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superficialdomina · 1 year ago

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Lost (Into Submission, Part 3)

Part 2: Pain

Series masterlist

AN: Loki's determined to prove you wrong, so he takes himself to a BDSM sex club to get his Dom on.

As always, an enormous thank you to @acidcasualties for making this whole series happen.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Explicit smut: oral (male receiving) PIV, elements of rough Dom!Loki. Hints of orgy/voyeurism. More Loki angst. Ana is 100% consenting, but naive. A reminder to young subs out there: always have pre-negotiated limits, and a safe word that you're prepared to use (I know you know, but I was a bit worried about Ana after this).

Also, writing Dom!Loki was surprisingly hot. Maybe I do get it after all.

Loki checked up and down the grimy street before he stepped out of the limo. He’d been driven right to the door of the club, but it wouldn’t do to be recognised in the few metres’ walk from the curb. He had handed the driver a crisp $100 bill as he left; the man’s salary from Stark Towers already paid for his discretion, but Loki wanted to ensure that his gratitude for that silence was understood. Straightening his suit jacket, he turned the door handle.

Inside was as nondescript as the outside; Loki navigated downwards through two floors of industrial concrete and metal to find what he was looking for. The deeper bass notes of electro-grunge seeped through the plush ruby door, and Loki felt the familiar thudding of his heart in time with the music. As always, he swallowed his budding anxiety, straightened to his full height, and stepped through the doorway of club Genuflexa.

The interior of Genuflexa – known as "the Gen” only to those who had never been inside – was darkened, but Loki’s eyes adjusted quickly. The basement floor was open, opulent, and luxuriously furnished, with beams, frames, rings and anchors adorning every surface at regular intervals. If it weren’t for the lack of windows and the faintly musty odour, it would be easy to forget that he was several floors underground. Bodies clustered at various points around the room, some playing, some watching, some lounging on the lush sofas where they pleasured themselves or each other. With skill that belied centuries of practice, Loki pushed the feeling of overwhelm from his mind.

“Mr. Smith,” a honeyed voice came from his shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

He looked down at the latex-clad brunette who had appeared beside him, giving her as smouldering a look as he could manage. Image. “Nervo,” he purred. “It’s good to see you.”

It wasn’t her real name, just as it wasn’t his, although unlike her, he genuinely didn’t know who she was outside this basement. The Genuflexa’s excessive membership fee paid for the privacy of all its patrons; nonetheless, as with his driver, he would leave Nervo a hefty tip to show his appreciation for her discretion. She may know his real name, but she certainly wouldn’t speak it.

“Can I take your jacket?”

“No.” He idly thumbed the edge of his sleeve. “I’ll keep it with me, thank you.”

Nervo smiled. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, Mr. Smith.”

Loki briefly scanned the opulent surroundings, trying to ascertain the club’s energy tonight. The was a wildness in the air; something savage and untamed and feral that covered the luxurious décor like an invisible fog. It was exhilarating, and equally - Loki admitted it only in the deepest parts of his mind - frightening.

Loki turned to the abandoned bar, searching for something to do with his hands. There was never any liquor served here, but expensive bottles of still and sparkling water lined the countertop. He took an imported bottle of San Pellegrino, and closed his eyes for a moment to savour the crack of the aluminium lid as he twisted it open. The bubbles danced gently on his tongue; the cool of the glass was divine in his hands.

By the time he he opened his eyes, they had seen him.

They didn’t quite rush to him, but there was an eagerness with which they surrounded him, pressed their hot bodies against him, gazed up at his face in rapture. One – blonde, slender, notably bolder than her peers – met his eyes with hungry, dilated pupils.

“Are you-“

“My name is Mr. Smith,” Loki interrupted. He hesitated for a beat. “You may call me Sir.”

Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment, then she giggled. “Mr. Smith, Sir, are you here to play?”

She looked so fragile, her waif-like frame buffeted by the beat of the music. I could snap her in half. He instinctively wanted to decline her invitation. Instead, he affected a well-rehearsed mask that, despite being achingly familiar, was never truly comfortable.

“What is your name, girl?”

“Ana, Sir.”

“How old are you, Ana?”

Ana giggled again. She was chewing gum, which Loki found highly unappealing. “I’m 25, Sir.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Ana?”

“No, Sir.”

Loki caught Nervo’s eye over Ana’s shoulder; she gave a half-nod, half-shrug. The tiny woman was of age. He swallowed, and placed his San Pellegrino back on the bar.

“Come then, Ana – let’s find somewhere... comfortable.”

Ana squealed, taking his tie in her hands and pulling him towards her, snaking her lithe body against him as she walked him backwards across the club floor.

“My safe word is never,” Ana spoke loudly into his ear as they moved through the furnishings. Her unpleasant chewing continued, and she lowered her voice to a stage-whisper. “As in, I’ll never use it.” She giggled once more at her “joke”, batting her eyelids at him conspiratorially as her back met the rolled arm of a large, lush sofa. Loki managed not to roll his eyes.

The crowd had followed them; Loki tried to shut out the voyeurs who peered at them through the dark, to focus only on the sweet body before him. Ana. Loki hoped, for her sake, that it was not her real name. He lifted his chin, and straightened again.

“Get rid of your gum, girl,” he commanded. Ana didn’t look away as she spat her gum on the floor. Loki seethed.

“Not there, you filth.” She looked slightly taken aback, but she picked the wet wad of gum off the grimy floor and tucked it into her black corset. Loki hoped the revulsion in his face would be misconstrued by the onlookers as contempt. He loomed over her as he spoke again.

“Kneel.”

Ana’s mouth hung open; that word, from this man, this God – because of course she knew, they all knew, exactly who he was –

But they don’t know, do they? The voice slithered through Loki’s mind like a serpent. Nobody knows. Nobody…

And for the briefest moment, your face swam in Loki’s eyes. Your luscious, curvy body, wrapped in straps of leather and softly jingling brass, his hands bound, prostrate before you, and your beautiful mouth so close –

Loki grabbed a fistful of Ana’s hair, pulling her down and forwards so that she stumbled to her knees. He lowered his voice, sneering.

“I said kneel, girl.”

The smirk was gone from her face, all trace of brat vanished as she sank back to rest on her heels, mouth and eyes wide, hands resting demurely in her lap. Loki had not released his grip on her hair; with his other hand, he freed his cock from his suit trousers. Mesmerised, Ana watched it grow hard before her as he pumped himself slowly, his fist only centimetres from her open mouth.

He tugged roughly at her hair, pulling her up to face him.

“You will look me in the eyes as you take me in your throat. Do you understand?”

Ana nodded, not breaking eye contact, straightening on her knees and widening her jaw to take him as he guided her forwards, fingers still wrapped tightly in her hair. As her mouth enveloped him, he lifted his own hand off of himself and stroked her cheek with his fingers. She was ambitious, her hot, wet mouth bobbing eagerly, saliva running down her chin as it spilled from around the edges of him. He watched her cheeks hollow with every lunge she made.

“Use your hands, girl,” he growled, and she whimpered, lifting her arms precariously to run her fingers over the fabric covering his thighs, tracing the ridges of muscle beneath. Loki grit his teeth. “Not there.” He took her hand and guided it to the base of his cock, curving her fingers around him. She gripped him hard. Still she did not break his gaze.

Loki felt the room pressing in; felt the hot, filthy gaze of the crowd as they wordlessly egged him on, their heavy breaths and moans pushing and demanding, and Loki’s own voice telling him not to fail, don’t fail, and Ana’s sweet young face stared back at him with those wide, dark eyes-

Without warning, he pulled her head back, causing his cock to slip from her wet mouth with a grotesque slurp. She was gasping for air. He let go of her hair, watching her closely.

“Stand.” Ana did so, unsteadily, but consciously. The collective audience grunted and moaned; Ana seemed somewhat recharged by their encouragement. “Turn around.”

Delighted, Ana turned, arching her back so that her petite bottom poked out from under her short skirt. She was clearly naked underneath; even in the dark, Loki could see the outline of her surprisingly plump labia between her slim legs.

“Put your forearms on the couch, and spread your legs.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ana breathed, and she bent forward so that her skirt tipped up over her midsection; Loki roughly widened her legs with his foot until she seemed suitably off-balance. He placed his hands on her slender hips, tracing the lower curve of her exposed buttocks with his thumbs. Ana gasped theatrically.

“Are you going to spank me, Daddy?” Ana whined, peering back over her shoulder at him.

Loki glowered at her. “You will call me,” he said, bringing his wide palm down on her silky flesh with a thwack, “Sir.” He swapped hands, slapping her other cheek in punctuation. Ana flinched, crying out in pain with each strike. Loki softly stroked the reddening skin, soothing her. “Never” indeed, Loki thought cruely, scathingly. I could have you safewording out in minutes if I-

But in truth, he had no interest in hurting her. He trailed his gaze over her small body back up to her face, and realised with quiet horror that she had tightened restraints around her own wrists; the cuffs, which must have been waiting within her reach, were affixed via a long chain to the base of the sofa. Loki suppressed a shudder.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Ana whined again. “Are you going to fuck me now, Sir?”

Loki’s mouth was dry; he wished he hadn’t left his water on the bar. The crowd pressed in again, and Loki could feel them now, actually feel them, their bodies moving against him as they jostled for the best view, desperate to watch this young woman be fucked and flogged and beaten and broken by a God… And Loki knew, as he had known from the moment he stepped out of the limo and descended the Genuflexa’s concrete stairs, that he would give them all what they wanted.

He purred at Ana menacingly. “Would you like that, girl?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

With one hand still on her hip, he guided himself to her, pressing his wide tip against her and feeling her wet, slippery resistance as her body stretched to take him. He could feel the heat of her, the elasticity of her. She was so hungry for him. She will likely be fast, he thought with relief as he eased into her.

He began to move in her, and she moaned, and the crowd moaned with her as they ground and gyrated against each other. Loki felt like he was fucking all of them at once, and he knew that it should make him feel powerful, to have their eyes on him, their desire, their pleasure at his mercy. Instead, he felt hollow. Mechanical. Yes, he would give them what they expected from their beautiful alien Prince, whose bloodlines and arrogance and titanic vanity must surely imply his need for dominance, for control, for carnal power.

Loki glanced up, still numbly thrusting into Ana as she writhed and moaned against the soft arm of the sofa. Across the room, through the dark haze (was it the club or just his eyes?), he could make out a young man, naked, facedown over a covered wooden beam. An elegant series of Shabari knots restrained him from shoulder to toe; a tall woman, dressed entirely in leather, stood over him, a short riding crop in her hand. The young man’s eyes were closed, his forehead resting on the beam, as his entire body was stroked and touched and teased. While Loki watched, the leather-clad domme lifted the crop and struck him swiftly across the buttocks; the young man flinched slightly, but did not open his eyes.

Loki stared, enthralled. The scene was utterly beautiful.

And for the second time, images of you came to him unbidden. You, standing before him as he lay restrained; you, binding his body in beautiful knots, bending him to your will, taking your pleasure from him and making his pleasure your own, and he, Loki, giving that power to you because he knew it was safe, because he knew it was what he truly wanted -

With a strangled cry that was eerily mimicked by the masturbatory audience, Loki pulled himself from Ana’s body and spilled his Godly seed over her cheeks, which were still marked red with his handprints. His own cheeks burned with shame. What had he done to her while he was lost in this fantasy? Had she climaxed? Was she hurt?

“Ana, are you alright?” For a moment she remained slumped over the arm of the sofa, but at his touch on her shoulder, she straightened, and turned to him with a sex-drunk smile across her face. The crowd were reaching for her, stroking her skin, her hair, any part of her that they could touch; for a few moments, she was their Queen. He took her shoulders, eyeing her closely. He repeated his question. She nodded mutely, still smiling dreamily. Loki turned, looking for supplies that were usually present at the foot of the lounge, but found none.

He roughly grabbed the arm of the closest of the watching horde. “You,” he barked, then took a deep breath. Don’t overcompensate. “Please, I need a warm washcloth and some drinking water.”

But when Loki turned back to Ana, she was gone; vanished into the clutch of her adoring audience.

Loki stood still as the crowd around him dissipated, consumed with shame that no one else would see. He couldn’t look at the young man in the Shabari restraints; couldn’t speak to the woman who returned with the cloth that Ana would never use. He could only reflect on the last few minutes, replaying the scene that had appeared in his mind in his final moments of ecstasy. Loki clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

Continued in Part 4: Training

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @infinitystoner @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @thomase1 @kats72 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @tomlugirl @lokisninerealms @missmushroomsstuff @ladyloki3 @fandxmslxt69 @sinsandguilt @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @meowmeow-motherfucker @simplyholl @divine-knight-hand @gigglingtiggerv2 @lunarnights95 @eleniblue @loz-3 @redfoxwritesstuff @wolfsmom1 @beksib @nyx2021

(Would you like to be tagged/not tagged? Please let me know. Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!)

#sub!loki/femdom!reader #sub!loki #loki fic

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libbys-braincell-loss · 1 year ago

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I said i would do it before, but since tonights opening night, heres a list of funny things my cast and crew do for the show Puffs that i find really endearing and awesome :))

!!spoilers ahead!!

Act 1

Most if the time, when the Narrator (me) is not onstage, i sit in a little nook on either side of the stage, where i read books, play with a badger plush or my pet pygmy puff (also a plush), write things down, etc. I like to hc that the nook is in the Room of Requirement :) also dw i do get moments where i go backstage and take a break

Wayne wears a jersey with a W on it at the start of the play, it becomes important later

Leanne wears a colorful tutu!

Oliver has a pair of gold glasses

Oliver is from Baltimore, much to his discontent

Snape is played by the same guy who does Ernie Mac, J finch is played by the same guy who does Uncle Dave, and Hannah is played by the same person who does Voldy. Its real funny watching them switch characters

The sorting hat is big fortune teller. I think that was used for a version of the show somewhere else but its so goddamn funny

The training wand Professor McG gives to Oliver is one of those colorful toy wands with glitter and fluid inside that makes it all sparkly

For Professor Turban, he has those red finger lights as Voldy on the back of his turban. One rehearsal they fell on the floor and broke it was really funny

The sorcerers stone that Megan throws to the narrator is just a rock the director found outside. Its really heavy, our stage manager is supposed to paint it red (idk we found the rock yesterday. The rock we usually use fell on the stage and shattered so yeah cant use that anymore rip)

Wayne does a silly robot dance when he mentions Robocop right before meeting Ginny

Ginny is played by our student assistant director, who is a redhead. It couldnt be any other way man she had to be Ginny

Wayne is really tall. Oliver and Megan are around the same size but Wayne towers over them threateningly

When Harry and Ron Mop have a fight and Oliver tries to calm Ron Mop down, at the end Oliver yells at him "How come you get to kiss Emma Watson?!"

Real Mr. Moody has a flask for his potion, like in the series

Cedric wears heart pattern boxers during the bathroom scene. He used to be shirtless but we decided to give him a tanktop cuz it was very weird

The bathroom has a sweet lil ballet segment and we get huge bubble wands!

During the lake watching scene, J Finch falls asleep and starts snoring

Also during that same scene, Leanne panics about the lake and hides her head, then peeks her head out and says "is it gone?"

Viktor is capable of breakdancing!! They do an epic breakdance after the second task!

