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astonmartinii · 7 months

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no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button

the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism

general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x

part one | masterlist | ko-fi

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton

yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x

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user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC

user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation

user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?

user5: idk reeks of babytrapping

user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?

yourbff: debrief needed STAT

yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY

landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?

yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️

landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards

yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?

landonorris: and?

user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?

user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts

user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and theyre silent ?

user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?

jensonbutton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others

jensonbutton: back to see the old rides

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user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE

user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?

user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅

user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....

oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!

jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you

aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament

user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?

user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?

user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?

user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?

user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others

yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch

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user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her

yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning

yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY

yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child

user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business

charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol

yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience

maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV

sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood

mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is

lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf

yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...

charles_leclerc: boring 🥱

alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍

jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex

carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry

yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?

fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?

stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man

user26: wtf is going on here

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others

fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️

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user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?

jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x

user29: i'm sooooo chill about this

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster

sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME

yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour

fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...

yourusername: they don't know that

astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...

maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once

fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?

maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father

lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption

danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM

yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks

charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?

yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others

tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel

yourusername: welcome to the crazy house

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user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?

user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know

georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?

alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon

user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time

user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out

jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together

fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit

sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together

yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport

jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in

danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?

yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic

sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now

jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid

sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(

yourusername: cuddle pile incoming

note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #jenson button instagram au #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #mamma mia au #astonmartinii

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mistydeyes · 7 months

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hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me."

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction.

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

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literaryavenger · 2 months

Text

Not So Bad

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday, but he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. None, really just fluff. No mentions of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1K

A/N: He's my second story for today. Happy birthday, Bucky! Thanks to @ordelixx for the idea and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for read proofing it.

Masterlist

Ever since he’s rejoined society and gained the closest thing he can have to a normal life, being a supersoldier and all, there’s one thing that Bucky can’t bring himself to do: celebrate his birthday.

The more memories he regains, the more he remembers a time where he used to celebrate his birthday with his family and his friends.

Sure, they didn’t have much, but he had his mom and his sister and Steve. It was a simpler yet happier time, and he now all he feels is gloomy.

So every year he treats it like any other day. He trains and goes on missions if he has to, and if he’s in the compound he chills with a book or maybe takes a motorcycle ride, never once even making it known to the rest of the team that it’s his birthday.

“Seriously, Buck? That’s how you’re gonna spend your whole day?” Steve asks Bucky as they walk down the hallway towards their rooms.

“Yes, seriously.” Bucky answers with a roll of his eyes. Every year Steve tries to get Bucky to do something more to celebrate his birthday, but Bucky never budges. “You know damn well what I think about my birthday.”

Steve groans and stops walking, causing Bucky to stop too, and tries one last time before leaving Bucky to his sulking. “I know, but come on! Let’s at least do something together. Let’s celebrate your birthday like we used to, go to Coney Island or something. Don’t spend the day alone!”

“We spend everyday together, Rogers. Sometimes it’s nice to get a break.” Bucky jokes with a smirk before he starts walking again and leaves Steve to chuckle and roll his eyes before he walks to his own room.

What neither of the supersoldiers realized is that they had stopped right in front of your room to talk, just as you were about to walk out. You stopped in your tracks and listened to their conversation.

It’s Bucky’s birthday? How did you not know that? Sure it’s not like you’re the best of friends, but you’re still pretty close. You should’ve known that.

So you decide to do something nice for him today while still respecting his wishes of having a low-key day. You take your purse and jacket and head to the garage, getting into your car and driving towards the city.

Truth is, you’ve always had a crush on the Sergeant. It was hard not to when he looked the way he did, and he was as sweet as Bucky was.

As intimidating as he might look, you knew how shy he could be. He got flustered easily when he got a compliment, and you found him so adorable when he started blushing and stuttering.

You go to the bookstore you know Bucky loves to browse when he is in the city, it’s a small store that’s filled with second hand books. Bucky always said that he loved to give books a second chance, just like he got one after Hydra.

You look through the books until you find the perfect one: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.

The team saw the movie together when it was Steve’s turn to pick, and as you sat next to Bucky you heard him quietly talk with Steve about the details they remembered from reading the book in the 30s.

You go to Bucky’s favorite bakery next and buy two dozen of his favorite cupcakes, and when you see that they sell different colors of candles you have to buy a gold and black one.

You drive back to the compound and, after dropping the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen for the team, you take one, putting the candle on top of it and taking a lighter. You go to Bucky’s room, cupcake in one hand and gift bag in the other, and knock on his door.

“Come in.” Bucky says from inside, thinking it’s Steve coming to bother him again.

You open the door slightly and look inside, seeing him sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard and a book in his hands.

“Am I bothering you?” You ask hesitantly.

“N-no, you’re not. Come in.” Bucky says quickly, closing his book and sitting up straighter.

You open the door completely and enter his room, taking a couple of steps towards him before stopping. “I… I got you something.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a little as he sees the cupcake and the gift bag you’re holding out to him.

“Did Steve tell you?” His eyes narrow a little, and you squirm a little under his gaze and shake your head.

“I overheard you talking about it…” You say quietly, a little embarrassed. “I get that you don’t want a party or anything, but I thought… I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice for you on your birthday…”

You start to second guess yourself as he just looks at you and, just as you’re about to backtrack on your stupid idea and leave him alone, he smiles brightly at you, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the spot next to him.

You sit next to him and you put the bag on his bed so you can light the candle and hold the cupcake out to him with a smile. “Make a wish.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. He knows what he wants to wish for, the thing is he already got his wish: you in his room, sitting with him on his bed. But he makes his wish anyway before blowing out the candle.

He wished for you to be his.

You smile at each other for a moment before you snap yourself out of it, shaking your head a little and picking up his present and giving it to him.

He puts the cupcake on his nightstand as he takes the bag and opens it and you can see his face light up when he sees it as he runs his fingers down the cover before looking at you with a smile. “Thank you, doll.”

You smile back at him and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Happy birthday, Bucky.” You say before getting up and leaving, letting him have his peaceful day of relaxation.

Bucky watches you go with a slight blush, his hand over his cheek where you kissed it and a goofy smile on his face.

Perhaps celebrating his birthday is not such a bad thing after all.

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #avengers x platonic!reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfiction

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01zfan · 3 months

Text

argue with you pt. 2 | s. es

valedictorian!eunseok x debate team leader!reader | 7.3k words

here is the long awaited part two of this :3 had too much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy.

contains: enemies to ??? started from a misunderstanding, sneaking around, hand stuff, protected sex (yasss), slight love confessions.

you have your hand on your doorknob as you contemplate what you’re going to do. the spare keycard to get to eunseok’s room is still in your back pocket. you spent the whole day checking to see if it was actually real. the rest of the competition you would occasionally poke your two fingers into your back pocket, grasping the thin plastic card between your two fingers. you didn’t dare to take it fully out of your pocket until you were able to sneak away to the bathroom.

you gawked at it and flexed it in your hands when you closed yourself in a stall. you were tempted to bite on it like you were testing gold or to hold it up to the light like it was a dollar bill. it felt unreal, you had to check for its authenticity.

the keycard served as proof for the day you had. you would’ve never thought that you would be in this position, fighting every emotion trying to figure out what to do. you couldn’t logically comprehend any emotion with need brewing underneath your skin like a storm.

you wish you could logically break down this situation like you did when you were debating. it was hard to methodically find a solution when you swear you could feel eunseok’s soft and gentle hands on your face. you could feel the faintest outline of his lips on yours as he kissed you so gently. even though your encounter with him was rushed and hasty, you still remember the effort eunseok put in to make sure you were being taken care of. he was the one who reached for your pants first, the one who cleared the table so you could be perched there before him. his hand in your pants had your underwear and slacks working against him but he was still able to make you feel pleasure. that was rare among your selection of men.

it should’ve dawned on you a long time ago that eunseok wasn’t like other guys. he had the charisma and the performance to back his confidence. when other men would rush through the motions sometimes being a little rough, eunseok was so soft with your face as he kissed you. he kissed you like he wanted to remember it, like he had been waiting for it. the skin of his stomach was pulled taut when you touched him underneath his shirt. if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he froze from nervousness. when you stuck your tongue in eunseok’s mouth it suddenly felt like there was a fire brewing underneath his skin. as fast as the encounter began it ended, being cockblocked by the alarm on your phone. unfinished business left your mind reeling. you spent the rest of the day looking at eunseok’s lips—looking at him trying to figure out what was going on.

eunseok gave no indication verbally of what you guys did in the storage room. after leaving the room, it was business as usual with him. he was still cracking jokes at your expense, being his normal chatty self with the other people on the debate team.

physically though it was different. you noticed that eunseok would hesitate to touch you after telling you a joke. his face was getting red more often, to the point that a chaperone asked if he was sick. eunseok was looking down constantly around you. he was constantly averting his gaze when you two made eye contact, a shy look on his face. he stuck near you the rest of the competition though. usually you only saw him before going into the debate room but today you weren’t a part from him until a chaperone came to tell everyone goodnight, reiterating room assignments and rules for the night.

you were giving indications both physically and verbally. you had to be called to action multiple times to snap yourself out of your daydreaming. multiple times it would be eunseok subtly poking your side, or saying something to help you ease back into the conversation you missed. you were grateful that the storage room event happened after the debate, giving yourself an excuse to tell people as to why you seemed so distracted. you told everyone that you were thinking about the deabate and what you could’ve done differently. what was really distracting you was the feeling of eunseok’s body pressed against yours in the cramped room and feeling him pick you up to set you on the table so he could kiss you better. you couldn’t even give the itinerary and debate assignments for the next day without faltering. you had to check the schedule a million times. you ended up having to hand it over to your sponsor while you recounted everything for the thousandth time.

the more you reflected the more your imagination started to wander. you think about all the teasing and touches, how eunseok would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. you think about his guiding hand on the small of your back while you walked through crowds and the way he pulled out a seat for you at the lunch table. you spent so much time declining all of his acts of service, masking it under him wanting to belittle you. you don’t know if the hate you two had for one another was even hate. you think about when eunseok said he had a crush on you.

quickly you can feel yourself getting angry at the situation. how cruel is it to have eunseok pine after you behind teasing and acts of service? you even get angry at the fact that he knew how to irk you down to your soul. there’s no reason you should be thinking about him so much outside of your debates. eunseok shouldn’t having you wondering about him when he’s not around.

