the meaning of the word variety?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook scoffed. “I know.”

While Jungkook began piling snacks and other sundry items into the basket, Jimin stepped forward and offered to help you fix your hair. It was sticking up all over the place after your nap, and he quickly smoothed out the tangles and styled it into a twist. He produced a decorative hair stick from a drawer and secured the twist in place and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Perfect,” he breathed out. “Absolutely perfect.”

“The basket is ready,” Jungkook announced. “Can I carry it out for her?”

“Yes, of course,” Jimin agreed. “Let’s get her over to reception so I can get her all checked out for the day.”

After returning your key and signing a few forms, Jimin handed over the receipt for the day’s activities along with a folder filled with information about the spa and an application for membership.

“All Bangtan Blossoms members are allowed to give out a spa day treatment like the one you experienced today,” Jimin explained. “If you decided that you’d like to take advantage of that special offer, just give me a call, cutie. I’ll hook you up with some fantastic spa swag and maybe even a little extra.”

You considered his offer as you tracked his tongue poking out to lick his lips seductively. The twinkle of mischief was dancing across his pupils again and you memorized the look in his eyes to get you through the next couple of nights.

Oh, I’m definitely going to be thinking about that.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you replied. “I will absolutely keep that in mind.”

He walked you and Jungkook to the door and sent you off with another suggestive kiss on the inside of your wrist.

“See you soon,” Jimin whispered with yearning. “I hope.”

Jimin licked his lips and cocked an eyebrow at you before sauntering back behind the reception desk. Jungkook glanced back and forth between the two of you with a predatory look in his eyes and you shook off the fleeting tingle of passion Jimin incited.

“Let me see you out to your car, sweetheart,” Jungkook offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jungkook held the door open for you as you exited the spa and headed for the parking lot. The sun was just dipping down to the horizon, and you gawked at the realization that you’d spent an entire day at the spa.

Worth. Every. Second.

Jungkook placed your gift basket and tote in your backseat before opening your car door for you like a gentleman.

“I hope you had a good time with us today,” Jungkook said. “If you did, that means you’ll probably come back. From what we saw today, I definitely want you to come back.”

“From what you saw?” you choked out. “What do you mean?”

The guilty smile creeping across his face said it all, but the wink he gave you only confirmed your suspicions. They’d been watching you all day. He lifted your hand to give it another kiss and spun around to walk back to the spa. You were left in the parking lot trying to clear the rush of blood that was dusting your cheeks pink.

These guys will be the death of me. I swear.

The only thought running through your mind as you drive home was figuring out when you’d be able to visit them again.

Soon, I hope.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this little visit to the Bangtan Blossoms Spa. I know I did. If the Muse strikes again, maybe we can visit some of the other specialists? We’ll see ^-^

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

#rejuvenation #bts au fic #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb 2020 collab #bts sope #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #sope smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts bangtan sonyeondan #spa day #jhope #suga bts

188 notes · View notes

fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

This Christmas pt4

John Wick x Reader

Masterlist This Christmas Masterlist.

Y/n had gone to bed the previous night with her time with John playing on a loop in her mind. Regardless of her efforts to drop the issue, she just couldn't help but wonder what had made him pull away. Or if he was ever going to kiss her at all. The debate had rattled around her mind until she succumbed to sleep, only for him to be the first person on her mind when she awoke the next morning.

It was just past eight am and Y/n was getting ready to meet John at his room, and then Robert in the lobby so they could all head to an investor's brunch when three short taps on her door had her making short work of finishing up with her shoes so she could get to the door. "John?" She stuttered, shocked that he'd made his way to her door much earlier than they planned to meet.

"Hey, are you ready yet?" He began, clearly not in the mood to spare a minute or two for pleasantries.

Knitting her brows, Y/n looked down at herself before glancing at John again, “Do I look ready?”

She watched as his eyes roamed her form, trying not to stare altogether, “Is this a trick question?” Y/n had suspected he was done and was about to confirm that she was not ready, when John hastily continued, “Cause you look fine. Well, not just fine. You look great actually,” he gestured to her outfit, “I mean,” clearing his throat, John took a short breath and Y/n smirked at how uncharacteristically flustered he was, “You look…..nice, like that I mean.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks and he bent her head, too giddy by his compliment to respond immediately, though, she eventually pulled herself together enough to let him know that she was almost done with her hair. He hadn't out rightly said so, but as Y/n finished up, occasionally peeking at John pacing the sitting room, she quickly realized that he was in a hurry and tried to make short work of pinning her soft waves up into a stylish half-updo.

"Ready," caught off guard, John, who seemed deep in thought, jumped slightly and Y/n had to suppress the urge to giggle as she slipped past the open door, collecting her clutch.

Turning to face her, John stood, stunned speechless for a moment as he stared; in awe of how one simple hairdo seemed to elevate her entire look; highlighting her makeup and boasting the parts of her shoulders that her dress had left exposed. "You….I…."

"Thank you," Y/n chuckled, knowing that speechlessness was possibly the highest praise she could get from John, unlike most times, he wasn't being quiet because he wanted to be, but because he simply didn't think any words would suffice.

Ducking his head bashfully, he grinned surprising her, and Y/n blushed at the realization that she was the one that had roused it from him. "You're welcome."