Each character in the three wizard tournament has a theme song - Frenchy has a french accordian song, Viktor has epic breakdancing music, Cedric has an epic rock and roll guitar riff, and Harry has a silly ukelele song that sounds like a Kevin Macleod song

Cedric and Waynes interaction right before the third task is so wholesome yet heartbreaking

Right before the intermission, i cast a spell to close the curtain

Act 2

Wayne finding out Cedric is dead is the most heartbreaking thing ive ever witnessed. The actor playing him is real silly dude but he got the emotions spot on and i applaud him for it

Ernie and Hannahs sign for "no being too sad" is not all that heavy, but the two actors play it like its the heaviest thing in the planet

J Finch's fav jellybean flavor changes every night. Some of my personal favs of things he has said: "Thermal paste", "plastic", "jellybean flavor", "oh man i forgot what it was, it was really good tho"

When Ernie Mac is fake bullying Hannah so she knows the difference, Ernie says "your face looks like he-whose-name-we-cannot-legally-say" which is funny for 2 reasons: 1, Hannah and Voldy share an actor, and 2, we cant say Voldemort cuz copyright

When J Finch starts "going to the petrified place" after Wayne yells at him, Ernie Mac punches J Finch and yells at him that he cant be too sad

Every single time during the Oliver and Megan kiss scene, Oliver gets Megan's dark lipstick on his face. It is hilarious

When I throw the year 5 book (which is really heavy) to the stage manager, she has decided she would make a new reaction every night. Examples: "hey! Big books hurt!" "You throw like a Puff, AND I MEAN THAT NEGATIVELY!" "The actors are attacking!! Run, stage crew! Run! *slams the door behind them*"

Voldy has a green swim cap and tape on his nose.

When Voldy is giving one of his death buddies a show of affection, midway through he says "i hope you're loving this as much as i am", to which the poor death buddy responds "i hate it 😥"

Oliver and Megan are holding hands while Wayne is asking about grades. Wayne gets sick of it and forces himself between them, breaking their holding hands

Zac Smith is hilarious. Hes played by the same guy who did Cedric before he died in act 1. Zac Smith has so many stupid stories, like one about how he ate a magic muffin, turned into a muffin, and watched his friend who also got turned into a muffin get eaten. Another one is how he watched a magic VHS of the movie Shrek, and the donkey appeared in his home, and he was so annoying that Zac cooked him, and every day he waits for the dragon to come kill him. Most recent one was when he watched a magic VHS of a Midsummer Nights Dream, and had his head turned into a donkey, and was jealous that the donkey man is getting more bitches than him, so Zac decides he'll make his own movie - Zac Smith: the Hot Donkey. I always break character during that scene istg

The actor for Xavia is fantastic. She got that evil dumb mom vibe we needed

Right when Wayne sees Sally Perks leaning in for the kiss, Wayne quickly puts on chapstick and pops his lips. Why, i have no idea but its funny

Megan being torn about whether she should kill her friends or miss this opportunity to be with her mom is absolutely heartbreaking it is so sad :(

During the flashback to when Xavia got recruited, Voldy does the worm and Xavia aggressively flips her hair all over the place.

Voldy canonically does a Jack Sparrow run

Apparently Wayne dances during the flashback scene?? I had never noticed that i need to see that tonight lmao

Xavia struggling to open the doors is so fun. When she gives up she runs into the house, still yelling that she'll be back. Its so golden

The Headmaster falls into the pit for his death. The actor just lays in the pit for the rest of the show until the final important headmaster moment

I have never cried inside harder to a story of how Oliver turned his parents heads into oranges. The scene is so good and emotional :((

Bippy is peak comedy. Bippy is love. Bippy is life. Bippy sprints to the back of the auditorium and its the funniest shit ever

Voldy does amazing crowdwork ngl. He be asking what the difference between witches and wizards are, what the deal with British food is, and what is the purpose of boy bands (they make him want to run the other direction), it gets to the point where the Assistant Director has to take his megaphone away

All the deaths are so sad. I dont really see them all cuz im offstage during the war but when i do catch them its so sad

When Oliver returns hes wearing his scarf like a bandana. You go Karate Kid

Sally drops her glasses before her death. She funbles on the ground trying to find them

When J Finch dies, Ernie cradles him in his arms and its really sad

Bippys death goes on for like years. She just refuses to die until the songs done. Its very funny dear god

Waynes death hurts man

When Wayne arrives at the very white room two guys are holding up a white blanket and they have angel costumes on.

When the Headmaster says "see for yourself" Cedric appears and hands him a Puff scarf. I cant 😭😭😭

Voldy also falls into the pit for his death.

When i show up again as Megan and Olivers child, Wayna, i wear Waynes W jersey he had at the start of the play 😭

"Whether you're a Brave, a Smart, or a... child who vapes in the school bathrooms..."

When Oliver asks Wayna what 3 × 4 is, i act like i know how to solve it. "Oh i got this, 3 times 4, 3 groups of 4, 3 + 3 + 3 +3 is.... i dont know :)"

When i sit in the stool, Waynes arm hands me the Puff scarf. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

During Curtain Call, we all be doing a silly dance. Im dancing with Megan and Oliver, and Wayne runs on to crash the party like he does in play lmao

ALRIGHT THATS ALL

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT THANKS FOR READING MY 12 PARAGRAPH ESSAY

#puffs the play #puffs play #puffs

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sweeterthanthis · 4 years ago

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Your Filthy Heart

Part Three: The Pure and The Poison

Your Filthy Heart Masterlist

Thank you to @ozarkthedog for reading this through for me and to @msmarvelwrites for the support and some epic dirty talk suggestions!

Summary: It’s time to give Daddy a taste of his own medicine by bringing your boyfriend, Peter Parker, home for dinner.

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy/stepdad kink, infidelity, vaginal sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, a touch of face slapping, cum play(?). 18+.

Word Count: 3.5k

“I’m nervous, like really nervous. Is my tie straight?”

There was a part of you that felt guilty for dragging Peter into your shit, truly. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying his affections.

He was handsome, a strong jawline, kind eyes, a boy next door kinda attitude. Peter was everything that Bucky wasn’t, and maybe a little part of you made the conscious decision to start dating him because he was so different.

You knew you were pushing your luck, but when the thought occurred to invite him home for dinner, your mouth engaged before your brain and you’d already asked.

“It’s just dinner, Pete. You didn’t need to wear a tie at all.” You couldn’t help but smile at him as he fixed his hair in the rear mirror, but the pit of dread in your stomach was only growing more by the second. “Come on, Mom’s probably bouncing up and down in anticipation.”

“Your Stepdad’s gonna be home soon right? Fuck, I wanna make a good impression.”

Placing a hand on his thigh, muscular and firm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. He really was adorable, an underlying sexiness about him because he was so concerned with being the most decent guy he could be. And he didn’t deserve a single second of the torture you were about to put him through.

Was that going to stop you? Absolutely not.

You knew your mother would be too high on the buzz that you’d finally met a guy you’d deemed important enough to bring home for dinner. She wouldn’t notice the impending tension, of that you were sure.

Stepping out of Peter’s car, your tummy flipping at the thought of Bucky coming home to find his spot in the garage taken, you readjusted your skirt and motioned at Peter to get out of the car with a roll of your eyes and a nod of your head.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He muttered, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for your Mom in the back seat.

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him towards the door connecting the house to your garage, you made your way to the kitchen -- the scent of pot roast, of course, filling the air and the sounds of gentle piano music playing softly in the background.

Your Mom really had gone the whole hog to make a good impression, and you couldn’t blame her. She had no idea you were screwing her husband, feelings of possessiveness and bitterness growing with each passing day.

She loved Peter. That much was very clear from the second she’d been introduced to him.

You feigned interest as she sat across from him on the plush, cream sofa; asking him a thousand questions and not allowing him the airtime to answer a single one before she’d thought of another.

But all you could think of was him. The look on his face when he saw Peter sitting next to you on the couch, the hand that was currently resting loosely on your knee, your Mother’s beaming smile as she informed him that we had a dinner guest.

You revelled in the power you held — the power to drive him insane with jealousy.

You zoned out as you helped your Mother set the table, the sound of her voice muffled in your ears when you heard the low rumble of a car engine pull up on the driveway; blood instantly pounding in your ears.

“Oh, that’ll be James.” Your mother gushed, clasping her hands together and straightening out the cutlery on the way back to the kitchen.

James.

She always did like to abandon the nickname when she was trying to impress. You’d heard the name ring out in the night air on more than one occasion that week. And the thought made you sick.

You held no claim over him. Not really. But that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in your belly each and every time.

“Hey, you okay? You look as nervous as I feel.”

Peters hand resting on your lower back, his soft eyes looking down on you with gentle concern, you forced yourself to smile and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He can just be a little,” you paused, wringing your fingers together in front of you, “intense.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side to give your body a reassuring squeeze — guilt thumping through your veins as you cursed yourself for dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in.

“Anyone wanna tell me who’s car is in my spot?”

The sound of his voice, laced with irritation and curiosity, had your heart beating rapidly in your chest; the reality of what you’d done setting in as his footsteps drew nearer.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’ll make a good impression, I promise.”

Peter was too good for you, of that much you were certain. But you forced a smile anyway, leaning up on your tiptoes to meet his waiting kiss.

At the worst possible moment.

“What do we have here?”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you composed yourself, opening your eyes to meet his fiery stare. There he stood in the living room doorway, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp, black button up. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the way the veins in his hands flexed.

Before you could speak, Peter stepped forward; holding his own hand out for Bucky to shake.

“Mr Barnes, Sir, I’m Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

All you could do was watch as Peter’s hand hung in the air, Bucky with his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels slightly. The tension was evident, yet only you and he knew why — the weight of your entanglement heavy in the air.

“Finally, huh?”

Bucky caught your anxiety-ridden stare over Peter’s shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek; brow furrowed as he blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I didn’t realise we’d be having a guest for dinner.” Bucky stepped forward then, forcing a smile and shaking Peter’s hand firmly with one hand, and planting the other firmly on his shoulder. “Would’ve come home earlier, but then nobody tells me anything in this house.”

The intent to agitate Bucky was clearly paying off, but you never anticipated the way it would make you feel — stomach churning and headache inducing.

With Peter in the room and your Mother hovering in the next room, you knew you were safe. Yet the thought of what he might do later that night after your Mother had passed out from necking too much Chardonnay had your tummy fluttering.

“C’mon, Pete.” Bucky threw a smirk in your direction, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get a beer and leave the ladies to it, huh?”

Your mouth hung open in astonishment and your feet planted to the floor, all you could do was watch as your lover took your boyfriend aside for what you could only assume would be a desperately uncomfortable conversation.

As you helped your Mother to prepare dinner, absentmindedly chopping tomatoes for the salad, you kept one eye on Bucky who was already sitting at the dining table across from a flustered Peter — and mentally kicked yourself for putting yourself in such a stressful situation.

You tried not to look at him as you walked over to the table, salad bowl heavy in your trembling hands.

Walking around the back of his chair, you did your best to flash Peter a reassuring smile, his eyes flitting from yours to Bucky’s while he tried to keep his attention on the conversation.

As you leant over to put the salad bowl on the table, a discreet, firm squeeze to your ass made you jump; his fingers digging into your flesh in not so subtle warning.

“Oh!”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, shooting a concerned look in your direction.

Breathing a short sigh of relief when his hand withdrew, you straightened yourself out and walked around to your Boyfriends seat; blood hot with frustration at the way Bucky had put his hands on you in such a fragile situation.

Suddenly, you simply didn’t give a fuck.

How dare he try to lay a claim on you after everything you’d had to deal with; having to watch every day while he played at happy marriages with your mother.

“I’m fine, Babe.” You leant down then, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek and shooting Bucky a warning stare. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner, okay? Be right back.”

Your anxiety was slowly morphing into vitriol, your hips swaying as you marched past your Stepfather’s unamused gaze.

Fuck him.

You washed your hands in the bathroom, gearing yourself up for what was sure to be a very awkward dinner — checking your makeup in the mirror, and fixing your hair.

He’d riled you up, and now you had a point to prove. And you had every intention of doing so, one way or another.

Making your way out of the bathroom, you straightened out your pleated skirt - the one you knew drove Bucky crazy - walking down the hallway with a confidence that you’d seemingly plucked out of nowhere.

“What the-”

One strong arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling your back tight against a broad chest -- and you needed no clue as to whom it belonged to.

He yanked you through the door to the garage, shoving you forwards a little as the door clicked shut and the lock twisted.

Everything inside you told you to give him a piece of your mind, spinning on your heel, your cheeks hot with disbelief.

But as he stepped towards you, his eyes trained on your shaking form, you felt warmth flood your groin and you were putty once again. You hated how easily he reduced you to a desperate mess of a girl. Truly, you did.

The fact remained, your Boyfriend was the other side of the wall and your Mother was floating around the house fussing like a woman possessed.

“How dare—”

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat in warning, wedding ring digging against the supple flesh of your neck - the fire in his beautiful eyes causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

Shoved up against the passenger side of Peter’s car, you lifted your chin in defiance, a slight smirk gracing your glossy lips as you soaked in his fury.

“You tryna piss Daddy off, Princess? ‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good job.”

Your fingers dragged up your bare thighs, lifting your skirt up higher, his thigh pressed firmly against your lace covered cunt.

“What’sa matter, Daddy? You jealous?” The low growl that emitted from his throat made you shudder, his breath warming your face as he tilted your chin up roughly with his fingers. “You not enjoying getting a taste of your own medicine, Daddy? Is that it?”

“You fuck that kid? Huh?” The hand around your throat squeezed, thumb pushing against your pulse point, his lips inches from yours. “You better answer me or I swear to fuckin’ God, girl...”

One hand palming at the throbbing erection in his trousers, the other gripping his own as it shook against your throat, you smiled. And he looked like he wanted to fucking murder you.

“So what if I did? Seems fair to me. At least you don’t have to listen to me screaming his name. And Daddy, he makes me scream.”

You ignored the fear bubbling in your chest, your bratty mouth unable to stop itself from running merry hell.

“He’s so big, Daddy. Stretches me out so good.” Bucky pulled you towards him then, teeth clenched and jaw ticking, on the edge of losing every bit of control. And you just couldn’t help yourself. “You should see it.”

The dark chuckle that fell from his lips held no humor, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and his head cocked to the side.

“Is that what this is, Princess? Fuck, that jealousy’s just eatin’ you up, huh? Poor baby…”

Your confidence waned for a moment, whimpering pathetically as his thumb traced your trembling jaw. You couldn’t stop yourself, hips winding down against his thick thigh, a twinkle in his eye as he watched you with a faux pout etched on his lips.

“If you weren’t so fuckin’ cute, it’d be pathetic. Lookit you; grindin’ down on Daddy’s leg like a bitch in heat. What would Peter say, hmm?”

Shame swam deep in your gut, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading between your legs, the damp patch on your panties staining the material of his suit pants.

“Daddy—”

His fingers nestled between your lips, pressing down on your tongue as they slid down your throat - gag reflex kicking in when the tips of his fingers found your tonsils.

“Suck.”

You did as he asked, eyes boring into his as he thrust his fingers back and forth between your lips, garbled moans vibrating in your throat, spit coating the platinum band on his ring finger.

“Why do I always gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?” You couldn’t answer, mouth stuffed full, tears pooling in your eyes, and spittle dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You think I was just gonna make nice with your little boyfriend in there? Bet he doesn’t know what a dirty little cockslut you really are does he?”

A sharp tap to your cheek, spit slick against your skin, had you quivering. Yet your hands found the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly and yanking him down towards you. Your lips crashed against his then, a satisfied grunt vibrating against your mouth, one hand gripping your ass while the other dove between your legs.

Bucky held you tight against his chest, fingers dipping beneath the gusset of your panties and swiping through your sloppy folds as he walked you clumsily round to the hood of Peter’s car - lifting you effortlessly and setting you down, cool metal causing you to shudder from the chill.

You watched as he yanked your panties down your legs, your heart pounding at the thought of your Mother and your Boyfriend next door, waiting for you to return.

“I can’t trust you to be a good girl, can I? Can’t trust you to keep those fuckin’ legs shut.”

“Daddy, I-”

“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it, you got that Princess?”

Before you could open your mouth to answer, he’d balled your damp panties in his fist and forced them between your lips — teeth clenching down onto the salty-sweet lace.

It was humiliating, degrading; but when was it not? You craved it, the way he treated you. That feeling of being owned, completely surrendering yourself to another person. He made you need that.