you quickly get sick of your mind wandering and letting your imagination run wild. you feel your phone buzz in your other pocket but you ignore it—it’s probably a question that one of the freshmen have. whatever it is, its a problem for tomorrow. you turn your doorknob and exit your room with the goal of not having to wonder about eunseok anymore.

sneaking to eunseok’s room was unbelievably easy. it’s not so much getting caught by the chaperones but moreso accidentally running into someone else on your team. you pass by some rooms and can hear your teammates inside laughing. you tiptoe just to be safe. you curse the room assignments for making your room on the opposite end of eunseok’s.

you stand in front of eunseok’s door, coming to terms with what you’re about to do. you don’t know why you’re so nervous, feeling the same antsy feeling beore you go into a debate. you know it’s stupid to linger in front of his door like this, anyone who comes out of their room would be able to see you. so you try to find that same anger you had in your room as you take your keycard from your back pocket.

the card shakes in your hand and you hesitate for just a second, but you swear you can hear a door in the hall begin to open. you panic and quickly swipe the card, opening the door without a second thought.

you gently close the door, careful not to slam it and draw attention to the room down the hall. you are so focused on getting to eunseok’s room you aren’t sure what to do next once you are inside. the small lamp by the couch is on and so is the light in the bathroom. you curse yourself for choosing the worst possible time to come into his room, of course he’s showering while you stand next to his door like an idiot. the anger you have at yourself is redirected towards eunseok. why would he be showering when he was expecting company? you sit on the armrest of his couch waiting for him to be done.

eunseok actually wasn’t expecting you to show up at all. you could tell by the shocked look on his face when he came out of the shower. you tried your best to seem upset, standing up from the couch to cross your arms. but seeing eunseok come out of the bathroom made your face hot. you had never seen him in such an intimate way, with his hair wet and not in the school or debate uniform. he had you looking down at your feet bashfully without doing a single thing.

eunseok was just as shocked to see you, freezing in place when he saw you quickly get up from the couch. he had spent the better half of an hour waiting on the edge of his bed for you to open his door. he started losing hope and decided to take a shower, devising a plan tomorrow to come up to you and apologize for being too presumptuous. but here you were, in front of him like a dream. eunseok felt his heart do the same thing it did when he saw you debating. he watched you try and be mad but then get shy in his presence.

“came to return my keycard?” eunseok asked.

you looked up from your feet to eunseok smirking at you. the towel he was using to dry his hair rested on his shoulder. you focused on that as you spoke to him, suddenly too nervous to look in his eyes.

“is it true you have a crush on me?” you asked.

now it was eunseok’s turn to look down bashfully. his shyness only lasted for a second before he recovered. eunseok moved his towel off his shoulder to toss it on his bed, like he knew you were focusing on that. you remember telling him when you first started debating you would look at things close to the persons face if you were too nervous to look in their eyes. now that the towel was gone you were forced to go over all of eunseok’s features trying to find something to stare at. you were failing miserably at not getting nervous looking at him, everything about his face had heat creeping over your body. you are sure you’re close to sweating in front of eunseok, your cold demeanor falling apart right in front of you.

“had. but yeah.” eunseok says. he looks to the digital clock beside his bed. “it’s 9:30. lights out was at 8:30.”

eunseok has to shrug to hide the fact that his heart is about to explode in his ribcage. he has to change the topic because if he talks too much about his very current crush on you he might burst into flames. he hopes that using a time constraint upsets you the same way it does when you receive a time warning in the middle of your presentations.

eunseok is glad that you latch to the ladder of his sentence. if you focus on him trying to boss you around maybe he can avoid the topic of crushes all together.

“if you wanted me here at 8:30 you should’ve told me. you just said lights out at 8:30 then left.” you reason.

seeing eunseok smile at you made you even more indignant. you were compelled to yell at him from across the room, but the thought of your team finding out where you were made your stomach flip. so you settled for looking at eunseok with wide eyes.

the harsh words in your throat die as you look into eunseok’s eyes.

“don’t look at me like that.” you said.

eunseok tilts his head slightly before a smirk creeps across his face. you had lost the mini debate to him and he has to cash in on your bashfulness quickly.

“are you gonna come over here and do something about it?” eunseok asks.

after eunseok speaks he mimics your pose. you want to wipe the smug look off his face, so you lure him in first. you take slow steps towards eunseok, bringing out your final reserves of confidence. you come up to him, locking your hands behind his neck. you look up to him, giving him the look you practiced in your mirror before coming to his room.

you can’t deny that eunseok looks attractive from this angle. the way your biceps rest in the junction of his neck and shoulder makes him look strong. there’s something about the amusement in eunseok’s eyes and the way his lips move to reveal his smile that has you gawking at him. he looks down at you from his wet bangs and uses a hand to unsuccessfully push them away. his other hand rests on the dip of your hip. you have to get on your tip toes to whisper in his ear and his hand moves to the small of your back to hold you up.

“how long have you had a crush on me?” you whisper into his ear.

when you pull away from eunseok he doesn’t look shocked. you efforts to have him speechless doesn’t work. it seems like he’s not embarrassed to tell you the truth, having to only think for a second before he answers you.

“since freshman year,” eunseok says.

you curse eunseok for his ability to always leave you speechless. very rarely did you have nothing to say, but the way he talked sometimes left you wide mouthed with no words coming out. it’s similar to when eunseok would just shrug off counter arguments, continuing his debate like he didn’t have a care in the world.

you’re lucky eunseok goes to your neck to to press fervent kisses so he couldn’t see your face. “so cute and smart. never met anyone as smart as you.” he says in between the kisses.

in any other instance eunseok would’ve been embarrassed to confess such a thing to you. but his mouth is running by being in your proximity. he’s drunk off your scent and the way your hot skin feels against his lips. eunseok is just lucky that he is preoccupied with fighting the urge to leave marks on your neck. if he kept talking he would’ve told you about all the strings he tried to pull to be in a class with you. you had him bargaining with the principal of your school to put the two of you in a lecture together. if eunseok kept talking he would’ve told you about the sleepless nights he had studying for class, trying to outperform you. eunseok wanted to tell you how lucky he was that you chose to focus on debate, because if you hadn’t you would’ve easily become valedictorian.

“you’re smarter,” you sigh contently when he kisses a spot below your ear. “you’re literally vald—right there, eunseok.”

you bump into the corner of the bed frame trying to find a place to sit. your hand fails to find the bed behind you. you blame your lack of depth perception on the way eunseok has to hunch over to kiss your neck. you also blame eunseok’s hair for being too soft that you can’t bring your hand from his head. it doesn’t take long for eunseok to take the initiaive, using the same hand that guided you through crowds of people to guide your body to the comfiest spot on the bed.

you use the hand on the back of eunseok’s head to guide him closer to your neck. it’s awfully hard to argue with him pressed against you like this. one of eunseok’s hands on the small of your back is warm against the skin underneath your shirt. the other hand touches the side of your face he isn’t kissing. everything is rushing to your head. you would’ve never thought eunseok was such a good listener, kissing right where you asked him to. he kisses the same way he debates, slow and purposeful. eunseok pronounces the end of each kiss the same way he presents the affirmative, filling the room with the sound of contact. you take all of his kisses like a champ, running your hands through his hair and on his back.

“you brought your turtleneck right?” eunseok murmurs into your skin.

he doesn’t bother to wait for an answer as he places burning kisses to your neck.

“you can leave a mark,” you say softly. you realized how sweet you sounded so you cleared your throat and leaned your head back. “you should’ve told me sooner.”

eunseok murmurs into your skin as he lightly sucks on newly exposed skin. eunseok thought this whole time he was telling you through the doting and gentle teasing. he thought he told you through him begging the sponsor to make him your debate partner. he studied debate every night, hoping a medal would put him in your good graces. it was a plus that he came to like debate and your team. eunseok initially was joining the debate team with the goal of only being average at his best. but if winning meant eunseok could kiss your neck on scratchy sheets in crappy hotels he would gladly study debate for the rest of his life.

“wow. that’s nice.” eunseok hears you sigh as he lightly grazes your skin with his teeth.

eunseok wishes you knew the effect you had on him. every sigh and clench at his shirt has eunseok twitching in his pants. unfortunately, he wasn’t good with words like you were so eunseok had to behave like a caveman and show you with actions. so eunseok lets a hand trail down your face, tracing the outline of your neck before he settles over your breast. he keeps his hand there, not applying any pressure and he looks up at you from your neck. you’ve leaned back even further now, having to use a hand to keep yourself up. you’re arching your back into his touch and wrinkling eunseok’s poor shirt with the vice grip you have on it. you have closed your eyes a long time ago, trying to enhance the feeling of eunseok surrounding you.

eunseok’s dick is heavy against his leg, aching to be free while he looks up at you. you continue to arch your back into his hand and move around, trying to give eunseok silent cues to play with your chest. he silently watches you body react to his in awe before going back to gently kissing your neck.

“this alright?” eunseok says, smiling into your skin.

eunseok notices that your stubborn attitude washes away when pleasure is at stake. you obediently nod your head at his questions and arch more into his hand. eunseok still doesn’t squeeze, waiting to see what you will do if he doesn’t give you what you clearly want.

“what are you waiting for?” you ask.

you try to sound demanding but your breathy voice only makes you sound cute and desperate to eunseok. he twitches in his pants again. eunseok is so sensitive that he’s starting to feel pleasure through him straining against the fabric of his pants. he’s sure that if you keep on talking to him he’ll end up cumming before you can even touch him.

“well i just thought since you love telling me what to do so much…” he starts.

before eunseok can finish his sentence you scoff at him. he continues to look up at you through his bangs, feigning innocence. eunseok is clearly challenging you thinking you won’t rise to the occasion. you decide to remind him what he asked you to come to his hotel room for. you watch the look on eunseok’s face change as you start messing with your belt. he looks at your hands as you make quick work of the belt, throwing it to the side of the bed. you slowly bring up one of your legs to perch on the edge of the bed, while you bring the other one to lay on top of eunseok’s leg. you lean back on both arms, reveling in how shocked he looks. you were able to break his stoic expression.