"Ready to go? I'll just text Rob and-"

"Actually," cutting her off, John cleared his throat, "I actually came to give you something," quickly, he reached into his breast pocket, producing an envelope held closed with red ribbon, "Merry Christmas, Y/n." He presented it awkwardly and had already seemed flustered when he stepped closer to hand it over, "I hope it's not too late," John noted softly as she relieved him of it.

"Well it is only Christmas Eve, so technically you're-" gasping, Y/n's went wide as she eventually pulled a lone plane ticket out of the paper pocket, "Does this mean……?"

"Yeah," he wasn't smiling, but John's rugged features seemed softer somehow; fonder. "Yeah," he clarified, "You should be with your family Y/n, not here with me. It was wrong of me to-"

Flinging herself to his chest, Y/n captured John in a hug, tossing her arms around his neck and standing on the very tips of her toes so she could bury her face in his neck. His cologne overwhelmed her senses, or maybe it was just the sheer emotion brought on by his touching gift, and she teared up, shutting her eyes tightly to keep the moisture from falling. "Thank you," she breathed, squeezing him tighter when John finally submitted to reciprocating.

"It was my pleasure," he spoke softly as Y/n reluctantly loosened her embrace though not letting go as she leaned back to meet his eyes. "We should get going though, you're flight leaves soon," he seemed uncomfortable with their proximity, even if he'd kept holding her at the waist.

With quivering, anxious lips, she blurted out; "Come with me." It wasn't a question, instead, more of a suggestion or and offer. If he came, then everything that Y/n thought that she felt between them would be proven real. If he came then they had a chance.

"I….." John gazed at her, his expression one Y/n had never seen him wear. So indecipherable that she wasn't sure what to expect next, though, when he lifted one of his hands to let his thumb brush the apple of her cheek, his stocky fingers tangled in her hair. "Y/n….." Her name on his lips was breathy and laced with longing and John even leaned down, getting close enough so she could almost taste the coffee lingering on his breath. Arching into him, she was prepared to take an unspoken response as a 'yes' when his expression turned pained and he swallowed thickly, shaking his head, "I can't," he let her go, stepping back as she dropped her hands, "But I can drive with you to the airport."

"Why not?" Clenching her jaw, she bit back tears. She could understand the first time, when they were on the balcony; in the near darkness with shadows dancing on their faces it was easy to misread signals. But that morning, that very bright Christmas Eve morning, it was easy to see that he wanted to kiss her, but he was holding himself back, for a reason she couldn't fathom.

"Because," looking around the room, John sighed heavily, "I have to work and this morning is important and-"

Shaking her head, Y/n scoffed a dry chuckle, "I can't believe it; I thought you'd changed. But you're always gonna be this person."

"What kind of person?" John's head snapped towards her direction, his brows knitted in irritated confusion.

"The kind of person that's so ice cold he can't bear to let anyone in. And this," she held up the ticket, "This is just because you're feeling guilty. And I'm not gonna accept it just so you can clear your conscience," hastily Y/n shoved thrust the ticket to his chest, “If you still want me to go, I can find my own way there.”

Gently grasping her wrist, John guided her hand away from his chest, “This isn’t me feeling guilty,” he gritted, “I’m trying to do something nice for you, because……” Desperately, Y/n clung to John’s unspoken words, “Because…..just take it Y/n, it’s a gift. And I mean it when I say that I’m not doing this so I can feel better about myself, I’m doing it because….I…..want you to be happy, and being here doesn’t make you happy.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and while they weren’t exactly the words she wanted to hear, coming from John, they meant so much. They meant that he, even if he wasn’t going to admit it, was putting what she wanted above what he needed. But more so, it meant that he was choosing to be lonely again, because heaven knows he wasn’t going to spend Christmas with Robert, just so she could be with her family. “Thank you,” cocking a half smile, her eyes softened, only to light up a moment later, “I almost forgot, I got you something. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but since I’m leaving-��

“Oh,” suddenly unsure of how to behave, John grew red in face and started stuttering, “You didn’t have to-”

Collecting a small gift bag from behind her tote, set on a small, glass dining table. It was glittery with colorful trees peppered about it, with white and green paper sticking out from the top and when Y/n offered it to John, she could tell that the sentiment alone had touched him. “It’s not anything as fancy as a plane ticket, but I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color. Merry Christmas John,” standing on her tiptoes, she handed over the bag, simultaneously pecking him on the cheek, near his lips.

Even after she’d moved away, John remained rooted to the center of the floor, holding the gift bag as if he wasn’t sure what he should do with it. “Thanks,” he managed, still dazed, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” shrugging, Y/n stopped rearranging the things she left laid out on the table, something she’d been doing to keep her hands busy, “But I wanted to. Besides, my mom always said everyone should get at least one thing from someone that cares about them on Christmas. You sure you don’t want to come with me? They won’t mind.”

“No,’ he brushed her off, “I’ve got a lot of work to do. But I hope you have a good time with your family.”

Nodding, Y/n smiled faintly, “I will.” As he moved to step around her, intent on leaving her room to let her pack, their shoulders brushed accidentally and Y/n’s eyes locked with John’s. The minute seemed to stretch on forever, but that time, knowing that nothing would come from it, she was the one to turn away, disappearing into the small bedroom, leaving John to let himself out.