“Look at that, always so wet for Daddy.”

His palms splayed out against the flesh of your thighs, he pushed them apart, spreading you open and putting you on display just for him.

Your heart was racing, the thrill of being caught at any moment thumping adrenaline through your veins. He could sense it, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk as he watched your eyes flit frantically back and forth between him and the door.

“D’you have any idea how much I wanna drag you back in there and fuck you on that table. Make them both watch, show them that you’re mine?”

Your moans muffled by the material stuffed between your teeth, two thick fingers stretching out your cunt as he unbuckled his pants — you shook your head.

You knew you had an effect on him, you knew he couldn’t stop himself from touching you, from creeping into your room late at night. But the way he looked at you now, the burning intensity in his eyes; it shook you to your core.

“If I had the time Princess, I’d eat that slutty little pussy right here. Make you gush all over Petey Boy’s car. He make you come as hard as Daddy does?”

Frantically, you shook your head from side to side. Peter had never even so much as grabbed your ass, but you’d riled Bucky up to the point of insanity. A man on a mission to prove just who you belonged to.

“No? You've sure changed your tune.”

You watched as he pumped his thick cock in his palm, the tip of him nudging against your clit, your pussy twitching.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, so stay quiet and keep those legs open for me.”

Your arms hooked beneath your knees, thighs spread wide, you barely had time to brace yourself before his cock split you open inch by inch.

You’d expected him to rut into you with excruciating force, to take you roughly. So when he thrust into you with slow, patient strokes; you could do nothing to hide the curiosity on your face.

“I know you know who fucks you the best. You just love riling Daddy up, don’t you? Get so - fuck - goddamn jealous of Mommy.”

Your head lulled back as his dick dragged against the throbbing walls of your cunt, his thumb finding your clit while he caressed your breasts with his free hand.

It was too much, too much tenderness, too good.

You hated yourself for wanting it. The new sensation of his knuckles softly grazing the hollow of your throat as he undulated his hips against your pelvis, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed.

“You know what you do to me, Baby? Look at me.”

Baby.

Bucky leant forward then, elbows either side of your head on the hood, balls deep inside you as he ground his hips into yours at a torturously slow pace.

“I got you all spread open wide for me, and my fuckin’ wife is right next door. She could walk in here right now and fuck, I still wouldn’t stop. You know how fucked up that is?”

It was nonsense, the broken words falling from your panty stuffed mouth, heat rising in your belly when he pulled out completely and slid on home once again.

He fit you perfectly; there was no doubt about it. The way your cunt wrapped around his dick, it was fucking sinful how perfect it felt. Sparks of pleasure shooting through your core as he rubbed tiny, delicate circles over your swollen clit.

“Tell me how much you want me.” Bucky ripped the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket as you licked your dried out lips. “Need’ta hear you say it. Come on, Princess.”

You’d never seen it before, the needy side of him, the way he practically whimpered when your pussy clenched around his girth, his hand gently squeezing your thigh while the other tentatively worked your sensitive nub.

You tried to speak, tried to find the words he so desperately needed to hear — mouth hanging open in sheer confusion.

“You’re not coming until you tell me, and we’ve been gone a while…”

He halted inside you, only the tip of him nestled between your pussy lips, thumb hovering over your clit and a soft, yet entirely serious look gracing his gorgeous face.

“I—I want you, Daddy.” You yielded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the yelp as he slammed back into you in one brutal motion — slowly withdrawing and circling your clit with the tip of his dick.

“Again.”

“I want you, Daddy.” Insistent this time, no tremble in your voice, hips winding down towards his length, eager to have him back where he belonged. “Only want you, Daddy.”

There was no hint of a lie in your tone, and as he fucked you - possessive and hungry - you wondered how any other man could ever match him.

Sprawled out on the hood of Peter’s car, legs hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, you begged and panted; nearing closer and closer to sweet release.

“You do, don’t you? You belong to me, Princess. Daddy’s all the man - shit - you need.”

Garbled words choked in your throat, the breath punched from your lungs when he pinched your clit roughly with his fingertips, stars dancing behind your eyelids as pleasure twisted in your abdomen, limbs shaking and numb.

Pathetic whispers of daddy, daddy, daddy had him slamming into you, unforgiving and merciless while he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck lookit you, fallin’ apart on poor Parker’s car, cunt full’a Daddy. Wanna fill you up so bad Princess, but I’ve got a better idea.”

You felt the hollow emptiness of his withdrawal, hazy eyes flickering open to catch sight of him; teeth bared, fist furiously pumping his cock, white, hot spurts of come smattering against the already sopping flesh of your swollen, fucked-out pussy lips.

“Bucky! Darling, where are you?”

You panicked, hopping down off the hood and scrambling to push your skirt back down your aching thighs.

“Fuck, gimme my underwear.” You hissed, holding out your hand as you bounced on your heels.

“Nuh uh, Princess. You’re gonna sit there all night next to Peter, who seems like a real nice kid by the way, with my come all over you. Be real hard to forget who’s little cockwhore you are then, won’t it?”

You watched, dumb struck as he casually tucked himself back into his pants, swiping the wine bottle from the counter and making his way to the door.

“Hurry now, we’ve kept our guest waiting long enough don’t you think?”

With a wink and a sardonic smirk, Bucky disappeared through the door, your Mom’s soft laughter ringing in your ears through the wood.

Dinner was surprisingly a lot less awkward than you expected, aside from the jabs from Bucky thrown in your direction every now and again. But you’d much rather he targeted you than Peter.

Sitting with Bucky’s come smothered between your thighs made the guilt in your gut throb every time Peter’s soft fingers found the bare flesh of your knee beneath the table.

No matter how much water you chugged, your mouth was dry throughout, your instincts driving you to get through the meal without choking and needing to excuse yourself.

As the evening drew to a close, your Mother tipsy and insisting that Peter come back to visit again the following week, you couldn’t wait to get him out of there and wipe away the mess from between your legs.

“Parker, you ever play golf?” Bucky asked as Peter pulled on his jacket.

You couldn’t believe the audacity of him, shame and fury eating at you as he played the perfect, welcoming parent.

“Uh, a little from time to time.” He answered, looking down at you with a proud smile as he sensed an invitation coming. It killed you, the sweetness on his features. You didn’t deserve an ounce of it.

“I’ll get your address from our girl, huh? Pick you up Saturday, say, just after lunch?”

Our girl.

It made you cringe, chewing on your bottom lip as you took hold of Peter’s hand and led him to the garage where you’d been full of your Stepdad’s cock just an hour earlier.

“Yes, that’d be great Mr Barnes. Thank you!”

“Please, call me Bucky.”

You couldn’t stand it any longer, making your way to the garage while Peter trailed behind you saying his goodbye’s.

He kissed you softly, and it made you want to weep—the way his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs stroking against the corners of your mouth. When he pulled away, the look of adoration on his face had your heart skipping a beat.

This was what you needed.

This relationship was healthy. Safe. Right.

So why did it feel so wrong?

What you had with Bucky could never go anywhere, would never progress to more than secretive fucks and risky situations.

“Your Stepdad seems like a decent guy, but he’s really hard on you huh?”

“You have no idea.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #marvel smut #stepdad!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Text

Long Live the Queen

“A special spell”, as @panacea-wishes would say, but this time for the Sorceress herself!

***Warning: Mild chapter 5 spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Any affair hosted by Pomefiore was sure to be an opulent one—but today, the dormitory was decked out even moreso than usual. Decorations dripping with gold, tablecloths of shimmering silk, gourmet catering, a private orchestra, and immaculate outfits for each attendee... No expense was spared for the special occasion.

You were but one face in that shining sea, dressed in your finest garb—the only outsider invited to join the festivities. To your left and to your right, strangers in long robes and ties drifted about. They moved so fluidly, cutting across the polished floor like swans upon a lake of glass.

You shifted your feet uncomfortably, feeling a bit out of place in such a glamorous space. You took an anxious sip from your flute of sparkling apple juice. Bubbles danced up and tickled your nose as the beverage went down.

“Did you hear?” a nearby mob student said—not to you, but to a few of his friends. “Schoenheit-sama will be interning with Potions & Lotions, that famous skincare company from the Land of Pyroxene.”

“I heard, I heard! He’s going to be working with their prestigious Research and Development deparment, isn’t he? His proficiency in magical pharmecuticals will serve him well there.”

“Amazing, as expected of Schoenheit-sama! He makes me proud to be a student of Pomefiore!”

You took another swig of your apple juice, trying to avoid eavesdropping. But your curiousity got the better of you, and the mob students’ words floated over yet again.

“What of Hunt-senpai?”

“I heard he will be interning at a detective agency in Pyroxene’s capitol! He was scouted by the police chief himself for his eye for detail.”

“Wow... I hope we’re able to get fancy internship offers like that when our fourth year arrives.”

That’s right. People are moving on. Growing up. Advancing in the world.

Good for them.

You took a third sip—this time, the juice was somewhat bittersweet. Your eyes flitted about, seeking a familiar face, not gossip, to latch onto. Luckily for you, you did not have to search for very long.

“Your attention, please.” A clear, commanding voice announced—and at once, the orchestra silenced. All heads, including yours, turned to the peacock throne at the head of the room.

There stood Vil, in all of his beauty. Today, he wore a form-fitting suit, woven in the colors of green, blue, and violet—the colors of a peacock. His golden hair was up, held in place by a jeweled pin with feathers that jutted out. Vil’s eye makeup mimicked the colors of his suit, cool hues flaring out and making him seem even more bold and imposing than before.

He nodded in satisfaction at those in attendance. “Thank you for being here for the ascension ceremony this evening. As you all know, I will soon be departing to complete an internship—as will your vice-dorm leader, Rook. Therefore, the time has come to crown a new queen for Pomefiore. He will be responsible for selecting a new vice-dorm leader... as well as leading you potatoes to greater heights.”

A mob student before you started to clap. Then a few others joined in.

You wondered if you should set down your class and join in the applause, but Vil was quick to bring a hand up. The beginnings of clapping ceased.

“Hold your applause for your new dorm leader,” he insisted. Vil raised his voice. “Epel Felmier.”

“Yes.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of his name, at the swell of his soft voice.

He stepped up from the crowd, which parted to make way for him. Epel had grown several centimeters in the past few years, now only a bit shorter than Vil. He maintained the delicate beauty he had held in his time as a first year, those wispy lavender locks, long lashes, and full lips. But his eyes—they had sharpened into sapphires circled with makeup moonlight, and he walked with a newfound confidence.

Pomefiore’s dorm leader uniform fitted his new form well. Flowing cloth cascaded over his long arms and legs, and formed a train of fabric wherever he walked. Click, click, went his boots, the cords that bound his waist falling in time with his steps.

All that he was missing was the coveted crown.

“Vil-senpai.” Epel stopped before his dorm leader—soon to be ex-dorm leader—and knelt.

“I am entrusting you with the safety and the security of Pomefiore’s students—and the dorm’s future,” Vil declared, chin raised. “Are you prepared to take on the responsibilites of a dorm leader?”

“I am,” Epel replied with quiet conviction. “I swear...!! I will lead Pomefiore to greatness, just as you and Rook-senpai have before me.”

“Hmph. Don’t let me down, then.” Vil smirked before turning and calling out, “the crown.”

Rook, in a violet suit and crimson bowtie, approached with a plush cushion—and upon it, an intricate crown. The same crown Vil had once worn himself, wrought of gold. A sword piercing a heart as the centerpiece.

The huntsman kneeled, bowing his head and holding out the cushion to his queen. He didn’t need to look to know that Vil had nodded to him before plucking the accessory up.

“With this crown, I pass the torch to you. With this crown, you are Queen undisputed.” Vil recited, raising the glittering diadem over Epel’s head. He brought it down upon the boy’s hair. Gold dug into lilac locks, finding a new home nestled on his head. “You may now rise.”

Epel slowly stood—his back to the crowd, to you. He lifted his head and looked Vil right in the eyes.

Sapphire and amethyst colliding.

“May you carry on the unrelenting efforts of the Beautiful Queen in my place.” Vil took his junior by the shoulders and spun him around. “Pomefiore—your new dorm leader, Epel Felmier.”

The crowd erupted into applause and whistles, cheers and elated well wishes. You, too, were swept up in the frenzy. What little remained of your sparkling apple juice had been set aside in favor of clapping.

Clapping, clapping—one palm hitting the other in rapid succession. Hard, loud. Until your hands were red and swollen and raw.

Raising a dainty hand, Epel waved back.

“... Hey.”

You jumped at the familiar voice that greeted you as you picked up a new flute of apple juice. You dared to look—and there was Epel, in his full, regal dorm leader regalia. Crown and all.

“O-Oh... Hey!!” you stammered, trying to play off your nerves (and failing). “Nice party, huh? Thanks for inviting me as your plus one... I don’t think I’d ever be invited to a shindig as fancy as this one if it weren’t for you.”

Epel offered a gentle smile. “I wanted you to be here. I should be the one thanking you for coming.”

“Of course I’d come. I wouldn’t want to miss your big coronation,” you reached out to give him a playful shove on the arm—but paused midway and let your arm fall. It wouldn’t be appropriate to act so casual with a dorm leader, you scolded yourself.

“You’re all grown up now, Epel,” you whispered, clutching a hand to your chest. “Congratulations, Mr. Pomefiore dorm leader.”

“Ah, well...” Epel rested a hand on the back of his neck. “It’s a new title, but... I like to think that I’m still ‘just Epel’, the Pomefiore student. I’ll always be that farm boy that tried to pick a fight with Vil-senpai—Great Seven knows how many times.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve come a long way since your first year. Especially during VDC—you shone really brightly on that stage.”

“That’s true, but I’ve still got a long way to go. Vil-senpai helped me to realize that.” Epel glanced to the surrounding Pomefiore students. Eating, chatting, laughing. “I just hope I can live up to the legacy he left behind. It’s some pretty big shoes to fill in.”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do,” you reassured him with a pat on the shoulder—before quickly jerking your hand back.

Too familiar, too causal.

Epel raised an eyebrow. “Is... Is something the matter? You’ve been a little jittery all evening.”

“I...” Your voice trailed off as soon as you gazed into his curious blue eyes. Like the ocean, welling up with sincerity. You couldn’t lie to him—you just couldn’t. “I’m just worried that we’ll grow apart now that you’re a dorm leader.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because!” You gestured vaguely to the celebration. “A dorm leader has more important things to do than hanging out with people like me. You have students to lead, events to plan. I... I think I’d only get in the way of your progress.”

“... Don’t say that,” Epel pleaded, suddenly grasping your hands. “Please, please don’t say that.”

You stared at the contact—where his hands met yours. “I... I don’t understand...”

“I couldn’t have made it this far without your support, either. You picked me up when I was down, and you cheered me on when I was at my lowest and about to quit.” Epel’s delicate featured hardened—from glass to diamond. “So don’t ever say those awful things about yourself.”

“But... You’ve made it so far, and I’m still—“

“A farmer never forgets his roots,” Epel said mysteriously, a finger taped to his lips, “and it’s not just me. We all flower one day. You may just be a late bloomer—but when you finally do bloom... I bet you’ll be the prettiest apple blossom in the whole orchard.”

Your cheeks flamed. He laughed, giving your hand a squeeze, and pulling you close to him. You fell against his chest—sturdy and secure and warm—and glanced up at him in shock.

“What are you...”

“Dance with me,” Epel suggested with a light-hearted smile, “and I’ll show you that you’re worthy of this queen.”

The orchestra had started up again, the strings to a new song flowing like water. Turn, twirl, dip, went the pairs on the dance floor, in time with the music. All of this, set in golden lamplight.

Outside, the sky was a dark blue, the starlight reflected in his sapphire eyes. And here he was, offering his outstretched hand to you.