“finish what you started.” you say simply.

eunseok looks to your center only for a second before making a move. he immediately goes to the button of your pants and brings down the zipper. he doesn’t bother to pull your pants down before sticking his hand in your underwear. it’s just like in the storage room, you gasping at his impatience. you are amazed at his ability to find your clit so quickly. it causes you to grip the bedsheets and spread your perched leg to give eunseok more access.

eunseok circles your clit for a moment before he pinches it in his fingers. he’s basically torturing you, rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between his index finger and thumb. eunseok goes back to sucking on your neck as you whimper from the stimulation thinly veiled with pain.

“you like when i do this to you?” eunseok asks into your neck. “when i get you off?”

you nod your head and bite your lip. you bring yourself up at a weird angle so you can rest your face in the crook of eunseok’s neck. you become frenzied as the smell of the soap he brought from home fills your nostrils. you start kissing eunseok’s neck and sucking, leaving marks of your own.

“i need more.” you whined into his skin.

“tell me what you need. boss me around baby.” eunseok says.

his words are submissive but his smile is teasing and domineering. eunseok’s fingers also tease you. they no longer pinch your clit but instead run between your folds. you can hear the low sound of slick between your folds, you think eunseok circles you slower so the sounds can be prolonged . you try not to read to much into everything, like how excited he is to please you, or how your body is responding to eunseok. you tell yourself it’s his skillful hands making you so wet and not the fact that it’s eunseok touching you.

“put a finger in. please.” you say into his neck.

eunseok backs away from you, forcing you away from his neck. he bends his head down slightly so he can see your face. you look into his eyes, emphasize the phrase had a crush over and over as you can feel him twitching against your thigh. when eunseok puts his finger in, you can see him feeding off your pleasure. you can practically see eunseok getting hornier by the heavy sighs he lets out as you whimper from his finger.

he’s slow with his finger at first, easing it in and out of you slowly. you coat his hand and eunseok wants to taste you, but he stops himself. he sets his goal on your pleasure and your pleasure alone. if he’s the best you ever had you would come back for seconds. if eunseok got the chance to have you in his bed again, then he’d let himself be selfish. but right now, it was about driving you crazy. so eunseok puts his hand on the other side of your face to turn your head. eunseok sees your half lidded state of bliss and brings you into a kiss. he takes it upon himself to put in another finger, sliding his tongue into your mouth when you open it wider.

you moan into the kiss and eunseok eats it, humming in agreement. you have him hot and bothered too, evident in the precum seeping through his basketball shorts.

when you start grinding your hand against eunseok’s hand you start becoming frantic. you find yourself in a desperate state to bring eunseok pleasure too. your hand moves on it’s own accord to place it over eunseok’s clothed dick.

“fuck.” eunseok says into your mouth.

you have never heard the boy beside you cuss before, even in the most stressful situations. when you would lose your cool during a debate, you would be whispering expletives under your breath while eunseok laughed. you never understood why he found such amusement in you cursing until now. you clamped your hand around his length, wanting to hear him curse some more.

eunseok puts in another finger in response to you touching him. he wants to tease you some more, ask you to boss him around until you cum. eunseok knows that if he speak it will be broken into moans and whimpers, influences by your hand that’s almost wrapped around his dick. it gets to be too much when you slip your hand underneath the waistband of his shorts.

you grasp him in your hand and eunseok pulses. he’’ll fall against you soon and cum in your hand if you keep it up. eunseok tries to take a deep breath in, something to stop himself from cumming. but once you give him two strokes he’s pulling your hand from his pants. you open your eyes to look at him in confusion. the hazy look you hve in your eyes almost sends him over the edge.

eunseok doesn’t tell you why he made you stop. he jut uses the hand not inside of you to gently push your lower body down, until your back in resting on the bed. you continue to grind, the bottom of his palm stimulating your clit. you forget about him denying a handjob while you chase your own release.

eunseok is propped up on his elbow as he watched your body react to him. he could see your stomach muscles flexing to activate your hips against his hand. your heart rate and breathing increases in pace. eunseok watched your chest was heave and the outline of your bra pushes against your button up. through the strained buttons he can see the exposed skin of your chest. eunseok increases the pace and you dig nails into the skin of his shoulder—the only part of his body you can reach.

he secretly loves the pain, seeing you be rough with him makes his dick unbearably hard. eunseok almost starts humping your leg that’s pressed against him. he knows you can feel his hardened length against your thigh. you start using your shaking hand that’s not gripping eunseok to shastily push your pants down. you lift your hips and eunseok’s helps you immediately, pulling your underwear and panties down in one go.

“i’m close.” you say to the ceiling.

you finished kicking your pants off and you can hear them thud against the. ground. you had nothing holding you back from spreading your legs even further and bending both knees. eunseok uses a free hand to rub on your legs, caressing the soft skin.

“come for me,” eunseok groans. you let out your loudest whimper at the sound of his voice “come all over my fingers.”

eunseok watches you from his shoulder as you come undone around him. it’s an orgasm that makes you arch off the bed and scratch down his arm. eunseok has heard you say his name a million times during this debate season. you would say it in times of distress and annoyance, say his name cheerfully when you won a debate. but the way you said his name now, repeating it like a mantra was something he never heard before. he looked at the outline of your lips as you repeated his name, hoping to engrave the image in his mind forever. he wants to tell you to keep going—to keep saying his name— but he doesn’t want to pull you out of your current state. you don’t stop saying his name and eunseok deosn’t stop his hand, picking up his speed as he continues to watch you.

eunseok doesn’t take out his fingers until his name turns into whimpers and your moans turn into cries. he slows down at first, to let you regain your bearings.

when you open your eyes to look at eunseok he withdraws his hand. eunseok’s eyes are blown out as he continues to tease you.

as you come down from your high, you’re too aware of the fact that eunseok brought you to euphoria while watching the whole thing. you suddenly think about if the face you made while cumming was attractive, or if it disgusted eunseok. you are still embarrassed thinking about eunseok pushing your hand away and you tried to give him a handjob. were your hands not skilled enough in the storage closet?

he continued to stare at you and you felt heat creeping over your face. you looked at your button up eunseok’s clothes. you weren’t sure how to segway into the next part of the night, if he still wanted you.

“should i get undressed?” you ask.

“only if you want to.” eunseok says.

you stand up from the bed quickly, standing in front of eunseok. not being in his proximity helps too, feeling his hand on you causes everything to get fuzzy.

eunseok gives you no comfort, leaning back on the bed with his elbows propping himself up. the way eunseok looks you up and down eases your mind. he says nothing but lets you know the attraction is still there by looking at you with a hunger you’ve never seen.

he silently pushes himself off the bed to come to you. eunseok looks down at you with adoration, working slowly on each button. you don’t know what to do under his gaze, uncharacteristically tender. his fingers smell like you and are still wet against your skin as he gets your top button.

“so beautiful.” eunseok says.

he doesn’t murmur or whisper underneath his breath anymore. he makes sure you can hear him loud and clear. you shake your head as he undoes another button.

“i mean it. so beautiful i don’t know what to do about it.” eunseok laughs.

“just keep touching me.” you say.

eunseok works on another button.

“you’re the most beautiful when you debate. you know that, right?” eunseok asks. “the determined look on your face. your confidence. you almost make me forget what i’m supposed to say.”

eunseok’s eyes are trained on your buttons, trying to undo the rest of them. he can’t bring himself to look directly at your bare skin just yet, afraid he might combust if he does. you put your hands on top of his so he doesn’t stop.

“i don’t believe you.” you whisper.

“why not?” eunseok looks at you.

he has only one button left on your shirt.

“no one has ever told me that before.” you say.

you look at his hands on your last button. eunseok uses his fingers that smell like you to tilt your head upwards. he holds the contact with you.

“so just because no one has told you before it’s not true? that sounds like a fallacy to me.” eunseok says with a smirk.

you roll your eyes at him, knowing it’s true. you wonder what else about eunseok thinks about you as he undoes the final button. he gently takes you out of your button up, tossing it onto the couch. eunseok uses a single hand to take his shirt off as well.

you both stare at the other. you knew eunseok had a good body, something your school and debate uniforms tried to hid. but you got quick peaks of his body when he’d stretch his upper half and his shirt would lift a little higher. you always felt like someone from the middle ages each time you got the chance to see eunseok in gym clothes.

he seemed to think the same about your body, the way he was raking over all your features. he stops on your bra, his hand going to the strap. eunseok looks into your eyes before pulling it back. you maintain eye contact as he lets the strap go, letting it snap against your skin.

“i can’t believe i get to see you like this.” eunseok says.

he lets the strap snap against your skin again and you do the same with his basketball shorts.

“can you take them off?” you ask.

eunseok nods and reaches for his pants the same time you reach for the back of your bra.

you both reveal your bare bodies at the same time. you let your bra fall in the space between you two and eunseok steps out of his basketball shorts. you can see a large wet spot in his basketball shorts. you will have to bring that up at a different time. maybe if you whisper in his ear that you know he came in his pants fingering you, you could see a blush dust across his cheeks.

“wow.” eunseok says looking at your chest.

you share the same sentiment, watching his hard dick bob up and down in the air. you forgot you never got the chance to see his dick before now. it was bigger than you thought. of course eunseok would have a big dick, and of course he knew it too.

you bring his hand up to finally squeeze your chest. eunseok takes your breasts into his hands immediately. he’s fascinated by your supple skin and the way it spills into his hands. you grab his dick, happy that he will finally let your touch him. you already start jerk

you two stand there for awhile, just feeling the other up. your free hand roams the expanse of his chest.

“do you have a condom?” you ask, looking up to him. eunseok still has his eyes on your chest as he nods.

“in my bag.” he murmurs.

you both continue to touch eachother while eunseok leads you to his backpack.

“did you plan this?” you ask.

eunseok shakes his head and laughs while opening his bag.

“i’m just always prepared.” eunseok pulls out the foil packet.

eunseok holds the packet in his hand before picking you up. he lifts you with ease, and you can feel the excitement overtake your body.

eunseok carries you to the bed and sets you down. you crawl towards the headrest as eunseok follows you. he looks at you like he’s going to eat you for dinner, his lips kissing whatever body part he can reach. eunseok kisses your thighs and stomach, your hand and chest. you can feel his dick against your thigh when eunseok breaks apart from you to kiss your shoulders.

eunseok’s lips travel down your body to your chest. he looks up at you only for a second before he takes your nipple in his mouth. you can’t stop yourself from fisting his hair and arching your back into him.