Without Y/n, the ride back to the hotel after brunch felt void of warmth. Of course, Robert had tried to strike up conversation once or twice, but John wasn’t in the mood; his head was far away, thinking of the morning with Y/n, their almost kiss, their spat, the way she looked at him before walking out of the room. The way she pecked him on his cheek, so close to his lips that all it would have taken was the slightest shift for his mouth to be on hers. And yet, he hadn’t taken the chance.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to though, John had been thinking of what it would be like to kiss Y/n since they were standing on the balcony the night before, and perhaps even longer. He’d wondered if she would reciprocate; part of him clung to the belief that she would, but alas, he was terrible at reading the signals and terribly afraid that kissing Y/n would mean driving away the only person that really cared about him. She cared, she’d almost spelt it out too.

“This is new,” Robert noted beside him, reaching across to flick the end of his navy blue and forest green plaid scarf, the fringed ends shifting as he did, “Nice colors.”

Clearing his throat, John gathered some of the length in his palm, feeling the softness between his rough fingers, a perfect contrast and soothingly warm. It was the gift Y/n had gotten him, the one he’d unpacked the minute he shut his suite door behind himself. The one that had come with a little card in the bag that read ‘for your first real Christmas. Maybe next year we’ll try a sweater.’ The scarf had been a pleasant surprise and John knew that it was definitely because she’d noticed that black dominated his wardrobe, “I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color”

“Thanks,” he nodded, his low tone gruff, “It was a gift.”

“From Y/n,” Robert probed curiously, causing John to roll his eyes.

Nonetheless, he confirmed, “From Y/n.” Then catching Robert’s knowing look directed to out the window, coupled with his mischievous smirk, John sighed heavily, “What?”

Shaking his shoulders, Robert bent his head, pretending to fiddle with his phone, “Nothing,” the other man hummed quietly. “It’s just…….she’s amazing, you know?” And as he began, John rolled his eyes in a bid to quell his jealousy. “She sees the good in people, and she sees the good in you.”

Suddenly defensive, John interrupted, not willing to let Robert add to his inner turmoil, “”Look, I don’t know why you’re telling me this but-”

“I’m telling you this because she won’t. I’m telling you this cause Y/n is my friend and I care about her and she cares about you and all you ever seem to do is upset her. I’m telling you this because she’s a good woman, and I know we’re not friends or whatever, but I’d hate to see you two miss out on something great because you’re too stupid to fess up to your feelings. I see the way you look at her.”

Huffing, John leaned back into the warmed seat of the back sedan, “Yeah? Lemme guess, cause you look at her the same way?”

“No,” Robert chuckled wistfully, “Well, I mean, I used to, but she doesn’t want me like that, and that’s okay, we’re better off as friends,” he shrugged indifferently, “But I see the way you look at her, and I know what that means because it's the same way she looks at you.”

Finally coming to terms with the confirmation that she did, by some miracle, feel the same, John slumped his shoulders. What came next was perhaps more peculiar that him admitting his feelings, and even Robert seemed surprised by his admission, spoken so softly that he might have said it more to himself than anyone else, “I think I blew it. And now she’s gone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” shaking his head, Robert exhaled quietly, “She’s not gone. She’s in Connecticut, and for what it’s worth, when I spoke to her after her flight landed, she was pretty bummed that you wouldn’t go with her; cause she doesn’t want you to be alone tomorrow.”

Still rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers, John sank into thought after merely a mumbled response; maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late after all.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #fanfic #ff #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #fanfiction #this christmas #this christmas part 4

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duchessfics · 4 years

Text

Business and Pleasure Part 3

Billie x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW, Cunninlingus, Fingering, D/s Dynamics, Some Language

Summary: This is the first time seeing Billie since having sex with her, but how do you navigate your working obligations and your feelings for Billie? And does she even feel the same way or are you expendable?

Word Count: 6210

A/n: Here’s part 3! I have a family gathering so if there’s errors I’m sorry! I’m trying to post this really fast. 😬 This one is less fluffy, but I still think it’s not too angsty. Definitely not as angsty as A Lasting Mark pt. 4. 😅 I hope you enjoy!

Part 2

After having Saturday off, on Sunday morning you wake up at 7:00 in the morning to get ready for the day and find yourself putting a little more effort into your makeup and hair. It’s not that you didn’t before, but it feels different when you see a person who you like and realize the feelings are reciprocated.

By 8:00 you’re out the door and driving over to Billie’s house. However, on the way there you stop at a nearby Starbucks to get her usual order: a grande nitro cold brew in a venti cup with two shots of espresso, two pumps hazelnut syrup, one pump vanilla syrup, a splash of almond milk, and a light sprinkling of cinnamon on top. You just order an iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso to keep you going. But you’re not finished yet.

Next you drive to McDonalds and buy the medium’s guilty pleasure: a sausage biscuit with hash browns. There weren’t many details in the NDA you signed when hired by Billie, but one of them was not disclosing her favorite breakfast choice or how much she ate it.

After purchasing the items, you speed over to the medium’s house so the items are fresh and before you get out of the car, you put the sausage biscuit and hash browns into a Starbucks bag you specifically requested to partially conceal her meal of choice, leaving the discarded fast food bag in your car. Because you’re working today, you let yourself in and hear Billie speaking from the nearby sunroom.