He was still the same sweet, loyal Epel you had always known. The same young man that set your heart aflutter, whether he was soft-spoken or brash. He was both—just as he was both a dorm leader and your beloved.

You melted, and your hesitation dissipated like the winter snow.

You slipped your hand into his and beamed. “Long live the Queen.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #imagine this #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #IKEMEN EPEL...................#THE POWER OF IKEMEN EPEL #spoilers

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 5 years ago

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

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lyricalimerence · 5 years ago

Text

Enchanted - Rafe Cameron

summary: rafe meets reader at a party and she becomes entranced at the idea of him—at the idea of them.

word count: 1744

warnings: fluff mainly, it's pretty mild (edit: just remembered underage drinking lol)

a/n: based off the song enchanted my taylor swift,,, i dunno her old stuff is pretty good and i felt like writing fluff today. did i edit ? of course not :)

there i was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

same old tired, lonely place

walls of insincerity

shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face

all i can say is it was enchanting to meet you

the sun danced along the edge of the horizon, colors bursting from the seams into tie dyes of golds, reds, pinks, and purples in time to the music. cliche classical fugues and themes pulsed through speakers, carrying the chamber orchestra's melodies through the entirety of the country club. through the bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the back patio where teenagers were dancing and sneaking alcoholic beverages from the waiters.

in one corner of the laminate flooring, a girl stood, both hands wrapped around a glass of seltzer water, as she nodded her head to the girls surrounding her. a perfectly manicured set of nails rapped against the laminate wood tabletop as her gaze drifted around the patio. her forced smile caused her cheeks to ache in a falsely saccharine, model-esque bravado. her laughter didn't meet her eyes as she took social cues from the lightly giggling girls around her.

the tall brunette flocking at her immediate right side faux complimented her dress, the royal blue satin draped over her bronzed frame. flashing a tight lipped smile and a grateful nod, she returned the compliment in a way that mocked the girl's insincere and jealous commentary. throwing her head back to allow the staticky, carbonated seltzer to flow down her throat, she closed her eyes, imagining she was anywhere but there.

she sidestepped around the brunette and the table, searching for bar outside, looking to treat her body with something stronger. with her company for the night, she needed the extra boost of intoxication to get by. the rhythmic clack of her heels against the tiles created a harmony to accompany the music that took an upbeat turn for the teenage girls grinding against each other on the dance floor, parents having absconded their children hours before to reminisce themselves. there was no doubt in her mind that her mother was gossiping will her newfound wine drunk friends as her father was at the bar inside with other king pins of kildare.

as she coerced the bartender to mix a splash of rum into her coke as she was only nineteen, a shadow fell across her contoured face. the dip of her cheekbones deepening gauntly and the rouge plush of her lips darkening in the portable shade. the shifting eyes of the bartender paused at the sight of the teenager standing beside her—the creator of the shadow. she avoided eye contact as long as possible, she knew very few people on kildare, and she wasn't too keen on meeting more—from what she's seen, they're awful people. however, a menacing glare frightened the poor bartender into tipping his rum bottle filled hand into the glass of coke and sliding it across the bar towards her.

with a shy smile she looked up to thank the guy who aided her in her mission to inebriation. "thank you," she faltered as she looked up, the sparkle in his eyes, the curve of his smirk, he was perfectly chiseled. however oddly cliche it sounds, it was almost godlike how his presence enraptured her attention.

"anytime," he didn't break eye contact as he brought his glass, that had been refilled with what she was positive to be alcohol, to his lips. she passed along a brief, but genuine, smile as she made her way back to the corner, the fabric of her dress swaying around her legs as she walked. he couldn't look away from her. surface level, she was gorgeous, and as hormonal as he was, her body was capable of leaving the guy speechless, if he wasn't quite so eloquent.

your eyes whispered "have we met?"

across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me

the playful conversation starts

counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

and it was enchanting to meet you

all i can say is it was enchanted to meet you

she knocked her drink back gracefully, not showing any signs of the drink burning her throat on the way down. discarding her glass on a table somewhere, she rolled her shoulders back and slipped into the crowd of dancing teenagers, immediately finding the only girl she knew.

"hi, sarah!" she smiled toothily at the dirty blonde. sarah returned the grin, stepping towards her and grabbing her hands to pull her into the heart of the sea of moving bodies. sarah spun the girl around jokingly, laughter erupting between them as the taps of heels and lights of the country club threw a halt in the regularity of the outer banks suburbia.

somewhere between sillily slow dancing and dancing somewhat sensually, the alcohol kicking in, her eyes met with the boy from before. she knew his eyes were watching her the entire time, trying to answer a question that had toyed with his mind since they had their short exchange at the bar. she was thinking the same thing, had they met before? something was so familiar about him, but she couldn't put her mauve painted finger on it.

the definitely familiar smirk worked its way across his face as he worked his way across the dance floor. "hey," his voice greeted in her ear as she swayed her hips to the beat, gradually getting farther away from sarah as her intoxication grew stronger.

"hi!" her grin widened at the boy, her personality becoming bubbly as she grabbed his hand and tried to spin him but couldn't quite get her arm over his head due to his height. "i'm y/n, who are you?"

"rafe cameron. have i seen you before?" rafe replied, following with a question as he bent his knees so the girl in front of him could, in fact, twirl him around.

"yeah, we just saw each other at the bar, you silly goose." grabbing both his hands, she danced with him, completely informally, almost as if she was trying to give her parents a metaphorical middle finger. that is, until she realized what he said his last name was. "oh my god! my dad is closing a business deal with yours!"

"yeah, he is, and silly goose?" rafe's hands moved to the small of her back as the song changed to a slower melody. she wrapped her arms around his neck loosely and nodded. her eyes lit up from what he saw earlier, setting her face aglow. she was absolutely gorgeous under the moonlight and scattered lamps.

"would you prefer silly duck or silly chicken?" she quizzed, her brows quirking upwards. she felt content there, her conversation with rafe flowing through their quick remarks and quips.

whether it was the rum surging through her neurons or the heels pushing her up onto her tiptoes, she stumbled, stepping on rafe's toes on accident. he laughed it off, setting off fireworks in his turquoise eyes. "do you take constructive criticism on dancing?"

"oh, not with being emotionally wounded soon thereafter." she replied, nodding her head with a grin as she took a step back and stabilized herself. "so, what's it like being the son of the most important man on the island?"

rafe spun her around before letting her twirl, the song changing again, prompting the dancing crowd to shake their heads, ruining their perfectly styled hair and sway their hips, allowing dresses of satin to float through the air. "oh, y'know, lots of golfing and parties."

"you seem like the type to golf." y/n replied, bumping her hip into rafe's as they danced. "you don't seem like the type to dance, though."

"yeah, you're right." he dramatically conceded, taking her hand again and doing the wave. "so, cheer me on very loudly, i'm very insecure."

the conversation was tossed back and forth between the limited space between them due to forced proximity. he just seemed so different than the other people she's met in kildare. but dancing stopped and music paused when his father, and her father, walked out of the country club's building to celebrate their business deal.

"i've gotta go."

this night is sparkling, don't you let it go

i'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

this night is flawless, don't you let it go

i'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

i'll spend forever wondering if you knew

i was enchanted to meet you

y/n had her heels in her hand and held the hem of her dress in the other to keep it off the tarmac of her driveway. the stars adorned the night sky, sparkling fairy lights in a sea of tenebrosity. her mind replayed the nights events, casually skipping over her entertaining a conversation with girls she didn't know or like to dancing with rafe, a guy she just met but couldn't get out of her mind.

a blush peppered her cheeks in a dark pink, almost invisible in the dim light, but burning against her cheekbones. she walked with her mother, both still slightly tipsy and leaning on each other as they laughed, both for their own unspoken reasons. mr. y/l/n had bounded for the front door as soon as the car and been put in park, immediately wanting to get started on the deal he had just closed with rafe's father.

she fell against her soft mattress, like laying on a cloud as her mind was playing her hour with rafe that felt like a minute on repeat like a broken record. she was wonderstruck at the idea of him—maybe the people here weren't so bad.

she found a recording of the song the chamber orchestra was playing while she was slow dancing with rafe and played it on repeat as she changed into pajamas and washed off her makeup. her hips swaying off their own accord and her head moving side to side as she danced in her room all alone.

falling against her comforter once again, her eyes traced the glow-in-the-dark stickers she pasted to her ceiling the moment she entered her room in the new house. she followed the edges of each star, forming constellations—similarly to the flecks of gold and olive and in rafe's turquoise eyes.

as she drifted into a sleep, her mind stuck to rafe, wondering if he knew just how enchanted she was to meet him.

tags ( if you want to be added click here )

@insanitysparkles @anonymous0writer @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @jayjaymaebank @lovingxjj @drew-starkey

#obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe cameron fluff #fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe x you

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vintagevalentinex · 5 years ago

Text

Decode, III

Alright folks! Here is the next installation!

Please be gentle. There are elements in this chapter that are very personal to me. Some from personal experience, so I apologize if this “reader” isn’t exactly like you.

As always, please leave me some feedback!

xoxo

Decode, III by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1825 words

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

You steadied your breathing as you leaned against the wall in the hallway. You hated when people stared like that, as if you were something other than a human being. You dealt with those looks your entire life. It was hard for you to help; you couldn’t help how easily some things came to you, it was just the way your mind worked. It was the way you were hard-wired, and yet it was as though you were penalized for it. The memories of grade school came rushing back, being bored because you had finished your work, being yelled at for reading a book, being made fun of and ridiculed by the other kids because you were more interested in ancient civilizations and cultures instead of MTV. You kept your eyes shut as you tried to calm yourself down, feeling your heart slowly retain its normal speed.

“I suppose we got off on the wrong foot, Professor.”

Your eyes snapped open, revealing Mycroft Holmes staring intently at you. It wasn’t in an overly affectionate way. It was more out of curiosity. His eyes lit up with understanding as you tried not to wither under his gaze.

“(Y/N), please call me (Y/N)…”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, (Y/N). If anything, there’s something wrong with all of them.”

You smiled softly, gratefully at him, feeling your breathing return to normal.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”

Before he could even speak, another voice joined the conversation.

“Really now Mycroft, deducing the professor without her knowledge? For shame.”

“As if you’re one to talk, Sherlock. I’m sure that (Y/N) doesn’t mind.”

“Oh so you’re on a first name basis now? How sweet.”

“She told us her name in the car, Sherlock.”

You were going to get whiplash with how quickly your head moved back and forth as you listened to them bicker yet again.

“Could you two please stop for one moment?! What are you going on about?”

They both looked at you now; you were starting to really hate that.

“Mycroft was deducing you, not comforting you, Professor.”

“Deducing me?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, looking almost guilty as he had been found out.

“Sherlock it’s not the appropriate time or place for—“

“Nonsense. Now Professor…By observing the way that you are dressed, it is quite simple to surmise that you strive to appear feminine, something that the overwhelming majority of your colleagues is not. By overtly dressing in a manner which is quite opposite to that of the people whom which you work, it is a clear choice that you have made. If I were to guess, my thought would be that it has been a way for you to stand out amongst your colleagues. In a male dominated field such as yours, you have needed to be able to stand out as to not fall to the wayside. Because of the demographics in your field, you have constantly had to prove yourself worthy of recognition and praise—“

“How did—“

“That brings us to the quality of your clothing. It is actually quite good quality, which informs us that you invest in items that you wish to last. While you may appear to be superficial and materialistic, you in all actuality just maintain your belongings as can be evidenced by the black permanent marker covering up the scuffing on your shoes—“

“I…I…”

“Sherlock, please—“

“Furthermore, from your behavior from before and now out here it is quite obvious that you, despite your superior intellect, suffer from anxiety dealing with social situations, and I would venture to guess in other situations as well. This probably stems from several childhood experiences that—“

“Enough, Sherlock!”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the elder Holmes, but at that moment you were truly appreciative that he was able to make Sherlock stop. At first, it was quite impressive that Sherlock was able to pull information merely from what you were wearing. But as he continued, it became more and more uncomfortable for you to be scrutinized in such a manner. Before he began he stated that Mycroft was deducing you as well. Did he come to all those conclusions as well? This was just too much. You didn’t ask for any of this, and you weren’t going to stick around for it any longer. Sherlock faced you once more, amusement shining in his eyes.

“My apologies, (Y/N). I wasn’t aware that you would be so…sentimental.”

You looked him right in the eyes, trying to keep your temper and feelings in check.

“While that is quite impressive, Sherlock, it only took me a mere glance at you to know that you are an immature prick. Now seeing as I was brought here against my own volition and I am not getting compensated for any of this…this…lunacy, I will be leaving. I hope to never waste another breath speaking to you.”

You turned away from the brothers, squaring your shoulders as you made your way towards the exit, feeling hot tears threatening to escape.

It was easy enough to hail a cab, giving the cabbie the directions back to your hotel. Before you sped away, you gave one last glance toward the doors of the precinct, your eyes catching the older, wiser ones of Mycroft Holmes.

By the time you arrived back to your hotel you were absolutely exhausted. Between giving an important presentation to further your career, being introduced to both of those Holmes brothers, and the nonsense down at Scotland Yard, you had certainly had your fill of London for a very long time. You were longing for your own bed, and a stack of finals that would await your grading the following week. All you wanted to do now was have a glass of wine, a bubble bath, and some peace before your flight tomorrow morning.

“Pardon me, but it seems as though my room key isn’t working.”

The women at the desk typed in your information, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you are correctly checked out of your room. Quite recently actually…”

“That’s impossible! I’ve been out of the hotel nearly all day. Please, is there something you can do? Where are my belongings?!”

“That’s all I can tell you ma’am. If you’re belongings aren’t on your person, there is not much I can do for you.”

You were about to give the reception a piece of your mind when you heard someone call your name.

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N)?”

You looked up, a pretty brunette with her eyes glued to her phone apparently was speaking to you.

“Um yes, yes I am. Can I help you?”

“All of your things have been moved to your new room, out of this decrepit hotel—“

Decrepit? This wasn’t the best hotel in all of London, but you sure as hell weren’t staying in a hostel…

“You are being put in more suitable accommodations. You should find that all of your belongings are there.”

“First of all, who the hell do you think you are switching my reservations? I am certainly not paying for all of this? How were you able to do this in the first place? Who the hell are you?!”

You tried to keep your voice down but you had had enough for one evening. It was at this point the pretty brunette looked up from her phone.

“My name is Anthea. I work with Mr. Holmes, and he has tasked me with making sure that you are given proper hotel accommodations for your stay in London. Now if you would please come with me…”

“Did you say Mr. Holmes? Please tell me it’s not the one with the curly hair…because I’m a mere moment away from eviscerating him.”

She laughed, “No, but that does sound like him. Please follow me; I’m sure you are quite tired.”

What other choice did you have? Hopefully you wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch. It was only for one night, after all.

You were barely in the room as you let out a soft gasp. It was the most luxurious thing you’d ever seen. Was this really necessary? Plush carpeting, soft lighting, and a bed that looked as though if you lied down in it you would have to be surgically removed from its comfort.

“Why…why did he do this?”

Without even looking up from her phone, Anthea replied. “He wanted to extend his gratitude for your help earlier in the day…and his apologies for the event following your help. Goodnight.”

She’s a real conversationalist.

You looked around the room, seeing that all your things had been put neatly away, the bed turned down for you, a bottle of wine next to the bed. You spied a note on the pillow.

(Y/N),

I deeply apologize for my brother’s antics earlier today. He seems to have no understanding over decorum as well as minding his own business. Please accept this upgrade to your lodgings as a request for forgiveness.

I must say, I was quite impressed with the ease at which you solved the coded message. Perhaps the Scotland Yard could use your help.

I do hope to hear from you soon.

–M

You fell asleep in your clothes, too tired to even move, and too comfortable to escape the clutches of the bed.

[3 New Voicemails.]

Great, what could this be now?