“oh my god.” you whine.

he sucks harshly, only letting go with a lewd pop to move to the other one. you let your head fall back against the headrest as you continue to pet his head.

with eunseok above you like this you start to get self conscious. the position is intimate, too intimate for the whatever is going on between you and him. if he were to fuck you in this position, you wouldn’t be able to look at anything but him. you imagine eunseok panting into your neck, whimpering in your ear as he cums inside of you, or him pulling away to look into your eyes as you finish. you wouldn’t be able to keep any developing feelings at bay in that situation. even now you were holding back an “i like you” as he sucked on your chest. eunseok breaks apart from your chest and begins to crawl above you. when he puts his hand beside your head you close your eyes.

“can i be on top?” you say abruptly.

eunseok stops moving to look down at you. he’s taken aback from your offer, when you open your eyes eunseok is sure you can see his wide eyed expression. he want’s nothing more than to fuck you in missionary, so he can whisper in your ear about how good you make him feel. but he will to do everything to make you comfortable so he nods his head and moves backwards on the bed.

“do your thing.” eunseok says.

you get up from the bed and switch positions with eunseok. the trade is a little awkward, but eunseok’s hands on your hips light a new fire inside of you. you slowly adjust so you can straddle his lap. you take eunseok into your hands and he lets out a tiny hiss from the contact.

“can you take it all?” eunseok asks from his spot on the bed.

his hands move to rest behind his head as he watched you line his dick up with your entrance. he was enjoying his private show, eyes stuck on your furrowed eyebrows.

“you look so determined.” eunseok giggles as you slowly sink down.

when his tip pushes into you, you gasp. between the look on your face and how tight you are eunseok is already close to losing it.

“you got it.” eunseok says encouragingly.

he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from groaning as you slowly sink down on him. he offers his hands for support and you take them instantly, holding them firmly.

when you take all of him you have to put your hands on his chest to collect yourself. you feel so full, even with the condom on you can still feel his veins pulsing against you. you try to move but you gasp instead. you still have to adjust to his size.

“take your time.” eunseok says.

you nod before raising your hips slightly and dropping down. even though you didn’t raise yourself all the way up eunseok is still shaking underneath you, summoning all of his self control to not cum then and there.

“so deep.” you whine.

“i know. i know.” eunseok whines with you.

eunseok looks into your eyes as you continue to bounce on him. you plant your feet on the bed to get more mobility and eunseok has to close his eyes for a second. it’s all so overwhelming, seeing you on top of him chase your pleasure.

“your dick is so nice.” you moan.

“your pussy is tight and perfect.” eunseok says.

eunseok finally opens his eyes again as you come back down on him.he concludes that he will never get used to this view, your chest bouncing in tandem with your hips. he kneads your chest with one hand and puts his other hand on your lower stomach. you can’t help but moan at the contact. in this state, eunseok touching you is like gasoline and the flint. you are about to explode on top of him his voice sounds far off as he speaks, to focused on your body. his eyes flicker between you and your hips, mesmerized by how you take him completely each time.

“you gonna let me hit it every competition, baby?” eunseok asks.

he starts bucking up into you in between you sinking down on him. eunseok holds onto your ankle to help stabilize the both of you. he grunts with each thrust, skin against skin fills your room.

“if you ask nicely.” you moan.

you didn’t completely give up trying to be dominant. having eunseok fuck you into submission was something you needed carnally, though. you imagined future debates of him sneaking into your room and whittling down his dominance until he was begging you for relief. you had to hold back a loud cry by biting your lip.

“lets go all the way to the finals then.” eunseok laughs.

you can’t say anything without moaning so you just nod your head rapidly. eunseok brings his upper body up to meet yours, bringing you into an embrace. you keep your hips fixed in place so eunseok can fuck into you with vigor. the new angle makes him hit deep inside of you, so deep that you scratch his back in surprise.

“oh my god.” you whimper.

“i know, i know. you gonna cum for me again, right?”

eunseok goes back to kissing your neck. he uses his strength to guide your hips into his. you’re losing yourself in him again, feeling that euphoria hurtle towards you.

“i am. i am.” you whine.

you can’t stay still any longer, beginning to bounce on him again. eunseok looks up from your sweaty chest and harshly guides you up and down on his pulsing dick.

“i’m close too baby.” eunseok groans.

the sound of slapping skin is ceased as you both cum at the same time. you clench around eunseok’s dick, milking him for all he’s worth. eunseok can feel himself empty into his condom, moaning your name for everyone in the hall to hear. you pull him into a hug, his face pressing into your chest. eunseok squeezes you back. you both unknowingly match heartbeats and breathing tempo as you come down. you still hold on to the other, refusing to let go.

after the heat of the moment died down, you two are left with eunseok’s confession. you have one of your own you want to share, but the thought of revealing something so intimate while you don’t have any clothes on and while eunseok’s dick is still inside of you is mortifying. so you look down at eunseok hoping that he will tell you a joke to break the tension. when you look down you can see the cum leaking from his condom and dripping on the bed. you feel dizzy at the sight.

you don’t let the situation linger for too long before getting up from eunseok’s bed. he stays in the sitting up position. he ties off the condom as he watches you move through his room, putting your clothes on.

“stay a little longer? wonbin found a way to make the vending machine give us extra snacks.” eunseok says.

you ignore him as you pull your panties up, giving eunseok a full view of you bent over. eunseok prays that you let him see you like that next debate. since he knows you won’t say anything back to him he settles for watching you move across his room like a dream.

you get dressed unbelievably fast, not looking back at eunseok on the bed. if you look back again you’ll be too tempted to stay. so you look towards the door, focused on getting out before you confess too.

eunseok gets up from the bed. he quickly wrapping the towel around his lower half before walking to stand behind you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and turns you around.

“do you mean what you said? about the next debate?” eunseok says.

his heart builds itself up preparing to be disappointed. you were the type to only say things you meant, but eunseok didn’t know if that held true in moments of passion. he is over the moon when you nod your head in confirmation. you saying yes gives him the confidence to keep going.

“and what if we win nationals?”

the open ended questions could garner any response from you, but there’s one eunseok wishes to hear. the thought of winning nationals seems so unrealistic you have to tilt your head and think about what you would do in the hypothetical situation. after mulling it over you laugh and bring a hand to gently tap on eunseok’s cheek.

“if we win nationals i would seriously consider dating you.” you say.

you laugh while saying it, but eunseok takes you seriously. he is silenced as you look through the peephole of his door. you don’t notice eunseok has become frozen as you open his door, walking into the hallway. eunseok isn’t pulled from his state until you awkwardly wave goodbye to him.

“bring your a game tomorrow.” you whisper.

“i will.” eunseok says after you close the door.

he means it completely. eunseok decides then and there that he will get you a gold medal at finals even if it kills him.

#requestz #01zfan: eunseok #seriez: argue with you #eunseok smut #riize smut

542 notes · View notes

dtrghost · 11 months

Note

please.....one shot of flirty ghost with fem!reader...

flirty ghost... 😫

thank you for the request!!

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x bartender fem!reader

synopsis: Price invites the team out to a night at a renowned club in London after a job well done. Team 141 watches in surprise as Simon flirts with the hot bartender ;). I made simon rich, because I find rich guys hot, so yeah. a bit sub!ghost because he'd do anything for a girl like you.

warnings: allusions to smut (dirty ghost), flirty (probably ooc) ghost, alcohol, pining, hints at sex and arousal, etc.

part 2

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

(gif's not mine)

The strong reek of alcohol brought a sigh of relief to the team, watching a variety of people mingle and chat as they maneuvered through the crowd. Team 141 had a rough month filled with death, pain, and shitty drinks which consisted of mostly tap water or anything else they could find that wouldn't kill them. So as a treat for their success, their Captain suggested a night out in London, more specifically in a bar that he had visited with Laswell and some colleagues in the past.

"Alright gentlemen. This isn't your average pub so, behave will ya. I'm not draggin' your arses outta here tonight." He spoke, adjusting his button up shirt with a look shot at Johnny who gave him a mock offended look. Simon rolled his eyes, looking around and ignoring the weird glances at him for the mask he wore. He didn't see the point. He'd much rather drink whiskey on his couch with a shit black and white film rather than waste his money on unnecessarily expensive drinks that'll taste just the same.

But he was there, and he was dying for the liquid gold of a nice drink after the hell he endured for the last month. He strayed from the group, making his way to the bar and taking a seat. His eyes scanned over the brands on display behind the counter.

"Fuckin' hell." He muttered to himself, catching the attention of the bartender who just chuckled. A shiver ran up his spine from the sound as a woman appeared in front of him.

"Take it this is your first time, haven't seen you around before." You started, his eyes widening slightly at you. Your voice was smooth, he thought. Your American accent differed from the various European ones that flooded the room around him.

You took his appearance in with a slight raise of your eyebrow. He wore a black button up that hugged his muscular and beefy frame, the fabric straining as his arms tensed. You noticed the dog tags that hung out as he leaned on the counter, his face entirely covered by the skull mask he wore.

"Yeah, first time." You hummed, gesturing back to the bottles behind you. You glanced behind him, watching as other men that you recognized as regulars seemed to divert their usual tactics away from you tonight, focusing on other women around who'd leave them high and dry all the same. It didn't surprise you, the sheer size of the man in front of you was enough to intimidate anyone. Nobody sat next to him, his presence practically demanding his own space as others squeezed in between people two seats away on both sides to avoid being next to him.

"What can I get for you..." You trailed off, gesturing for a name to put to his masked face. He was usually cautious about who he gave his name to, years of paranoia to thank for that. But this was just one night, and he'd like never see you again.

Damn it to hell.

"Simon. Simon Riley. I'll take the Macallan, the bottle and a glass with no ice." Your eyebrows jumped in surprise, looking at him a bit unsure about how much military made in general. You only had one bottle of Macallan whiskey that night, and it was not cheap.

"Uhh.. that's Macallan No.6. £6,000."

"I know my whiskey love. If you will. You can close my tab too, s'all I want." He slid you his card, and you huffed, grabbing the full bottle and ringing him up. You half expected his card to decline, and when it didn't you were still impressed, sliding the bottle to him with his requested cup.

"Thanks sweetheart. What brings an American girl like yourself to downtown London?" He pondered, relishing the sound of your resonant laugh and the flow of your movements as you took cups and passed refills to other customers.