So you walk to the room that’s always so sunny and warm because of the expansive windows that span from floor to ceiling along the length of one of the walls. This is one of your favorite rooms in Billie’s home because you can see her polished backyard and it never fails to impress anyone who sees this gorgeous view, including yourself.

Billie sits in one of her cushioned chairs facing the windows so the natural light illuminates her face while one person does her makeup and another person fixes her hair. When she sees you walking in, a smile forms on her lips making your cheeks warm.

Fuck. Keep cool. Just like you practiced: calm, cool and collected.

“Morning, sweetheart.” She greets you. You give her a smile back but try not to act out of the ordinary since there’s others around. It’s not like the stylists take much notice. They’re used to you being around and are busy working on Billie. But honestly…you want to tread carefully. You sport a polite smile when you reply, “Good morning, Miss Howard. I got a small breakfast for you.” Then you hand her the coffee and paper bag with her food items.

That makes her eyes light up and she tells you, “Thank you.” letting her fingers linger on yours for a second longer than necessary. Before you can get too flustered you back up take out your legal pad filled with notes from your tote bag and say, “While you eat and get your hair and makeup done, I can tell you what to expect for the interview.” After finishing your sentence, you glance up and she says, “Go on.” Waving her hand as an emphasis.

You look to your notes and try to hide how your hands tremble in nerves. It feels like it’s your first day with her all over again. Then you clear your throat and begin, “The person interviewing you will be Robin Harker. She works in the television and film section of the New York Times and has interviewed Jennifer Aniston and Chris Evans in the past year.”

You venture to look up again and her response is to nod you on with a casual smile while throwing her hash brown packet in the bag.

What did you expect? For her to drop everything and proclaim her love for you? Get real. This is Hollywood.

So you continue with your notes, “I read through those interviews to get an idea of what to expect for questions and came up with some possibilities.”

“In both interviews she asked about how they got started and I’m sure she’ll ask you too. A couple ideas for responses are to explain the first time you saw an apparition and what that felt like. Or you could explain what inspired you to start a TV show documenting something so intimate. Those reading won’t be interested in the production details of a tv show. Something that will keep their attention is reading about the phenomenon of capturing the paranormal on camera. Sensory terms always keep people interested.

“I would also expect a question about what a typical day on you tv show is like. People will want to know things like if you see ghosts every day, how you prepare and protect yourself, and what happens after the cameras shut off. Basically, how you decompress. My suggestion would be to use more general terms. Crystals and stones are very popular at the moment so you could mention that. On the other hand, I would stay away from talking about essential oils, perhaps choosing incense or sage instead. There could also be a certain tea you drink or a bath product you use.

“I don’t mean to repeat myself, but the key is incorporating the five senses. For example, with your white light of protection you could explain how that feels both physically and mentally. Maybe you feel an electricity to it. The reader wants to feel a special connection and resonate with your words. The happy middle is sounding exclusive enough to stand out, but also relatable.”

You pause for a moment, knowing this is a lot. But this time you don’t look up before speaking,

“I promise I’m almost done. The final thing I would expect is a question about the validity of communicating with the paranormal. Rather than trying to reason with science, it will be more effective to take the angle of how much we don’t know. And how the concept of communicating with ancestors or non-human beings is not new and has been around that for thousands if not millions of years. You’re just using the tools available in the 21st century to provide insight and more information.

“There is also a chance that she’ll mention the influx of phony mediums out to make money on people’s grief. But if you bring up the large amount of people who claim to be doctors, psychologists, lawyers, and other professionals and base their knowledge off of google searches it should be sufficient. You can also remind her that viewers can take as much or as little as they want from the show. But don’t put it on them too much. People don’t like being blamed even if it’s the truth.”

You take a deep breath and pause a moment before slowly asking, “Does that make sense?” When you look up from your notes her face is partially obscured by the make up artist applying finishing touches. But she hesitantly replies, “I think so.” You back up a little to keep out of the way and assure her, “In case you forget something, I put the basics of what I said on a couple of post-it notes.”

Right away the medium lets out a sigh of relief and tells you, “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” Your body warms at the praise and you’re glad you don’t have to look at her directly in this moment. Instead you calmly reply, “You’re welcome. I’ll plug in an extension cord with your charger so there won’t be a risk of your computer shutting down. And I’ll set up the post-it notes so you’ll be ready to go.”

When you begin to walk away, you hear Billie praise, “You really are an angel.” You smile and look back to thank her. However, it feels like a punch to your gut when you see she looks at her reflection and speaks to the makeup artist.

Shit. That hurt more than it should. You should’ve never done anything. There’s a reason for professional boundaries.

Before anyone can take notice, you step over to the formal sitting room that’s set up to look casual without being used.

Fortunately, the laptop and table are already set up so you begin your search for an extension cord, a sun filter to make her look well-lit, her wireless headphones, a box of tissues, and a water bottle. Finding all of those items is a job in itself. Then you start to set up, placing the laptop so it’s able to keep connected to the charging cable and you use the laptop’s camera on yourself to find the best angle.

It’s much quicker to complete the tasks of setting the water bottle and tissue box nearby but out of frame. Next you place the sticky notes along the top border of her laptop screen, but not obscuring the camera. So if she needs to reference them, she won’t have to look down.