[4:45 am] We deeply apologize, but your scheduled flight has been cancelled. Please call back at your earliest convenience to reschedule.

Wonderful.

[5:00 am] Hello (Y/N), I know it’s early over there but it’s quite late here. I am so pleased to hear that you are helping the Scotland Yard in such a riveting case. Do not worry about your request; take all the time you need in helping them solve their case! Let me know how it goes!

What the hell? I never put in any kind of leave of absence at the university? What is going on?

[5:15 am] Professor, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Please give us a ring when you can. We have two more coded messages that we could use your help on.

What is happening? Who moved my flight and called the University?

[1 New Text Message.]

[6:44 am] I hope by now you understand what has been put into motion. I apologize for the abruptness of it all, but it had to be done. Allow me to make it up to you in some way. Please let me know, this number is secure. –M

You were going to kill him. How dare he? He’d better have more than one pretty little girl surrounding him when you got your hands on him.

You furiously texted him back on your phone, throwing it across the bed when you were done.

[6:51 am] Fuck off.

Next Part!

#sherlock #mycroft #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes/reader #slow burn #reader insert #mycroft is bae

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a-starry-cactus · 6 years ago

Text

Plush

Summary : All Might has received a plush that looks like his successor, and Izuku discovers it. But what will be his reaction?

Before you read : Light spoilers after AFO fight / SFW / Fluffy fluff / Dad Might hehe / English is still not my native language

Inko Midoriya, alone in her flat that seemed so empty since her son's departure for the dorms, found all sorts of occupations to ward off her loneliness. Make pastries and share them with neighbors, do sewing, read love novels, knit, crochet ... Her latest crochet creation was a child Izuku in his All Might pajamas. She kept looking at it as she remembered her little boy running around the apartment playing the hero. As if he was still her baby, she took her mini Izuku with her to go shopping, to go for a walk, to go to the beach. He loved the beach. And now, the one that was once filled with garbage, was completely clean and ready to welcome new children.

Inko left her house for her daily walk. She decided to go to this famous beach, hoping deep inside to see her little boy running on the wet sand, his arms filled with shells. But at this time, the beach was rather empty. It was getting late, the sun was already starting to set.

She let a sigh of disappointment escape her lips, before going down to the beach. She felt so lonely, even seeing strangers in the distance would have warmed her heart. But she was alone.

No. She wasn’t. She had mini Izuku with her. It made her smile again. The sound of the waves was relaxing, it filled the silence of the walk. She took out mini Izuku from her bag and showed it the sea.

"Do you remember the day you picked up a beautiful shell? You didn’t want to leave it, you even wanted to sleep with it at night. It's still on your shelf in your room. You remember?"

Sadly, no answer came out of the doll, but it didn’t matter. Talking to it was like talking to his son, and that's all she cared about.

"And the day you found a toy in the sand. You really wanted to keep it, and I was suspicious of it, who knows what touched it? But you didn’t want to listen to me. I must admit that as soon as we came back I threw it away. Fortunately, your other toys had been a diversion."

She sat on the sand, facing the sea, watching the sun set over the horizon. All these memories were both painful and filled with joy. If only his father could have seen him grow up...

"Mrs. Midoriya? Is everything ok?"

She went out of her thoughts at the call of her name and looked up to see his interlocutor. A tall, slender man, blond hair, in a shirt too big for him and khaki shorts. It took her a few seconds to recognize him. Izuku's teacher and former hero No.1-

"All Might?"

She got up suddenly, rubbed the sand on her clothes and put a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yes, yes I'm fine, don’t worry."

"Sorry, I didn’t want to sound rude, you seemed so sad..."

"Ah... When you have children, they end up leaving home... I miss Izuku a lot."

Mini Izuku was still in her hand, and the hero couldn’t help but notice. He didn’t dare to say anything, staring at it for a moment. Inko followed his gaze and realized that he had seen the doll.

"Ah. I must look stupid, to make a replica of my son..." She blushed. He smiled.

"No. It is very well done, you have a lot of talent. I'd like to have such a talent!"

"Coming from the Hero No.1, I take this as a great compliment." She laughed.

He blushed, his eyes fixed again on the object. He noticed the pajamas on the doll and stifled a laugh.

"I can’t help it, in all my memories he's wearing that pajamas!" She smiled.

All Might couldn’t take his eyes off the doll. It looked a lot like Izuku. His successor had acquired a certain importance in his heart and this kind of object could melt his heart. He blushed at the thought of having one for him.

Inko realized that the doll didn’t leave him indifferent, so she had an idea. She pretended to have to go back home because it was getting late, and greeted the hero.

She spent the whole evening and part of the night making a doll identical to hers. In the early morning she wrapped it neatly in a box and added a note. Then sent it to his son's school for the attention of All Might.

A few days later, the hero had forgotten his meeting with Inko. He had run out of paperwork and couldn’t find time to rest. He was exhausted.

Under the stack of envelopes not yet opened, was a package. He examined it for a moment before seeing where it came from.

"Midoriya’s?"

He opened it without hesitation. The object was carefully wrapped under several layers of bubble wrap. He gave them to Present Mic, who loved to play with, annoying Aizawa by the way.

The layers of bubble paper removed, he could discover the precious treasure. He expected everything except a mini crochet Izuku. His heart stopped for a second. This woman, she knew how to make surprises.

Obviously, the gift didn’t escape his colleagues, starting with Mic, intrigued to receive bubble wrap. Aizawa glanced and smothered a mocking laugh. No matter what they thought about it, he loved it.

He used the return address on the package to send a letter of thanks, expressing his surprise and happiness. The question was whether or not Izuku should be aware of this story, and the existence of the dolls.

Like Inko, he couldn’t help taking his little gift everywhere. For nearly a week, he managed to keep this secret. Until the day he invited the real Izuku to his office, forgetting mini Izuku comfortably sitting on his desk. He didn’t understand until he saw Izuku staring at the object.

He expected everything except to see him blush. He thought he was embarrassed or worse, disgusted. See him turn his back and run away. But no. He was moved. Just moved. And still a little embarrassed.

"I see, my mother made one for you too."

"So you knew?"

"For the doll? Of course, she showed it to me the day she made it. But you, I didn’t expect it."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can give it back..."

"No no! You can keep it. Just don’t show it to teachers or students, please."

Oh.

"Actually... Aizawa-kun and Present Mic are already aware."

"I should have known, Aizawa-sensei looks at me strangely for a while."

"Sorry my boy."

"At least the others aren’t aware."

Not yet.

"All Might sensei, it’s Deku, right?"

And voila. He managed to keep it secret for another week, before daring to take it with him to class, hidden behind a binder. He didn’t expect Uraraka to come to his desk.

The whole class stood up to see, before being called to order. Izuku had disappeared under his notebook, red with shame. Oh of course, All Might knew how to keep a heavy secret like his Quirk, but a simple doll with the effigy of his successor was too hard to hide.

But Izuku knew how to take revenge.

A few days later, the doll story was forgotten by most of the class. No one was referring to it anymore. It was time to take revenge.

When he went back to see his mother over the weekend, he told her the whole story. Of course she couldn't help laughing. He then asked to use her talents to create another doll, very special.

On his return to school, he proudly showed a doll with the effigy of All Might, but in his true form, wearing his usual khaki pants, with a white t-shirt on which was written "No.1".

Recently, the whole world knew the true form of the hero. The pupils had no trouble recognizing him when they saw the doll. But Izuku was waiting for the reaction of one person : the hero himself.

The lesson had begun a short time ago, the class was calm and working on a personal project. It was the perfect moment.

"All Might, I need your advice, please."

"I'm coming, my boy."

The hero walked to his student's desk, trying to guess what he might ask. He stopped in front of him, waiting for the question. Izuku stared at him for a moment, then lifted the notebook under which was hidden a doll. A doll that looked like him... a lot. He felt red rising on his cheeks.

"It's on the family to make surprises, I feel." He whispered.

"I hold that from my mother." The boy smiled.

"Well, I guess we're quits now." He chuckled.

"Maybe..."

Maybe? What did he mean by maybe ?

"So, Toshi, do we become his student's doll?" Aizawa joked.

"I want a Toshinori-san doll too!" Present Mic exclaimed.

Heh, this little-

#dad might #fluff #bnha #midoriya izuku #All Might #toshinori yagi #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fic #inko midoriya

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obsidianarchives · 6 years ago

Text

Beneath the Surface - Part 1

The Woes of Imperfection

Hermione Granger walked through the Hogwarts castle with Ginny Weasley, trying to keep her nerves in check. She couldn’t keep her hands still, running them through her thick hair, stuffing them in her pockets, adjusting the collar of her robes as they made their way up to Professor Slughorn’s office.

“It’ll be fine,” Ginny sighed, tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “All Slughorn wants is to fawn over you now so he can say he knew you when later.”

Hermione had heard about the Slug Club from Ginny, Harry, and Neville. From what they’d said, it sounded like a group of kids their new Potions professor Horace Slughorn had chosen as his personal favorites. While she disapproved of the practice, she knew how many connections the man had throughout the wizarding world, and it wasn’t lost on her how important this could be for her future.

“I just can’t believe he invited me.”

Ginny scoffed, “You must be joking.”

Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t respond. The words she knew Ginny was thinking echoed through her brain. She’s the brightest witch in our year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it, but the statement felt more like an expectation than a compliment, a threat thinly veiled beneath it. What would happen if she was no longer the brightest? If someone else suddenly studied harder, retained more? What if they realized it was all a lie, just hard work and an unhealthy obsession with getting things right?

She didn’t speak her worries out loud to Ginny — they had plagued her for years even before she’d found out she was a witch, and she knew her best friend’s sister wouldn’t truly understand, even if she tried.

They were the last two to arrive in Slughorn’s office. It was bigger than most of the professors’ offices that Hermione had been to. On the far wall sat a fireplace, a plush emerald couch facing it. Chests and shelves lined the walls, pictures of blinking and smiling people looking out from the tops of almost every surface. A liquor cabinet stood sturdy next to another doorway, which Hermione assumed led to Slughorn’s desk because she couldn’t see it from the entrance. A round mahogany table commanded attention in the center of the main room, surrounded by eight chairs and laden with food Hermione was sure had been brought up by house-elves.

Slughorn’s other guests were awkwardly mingling, a few glancing at them as they entered the room. Of the five other students there, Hermione recognized Ravenclaw fifth year Melinda Bobbin and Slytherin Blaise Zabini. Hermione flushed as she made eye contact with Cormac McLaggen. His eyes were still slightly unfocused from Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts earlier that day, but he smiled at her in what she supposed he thought was alluring. She looked away quickly, to Professor Slughorn, who was dressed in decadent robes of periwinkle.

“Ah, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley! Excellent,” he said, “Let’s all take a seat, shall we?”

They all made their way towards the table, Hermione keeping close to Ginny so that they could sit together. She slid into her seat, her nerves spiking as McLaggen sat heavily in the chair next to her.

“Help yourselves, help yourselves,” Slughorn insisted, reaching for the bowl of buttered peas.

The room was quiet for a moment but for the clinking of dishes. Next to Hermione, McLaggen’s fingers fumbled around the bowl of chicken legs, and it tipped over, the bowl falling with a clatter onto his ornate ivory plate. Ginny snickered and Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

“So, Cormac,” Slughorn started as McLaggen rushed to pick up the food, “Have you heard from your uncle recently?”

“I just got a letter from him the other day, as it happens,” McLaggen said with a grating smile, “He’s had quite a lot of work to do at the Ministry, as you can imagine.”

“Of course,” said Slughorn, “There’s quite enough to be going on, what with these perilous times. Still, it doesn’t hurt to plan for the future. Do you think you’ll go into the Ministry like Tiberius?”

The conversation went from there. Slughorn’s small eyes fixed on each of them in turn, interrogating them with updates on their famous or well-connected family members and inquiring about their future goals.

After asking Ginny thoroughly about her hexes and name-dropping the noted author of Harmful Hexes: A Guide to Reactionary Spells Darold Vengecraft, Slughorn turned to Blaise Zabini.

Zabini had been quiet during most of the other conversations, his dark eyes unreadable. Now, he answered Slughorn’s questions graciously, from what new wizard his mother had recently been seen with to what his future aspirations were.

“I’d like to go into the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” he answered, “My mother has taken me on a few of her international trips, so I’m interested in relations between Britain and other countries.”

“An exciting career path!” Slughorn exclaimed, “And one I’m sure you would excel in. I’ll have to connect you with Sandrine Walton, she’s been the head of the department since Barty Crouch’s unfortunate demise. In fact, maybe I should introduce her to Miss Granger as well! The three of you have quite similar backgrounds.”

Hermione was startled at being included, even though she was the only one left to interrogate. She cut her eyes at Zabini briefly, tilting her head in confusion. Though they had had classes together for the past five years, she didn’t know much about the Slytherin other than that he had scoffed at the idea of Harry being the Chosen One on the train to Hogwarts and that she generally saw him alone in the library outside of classes. Was that what Slughorn meant?

Zabini had made a face too, the frown contorting his deep brown face. Suddenly, Hermione realized that they were the only two Black students in the room. Now, she understood.

“Well…” Hermione said, trying to sound diplomatic, “I don’t know if that’s true, exactly. I’m Muggle-born, sir.” That wasn’t to say that being Black didn’t matter in the wizarding world, at least not in Hermione’s estimation. Still, Zabini was the pure-blood son of a famous witch — their backgrounds couldn’t be more different.

“Yes, yes, and I must say again how impressed I am with you,” Slughorn said, transitioning his attention smoothly from Zabini to her, “Mr. Potter spoke so highly of you when first we met, and still you wowed me in our first Potions lesson. With brains like yours, there’ll be many doors open to you once you leave Hogwarts.”

Hermione blushed, feeling pleasure mingled with discomfort. While she had no doubt of the value she could bring to wherever she decided to go, she wondered if what Slughorn said would be true, given the anti-Muggle-born sentiments that had been bubbling under the surface of the wizarding world, now swiftly rising with Voldemort out in the open.

Across the table, an annoyed look flashed across Zabini’s face as he lifted his goblet to his mouth, barely concealing his snort.

Before Hermione could say anything, Ginny spoke up, “Have something to say, do you Zabini?”

He rolled his eyes as he set the cup back down on the table, long fingers wrapped loosely around it. “Only that I don’t know that someone with brains would have been in the middle of that mess at the Ministry.”

Hermione felt a surge of annoyance at the haughtiness on his face. “Perhaps not,” she said, sensing that Ginny was just barely holding back the urge to curse him. She lay a hand on her arm under the table. “But someone with brains would know not to speak about things they know nothing about.”

“Oho!” Slughorn exclaimed, eyes brightening, “How could I forget you were one of the few in the Department of Mysteries in June? Dumbledore is still quite caged about it, but I don’t suppose you could tell us what happened?”

Hermione felt as if a very bright light was shining directly on her, and she suddenly felt wrong. She didn’t want to think about the catastrophe at the Department of Mysteries. She glanced fleetingly at Ginny, who grimaced. Her chest seemed to burn with the memory of the spell Dolohov had thrown at her, knocking her unconscious.

She took a deep breath to center herself. “If Professor Dumbledore won’t say anything about it, I don’t think I should.”

Slughorn frowned, “Oh poppycock. Always the secret keeper, Dumbledore is. But I suppose he’s the only one You-Know-Who ever feared for a reason.”

He moved on then, to asking about Hermione’s background. She answered his questions as truthfully as possible, trying to feel less self-conscious. Everyone listened intently, but for some reason, it wasn’t the fact that McLaggen’s elbow kept “accidentally” bumping into her that bothered her the most, but Zabini’s stare. There wasn’t anything different about his expression, on first glance it seemed to hold a detached interest. Still, Hermione could feel heat rising on her skin under his gaze, and wondered if she was imagining the strange twinkle in his eyes.