"I attend the University of London for biomedical engineering." You listened to his low whistle as he took a sip of his drink, sighing in relief at the burning sensation sliding down his throat. You caught sight of his plump, soft lips before he pulled his mask down again, only adding to your attraction to him.

"Pretty and smart. Lucky lad whoever he is." This wasn't your first rodeo, and it wasn't the first time someone attempted to smooth talk you while you worked, but for a voice like his you were more than happy to entertain. You liked his deep baritones, the rasp that accompanied certain words, and how delicious his accent was.

"As if. Nobody's hit the standard for that yet." He hummed approvingly. He liked women who wouldn't settle for anything less than what they wanted, and it made you that much more attractive to him, and made him want you to himself even more, though he was sure he wasn't the only one that wanted that too.

"I never got your name love." You swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat as you forced your heart to stop skipping beats from the pet name. It's not like it was the first time someone called you that, you'd heard it at least 20 times since you opened, but from his lips, his voice gracing your ears, you wish he'd call you that every day. You put on your game face, willing yourself to not be so easy.

"Well, you haven't done anything to earn it so, no dice." He almost groaned, loving the sultry, unimpressed eyes that gazed into his with an aura of confidence that would crush any mediocre man that dared to try his luck with you.

"Name your price, I like a good challenge anyway." He listened to your 'hm', your hands meeting as you twisted your rings around your fingers in thought. He took a second to truly capture your image. The simple yet elegant black blazer that, even though buttoned, revealed a deep V down your chest with a nice view of your cleavage in the center. You'd been there since your freshman year, the owner liked you, the customers liked you, so you got away with a lot, including small breaks in dress code.

You looked expensive, you smelled expensive, and fuck was it the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He loved the light reflecting off the jewelry that decorated your skin, from the multiple piercings on your ears to the thick, steel bands that wrapped around your fingers. You were beautiful, brilliant, and he knew he'd be willing to do anything for another night with you.

"Since you've been nice to me tonight, I'll make it a bit easier. Come back tomorrow with a planned date, dinner preferably. Keep it simple and classy. This is a test, I have expectations that I'm not going to inform you of but they all fall under typical date etiquette. Fail to meet any of them and well, no name for you." For any other woman he'd think they were being outrageous, a full date without knowing their name? Like hell he'd do something like that. But for you? To hear your voice, to be graced with your presence, to know your name, fuck he'd take you on as many dates as you want.

"Deal pretty girl, you'll have the best night of your life." He shifted in his seat at the way your chin jutted upwards for a moment, snickering with a pleased look before you went back to your job. He watched you the entire time, switching from whiskey to water after unconsciously refilling his glass with the bottle in his hand which he ended up moving to the unoccupied seat next to him. He wanted to sober up enough so he wouldn't forget tonight, so he wouldn't forget you.

"Looks like your buddies are cheering you on over there." You noted with a small smile, gesturing to the group of guys wiggling their eyebrows at him with quiet cheers and fists in the air.

"Fuckin' hell."

"Hey it's cute. I'm assuming you're not the flirty type with them huh." You teased. He watched as you popped a quick ice cube in your mouth, sighing in relief as the bar slowly emptied, leaving just the two of them and his team a few seats down. He had to stop himself from thinking about how it'd feel with your tongue and ice against his hot, throbbing cock. How pretty you'd look on your knees, water and spit running down the sides of your mouth as you struggled to take all of his length. He rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before glancing back at them.

"Definitely not. Those fuckers never know when to lay off." You laughed quietly, your hand instinctively covering your mouth as you looked down. He couldn't help himself, reaching over and lifting your head up by your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your smooth skin. You looked surprised by his gesture, the look of self-assurance in his advances clear in his amber eyes as they lazily peered into yours.

"Don't hide that beautiful smile of yours lovie. Wanna see it as much as I can before I leave." You couldn't help the wide grin that spread across your lips, watching his eyes crease which signaled that he was a smily as you were.

"Yeah? And when do I get to see yours huh? I'm oh so curious to know what the dark and edgy skull face looks like under the mask."

"I guess you'll just have to find out after our dinner won't you sweetheart."

"Oi! Ghost ain't layin' it on too much there is he lass?" Soap interrupted, nearly shouting from his place at the bar and directing the attention of the last few people who stuck around to him.

"That's enough from you sergeant." Ghost spat, downing the rest of his water with a glare sent his way. Johnny shrunk slightly from the heat of the look, drinking the rest of his beer as Price chuckled at the both of them.

"Sergeant huh. What're you then? Seems like you give orders often. My kinda guy." You flirted, taking his glass away and putting them with the rest.

"Lieutenant. If you like orders I'm more than willing to give some to you." The wink he sent you made you brain dead enough to stumble, him quickly to stead you with his hands reaching to catch your arms as you steadied yourself against the bar counter. You huffed and stood up straight, adjusting your outfit.

"Game on playboy." You grumbled, eyes flickering to his smug ones as the team made their way over.

"Making a girl fall Ghost? Not very nice of you." Price countered, giving his subordinate a disapproving shake of his head as Simon rolled his eyes.

"I know right. Careful Casper, might get it with one of your friends instead of you don't play nice." You glanced at Johnny and Kyle who were then turning red at your look, proving that they were just as attracted to you as he was.

"If you're looking for an.... unsatisfied night then by all means, have your way with em. Especially that one." He jabbed his finger at Johnny who was too out of it to comprehend what he'd just said about him, Kyle following the same road as they leaned on each other for support. You hummed, grabbing his face with your hand under his chin and pulling his closer to you, much to everyone's surprise as his eyes blew open.

"And you're confident you can.. 'satisfy" me Simon?" You pressed, your grip on his face tightening. He didn't respond, he couldn't, the look in your eyes pulled him in. The challenge and condescending tone, the lust. The daring nature of you was captivating, it took his breath away. It made his brain go numb in the moment, much like you expected it to.

"I guess we'll see then huh, pretty boy." With that you pushed his head to the side, and he felt his bulge pressing against his pants as he took a deep breath in, recovering from the blow to his ego and the wave of arousal traveling down to his painfully hard dick.

"Bar's closed. I'll see you tomorrow Simon. Make sure you can actually get it up, I'd hate to be disappointed." He scoffed, gaining his sense of dominance and confidence back before standing up with his bottle and revealing the height that added on to his monstrous size. Your breath hitched as he leaned over the counter, the smell of whiskey and expensive cologne invading your senses as his breath fanned over your skin from his mask.

"I wouldn't worry about me love. Might wanna call off from work after what I do to you." You couldn't help but press your legs together a bit at the clench of your pussy at his words, feeling yourself grow wet from his voice as you clasped your hands behind your back. You both glanced down at your action, the tension almost too much for you to handle, letting out a breath you were holding as he leaned back and away from you.

"I'm counting on it. I need a few days off anyway." You responded as nonchalant as you could, though you could see the smirk behind his mask at the small shake in your voice.

"I'll be back tomorrow pretty girl. Be a good girl for me and get ready."

...

Son of a bitch.

And that's it!! I wanna be a hot bartender and flirt with a hot military guy with a deep voice and British accent... anyway. Thank you for the request!! It was a joy to write it!!

@kaicubus

#fanfic #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #oneshot #team 141

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comradeghosty · 5 months

Text

Would My Lady Like to Dance? (NSFW)

NSFW Zoro x reader fic

Summary:

You are on a secret mission with some of the Strawhats to get some important documents. Things go awry and you find yourself hiding with Zoro.

Tags: nsfw, jealous Zoro, PWP, rough sex, light BDSM themes, hair pulling, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise, possessive behavior, biting, a bit of blood, regency/ballroom attire

!!! 18+ !!!

I also posted it on AO3

The mission was simple enough: infiltrate the ball, find the documents, and get out. For some reason Nami needed these Grandline maps and you were definitely not about to argue with her. The plan was for you to dress up and pretend like you were a guest. Everybody had their own separate role to fill, so you split up into teams to prepare yourselves. Since you were dressing up as a guest, you worked with Nami to get a costume and go over all of the correct proceedings so you wouldn’t stand out. By the time you were done, you were a proper lady. All of you had to arrive separately to not arouse suspicion, so when you got to the ball, you tried to look around inconspicuously to find your crew.

The first person you saw was Robin. She was dressed plainly and playing the violin in the live orchestra. You saw Sanji running food from the kitchen, and Luffy dressed in a little chauffeur outfit taking peoples coats. He just was kind of tossing them into the coat closet in a pile and it made you chuckle. Your eyes scanned the ballroom, taking in all of the people dressed fancily. The last person you were expecting to see was Zoro since everybody else was staying on the ship in case a hasty exit was needed. Nervously, you smoothed your dress. It was light green silk that had a high waist and small bust. The fabric draped loosely down your legs and it bunched in small puffs over your shoulders. Elbow length gloves hid your calloused hands.

You took in your surroundings, people danced with their partners and chatted amongst the edges of the dance floor. The room was large and you noted faces of important people that you might need to talk with during the night, specifically looking and catching the eyes of the host, who began to wander in your direction. With a coy wave of your fan and a bashful look, you began your job for the night.

As you talked with the host, you acted curious about him, in a way that made him feel intelligent and impressive. Men always revealed more when they bragged about themselves. Slowly, you started to catalog more and more information about him, feeling confident that he had the documents you needed stored away somewhere in his estate. You egged him on, about to request a personal tour of the mansion, when you were rudely distracted. If you were not so entranced, you would’ve been pissed at him for distracting you.

Over the host's shoulder, a vision of a certain green haired man appeared. However, it was not the sweaty and crass swordsman you knew. He was a gentleman, draped in this beautiful white fabric with billowing sleeves that hid his muscles. The cravat accentuated the sharpness of his jawline, and his slick backed hair made his gaze more piercing than usual. He wore a pair of pants that hugged his slim waist, two columns of gold buttons fastening them. The metal of the buttons complimented the gold jewelry that hung from his ear. His hands were clad in black leather gloves, which he seemed to be adjusting a bit nervously.

You were snapped from your trance by the host touching your arm, gently but insistent. He asked if you were alright, to which you nodded evenly and excused yourself, promising to find him a bit later.

As you approached the swordsman, a startled look crossed his face for a moment before he corrected his expression. His eye roved down your body, registering your attire. You smiled, touching his arm briefly before curtsying. “Don’t worry, Zoro. We are allowed to interact here,” you reassured him, assuming his expression was anxiety about being recognized.