Finally, you position the filter and set her fully charged wireless ear buds that are still in their case right beside the laptop’s keyboard. Once you’re finished you stand back to admire the set-up, feeling proud of yourself.

You may have screwed up in fucking your boss, but you’re a damn good assistant.

“Well look at this.”

You whip around and hate the fact that your heart flutters when you hear Billie’s voice. This time she’s alone and saunters up to you with a familiar smirk. Before you can make direct eye contact with her eyes and melt into a puddle of affection, you back up and gesture to the table while saying, “I think this should be everything you need.” She looks to the table and lets out a satisfied hum, but quickly returns her gaze to yours before purring, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n.”

Then she moves to take your hand, but in your panic and self-preservation you back away, stammering, “I-I actually need to make a couple phone calls. And emails. Plus, I-I wouldn’t want to mess up your make up.”

For the first time you actually see her suave expression crack and you feel horrible right away. You know she needs to go into this interview feeling good, so you take both of her hands with your own and soothe, “I’m sorry, Billie. I didn’t mean to come off harsh. After this I’ll have lunch all ready for us to eat.”

Her lips return a half smile, but her brown eyes still flicker with doubt. So you continue and genuinely mean it when you say, “I know you’ll knock this interview out of the park. She’ll love you.” Then you place a light kiss to her cheek, taking care to not disrupt her makeup.

By now her confident demeanor is restored and you ask, “Do you need anything else before the interview?” She smirks and lowly teases while squeezing your hands, “I can think of a couple things, but we wouldn’t have the time.” You roll your eyes at the comment, but smile and ask, “Well would you like anything specific for lunch?”

Billie pauses for a moment before answering, “I’ll take some…Mexican food. I’ll say a taco salad.” You nod and tell her, “One taco salad will be out there for you when you’re done.” Then you release her hands and say, “I have your phone so there won’t be any interruptions, but if you need anything at all I have your messages set up on your laptop. And I told housekeeping to not do anything too loud or come around to clean this part of the house for the next two hours. So you should be good to go.”

Her eyebrows raise and she comments, “You’ve really thought about everything, haven’t you?” The compliment makes you look down and stammer, “Well I—I try to.” She chuckles at your bashful demeanor and murmurs, “I should thank you for getting all of this ready for me, sweetheart.”

You dare to look at her face and reply, “I’m just doing my job. But I’m glad you’re happy with it. I’ll see you at lunch.” Then you wish her luck one more time before walking out. After closing the door, you lean back against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to re-center yourself.

Stop overthinking this. Pull yourself together and move on. You can look for another client after these two weeks. That’s it and you can make it two weeks. You’ve got this. You can handle anything for two weeks…

An hour and a half later Billie enters the kitchen to see you setting up her requested lunch with a freshly made strawberry lemonade to drink. She struts over and takes a seat at the island while saying, “Thank god. I’m starving.” You smile at her hyperbolic statement and watch her begin to eat. Then you return to your seat at the island next to the blonde to finish the remnants of your burrito.

Not wanting to stir up anything between you two, you ask, “Did the interview go alright?” She nods and replies after swallowing her bite, “It went exactly as your notes said. Of course there were some additional questions, but they were manageable.” Then the medium turns to face you and teases with grin, “It’s almost like you know what you’re doing.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment and you look down to your plate, resting your chin on one of your hands as you twirl your fork in the remnants and murmur, “I only write down some tips. It’s your charisma that makes it good.” Billie chuckles and comments, “We make a good team.” For a moment you still your movements and glance at her out of the corner of your eye. But she’s looking to her salad. However, her gaze meets yours and she compliments, “Your hair and makeup look good today, sweetheart.”

She noticed. Billie Dean Howard noticed.

You can’t contain your smile but look back down to your plate before meekly saying, “Thank you.”

Billie continues to eat her meal while you throw away your takeout plate and utensils. Then you empty the clean dishes out of the dishwasher. However she breaks the silence by asking, “Did anything come up while I was in the interview?” You shake your head, finishing up as you respond, “Nothing for you to worry about. Just some requests for you to promote different products or companies.”

So she picks up her halfway finished beverage and tells you, “In that case I’m going to start packing things. But I’ll have my phone on me if you need me.” You automatically nod and try to conceal the crack in your voice when you reply, “Of course. And don’t worry about your trash. I’ve got it covered.” The blonde gives you her devastating smile and purrs, “You’re the best.” The butterflies in your stomach make a reappearance and you shyly tell her thank you before she steps out of the room.

After making sure she’s gone you let out a breath and lose the façade of being perfectly okay with everything. You try not to take it personally, but her distance affects your replies to phone calls and emails you respond to. Of course, you don’t sound upset or disgruntled. You remain professional, but don’t have the zeal and passion you usually have.

By late afternoon, you’ve contacted everyone who contacted you on her behalf. So you go onto google and search for PA openings. If nothing else you can leave at the height of her tv premier and make a clean break. However, before you can get to the second page, Billie texts you, “Could you come upstairs to my bedroom for a minute?”

Knowing her needs are your first priority, you exit out of the website and quickly reply, “Of course. Headed there now.” Then you trudge up the stairs, trying not to have any expectations.