…

Overall, the Slug Club seemed fine. Hermione had survived Slughorn’s questions, McLaggen’s clumsy flirting, and Zabini’s sneering. When Ron asked her about it the next morning at breakfast, though she could hear the accusation in his tone, she answered truthfully.

“It was alright,” she shrugged as she scanned the Daily Prophet for any worthwhile news. “About what you would expect.”

Ron scowled and stabbed at a piece of melon on his plate.

He wasn’t the only one, it seemed, who was upset about not being invited to Slughorn’s dinner party.

“Slughorn must be cracking up if he’s forgetting the families who matter,” Malfoy sneered to Crabbe and Goyle as they waited outside of the Transfiguration classroom, his voice carrying across the hall to the Gryffindors. “I mean if he’s letting in filth like Granger—”

“Oh Malfoy if you’re so upset, why don’t you go cry to your father about it?” Hermione said before Harry and Ron could whip out their wands. Ron let out a bark of laughter.

Draco turned pink, “You watch your mouth, Mudblood.”

“Careful,” she said, “Your mother wouldn’t like another of her family members bested by a Muggle-born, would she?”

Draco reached for his wand as Harry drew his in preparation. At that moment, Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, hawklike eyes scanning the hall.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, eyeing the wand in Harry’s hand.

“No, Professor,” Hermione said, grabbing Harry’s arm.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes a moment and then turned, entering the classroom. As Hermione pulled Harry after her, she noticed that Zabini was watching her behind Malfoy, an amused look on his face. The minute he realized she had seen, he looked away, his face falling into its signature scowl.

Hermione turned back to follow Susan Bones through the door, feeling confused. Why would Zabini find anything she said funny — especially when disparaging his own Housemate?

“Hurry and find your seats,” Professor McGonagall called from the front of the room, “We have a lot to cover.”

Hermione made her way to her seat, still pulling Harry along although the danger of him cursing Malfoy had passed. Once she sat down, she decided to disregard Zabini’s strange behavior. Whatever he was thinking didn’t matter. She had magic to learn.

By the time she got to Potions class, she had completely forgotten that morning’s incident. Today, they were working on the Awakening Solution, a potion that increased its drinker’s energy.

Hermione spent the entire hour slaving over her cauldron, making sure she added the minced peppermint at exactly the right moment, plucking the dandelion petals meticulously, and stirring the appropriate amount of counterclockwise times before leaving it to stew for the week. She felt satisfied with the way the yellow liquid shone brightly from her cauldron, and when Professor Slughorn inspected it he exclaimed that her work was very well done.

But when he went to Harry’s cauldron, Slughorn was beside himself. He gushed over him, saying that the shade of marigold that bubbled from Harry’s cauldron could only be the work of a masterful potion maker, the subtlety in the coloring causing him to award twenty points to Gryffindor.

Hermione felt a surge of anger as Harry grinned behind Slughorn’s back at Ron. As far as she was concerned, using the Half-Blood Prince’s textbook was tantamount to cheating, and the praise Harry kept getting grated on her. As Slughorn moved on to Ernie’s neon green liquid with a strained smile, Hermione’s eyes met Zabini’s. Was it her or was the corner of his full lips pulled up? Great, now he was laughing at her, too.

The phrase echoed in her brain again. She’s the brightest witch in our year. Feeling a surge of panic, she tore her gaze away, stuffed her scales in her bag, and stalked off ahead of Harry and Ron as the bell rang.

It wasn’t that she had to be the best in every class — Harry was consistently better than her at Defense Against the Dark Arts and it never bothered her — it was the fact that Professor Slughorn absolutely fawned over Harry when he wasn’t putting in the same effort she was. And what was more, the voice of doubt seemed to be creeping up in her more than usual. If Harry could defeat her with counterfeit instructions, then clearly she wasn’t all that good at Potions to begin with.

“I hope there are mashed potatoes for lunch,” Ron exclaimed, catching up to her.

“Even if there aren’t, you’ll eat everything within a five-person radius,” Harry said with a grin. The Prince’s book was clutched tightly in his hand, his finger holding the place he had been reading before class. Hermione scowled.

She scarfed down her food quickly and hurried off to the library. There was enough time before her next class that she could maybe find something to help her understand more about the properties of the Awakening Solution. She scanned the spines of the books in the Potions section quickly, exhaling as she found A Guide to Precise Potion-Making.

She lugged the heavy book down to the nearest table, dropping her book bag on the chair next to her. She scoured the table of contents before finding the chapter on potion ingredients for alertness. Flipping quickly to the correct page, she began to read.

Based on what was in here, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Odd numbered counterclockwise stirs were better for potions that made the drinkers groggy, but the even number would have the opposite effect. She’d stirred exactly eight times as Advance Potion-Making had told her. Fresher ingredients often yielded better results, and Hermione had only just restocked her peppermint the week before when she realized she had forgotten to get some in Diagon Alley.

“Of course you’ve got the book,” an exasperated voice said above her.

She looked up, surprised. She’d been so absorbed in her reading that she hadn’t noticed anyone else in this section.

Zabini stood at the end of the table, a scowl on his face.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, that book you’re reading,” he said with a jerk of his head.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m almost done.”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t even need it, your potion was near-perfect.”

There he was, talking about things he didn’t understand again. She glared at him, “My study habits are none of your business.”

“You know no one’s going to look at you differently if your potion isn’t the precise shade of the summer sun or whatever,” he sounded almost bored, “Everyone knows you know everything.”

Hermione could feel pressure on her chest, heat rising on her cheeks. She slammed the book shut and stood, grabbing her bag and stalking away from him. She made sure to check out A Guide to Precise Potion-Making on her way out of the library.

…

She spent most of her time trying to quell the doubt she felt bubbling up within her every time she failed again at creating the perfect potion. Though there wasn’t much more information in A Guide to Precise Potion-Making that she didn’t already know, Hermione found herself perusing its pages in her free time, trying to forget the way Zabini’s words had needled at her, how they seemed to hit right where she was most sensitive.

A part of this was ignoring her growing irritation with Harry and the Half-Blood Prince, but that was getting more difficult as the weeks passed and autumn arrived in full swing. Apparently, there were spells written in the margins of the wretched book, and Harry had taken to casting them without knowing what it was they would do. Past her own issues, Hermione was appalled by his carelessness.

“It’s nothing, Hermione,” Ron said when she snapped at Harry over it in the common room one evening. He leaned back in his seat, glancing across the room at Lavender Brown, who was pouring over a magazine with her best friend Parvati Patil, “We’re just having a laugh.”

That was the only thing Ron seemed to be relaxed about. He kept making snide comments about the Slug Club whenever he could, suggesting that Hermione liked being “cozied up with McLaggen.” Harry had gotten out of the next two dinners by scheduling Quidditch practices at the same times. While she didn’t begrudge Harry trying to avoid Slughorn’s parties, she hated that his strategy meant that she had to go alone — as Chaser for the Gryffindor team, Ginny’s priority was Quidditch. Hermione saw the value in Slughorn’s dinner parties, and so in the interest of keeping her future options open she hadn’t tried to find a way to get out of them. Still, she was starting to feel more on her own than she had in awhile.

The Slug Club dinners weren’t all that bad though. There was always good food and Professor Slughorn introduced the group to different former students of his who were doing important and interesting work, including the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet and the drummer of the Weird Sisters. Even still, Hermione felt isolated, the pressure to be perfect constricting around her whenever Slughorn introduced her as “a rising star.”

At the same time, she found herself navigating the strange dynamics of the group. Melinda Bobbin was nice enough, but was far more focused on her own ambitions, while McLaggen was perhaps too nice — he kept hitting her on the shoulder every time he spoke to her or cracked a joke. Tracy Dearborn, a third year whose father had dealings with the American magical government, was too young to really understand the importance of being invited and seemed to only be there for the food.

She wasn’t sure how or why, but of everyone in the Slug Club she felt most aligned with Blaise Zabini. Generally, his quiet face rested on disinterest as he scanned the room. Whenever he was asked a direct question he would answer charmingly, his eyes alight and face with the appearance of being open, but once Slughorn turned from him he would settle back into himself, reserved.

Slughorn was harmless in his praise for the most part, but occasionally he would say something to give her pause, and Hermione would find herself meeting Zabini’s eyes across the room in her exasperation or surprise. Each time, it seemed that he had sought her out as well, the confusion or resignation on his face accompanied by a raised eyebrow or a brief frown.

She wasn’t sure why it kept happening — she hadn’t even addressed him since their clash at the library. Even though they didn’t speak to each other, she couldn’t help but notice him whenever he was in a room, her eyes drifting over his tall figure, his dark skin and chiseled jaw. She had caught him watching her too, and found herself puzzled by his searching gaze.

In mid-October, Slughorn hosted another dinner. This time, the special guest was Quidditch star Gwenog Jones. Hermione felt a surge of vindication when Slughorn introduced her. The irony that Harry was missing something that would actually be of interest to him in his effort to avoid Slughorn wasn’t lost on her.

The feeling was fleeting, however, as most good feelings had been since that past Saturday, when she, Harry, and Ron had witnessed Katie Bell rise up from the snow, jerking and twitching after accidentally touching a cursed necklace.

The entire castle was on edge, full of nerves and fear. Only Harry seemed to be fueled with renewed vigor, despite having his Malfoy-Did-It stance shot down by Professor McGonagall.

Even things between the Slytherins seemed tense; on her way to Charms earlier that day, she had noticed Zabini huddled with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, though they’d seemed to be arguing. At the very least, Zabini had looked uncomfortable, and now, sitting across from her at Slughorn’s dinner table, he seemed reserved, quiet even for him. Hermione looked down at her plate. Why did her thoughts keep drifting to the goings on of Blaise Zabini?

As dinner wrapped up, Slughorn made an announcement, “Each year I like to throw a little Christmas party before break,” he said, “I’ll invite some of my former students — Gwenog, you are of course invited — and you should feel free to bring a guest,” his eyes turned to Hermione, “Miss Granger, I’ll need a list of Mr. Potter’s free dates. I won’t have him missing this little soiree.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling awkward. Her eyes met Zabini’s across the table, but his face was blank. She looked back to Slughorn. “I — yes, Professor.”

Harry’s reaction to that bit of information didn’t surprise her when she shared it with him in Herbology class the next day. Neither did Ron’s.

“Stupid name,” he said under his breath as Harry went to retrieve their Snargaluff pod from across the room.

“Look, I didn’t make up the name ‘Slug Club’.” While she understood his anger, she didn’t see why he had to take it out on her.

“Slug Club,” he said derisively as Harry came back, “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—”

Hermione’s irritation flared. She had already suspected that he and Harry had been laughing at her being locked up with McLaggen behind her back, but having it thrown in her face was another thing.

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” she threw back at him, “and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!” She’d thought it would be a good idea, asking Ron. That way, the three of them could go together. If Harry invited Neville or Luna, it could be a good time.

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it, looking cowed. “You were going to ask me?”

“Yes,” Hermione huffed, “But obviously if you’d rather I hook up with McLaggen…”

“No, no, I’ll go,” Ron said hastily.

He acted nicer to her for the rest of the day, and Hermione was relieved. It felt good to not have to be at odds with her friends for some petty reason or another, especially with everything happening outside of Hogwarts. Tales of disappearances and deaths peppered the Daily Prophet and more and more Hogwarts students were being affected; on most days it felt wrong to be arguing over Christmas parties and nastily annotated textbooks.

Their truce didn’t last long, however. Hermione spent her evening in the common room near the fire, cross-checking her Ancient Rune translations with the textbook. She was just packing up when Harry and Ron entered in their Quidditch robes, Ron looking furious.

“What happened?” she asked, sliding the last of her notes into her book bag.

“You — Ginny — Dean!” Ron’s voice sounded strangled with anger.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, then looked to Harry, hoping he could translate. Surprisingly, even he seemed to be struggling with his own deep-seated emotion. He dropped onto the couch, allowing Crookshanks to leap into his lap.

“We ran into Ginny and Dean on the way back from the pitch,” he said, “They were, er—”

“They were snogging! In the middle of the corridor!” Ron shouted. A couple of first years across the room shot a startled glance at him.

“Okay…” Hermione said, glancing back to Harry again, “And?”

“And so I don’t want my sister out in public like some wanton woman.”

Hermione frowned, “Ron, Ginny and Dean are dating.”

“So?” Ron’s ears were dangerously red.

“So, they’re allowed to snog. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Of course you would think so, given that you’ve snogged Krum.”

Hermione felt confused. Why was her brief relationship with Viktor, from two years ago, being thrown in her face? The fact that they’d kissed wasn’t even a secret, and yet Ron sounded betrayed somehow.

“Well yes,” she said slowly, “I’m still not understanding the problem.”

“The problem is, what are people going to think about our family if Ginny’s running around the castle acting like a—”

“Ginny is her own person,” Hermione cut him off, “Her relationship with Dean has nothing to do with you.”

“Like hell it does! I’m her brother!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. They were tired from staring at her homework in the low light of the fire and frankly Ron’s attitude was starting to grate on her nerves. “Perhaps you need something to keep you occupied? So you’re not so worried about what Ginny is up to?”

Ron’s face was flaming now. He seemed at a loss for words, so instead he cursed and stalked off, stomping up the boys’ staircase to his dormitory. Hermione looked at Harry.

“Honestly, what’s been up with him lately?”

Harry shrugged, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione eyed him closely. She had started to suspect over the summer that he had feelings for Ginny, though she hadn’t brought it up with him. She wondered if his brooding attitude had to do with seeing her with Dean.

“Everything okay, Harry?” she probed.

Harry seemed to snap out of his thoughts, “What? Oh, yeah fine.” He moved Crookshanks from his lap and stood, “I’m going to bed.”

He hurried up after Ron, leaving Hermione once again on her own.

…

That Saturday brought the first Quidditch match of the season. According to Harry, Ron’s anger at Ginny and Dean had not only affected his playing but had almost dissolved the team as well.

“I keep telling you you need to talk to him. He can’t keep treating people like this,” Hermione told Harry as they went through their Transfiguration essays together. Ron had already gone up to bed after snapping at two poor fourth years for laughing too loud. He had been giving her the silent treatment for standing up for Ginny.

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry mumbled, sinking down further into his chair. The prospect didn’t seem to excite him.

Still, Hermione had been sure he would do it, especially with Quidditch on the line. She knew Harry wouldn’t be able to face it if he lost his first match as Captain, and to Slytherin at that. But if he had tried to set Ron straight, it didn’t make for a marked change in his attitude.

She came down to the Gryffindor table by herself that morning, tired of bickering with a grumpy Ron and exchanging helpless glances with Harry. She saw them sitting amidst the sea of red and gold, Harry trying to coax food into Ron, who looked slightly ill, his skin tinged green. She paused behind them as Harry poured pumpkin juice into a goblet.

“How are you both feeling?” she asked tentatively, glancing at Ron.

“Fine,” said Harry. He tipped the contents of a small vial into the cup with the juice, “There you go, Ron. Drink up.”

Ron started to take a sip when Hermione shouted, “Don’t drink that Ron!”

Both Harry and Ron looked up at her. Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief.

“You just put something in that drink.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said, slipping the bottle into his robes.

Hermione fought the urge to tackle him and force the bottle out of his pocket. “Ron, I’m serious, don’t drink it!”

But Ron had already picked up the glass and drained it in one. “Stop bossing me around, Hermione.”

Hermione was appalled. She bent down low to whisper to Harry, “You should be expelled for that, Harry!”

“Hark who’s talking,” he whispered back. “Confunded anyone lately?”

Hermione took a step back, feeling as though she’d been slapped. She turned away from them and stormed up the table, her anger rising.

How could Harry do such a thing? Confunding McLaggen hadn’t been about making sure Ron got on the team, it had been about defending her friends. Using Felix Felicis for an official game wasn’t only immoral, it was illegal. Hermione plopped down at the table, but now found her appetite gone.