He bowed deeply, one arm pressed against his torso and the other placed against the small of his back. Before he raised his body, his head peeked up to look at you. “I’m not worried about it, my lady,” he teased. His eye crinkled slightly, a wide smile stretching across his face. You felt yourself blush at his expression, unsure of whether he was making fun of you or was impressed by you. His teeth seemed to shine as he offered you a hand, which you took gracefully. Zoro pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, still smiling up at you. “Would my lady like to dance?”

God, what was going on? Of course, you had always noticed that Zoro was handsome. Who wouldn’t? But seeing him like this, all poised and dressed up, made you feel flustered. You could feel the blush on your cheeks as you nodded dumbly at him. If he could have smiled wider, he would have.

In a swift motion, his hand had gripped yours and you felt the other one on your waist. Zoro was suddenly very near, pressing your bodies against each other as he swept you up in a dance that led you to the ballroom floor. His swept back hair revealed the handsome planes of his face. Somehow, his features looked more intense than usual as you stared up at him. His face was twisted in a smirk, as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“So the swordsman cleans up nicely, huh?”

Your hand tightened slightly on his shoulder, but you gave him a carefree smile. “Evidently so, you look very handsome tonight,” you praised. The compliment made Zoro quirk an eyebrow, hiding his smile out of your sight. He smelled incredible, which struck you as odd. The usual musky sweat, booze, and steel scent that cloyed to the swordsman was replaced by a leathery, sandalwood, citrusy smell. There were still remnants of booze, which most likely just leaked from Zoro’s pores.

“I didn’t know you could dance, Zoro,” you teased.

The swordsman chuckled, spinning you expertly. Somehow you ended up closer to him, if that was even possible the way he pressed your bodies together. “Robin taught me, and dressed me, and put this perfume stuff on me… I’m guessing she did a good job then?” Zoro’s brow quirked at the inquiry. You nodded your head, blushing and hiding your face against his shoulder.

“Tsk, look at me. It’s not lady-like to hide your face,” he murmured in your ear. When you looked up, his eye gleamed with mischief. “You look lovely tonight as well.”

This time, you couldn’t hide your blush. Butterflies blossomed in your stomach at the compliment, and you were speechless for the first time all night. The music ended, signaling that your dance was over. “Get back to your task. Be safe, please.” Zoro whispered into your hair, and your breath caught in your throat. He pulled away from you, bowing again and kissing your gloved hand, before dismissing himself to roam the ballroom once more.

The crisp night air cooled your skin as you stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. In order to find the papers, you had agreed to meet the host in his study. You walked to the railing, crossing your arms and resting against it. Stars sparkled in the sky and the scent of pine was in the air. You thought about what you were going to do when meeting with the host. A few moments seemed to pass before a clearing of a throat made you startle. You quickly looked over and found the green haired swordsman staring at you intensely.

“Oh, Zoro, it's just you,” you breathed. A hand rested on your chest from being startled, and you missed the way Zoro’s eye quickly flitted down to your breast and back up. “I’m glad you’re here. I think I can get the papers soon.”

Zoro’s brow quirked up, his eye studying your face intently. It was clear he was waiting for you to finish explaining. You shuffle a little, a bit awkward but confident in your plan. As if Zoro could sense your nervousness, he looked out at the expanse of forest beyond the estate.

“He’s asked me to meet him in his study,” you stated plainly. Your cheeks burned a bit red at the potential implications of the host’s request.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered.

Your eyes flitted away from him, face red. A noise resembling a scoff escaped your lips rather clumsily. “Stupid? Please. I am very smart, the sneakiest one in our crew, actually. Thanks for the vote of confidence though,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes at the swordsman.

“I… okay. Whatever,” Zoro dismissed you, slightly turning away from you.

“What?” you demanded him to say what he was going to say.

“Just…” he sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You breathed out fast, frustrated by his vagueness. One of your hands gripped his firm bicep, prompting him to look at you. “Zoro, then what do you mean? I don't understand.”

The green haired man looked at you, his eye dark and stern. Fierce energy radiated off of him. “God, woman. You’re going to make me say it out loud? I… Just…. Don't do something he forces you to do. Call for me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he grit out. Both of his hands were clenched in fists by his side, silently getting worked up.

“Oh… Oh. Well,” you snorted, a short laugh as you realized what he was so worried about. “Honestly, if it means that we can get the documents and get out of here, I don’t mind doing it. They’re kind of extremely important, y’know?”

You had never seen Zoro move so quickly, turning to face you in a split second. His eye glared at you, wide and intense. You could see the muscles in his jaw work as he ground his teeth together. It was as if his whole body was on high alert, and you blushed at his intensity. His mouth opened for a second, as if he was going to say something, but he closed it, jaw clenching again. You saw Zoro’s shoulders drop, his muscles relaxing slightly. His lip turned out in a small pout.

“Hmph… I… hmph. Just, call me if you feel like you’re in danger, okay?” You watched as he spun around, quickly hurrying away from the balcony. His shoes clacked on the stone and his white shirt flowed in the wind. You felt your stomach flutter watching him leave.

For a moment, you stood silently and stared out at the pine forest. Zoro’s reaction was hard to decipher, as much as you tried to understand it. Briefly, you wondered if he was jealous, but you brushed it aside. No way. As you made your way to the host’s study, nervousness rested heavily in your chest. Wanting to maintain your confident air, you straightened your shoulders and stood tall, steeling yourself for this interaction. You knocked on the study door and entered, unknowing of the swordsman lurking around the corner.

About 30 minutes later, you emerge alone from the room. You habitually straightened your appearance since you were about to join the company again, which was not missed by Zoro who lingered nearby. He waited around the corner, not wanting to be seen accosting you, but knowing you’d run into him on your way back to the ballroom. As you turned the corner, found yourself face to face with the swordsman, jumping a little from the fright.

“Oh! Zoro, you scared me,” you murmured, being startled by him for the second time this night. Zoro’s hand found the small of your back, ushering you in the direction of the crowd.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth downturned and expression severe. “Come on. Did you get the maps?” Your heels clicked in tandem with his black boots on the floor.

“Yes,” you nodded, eyes straying to look at his expression.

Zoro only hummed to acknowledge you, offering you his arm before entering the dance hall. For a moment, both of you stood there staring at each other. There was an indiscernible expression in Zoro’s eye. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, thinking, planning… he revealed nothing.

You took his arm and followed his lead into the ballroom before parting ways. The intention was to split up and inform the crew about the completion of the mission. Weaving your way through the audience, you made contact with Robin before going to find Luffy. Zoro had made his way to find Sanji in the kitchen before reappearing. You searched around the ballroom for Luffy, unable to see his messy dark hair and bright smile, and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion and clatter from the room adjacent to the one you were in. Your body froze, knowing that you were about to have to make a quick getaway, when you heard gunshots echoing through the halls. Just before you were about to make a decision, you made eye contact with Zoro from across the room. It’s as if your body moved on its own, sprinting towards him and grabbing his hand as he dragged you behind him to safety. If it hadn’t been for your panicked brain, you would’ve realized that Zoro was only going to get you guys lost, but you didn’t even consider it. Before long, you realized you didn’t recognize your surroundings anymore. You could still hear fighting, so you decided to duck into the first closet you saw to wait out the clamor. The abrupt stop and yank of Zoro into the closet had him off balance, and you couldn’t stop either of you before landing in a heap on some jackets. He reached behind him and slammed the door, and you winced knowing it would probably alert somebody of your presence in the area. You took stock of your situation, knowing that Luffy probably got you into said situation, and that people were probably scattering. You realized that you probably had to stay in the closet for a little while, with Zoro. Oh god, Zoro who currently had you pinned beneath him.

You looked up, right into a piercingly dark eye that seemed to be taking you apart as you lay under him. Both your breathing and heartbeat increased, and you were suddenly very aware of the proximity to him. His eye roamed down your face, pausing for a second on your lips before traveling further. You felt it rake over your neck, lingering for a second before gazing unashamedly at your breasts. The dress you were wearing could be called revealing, showing lots of cleavage and giving the illusion that they were barely contained. You blushed as you felt him staring.

“Z- Zoro?” You stammered out, “did you hit your head? You seem dazed.”

“No,” he replied. His voice was firm, confident, and it made you shiver. You watched his brows furrow slightly and his jaw clench.

You took a deep breath and tried once more. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head when we fell in here?” As your hand came up to check for any head wounds, it was stopped quickly when a large hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“No.” And this time you could tell he’s irritated. You swallowed thickly, nervous and shaking a little. The way he loomed over you made you feel like a prey animal, his demeanor dangerous in the same way he acts when he is facing down an enemy.

“Ah, Zor-”

“Shut. Up. Don��t fucking speak,” he grit out. He kept staring, unblinking, at your chest. You felt yourself start to shake, mind racing through all of the reasons he might be angry with you.

“Does it feel good? Huh?” Zoro snapped at you, his voice quiet and clipped. Your brows furrowed up at him, unsure to speak or be silent. The closet was way too small for the two of you right now, his energy emanating from him like flames. Zoro and you had always gotten along pretty well, often training together and napping together. He never used that tone of voice with you before. “Don’t play dumb with me, woman.”

Zoro trapped you underneath him, his knees pinning the skirt of your dress. “You like playing dress up? Huh? You like when they look?”

“Zoro, I-”

You were cut off again, a gloved hand pressing into your cheeks. “Don’t. Talk,” he enunciated each word with a squeeze of his hand. “I saw you flirting with that man, giving him a show. He was fucking you with his eyes in the middle of that ballroom, and you were encouraging it. You like that? You want him?”

Desperately, you shook your head no. Your eyes were wide, trying to decipher his reaction. There was a certain hesitation in his actions, like he was trying to hold himself back. His shoulders and chest were tense, his jaw clenched and his breathing quick.

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other, unsure what to do next before suddenly your mouths are crashing together. Zoro kissed with a desperation you’ve never felt before, like he’s trying to consume you. Both of your teeth clashed together, his tongue licking into your mouth. At that moment, everything was Zoro. His smell, his sounds, his touch, it changed you, like you've never been intimate with another person. The passion was a completely different caliber than you’ve ever felt before. Small whines and moans left your lips as Zoro kissed you, feeling completely at his mercy the way he pinned you beneath him.