When you enter her bedroom, she has numerous different clothing items laid out on the bed and you hear her rustling around in her massive closet that’s a room in itself. But she must hear you enter because she walks into the main room and says with a smile, “Y/n, just who I wanted to see.”

She sets the clothes that were draped over her arm onto the bed as she says, “I need some advice.” You step a little closer and reply, “I’ll try to help.” So she holds up one hanger that holds a silky, floral blouse and another that has a simple ivory undershirt with a dusty pink cardigan over it. Then she looks to you and asks, “Which one do you think looks better?”

You bite your lip and look between the tops, hoping this isn’t a test. Then you slowly answer, “I think they both look good…but the cardigan and shirt would be more conducive to the cooler temperatures in New York.” Billie grins and takes your advice right away, setting it next to her suitcase, however you hold up your hands and tell her, “Wait, I’m no fashion expert or anything. I can call your stylist to come over.”

The blonde chuckles and purrs, “Sweetheart, the only opinion I care about is yours. Now help me out with these other shirt options.”

The choices start off innocent enough, but soon she’s having you choose her sleepwear and intimates. While the whole thing feels a little arousing, you keep to the other side of her California king bed trying to be extra cautious. But she foils that plan by suggesting, “How about I try these dresses on and you can tell me which one looks better.” That makes you pause, but you can’t deny your curiosity to see her after she’s seen all of you.

And if she really didn’t want you to see her, she could change in her bathroom or closet.

So you nod and rasp with your suddenly dry throat, “Ok.” But her smile grows, and she asks in a voice dripping with innocence, “Y/n, would you be a dear and unzip me?”

You know exactly what she’s doing. But are you really upset? You’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since this morning.

At this point your throat feels too dry to speak so you dumbly nod and walk over to her side.

The medium’s eyes sparkle in lust and mischief when she purrs, “Thank you, sweetheart.” Then she turns so her back is to you and you walk up, feeling like you’re in a trance as so many emotions run through you at once.

The first thing you do is gather her silky smooth hair in your hand and drape it over one of her shoulders so most of it is out of the way, save for a few stray curls. Immediately her jasmine perfume envelops you and she doesn’t miss your deep inhale of the intoxicatingly sweet fragrance. Then your trembling fingers come up to the top of her dress and you take the zipper between your thumb and pointer finger, struggling to keep a grip of it with your shaky hands.

The room is quiet enough to hear the zipper slide down the back of her dress, stopping at the small of her back. You look to the well-endowed swell of her ass but flick your eyes up before she can catch you.

Billie twists her head to look back at you and once again your faces are inches apart from each other. Rather than saying anything, she leans towards you with hooded eyes and presses a light, questioning kiss. Then her eyes look to see your reaction and you reciprocate, slowly brushing your lips against hers.

Both of you move slowly while Billie fully turns around to face you and places her hands on the small of your back. The way you both take your time cautiously opening up to each other makes it seem like it’s your first kiss. But it feels nice to slow down and savor the moment.

This time when you smooth your hands up the exposed skin of her back she doesn’t protest. Rather she presses up against your body even more to get closer. So you work on the clasp of her bra and somehow undo on the first try.

Your lips part from each other and she helps you shrug off her dress and bra so the only items she wears are her panties and her pearl necklace. You pause and look over every part, trying to take in every detail. Meanwhile the blonde just smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear while crooning, “You like what you see, sweetheart?” Your eyes scan up her toned middle, briefly pausing at her rounded, perky breasts, before ascending past the string of pearls on her neck to her proud face.

You’re practically drooling when you whimper, “Yes. Billie you look…god you look perfect.” Her cheeks threaten to turn red while her smile expands and she murmurs, “Just like you do.”

Automatically you shake your head and look down so your hair falls forward to guard your face. But her hands cup your face and guide you to look back at her. Her palms feel smooth against the sides of your face when she kisses your lips and affirms, “You are perfect, honey. Now, how about you make yourself more comfortable and take off those clothes for me.”

In the far reaches of your mind, the thought of confronting her about everything passes through. But Billie Dean Howard is here, completely exposed to you and you don’t want to stop.

Your eyes flick down and you grin as you reply, “O-ok.” So she backs up to let you pull off your shirt and bra. But when you move close, she places a finger on your sternum in the valley between your breasts and says, “Ah, ah, ah, pants too.” You bite your lip to conceal your demure smile, ducking your head as you tug your pants down. After kicking them aside you come back up to the medium and being to kiss her again.

While it felt nice to kiss Billie the other day, actually feeling her flesh brush and meld against yours makes it even better. Every time you think you’ve peaked; she takes you higher than before. When you break to catch your breath, Billie breathes, “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

Your brows furrow and she grins before asking the same question. The thought of ordering her around sends a thrill through you and you look around the room before hesitantly saying, “On the edge of the bed.” The medium nods and playfully answers with a wicked grin, “Yes, mistress.”

Now that makes you laugh and tell her, “If anyone is a mistress it’s you.” You move her clothes that were laid out on the bed to the side so they won’t get in the way and the blonde helps while teasing, “I’ll grant you the title of mistress for one day.”

Without thinking you roll your eyes at the supposed ‘generosity,’ making Billie raise her eyebrow and say, “Unless you don’t want to do this?” You place your hands on her shoulders and push her to sit on the bed while quickly answering, “I do!”