Of course, she shouldn’t be so surprised at Harry’s willingness to disregard the rules. She’d been dealing with him in Potions class for over a month now as he took credit for someone else’s work and gained an inordinate amount of praise in the process.

She pushed herself up from the table. People were already making their way to the Quidditch pitch, but now she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go anymore. What she should do is go tell Professor McGonagall before the match started so that she could put a stop to this.

But she stopped herself, remembering the last time she had gotten between Harry and Quidditch. When she had told McGonagall about the mysterious broomstick Harry had gotten three years ago, Harry and Ron hadn’t spoken to her for weeks. Could she really go through that again?

She squared her shoulders and stepped out into the cool morning air. She would watch the game, and if things went well — as she knew they would since Harry had given Ron liquid luck — she would confront them again. They were her best friends, she had to at least give them a chance to turn themselves in before she did it herself.

She stomped across the grounds towards the pitch, where the sun shone down on the stands. It was a nice day, but she couldn’t enjoy it, not with anger and determination coursing through her veins.

She got to the stands and joined the line winding up the stairs, her stomach twisting and turning as she thought about what she would have to do. The scent of cinnamon and cloves tickled at her nose as she hurried up, barreling into the person ahead of her when the line stopped abruptly.

“Watch it!” the person said.

She looked up to see Blaise Zabini, in cuffed black jeans and a green and silver color-blocked pullover. He looked annoyed at first, but when he saw that it was her, his face changed, surprise in his eyes. “Why do you look like someone ate your homework?”

“Why do you care?” Hermione snapped.

He opened his mouth to retort, his eyes flashing, but someone else spoke up before he could.

“Oh, don’t mind her Blaise,” Pansy Parkinson said from the next stair up. She tried to look bored, but Hermione could see the wicked amusement in her eyes, “She probably just couldn’t see through all of that hair. Maybe if she did something reasonable to it she wouldn’t invade other people’s personal space.”

Hermione didn’t have the energy for this. Rather than respond, she pushed past the group of chortling Slytherins, ignoring Pansy’s sneer and Zabini’s frown. She continued up the stairs, squeezing through the group of third years who were blocking the way on the next landing.

The game went just as Hermione had predicted, punctuated by the aggravating commentary of Zacharias Smith. His mocking tone agitated Hermione further than watching Ron make his fourteenth save, or the moment she realized that Malfoy wasn’t playing, which meant that in addition to having to deal with her cheating friends she was also going to have to sit through days of conspiracy theories from Harry.

Once Harry caught the Snitch and Ginny “accidentally” plowed Smith over, the stands began to empty, students buzzing after such an exciting match. Hermione took a deep breath and hardened her resolve. She had to hold her friends accountable.

…

The next Monday, Hermione sat on one of the desks in the Transfiguration classroom alone, a group of yellow birds twittering around her head. She eyed them critically as they flew around, sure she could do better. Was it just her, or did they look slightly transparent from this angle?

She had chosen to come here during her lunch break rather than sit alone in the Great Hall. Ron was no longer talking to her, having chosen to blame Hermione for Harry’s manipulation of the both of them. His mocking tone in the changing room still grated on her.

“You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything!” he’d said shrilly, his face red. “See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

Ignoring the fact that Harry fake-drugging Ron with lucky potion proved he couldn’t save goals on his own, Hermione wasn’t sure what else she could have done. How was she supposed to know Harry wouldn’t actually break the rules given the flippancy with which he had treated them in the past?

Ron not speaking to Hermione didn’t actually seem to be that difficult a feat for him, given that his mouth seemed to be permanently glued to Lavender’s ever since the post-match Gryffindor party. Harry seemed sympathetic to Hermione’s plight, but that hadn’t stopped him from sitting with Ron at meals or walking with him from the common room in the mornings. Hermione didn’t care that Ron and Lavender were together now past the fact that it meant she now had to find a new date to Slughorn’s Christmas party — what really bothered her was the way Ron seemed to pretend she didn’t exist, even though she hadn’t done anything to warrant such behavior.

The door to the classroom pushed open, startling her.

She looked up as Zabini stepped inside, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the birds flying around the room and then narrowing when he noticed her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as one of the birds came to land on her shoulder.

“Practicing,” she said shortly.

He wound his way through the desks, coming to a stop at the one he usually sat at during class. He grabbed the forgotten book lying there, eyeing the birds warily, “Doesn’t seem like you need it.”

Hermione huffed, and pointed at the one circling the chandelier above them, “That one’s wing is faded.”

Zabini rolled his eyes, “Merlin. You try too hard, you know that?”

Hermione’s temper had been quick to rise lately, and it rose now, “Some of us don’t have the luxury of being pure-bloods,” she snapped, “We actually have to work to be recognized.”

Zabini opened his mouth to retort but then he stopped, frowning. An odd look flashed across his face.

He shook his head slightly and turned away, “Whatever, Granger.”

With that, he was gone.

Hermione sighed and slid off of the desk, vanishing the birds with a flick of her wand. Lunch was almost over and she didn’t want to be late for her next class.

She walked through the halls to the Charms corridor on her own, sliding in and out of the swelling crowd, side-stepping a suit of armor that seemed to have the sudden urge to do a jig in the middle of the hall and ducking as Peeves swooped above the chaos, cackling.

She hurried up to the seventh floor and turned, stopping herself just before she ran directly into Cormac McLaggen.

“Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, stumbling around him.

“Oh hey Granger, I wanted a word!” he said. He was smiling at her, his floppy hair falling into his eyes.

“Er, yes?” she asked, glancing in the direction of the Charms classroom and back to him. He looked relaxed as he towered over her.

“You don’t have a date for Old Sluggy’s Christmas party, do you?” Confidence seemed to exude off of Cormac in waves.

“O-oh,” she stammered, “I don’t, actually.” She cringed internally. Why hadn’t she lied? She’d been planning to ask Harry the next time he was away from Ron, but hadn’t yet gotten the chance.

“Excellent,” Cormac said, “We should go together.”

At this point, Hermione felt stuck. “I...I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he said, stepping closer to her, his face falling into a mock-pout. He seemed so big standing there in front of her. There was no telling how he would react if she said no — he’d always seemed like a wildcard to her — and she had no idea if Harry didn’t already have a date for the party.

She bit her lip before conceding. “Sure, let’s do it.”

Before Cormac could say anything else, Hermione turned and hurried to class, feeling mortified.

The school began to buzz about Slughorn’s Christmas Party as it loomed nearer, despite only a few students actually getting invites. Hermione had done her best to keep the fact that she was going with Cormac to herself, but word spread anyway.

“I can’t believe you’re going with McLaggen,” Harry said as they sat in the library the day before the party, looking up from his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

“Well I figured you would already have a date by now,” Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

It was Harry’s turn to look uncomfortable, “Not yet. I did get some lovely chocolates from Romilda Vane though.”

“I told you,” Hermione said. Just the day before she had caught Romilda and her friends discussing how to slip Harry a love potion so that he would take one of them to the party.

“Yeah, well I’m not going to eat one so there’s no danger anymore,” Harry shrugged, “Ron’s not too chuffed about you going with McLaggen, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “And here I thought having a girlfriend would make him more prone to minding his own business.”

“He’s still a little sore about Quidditch tryouts I think,” Harry said, “You know how he gets. I think he would’ve rather you went with Malfoy.”

“You’re joking!”

“‘Course I am,” Harry grinned, “I’m just saying, he probably thinks he’s losing a friend to someone he feels insecure about.”

“He’s the one who started it.” It sounded childish but Hermione refused to feel bad, even if she wasn’t all that excited about her own choice of date.

The day of the party was tense, and Hermione wondered if she even wanted to go anymore. Since the news about her going with McLaggen had leaked, Ron seemed to go out of his way to be rude to her.

They were in Transfiguration class, practicing changing the color of their eyebrows. As Hermione focused intensely on her face in the mirror, trying her hardest to make her eyebrows a bright green, she heard a shout across the room.

She looked up to see Ron aghast, a brilliant handlebar mustache sprouting from above his upper lip. The entire class broke out into laughter, but Ron glared at Hermione, somehow singling her out in the midst of their classmates. Hermione rolled her eyes at his hostility before turning back to her work.

“Now, who would like to demonstrate their progress?” Professor McGonagall called about halfway through class.

Before Hermione could volunteer, Ron thrust his hand into the air, jumping up and down in his seat. “Ooh, ooh Professor pick me!”

Heat rose on Hermione’s cheeks as Professor McGonagall rose an unamused eyebrow at Ron and chose Slytherin Daphne Greengrass.

For the rest of the class, whenever McGonagall asked a question, Ron would mock Hermione cruelly. Tears welled up in her eyes as McGonagall finally snapped at him, threatening to take away House points, and when the bell rang, she was the first to leave the classroom.

This wasn’t fair. She knew she had done nothing to warrant Ron’s bullying. Sixth year was hard enough with her classes and the threat of Voldemort without Ron acting so harshly towards her. She was done, she decided as she wiped her tears in the bathroom, Luna Lovegood patting her back serenely. It was okay, she thought. Friends grew apart sometimes.

Harry was waiting outside of the bathroom, her book bag in his hands. “You left your stuff…”

“Oh yes,” she said. How was it that she had gotten so worked up that she’d forgotten her things? She took a deep breath, “Thank you, Harry. Well, I’d better get going…”

She hurried off before Harry could say anything further. She needed to pull herself together before having to sit alone, yet again, at dinner.

She changed into more comfortable clothes and snuggled with Crookshanks for a bit before grabbing a book and slipping out of her dormitory. The halls were almost empty, most of the student body down in the Great Hall.

The noise of the Hall swelled as she got closer, and she took a deep breath at the top of the landing, fortifying herself before descending the staircase to the entrance hall.

Zabini was exiting the Great Hall as she came to the bottom of the stairs. He noticed her and glanced behind himself, into the Hall, before walking directly up to her.

“Hey,” he said, “Everything okay?”

Hermione stared up at him, surprised. She eyed his face, his furrowed brows, warily, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his school robes. “Because Weasley was being a git.”

She felt a surge of indignation, an urge to defend Ron to Zabini, a Slytherin who often kept company with the Malfoys and Parkinsons of the school. But she stopped herself. None of those people were supposed to be her best friend. And Zabini, who was supposed to be like them, was standing in front of her, looking down at her with more concern than she’d gotten from Ron in a long time.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. She tilted her head at him, wondering what had made him come up to her.

He nodded once, looking satisfied, before abruptly turning away, raising one hand in a wave, “See you at the party.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, unsure if her response had reached him as he hurried down the staircase that led to the Slytherin common room.

To Be Continued

#HogwartsBSU #Blaise Zabini #Hermione Granger

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novelist-nerd-blog · 6 years ago

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Leave - Rory Monahan Imagine

Notes- The reader is the adopted sister of Rory Monahan, except she doesn't know she is adopted. She is confused about the feelings she begins to develops for him and decides the best way to deal with them is to just leave. Of course, that doesn't happen without Rory chasing her down.

Words- 1,108

You stared at the television screen, waiting for your brother to step out onto the red carpet. Several minutes passed with no sight of him yet, so you pulled out your phone checking your unread messages. He sent you a text joking about how he'll be the best dressed there and you replied with your favorite laughing emoji. You suddenly heard a crowd of people begin to scream, letting you know that someone had began their walk down the carpet. You felt your stomach tighten and electricity flow through your body. He stopped to allow the paparazzi to take photos and a woman came to interview him. "Hello, Rory Monahan. Would you care to answer a few questions for me."

"I'd love to," he replied and they stepped off to the side with the camera's still on them.

"How does it feel to be one of the hottest young actors right now?"

"It's unbelievably amazing."

"Do you have anything in the works right now?"

He paused for a moment before answering," Yeah, but I don't want to get in trouble so I'm just not going to say anything about."

The reporter let out a little chuckle,"Okay, do you have any details about your love life? Someone special maybe?" As those words left the woman's mouth you clutched onto a plush throw pillow and hated yourself for it. He was your brother and you shouldn't feel the way you do about him. Saying that you had a crush on him would be an understatement. No one knows how you feel about him because you feared it would be the end of your relationship with him. You needed to tell someone though. It's been pent up inside of you for so long and it was beginning to show itself in the ways you looked at him or sometimes shivered as he brushed past you.

"I don't really have anyone that I'm in a steady relationship with," you heard Rory speak.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Monahan," the interviewer said. Rory gave a smile and small head nod before walk away. You threw the pillow down and quickly turned off the television.

You quietly crept past your parents room on the way to your own. After you changed into your favorite sleepwear, you climbed into your comfy bed. Hours passed as you tossed and turned, thinking of your brother and of how wrong it was to do so. You had to get away from here, from him. Maybe if you left for a while the feelings would subside. You had enough money saved up to fly somewhere and take a new job up there. Hell, maybe you'd even find someone you care about even more than Rory. Shuffling through a draw on your bedside table, you pulled out a small notebook and a pen.

This is hard for me to write, but I have to go. Please, don't blame yourselves for it because I'm the one to blame. I don't know why or how, I just have feelings towards Rory that I can't explain. I need to get away until they leave or until I meet someone who I care even more about it. I don't want hurt you guys by doing any of this, leaving is just the least painful.

You pulled your suitcase out from under your bed and shoved your clothes into it until you couldn't fit anymore. The clock on your phone read 4:32 A.M. and you quickly searched for the nearest airport on your GPS. As you picked the suitcase up, you ripped your note out and laid on your kitchen table before heading out the door to your car.

You were startled when you woke up and it took you a couple of seconds to remember what you were doing. You had bought yourself a plane ticket for you New York. The plane wasn't actually leaving until later that afternoon. You must have fallen asleep when you sat down and had to have been that way for awhile seeing as you only had two hours before your flight left. As you walked around in search of a restroom you heard your name come across the loudspeaker. It was calling you to the check-in desk if you were still located in the building. "Damn it," you let out under your breath and headed in that direction. As you got closer you could see your brother's unmissable bright, red hair. You felt so many emotions begin to bubble to your surface and didn't know how to control them. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and Rory made his way towards you with his arms outstretched. You walked into them and cried into his shoulder as he rubbed your back. "Mom and dad told me about your note," he said and you pushed yourself away from him.

"They've been looking for you all over the city, so I decided to check the airports."

"Why? I'm disgusting, you'd be better off if I left."

"No, we wouldn't," Rory said and ran his hands through his hair. He let out a deep breath before speaking up again," Do you want to know something?"

"Sure, why not," you replied.

"Y/N, you're adopted. I know that doesn't change much, but maybe it'll make you feel a little better about this." You felt a shock go throw your body and you tightly clenched your hands together. "Why didn't they tell me? They should have told me, right? That's something that's important to know."

"I thought they'd tell you by now," Rory stated looking thoughtfully at you.

You let out a sigh," I still have to go."

"No you don't, Y/N"

"Rory, you're still my brother and mom and dad are still my parents. I don't want to ruin this family with my dumb feelings."

"We can work it out if you stay, no one is judging you. We just want you back."

"That's not going to happen, at least not for awhile."

"If you're going to leave, can you at least call them and tell them you're okay every once in awhile? They shouldn't have to worry about you," he suggested. You stared back at him and took a couple steps backwards. "Fine. Be like that Y/N, but when you come back in a week because you can't take care of yourself no one is going to be nice to your ass," Rory said before walking away. You watched him go until you could no longer see him, then went back to trying to find a restroom and sending your parents a quick text.

#Rory monahan #rory monahan imagines #evan peters #evan peters imagine #ahs evan peters #ahs imagine

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mariequitecontrarie · 7 years ago

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Meet Me in the Courtyard: Part 7

Summary: Belle and Gold realize they’ve been assigned to the same hotel room in New York City. Oh no. What now? ;) The Fic: Belle hosts a monthly movie night in Storybrooke, always leaving the seat next to her empty. Gold loathes movies, yet movie night at the library is the one community event even he can’t seem to resist. Rating: T A/N: For the February @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Surprise date, stockings and lace, babysitter canceled. I wanted to do the smut this chap, but it didn’t happen. Written for @magnoliatattoo. Love you, girl!