“Ah, Zoro,” you whined as you felt his teeth scrape along your jawline.

Zoro pulled away from you, looking down at you. He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Look at you. Listen to you. Fuck, in that fancy ass dress, wearing those ridiculous heels.” Embarrassment washed over your body, heating your skin from your cheeks down your chest. You felt yourself look away from Zoro’s gaze before his hand gripped your chin harshly. Zoro forced you to meet his eye again, his teeth bared. “As if you’re not the filthiest in the room, woman. Pretending you’re a lady, waving that stupid fan.”

You felt Zoro’s hand move down your arm from where he was gripping your wrist, skimming over your peaked nipples, finding its place at your waist and squeezing. His smile was wicked, one side of his mouth curled up as he groped your body. The other hand found itself squeezing one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple. A gasp escaped your lips as he touched you. “You like that, my lady?” He sneered, sarcastically and coldly.

“Zoro… please..” you whined.

“Zoro? Ha, I’m a gentleman, so I go by sir, remember?” He harshly pinched your nipple through your dress, eliciting a loud moan from you. One of his hands quickly clapped over your mouth, and Zoro tutted at you. “Ah ah, somebody might find us here, like this. Unless you want somebody to find us,” he teased. Zoro leaned down close to your ear, his lips brushing over your lobe. “Don’t let them hear. Those noises are only for me.”

The top of your dress was yanked down harshly, and you heard the silken fabric tear. Before you could protest, his hands squeezed your breasts hard, pinching them in a way you know will leave a bruise. One of your hands came up to stifle your moans, your eyes watching him as he pinched your nipples harshly.

“That dress was so fucking tight, your tits were spilling out,” he grit out. Zoro’s calloused hands played with your chest, pulling the skin between his index finger and thumb. “Couldn’t take my eyes off them all night… fuck.” His voice was breathy, needy as he touched you. A slicked strand of his hair fell from where it was stuck, the green hairs draping over his flushed face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

“S- sir,” you whined, one of your hands moving to touch his arm. A small sheen of sweat covered his forehead. He gasped heavily as he ducked his head to your chest, burying it between your breasts.

Zoro’s mouth was hot and needy on you, licking and sucking the soft skin. He whined quietly against your skin as he sucked dark marks into your breast, not worrying about if they would be visible tomorrow or not.

He began to bunch your skirt up around your hips, his knuckles grazing your bare thighs. You ground your teeth to keep yourself from whining when suddenly his mouth left your breast with a wet pop. It was filthy, the way his mouth was red and swollen from kissing and sucking you, the small string of spit that dripped from his bottom lip, his mussed up hair. The last thing you saw before he ducked under your skirt was a deadly smirk that shot arousal straight to your core.

You groaned and threw your head back when his hands gripped your thighs. Zoro licked a long, wet stripe up the inside of your leg before biting down on your inner thigh. He bit down hard, possessive, like he wanted his teeth marks to be a permanent scar in your skin. A moan escaped your mouth, and you could feel yourself blushing as wetness pooled between your legs. The delicate skin of your inner thighs was already bruising under his grip, and you felt Zoro smile against you. There was something about how easily your body responded to him that brought out something sadistic in him.

Bright hickies bloomed on your thighs as his mouth and hands roamed the soft skin. Every once in a while, they would brush against your panties, making you whine. The way Zoro took his time had you desperate and needy for him. Your body started relaxing as he kissed you, his nose every so often brushing over the wet spot in your panties. The swordsman gripped your legs, keeping them from shaking, before biting down especially hard on the meat of your thigh. It broke skin, the intensity of which he bit you, and you could feel his tongue laving over the marks. You cried out before clapping a hand over your mouth, face flushed and chest heaving. The swordsman relished in your cries, suckling the spot he had broken skin. He moved to the other thigh, sucking dark marks all over. His mouth was so close to your core, that you could feel his warm breath fanning over your clothed cunt.

You were broken out of the moment by loud footsteps outside the closet door. The breath caught in your throat and your heart skyrocketed. Getting caught with Zoro at all was not good, but getting caught like this was a nightmare scenario. You tapped on Zoro through the silk of your dress to stop and come out. His head peaked out from your thighs, and for a moment he turned away from you to grab something. Zoro returned to you, his head coming up next to your ear with a low chuckle. His gloved hand gripped your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth before your fan was shoved between your teeth, like a horse with a bit in its mouth. “Don’t make a fucking noise, unless you want to get caught,” he whispered to you, his smile devious. The swordsman licked against your neck before disappearing again under your skirt.

He brushed against the damp spot on your panties as he smirked into your thigh. You could feel how red your face was, equal parts turned on and terrified of somebody hearing you and opening the closet door. Both of your hands gripped your skirt and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus and not make a sound. Your teeth ground down against the wooden fan between your jaws. Zoro knew how to tease you, how to coax sweet sounds from you, and he wasn’t holding back his efforts.

One of his fingers pushed aside your panties, and you felt him blow a stream of cold air against your core. You grit your teeth and cursed him in your head as you clenched down around nothing. A shiver wracked your body, and Zoro chuckled lowly between your thighs. He just barely skimmed his gloved index finger against your slit, causing your toes to curl. You felt him hum against you, his tongue licking your thigh as he slowly pressed the finger into you. It started slowly, gently pumping in and out as you tried not to give away your presence.

You jumped when you suddenly felt Zoro’s tongue on your cunt, licking up from where his finger entered you to your clit. He licked against you, flattening his tongue against your lips in lazy strokes. The tip of his tongue flicked your clit every time he reached the top of your slit, building pleasure in your body. It radiated through you in waves as you tried to contain your voice. The steps outside seemed to pace as if they were searching the area. Your hand clutched your mouth, over the fan even, eyebrows drawn tight in desperation. Zoro’s finger curled in your cunt, pressing against the spongy wall and causing your mouth to open briefly and almost drop the fan. Your hands gripped your silken dress, pleasure wracking your body.

Zoro ate you like a starved man, sloppy and needy. You could feel the mix of his spit and your drooling cunt run down your ass, and you flushed with how filthy you felt. Heat nestled in your core and you felt your orgasm building every time Zoro brushed against your clit. Close, so so close, you cried in your head. Gritting your teeth, you resisted the urge to beg for him to keep going, keeping yourself from making noise. Tears slid down your cheeks as you came, throwing your head back in a silent cry. Zoro smirked against you as he felt you clench down around his finger, fucking you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulating you. He never let up, even after your orgasm had finished and you were squirming from the intense sensation.

As if Zoro had been listening for the person outside the door, as soon as their footsteps drew away from the closet, he bit down on your thigh hard again. At the same time, he added a second finger and fucked them into you with more intensity. There was no reprieve from him, he wanted to fuck you stupid. The fan fell from your mouth as your mouth dropped open. A deep moan escaped your lips at the dual sensations of pleasure and pain, as the green haired man licked the bite.

Zoro drew back from your legs, looking at you intensely. The absolute feral look in his eye made your stomach churn with something primal. He smiled, his sharp canines gleaming dangerously with a bit of your blood. A pink tongue quickly swiped over them, cleaning his teeth with a deep groan. You watched his gloved hand come up to his mouth as he bit down on one of the fingers, yanking the glove off. “Wanna feel you bare,” he stated evenly, pulling the other glove off as well.

One of his hands came up to grip the back of your neck, slamming you into a bruising kiss. The other of his hands roamed your body, finding a place on your breast to fondle you greedily. He pinched your nipple and massaged you tightly, breaking off the kiss to breathe. Zoro’s forehead rested against your neck, and you could feel him whine softly against you. You pressed your leg up between his thighs, feeling his hard cock against you. Slowly and languidly, he rutted against you. He whined and panted as he thrusted against your leg, growing more needy and desperate by the minute. Both of his brows pinched together and a bead of sweat gathered near his temple.

Suddenly, he bit down on your neck, sucking a dark mark under your ear. His thrusts became more desperate, a growl escaping his throat. Zoro pulled back, his hands coming down to your hips.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait,” he bit out, his hands grabbing at your panties and tearing the silk fabric. Zoro was impatient, desperate at this point. He grabbed the waist on his own pants, not bothering to unbutton the two rows of golden buttons. One quick yank sent buttons flying around the closet, clattering against the walls. His chest heaved with want, his hands quick to free himself from his pants. Zoro rested back on his feet, pumping his cock with a groan as he looked down at you. His eye was dark, almost glazed over with want.

With one hand, he gripped your waist, hard and bruising. Using the other, he lined himself up with your hole. He barely gave you any time to breathe before bullying his cock into your cunt, sinking deep into you in a fluid motion. A cry escaped your lips as your back arched, your jaw open and gasping. His cock was large, girthy and long, and it stretched you so well. Your body clenched down hard around him, causing him to shudder and grit his teeth. Zoro breathed out slowly, bending down and resting his hands on either side of your head.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, thrusting shallowly inside you. His teeth skimmed your jawline as he lowered himself onto his elbows, your chests pressing together. It felt to you like he was taking up every sense, as if he was all you could experience in this moment. Nothing outside of this closet even existed to you anymore. He bit down on your neck, at the spot where it joins with your shoulder, and you moaned loudly.

“Aah, Zoro, feels good,” you mumble out, your mind dazed from the mix of pain and pleasure his mouth gave you.

He thrusted into you with a hard and punctuating rhythm, emphasizing his words. “Haa, yeah? Better,” thrust “than that no good,” thrust “stuck up,” thrust “host?”

“Wh- what?” You whined when his hands tangled in the back of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. His brows were furrowed.

“Say it,” he growled, glaring down at you. Your breath caught in a strangled sound when he thrusted deep into you, holding himself there. The head of his cock was bruising against your cervix, and you squirmed with the mix of sensations. It was overstimulating, and you whimpered under him.

“Zoro, sir, move. Please,” you begged. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried to move against him. One of his hands flew to your waist, gripping it firmly and holding you still. You cursed him silently for being so strong.

“I’m not moving until you say it.”

“Say what?,” you cried, your eyes searching his face wildly. His jaw clenched in irritation.

“Say that I fuck you better than he ever could,” he ordered. Zoro’s chest heaved with his breath, you could tell he was barely containing himself. His bicep flexed and you felt his grip tighten on your waist.