Your intense reaction makes her chuckle and purr, “Well your wish is my command, sweetheart.” Your body simmers with arousal and you guide her legs apart enough to step between them. Then you look down at Billie’s face and your hands come up to cup her face. In response she slides her hands up to rest on the swell of your hips.

However, you raise your eyebrow and mimic her when you ask, “Did I give you permission to touch me?” Billie takes her hands away and looks up to you through her long lashes when she says, “Sorry, mistress.” Letting her lower lip jut out enough to give a perfect pout before biting down on it. The way she worries her lower lip drives you wild.

But you want to tease her more. Why not take this opportunity all the way?

So you lean in to kiss her lips, but when she leans up to meet you, you back up to kiss the tip of her nose.

Her darkened eyes glow and the blonde chuckles before murmuring, “Such a tease, y/n.” That makes you giggle and this time when you lean down to kiss her, you meet her desired location. And even though your lips and tongues intertwine with each other, Billie stays true to her word and lets you lead her along. So you keep going, and don’t move her hands back when she smooths them up your thighs and pulls you closer to her after gripping your hips.

For once she’s the one who gasps for air and you take the opportunity to place slow, deliberate kisses along her jawline down to her neck. Your lips gently kiss and suck at the delicate skin of her neck, but pause when Billie moans, “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, this feels amazing. But I don’t know if the makeup artist will appreciate having to cover multiple hickeys for filming tomorrow.”

On no. You completely forgot about that.

You automatically back up and stammer, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Billie. I never even though about that.” She silences you with a kiss and soothes, “It’s ok, sweetheart.” But the medium can tell you’re pulled out of the immersion so her thumbs brush along the swell of your hips and she purrs with a smile, “Now what do you want me to do, mistress?”

Her reassuring smile makes you smile and respond, “Stay.” Then you gently kiss down her neck to her collarbone. Along the way your lips brush against her pearl necklace, but when she moves to take it off you command, “No.” Her eyebrows raise, but she grins and answers, “Yes mistress.” Those words send shivers down your spine and by the low hum of amusement emitted from her throat you can tell she knows.

Then you resume your descent starting at her collarbones down to the swell of her luscious breasts. The medium gasps when you take one of her nipples in your mouth and tease her by sucking and nibbling at her sensitive bud. You look up to her face to see she closely watches you use your mouth on her one nipple while you tease the other with your fingers.

Then you switch sides and by the time you’re finished with her buds they are peaked and stiff. The sound of breathy moans and whimpers is unfamiliar to your ears, but progressively gets louder when you continue down to her navel. After teasing it with your tongue enough to make her gasp, you back up and pull off her lacy, cream-colored thong.

Once the garment is cast aside you take a moment to look at her most intimate area practically dripping with arousal. Then you look up to Billie with wide eyes and your mouth slightly gaped in shock. Before you can ask, she smiles and croons, “That’s all for you, baby.”

That’s all you. She gets that aroused because of you.

Your eyes gloss over with a concoction of happiness and unbridled lust and rather than taking the time to instruct, you grasp her legs and place them over your shoulders. Then you lean close and inhale her sweetness before delving your tongue into her velvety folds.

Her muscled calves flex against your back and she moans, “Oh god.” as your mouth sucks and licks at every part of her. But she lets out a guttural moan when you find her clit. Her low sounds of pleasure go straight to your own soaked pussy and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs in need. You look up to her face while you continue to tease her sensitive pearl and see she watches you with lust-blown eyes and her lower lip worried between her teeth.

You grin and back away before taunting, “Now don’t hold back, Billie. I want to hear all of those pretty little sounds you make.” That makes the blonde toss her head back in laughter before breathily praising, “Wow, you’re pretty good at this whole dominatrix role.” Even now her praise drives you wild. You grin up at her and reply, “I learned from the best.” Before diving back in.

This time her head falls back for an entirely different reason and she groans, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feels so good.” Her words make your stomach warm in arousal and you increase your movements driven by her praises in words and moans of pleasure.

Before long Billie crosses her ankles behind your back, effectively pulling you close to her pussy and unable to back up like before. But you couldn’t care less. Eating her out feels like everything you want and more. Your mouth mercilessly sucks and nips at her sensitive nub and she whimpers in a higher tone than even her regular tone, “Just like that, baby. I’m almost there.”

You happily listen to her request and within a minute her legs lock up, keeping you in a vice-like grip while she gasps. Then she cries out and unravels before your eyes, moaning and whimpering in a way that sounds like music to your ears while you lick up all of the sweet nectar she provides.

Before you get the chance to rile her up, she takes her legs off of you and scoots further back on the bed as she breathes, “C’mere sweetheart.” You whine at leaving her sweet core but listen and she guides you to straddle her lap so you face each other again.

You cross your legs behind the blonde so your ankles rest against the small of her back and wrap your arms around her neck before dipping your head to kiss Billie’s lips. She smiles against you and slides her hands up your back while kissing back, not afraid of getting a taste of herself. Even though you wished to remain buried in the juncture of her thighs a moment ago, being held close in her embrace as she takes your breath away is nowhere near a downgrade.