{On AO3} Previous parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Did I miss an appointment?

Had he actually said those words? Perhaps an alien had swooped in and taken temporary possession of his brain. Gold smoothed damp strands of hair over his ears to cover their burning tips. He didn’t want Belle to see him blush, not after the entrance he made.

There had already been more than enough embarrassment for one evening.

After hearing the sound of movement in the room, he swaggered out of the bathroom like some sort of overconfident beast, droplets of water still dotting his body, wearing only a thin bath towel.

All it took was one glimpse of the pale, pinched look on Belle’s face to send him scurrying back to the bathroom to don one of the plush white robes the hotel had provided. The color drained from her cheeks and her eyes dropped to the carpet, her lips pursed into a tight little line.

It was an expression no man should have to see on the face of the woman he’d fallen in love with.

“You’re in New York,” he said softly.

“Librarians conference,” she confirmed, still staring at the floor. “You?”

“Same. But Pawnbrokers Association.”

“Oh.”

Following that brief, stilted conversation, he returned to the bathroom yet again to put his pajamas on beneath the robe.

He eyed himself under the garish flourescent lights of the hotel bathroom and cringed. He looked older and pastier than usual, and the wet strings of hair hanging around his face reminding him of a drowned rat. The idea of facing Belle again made his palms sweat, but there was nothing to be done except go back out there and find a solution to their problem. The last thing he wanted was for Belle to think he was angry with her. Who knew they would both be in New York at the same hotel, each for a work event? It was an outcome no one could have predicted, like the spike in reality television shows, or the popularity of men wearing skin-tight trousers without socks.

Earlier this afternoon at the diner, Belle had murmured something about a suitcase and a trip, but he didn’t have the time or the presence of mind to ask her where she was going, or to volunteer his own plans to attend the Annual Pawnbrokers Conference over the next three days.

He creeped out of the bathroom and peered around the corner.

Belle was seated on the loveseat facing the window, her back ramrod straight as she stared out at Times Square. The lights from the skyscrapers wreathed her curls in an ethereal glow, and though her back was turned, he could feel her twisting her fingers together in her lap. The silence was tense and uncomfortable.

It was hard to believe that hours ago, she had been attacking his hamburger and fries with a voracious appetite, and he had almost kissed the blob of ketchup off her adorable face in front of one hundred pairs of curious eyes.

Even Ms. Lucas had been kind to him in the diner, smiling when he paid his bill and thanking him for coming in. Belle’s reaction to seeing him was another matter entirely. She was fidgety, edgy, and refused to meet his eyes. Anxiety twisted his gut.

He was nothing much to look at, he knew. He fingered the lapel of his robe and glanced longingly toward his bag of suits hanging in the closet. Imported Italian silk always made him feel more attractive.

He looked far better in a suit than he did out of one, a truth his father had pounded this truth into him from a young age. “Clothes make the man, Branny,” Malcolm Gold used to say. “Without fine clothes, no one will respect you.”

Gold had inherited his father’s taste for the finer things, but unlike his father, he funded his expensive habits himself.

He tightened the sash on the robe tighter with a grim smile.

Typical of his lousy track record with with relationships. Well, then. He would take his frustrations out on the hotel staff.

With his mouth twisted into a snarl, he dialed the phone and barked orders at the poor unfortunate soul who answered. “Manager. Now.” Someone would be held accountable for this mix-up with the rooms, of that he was certain.

After ten minutes of growling and making threats, he was getting nowhere.

“As I told you before, sir, the system shows Mrs. Gold cancelled her room yesterday,” the manager explained in a bored tone. “Your wife is registered to your room in our system and that’s why we followed standard check-in procedures and gave her a key. I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have another room for your wife.”

“Perhaps the system is wrong,” Gold said, grinding his teeth.

“The system is never wrong, sir.” The manager sounded appalled by the suggestion. “Mrs. Gold’s room was cancelled.”

“You mean Miss French’s room.” Gold’s head was beginning to pound. “Did Miss French cancel the room or did Mrs. Gold?”

“What would please you, sir?”

“None of this pleases me, damn you!” He reached for his cane and squeezed the handle, pretending it was the throat of the halfwit on the other end of the line.

“Profound apologies, sir,” the bored voice replied.

“There are over 1800 rooms in this hotel,” he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Surely there’s another room available. A suite?”

“No, sir.”

“The honeymoon suite! Yes, Miss French can move her things in there and I’ll…”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The manager cut him off. “We don’t have another room for your wife here. Perhaps we can ease you with some complimentary champagne? A wheel of brie?”

There was that word again—wife. “I don’t want apologies or cheese. Bloody hell, I want results.”

“Yes, sir, but with the number of conferences being hosted here, the hotel is full. We have no other rooms available for Mrs. Gold.”

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose again. He didn’t want to hear another syllable about the room across town or hear them utter the name Mrs. Gold again. He wanted a room across the hall or next door for Miss French, plain and simple.

“There is no Mrs. …” Belle’s head came up sharply, and Gold dropped his voice to a dangerously low tone. “You had better make this stay worth our while, or I’ll see to it that neither the Art Libraries Society nor the Pawnbrokers Association ever do business with this establishment again.”

There was a lengthy pause, the rapid tapping of keys, and frantic whispers.

“What can I for you and your wife, sir?” The same manager was back on the line, talking as though they hadn’t been talking in circles for the past twenty minutes.

“I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!” He snarled an obscenity, then slammed the receiver back in the cradle.

Through her hazy vision and the buzzing in her ears, Belle could vaguely hear the sound of Gold’s voice ranting in the background.

Is this what it felt like to go into shock?

This afternoon Belle had taken his food, and moments ago she had tried to steal his hotel room. It wasn’t the best way to turn the man she was quasi-dating into her boyfriend.

At least he wasn’t angry with her. Yet.

He’d smiled and greeted her like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be snooping around his room. He padded out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel from the waist down, his lean chest wet from the shower and his hair hanging in damp waves around his shoulders. She’d wanted to comb her finger through the those silky brown strands and never stop. Even from six feet away he smelled incredible, like citrus and heather.

Seeing him practically naked with a huge, comfortable bed as a backdrop was one of her wildest fantasies come to life. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak, and she sank into the couch while her brain shut down. By the time she collected herself, he was on the telephone growling in a way that shouldn’t be sexy, and who was he yelling at, anyway? Belle shook her head, her thoughts scattered like dry leaves in an autumn breeze.

Should she leave? Head downstairs to the reception desk herself to straighten out this mess? She looked toward the door, not certain she could walk out of the room without falling over. Thinking better of making an idiot of herself three times in one day, she fumbled through her handbag in search of her phone. Thank God she’d made up with Ruby. Leroy was a darling, but she couldn’t explain any of this to him. But Ruby? She would know what to do.

Belle: You there?

Ruby: Halfway through my third apple pie martini. $5 tonight at the Rabbit Hole. You in NYC yet?

Belle: I’m dying. Not literally, but yeah. Gold and I are at the same hotel in the city. In the same room.

Ruby: Wow!

Belle: So what do I do?

Ruby: I’ll skip over the obvious and go straight to the advice: Jump him.

Belle: ???!!!

Ruby: I mean it. Go for it. You want him. He wants you. This is like a repeat of Granny’s at lunchtime, only you’re alone now so it won’t shock anyone when you start tearing each other’s clothes off and throwing them at the windows.

Belle: He was naked when I got here.

Ruby: Even better.

Belle waited, seeing the little bubbles indicating Ruby was still typing.

Ruby: For you. Not for me.

Belle: Haha. Funny. Yesterday you hated him. Now you want me to go to bed with him. There’s no halfway with you, is there?

Ruby: Nope. What’s the point of dancing around the obvious? The two of you are perfect together. Now go make out and other stuff. I want details later.

“I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!”

Belle dropped her phone to the carpet with a thud at the sound of Gold’s bellow, then scrambled to drop it back in her bag. Ruby had been no help anyway. She stood up and smoothed her clammy hands down the front of her skirt. “What happened?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” Gold combed through his hair with his fingers. It was almost dry now, tousled in soft waves. Belle stared at him in disbelief, waiting for more. The tick in his jaw seemed to speak to her, revealing that he knew more than he was letting on.

“You were on the phone for quite a while.” Laughter burst out of her in a nervous squeak. “Things like this don’t just happen. This is a massive hotel in the middle of Times Square.”

“Indeed.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe that’s precisely how it happened and why. According to the twit of a manager I spoke to, you cancelled your reservation yesterday.”

“What?”

“You’re now registered to my room, under my reservation.”

“What?”

“You already said that.” He rubbed his fingers together, his smile patient. “Some women work under professional names and are married under a different name. Clearly they assumed…”

“They can do that?” She wrung her hands.

“Apparently.” He laced his fingers together behind his head and sighed, the motion parting his robe about the waist to reveal a v-shaped patch of skin. The top three buttons of his pajamas were undone. Her fingers itched to touch his lean, golden muscles, to discover if they were as soft as they looked.

Keep your hands to yourself, Belle. He didn’t want her here; she was in the way. His harsh words on the telephone told her as much. It wasn’t like she expected him to marry her tomorrow, or ever, but they were sort of dating, weren’t they? At the very least they were friends. His anger at the hotel’s assumption that they were married stung like a slap.

“Are you done in the bathroom?” she asked in a small voice.

“I am.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to go in there and die now.”

“Belle, please. Don’t—”

“You’re right; I should leave,” she amended in rush before she had to listen to him ask her to go. “Did they say…is there another room I can move to?”

“There is.” He winced. “Downtown at a partner hotel. It’s in Tribeca.”

“Fine.” Relieved she had a place to go, yet crushed he didn’t want her to stay, she retrieved her shoes from under the desk, then gathered her suitcase and shuffled toward the door.

“Belle, stop. It’s late.”

She paused halfway to the door, but didn’t turn around. “All the more reason for me to be on my way.”

At her back, she felt the warm weight of his hands on her shoulders.

“Please, let’s think this through,” he said, squeezing her shoulders slightly. His breath tickled the back of her neck. She stiffened, bothered by the effect of his hands on her body, and he stepped away. “We’re both here in a professional capacity and there’s no reason we can’t share the room.”

She didn’t reply and he furrowed his brow. “You’re not here for a conference?”

“No, I am.”

“Then you need to stay. You can’t be running to and from downtown to midtown over and over for what, two days?”

She shrugged. “Three, actually, but—”

A knock at the door cut her short. Gold moved around her to answer it, and a young man with nondescript features wheeled a cart into the room. Gold tipped him with a crisp $20 bill and sent him away.

“I’m sorry for the interruption. You were saying?” Gold whisked the cover off a platter of cheeses, crackers and fruit. A bottle of champagne was nestled on ice inside a sterling silver bucket. Belle’s stomach rumbled.

“Nothing.” She extended the handle on her suitcase and started wheeling it toward the door again. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’ll let you get back to your room service.”

“It’s not for me, my dear. It’s for you.” Smiling, he skimmed a stiff sheet of cream stationery, then handed it to her. It was a note from the evening manager addressed to Mrs. French-Gold, expressing the entire management team’s deepest apologies for the inconvenience.

“Groveling, as well they should.” Gold’s nod was sharp. “Mrs. French-Gold indeed. I told them we are furious at this misunderstanding and have considered never working with this hotel again.”

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise, but no sound came out. She wondered if he was more angry about being forced into this situation or at being forced to claim her as his wife. Her shoes began to pinch her toes.

“At least stay and have a drink with me,” he continued, grabbing the handle of her suitcase before she could protest. He placed it in the far corner of the room and threw her a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Then, if you really want to go, I’ll call a taxi and escort you to the other hotel myself.”

She glanced at the elegant cart laden with wedges of brie and roquefort, nuts, dried apricots, grapes and apples. It did look delicious and she was hungry. There was no way Mayor Mills would approve an extravagance like this on her own hotel bill, and she couldn’t afford decadent five-star room service on a small-town librarian’s salary. “You would do that for me?” she asked, unable to keep the irony from her tone.

“Of course I would, Belle.” Hurt flashed on his face.

Her confusion mounted when the inviting gleam in his warm brown eyes turned flat and dull, making her regret her words. He said he wanted her to stay, and despite his rough, angry tone on the telephone, she wanted to be here with him. She bit her lip, considering. As he said, she didn’t have to spend the whole night. How much harm could one drink do?

“I see you’ve come to a decision. Good.” The endearing, lopsided smile that tied her stomach into knots was back. He handed her a champagne flute filled with a bubbling, rose-colored liquid, his warm fingertips brushing hers. “Let’s think of this evening’s events in pleasant terms…more of a surprise date?”

She looked down at her feet in surprise to find she’d already kicked off her pumps.

“All right,” she said, raising the cool crystal to her lips. “I’ll stay.”

Convincing Belle to stay had been harder than he expected, but after her first glass of champagne she seemed to forget all about going to the other hotel. Now she was seated in the middle of the huge bed, legs tucked under her, popping chunks of blue cheese into her mouth and chasing them with gulps of champagne.

A bit of cheese caught on her lip and she frowned, darting after it with the tip of her tongue. Gold settled against the leather desk chair and enjoyed the view. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Since she’d arrived, he hadn’t been able to stop imagining laying her out on the bed. He would peel away her clothes to reveal her sheer black stockings and white lace panties, then kiss his way up and down her body, bringing her pleasure until she begged him to stop.

He was painfully hard from playing his fantasy reel, but common sense prevailed. It was close to midnight and they both had early mornings. He dragged himself toward the bed and lifted one of the pillows she wasn’t leaning against. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, look at the time! You don’t want me here all night.”

Gold tamped down a groan of frustration. She had no idea. But hadn’t he practically tripped over himself begging her to stay? “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You did.” She pouted, her sweet mouth forming a delicate moue he always found annoying on other women, but on Belle…good God, Belle.

“I may be clumsy and awkward and kinda tipsy but I’m not deaf.” She rose up on her knees and jabbed her finger at his chest. “I heard what you said on the phone. When they thought I was your…we were married…you acted like you’d been accused of murder.”

“Belle, no.” He whisked away her empty glass and took her hands. “You have it all wrong. This is just a huge misunderstanding.”

“So you’ve said.” She hiccupped. “I hope you realize I didn’t do this on purpose. Set you up to be in the same room with me.”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he soothed, rubbing her palms with his thumbs.

“And you’re not the one who completely mortified yourself in front of everyone in Storybrooke and Manhattan.” She chewed her lower lip, deepening the color of the flesh to ruby. “I may not have had sex in three years, but I wouldn’t trap you into spending the night with me.” Still kneeling on the bed, she removed her hands from his and put them on her hips. “I have self-respect.”

“Oh, come now, Mrs. Gold,” he teased. “It’s not as dramatic as all that, is it?”

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You really know how to make a girl feel better, don’t you?”

“Well, interpersonal relationships are my speciality.” He started to laugh, but the sound died on his tongue. “But what if I want to?”

“Wanna what?” She pinned him to the spot with those inquisitive blue eyes.

Gold hesitated; he could change the subject. They were both tipsy enough for him to laugh it off, but the words were out there and he didn’t want to take them back. The bottle of champagne they’d consumed together had loosened his inhibitions and he was tired. Tired of holding out, guarding his heart, pretending he didn’t care.

Since he first started spying on her during the movie nights three months ago, all he wanted was to be with Belle French. Now she was here in his hotel room. He would be a complete fool to send her away.

“Spend the night here.” He cleared his throat. “With you.”

She smoothed her hand across the comforter, then met his gaze. “You mean in the same bed?”

“Yes,” he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice. “I don’t mind if we sleep in the same bed. Do you?”

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #a monthly rumbelling #mr. gold x belle french #bedsharing is coming #ruby lucas #meet me in the courtyard #mqc writes

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