When you pause to catch your breath, you still keep your forehead down against hers and ask, “I take it you liked it?” She gives that warm chuckle that feels like an embrace in itself and purrs, “Oh I loved it, sweetheart.” Then you let out a squeak of surprise at her hand sliding beneath the elastic band of your panties.

How did she sneak her hand around to your front without you even noticing?

Your small sound causes her to smirk and she says with a dramatically innocent voice, “Let’s see how you’re doing.” And that smirk on her lips morphs into a shit-eating grin when her fingers slide down to find your core practically dripping with slick.

Your hips roll of their own accord when the pads of her two fingers brush against your clit. The instinctual reaction prompts Billie’s eyebrows to raise and she begins to make torturously slow circles over your sensitive bud. Meanwhile your arms shift so your hands can grip her shoulders while whimpering, “I’m not going to last long.”

The blonde giggles at your claim and leans up to kiss your lips, gradually moving her hand faster. Then she gets closer so she’s right beside your ear when she murmurs, ‘Are you all worked up from telling me what to do?”

Oh, you are definitely not going to last long at all.

A gasp leaves your lips and you shift in her lap responding, “Yes.” Now she moves her fingers in a steady motion and purrs, “But I think you liked something else too. I think you liked licking my pussy until I came. Is that what’s got you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Acting so dirty and eating me out has you nearly creaming yourself?”

Her words prompt you to cry out, “Oh god, yes!” squeezing her shoulders and letting your head fall forward.

Her pearls feel cool against your perspiring forehead and her fingers speed up to the point of making you get those pre-orgasm twitches as Billie taunts, “Are you gonna cum, y/n?” Your eyes slam shut and you moan, “Yes!”

However somewhere in the recesses of your mind you remember her comment about good girls and whip your head up to look at Billie before blurting out, “Wait! I mean, can I please cum Billie?” The golden flecks in her darkened orbs spark in approval and with a satisfied smirk she responds, “Good girl. Go ahead and cum for me, baby.”

Your eyes slam shut just before a burst of white light shows up and you desperately cling to the medium, toes curling as high-pitched moans and whimpers fall out of you.

This time your aftershocks pass sooner and when she withdraws her two coated fingers you watch her languidly suck off any remnants of your juices. You’re still in a daze when she asks, “Do you wanna know what you taste like?”

Your brows furrow, but…you can’t deny that you are a little curious. And Billie had no problem indulging in herself. So you nod, albeit hesitantly. She chuckles at your timid behavior and teases, “I promise it’s good.” Then she takes your chin by her thumb and index finger to tilt your head down to meet her lips.

The taste has a tangy bite to it but also a subtle sweetness similar to the blonde, but not quite the same. Before you even realize it, your tongues are tangling with each other and your lips search and press for one another.

It feels so nice to be so close to Billie without all of the glitz and glamour. You’re together, unguarded, and sharing a passionate exchange for both parties. All that has stock in the world is you and her. However, eventually you have to breathe.

So you reluctantly break from her lips and come closer to tuck your head into the crook of her neck. At the same time your hands move to her back so you can hug her close. Her lips come down to rest on the crown of your head and you feel her lips curve into a smile. Then she shifts so her cheek rests against you, softly teasing, “I still need to try those dresses on.”

However she makes no move to get up.

So you snuggle further in, tightening your arms and legs around her and murmur into her hair, “Pack the red one.” She chuckles and smoothes her hands along the length of your back while asking, “What about the other one?”

You let out a sigh of contentment and bury your face further into the bend of her neck to conceal your embarrassment as you reply, “Than one looks good…But the red one…it’s flattering at all angles…and it hugs your form well…Trust me the red one will turn heads.”

She laughs and leans close to your ear when she murmurs, “I’ll pack it for you, baby.” Her voice immediately calms your nerves and you feel at home in her arms. After sitting in silence for a moment, you mumble against her neck, “What would you like for dinner?”

She slides her hands down to grip your ass as she replies, “You.” And that provokes your higher-toned schoolgirl giggle. Then you say, “Ok besides that.” Her lips trail down the side of your face until she reaches your jawline and murmurs, “How about…Italian.”

You feel her hands massaging your butt and before things get too heated you ease into sitting up straight to see her brown eyes slowly scanning over you. But you cup her face with your hands and guide her to look at your face, saying, “I’ll get dinner ready and you can finish packing. Ok?”

She grins and turns her face to kiss one of your palms before she teases, “As long as you can be dessert.” Then she moves further up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist and purrs, “And an evening snack.” Then she kisses the inside of your forearm, looking to you with a mischievous grin as she continues, “And a midnight treat.”

You shake your head at her behavior, but chuckle and respond, “Ok.” The medium smirks in victory and releases you from her hold. You slowly stand up, making sure to not lose your balance and throw on your clothes.

Before you walk out, Billie takes your shoulder and turns you to face her. You look to her with a questioning gaze and she pecks your lips, but keeps close when she purrs, “I’ll see you in a bit. Oh, and be warned, my stamina is insatiable.” That makes you giggle, and you assure her, “I think I’m up for the challenge.” Then Billie releases you with a smile and you walk out to the kitchen, not regretting spending the night here whatsoever.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess, @natasha-danvers

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#AHS #ahs fanfic #ahs murder house #ahs hotel #ahs apocalypse #ahs billie dean howard #billie dean howard #billie dean howard imagine #billie x reader #business and pleasure

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