“God, yes. You fuck me better than he ever could, you feel so amazing. Please fuck me, please,” you begged, desperation dripping from your cries.

A predatory grin spread across his face with your words, his eye crinkling with pleasure. “That’s my girl,” he praised, lips ghosting across your cheek. Zoro pressed his lips against yours and rose up, grabbing your waist with both hands and dragging his cock out of you slowly. As you looked up at him, you shuddered at the fierceness of his expression.

His thumbs brushed against your skin before slamming you down on his cock with abandon, thrusting into you repeatedly. Zoro watched as your tits bounced, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. Your hands clenched the fabric under you as he fucked you hard, and you watched as his blouse rode up as he moved, his abs flexing with each thrust.

You cried for him, his cock battering your poor cunt. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you up roughly to slam his mouth against yours. He kissed you insistently as he fucked you, before removing himself and turning you over onto your stomach. Your dress piled around you as he dragged it up, exposing your ass to him. He gripped one of your asscheeks in his hand, pinching hard. The hand dipped under your abdomen to pull you onto your knees, and he sheathed himself back in you. The new angle was world shattering, every thrust bumping deep inside you, causing your legs to shake and breath to catch.

Zoro’s hand gripped your hair, dragging your back to his chest. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, breaking the skin as he thrusted into you from behind. You felt him as he licked the bite mark, moaning as your blood stained his tongue. He was relentless, slamming into you over and over. At the same time, his voice was like honey as he moaned into your ear.

“That’s fucking right,” he grunted. “You take me so well.” Nobody had ever fucked you so well before, pleasure spiking through your body. He fucked you like he knew you could take it, like a bit of roughness wouldn’t break you. Pain blossomed through your ass as he smacked it harshly, causing your cunt to clench down. “Nobody can fuck you like this,” he promised. “Only me.”

You mumbled incoherently, the feelings of pleasure and need causing you to feel brainless and light. Zoro’s hand pressed you into the pile of coats underneath you, his hand on the back of your head. The pressure you felt from his hand was so good, rendering you immobile. The other hand on your waist pulled you back into him as he fucked you. You felt yourself drooling into the fabric under you, drunk on the pleasure. Everything was Zoro, from the feeling of his hands on you and the way his cock dragged in your cunt, to his leathery perfume, to the sounds of his groaning and skin slapping together.

The pleasure built in you again with each thrust, and you trembled with overexertion and overstimulation. Zoro’s hand moved from your head to snake past your waist to your clit. Never once did his thrusts let up, his endurance endless. Small, quick circles were rubbed on your clit with his first two fingers.

“Zoro please, please please, fuck,” you mumbled, pleasure reaching deeply into your fingers and toes.

“Let go, cum around my cock. Wanna feel you,” he mumbled out. His voice was less demanding now, more needy. The swordsman rubbed your clit insistently, and your orgasm hit you gradually, washing through you in hot waves of pleasure. You moaned as you came, feeling your body weaken like jelly.

Zoro fucked you through your second orgasm, his thrusts hard and erratic. He held you up, both hands on your waist. You could hear his breath stuttering, his voice tight and strained. “Haa… Gonna… Cum in you… Make you mine…” he grit out, leaning forward to kiss and bite at your shoulders.

You cried out as his teeth sank into your flesh, Zoro groaning loudly. His cock slammed as far in your cunt as it could go, emptying himself into you as he came. The man licked at the bite mark and he mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder blades. He pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of fullness.

For a moment, you didn’t move and neither did Zoro, watching his cum dribble out of your cunt with a smirk. You heard him hum, before feeling his hands flip you over to look at him. He looked at your messed up hair and smudged makeup, also noting the tear in the bodice of your dress before snorting. “Oops,” he laughed, obviously sarcastic. You were so fucked out that you didn’t even care how much of a mess you two looked, seeing his appearance sort of mirroring your own. “C’mere.”

Zoro gathered you up to him, kissing your hair and smiling affectionately. It was too late to go back now, not that you’d want anything to be different. “Now, I just gotta figure out how to get my girl outta here safely,” he chuckled.

#one piece #op x reader #x reader #one piece fanfic #fanfic #roronoa zoro #zoro smut #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro #imagine him all dressed up GOD he's so handsome

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axelsagewrites · 6 months

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Cregan Stark*Princess

Pairing: cregan x princess!reader (team not specified)

Kinktober Day twenty-one: face fucking with Cregan Stark: to gain his loyalty Cregan demands that you earn it, and he enjoys watching the tears streak down your face as you do

Warnings: cregan being a bit of a dick, arguing, m!reciving oral, face fucking, tears, deep throating, slight praise, suggested further smut, smut 18+

Word count: 1535

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

You were a princess, a Targaryen, the future queen of the seven kingdoms and this stubborn northerner who had tried to refuse your stay. Cregan stark was a fickle man at best and an arse at worst. You had tried to talk to him in the halls, but he left, tried to join him at his table but he moved his plate, tried to catch him at the gods wood but he walked faster than you.

Now you found yourself rattling on his bedchamber door as his guards rapidly approached. You span on your heels, glaring at them, “Dreamcatcher is on the other side of that wall. Try it,” you spat at them when you saw them reach for their swords.

“If you’re done threatening my men,” Cregan’s voice had you spinning back around to glare at the tall northerner, “Can I help you with something princess? After all it is far past your bedtime,”

“Let me in now,” you demanded, ignoring the squeaks of the men behind you, “I didn’t come here to be ignored,” you stated, pushing past him into the bedchambers.

The doors shut behind him with a thud as you angrily began to pace the room, “You’ll wear a hole in my carpet,” he warned, moving to sit on a chair by his desk.

“I didn’t come here to sit in a cold room twiddling my thumbs- “

“Then why are you here?” he barked, cutting you off with no care of rank. Your pacing paused as you turned to glare at him, “Here to buy my loyalty with some false promise you never deliver on? The north doesn’t need your Targaryen nonsense,”

“This isn’t nonsense,” you spat, arms flailing in shock of his attitude, “This is the crown, the kingdoms future- “

“No Targaryen king nor queen gives two shits about the North and you know it,” he said, standing up from his chair, “So why should I care for wars that will do nothing but starve my children and kill my men?” he questioned as you began to take in the sheer size of him.

Not only was he tall but his shoulders were broad, and his hands could break through several inches of ice you reckoned, “Perhaps we have something you need. Gold or ships- “

“What use is a ship on frozen lakes?”

“Grain and livestock then,” you sighed, “The queen-my mother, we need the North. You care about your people well I care about mine. So, tell me your terms since you clearly don’t want to listen to mine,”

Cregan paused for a moment before his head dipped and he sank back into his chair. You were ready to huff and leave on dragon back when you noticed his eyes trailing up your frame, “If its marriage you want- “

“I want a dragon,” he said, his head finally raising to meet your eyes.

Your eyes grew wide for a moment, but you quickly tried to cover your shock, “The north is far too cold for a dragon and there’s no way I’d hand over my child to- “

“I didn’t mean that kind of dragon- “he said, cutting you off once more as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I want you,” he stated, his eyes hungrily trailing your frame, “I want to tame a dragon,”

You felt your mouth grow dry, “My betrothal has already been set- “

“The north is far too cold for a dragon,” he cut you off once more, this time standing from his seat and slowly crossing the room towards you. you felt your feet carry you backwards, but he did not pause, “I don’t need a wife. I need proof of your loyalty,”

Your back hit against the cold stone wall, your eyes gazing up at his in shock as he moved only an inch from you. “You want me to tarnish my maiden head? That is the price of a stark’s loyalty?”

Cregan’s chuckle was dark as were the eyes that hungrily gazed at your lips, “You may keep your maiden head, it would dishonourable of me to ruin your virtue,” he said, his deep voice making your mouth grow dry, “But if you want my loyalty,” you didn’t move even as you felt his hand cup your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip, “You’ve got to earn it little dragon,”

Your jaw was already slack in shock, so it did not take much effort for his thumb to slip in, pulling down your mouth for a moment before resting on your tongue, “Suck it,” he commanded. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or the way his eyes looked at you like a hungry wolf, but you soon saw him smirking, “Good girl,”

His hand slipped away from your mouth but not before he smeared your spit across your bottom lip, “Tell me princess,” he commanded as his hand trailed down till it past your breasts, “Have you ever been touched like this?” he said, his hands squeezing your tits suddenly over the fabric of your dress making you gasp.

“No, my lord,” you stuttered out, biting back a whimper as he leaned his head down to the crook of your neck, catching a peak of what lay under your clothing.

“Ever been kissed?” he asked but he said nothing else when he felt you shake your head no. instead his lips crashed onto yours, his hands grabbing your arse tightly as he pulled you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, but it only allowed his tongue to slip in.

It knocked the air out your lungs and no sooner than it had started it had finished. His hungry eyes met yours again, “Kneel,” he commanded, and you did without complaint. You looked up at the man who towered over you now, seeing how sharp his jaw truly was from down here.

As his hands tugged at his waist bands he asked you a final question, “Ever had someone use this pretty little mouth of yours?” as he spoke, he slipped his breeches down, revealing an already hardened cock, precum leaking from its tip. You were too shocked to answer his question, but he no longer cared about that.

“Kiss it,” he said, and your eyes darted up to his, sudden insecurity washing over you. his hand moved to cup your cheek, a single tender action in this whole time.

Your hand moved up slowly to grab his shaft and you heard a small groan come from your touch. You looked up one last time before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his tip making a louder groan fall from his lips. “again,”

more confident now you began to place soft kisses down his shaft, then trailing back up to his tip. Cregan’s hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, groaning when he felt your tongue run over his tip. “Fuck,” he murmured, his hand slowly tightening in your hair, “Open,” He commanded and as soon as he felt your lip’s part you gasped as he thrust his member in.

“Fuck,” he groaned loudly, hand tightening in your hair. Your hands reached out, grabbing at his strong thighs to keep yourself steady. Slowly he began to guide your head down, bobbing around his cock as his spare hand moved so he could lean against the wall, caging you between him and the stone.

“That’s it,” he muttered, drawing in breath the further down you reached. Your movements became more confident with each praise as a warm feeling spread through your stomach. You felt his tip hit the back of your throat, your movements faltering for a moment, but a switch seemed to snap in the Stark.

A low growl left his throat as he swatted your hand off what had not been able to fit. You couldn’t even question him before you felt his hips begin to buck. You tried to speak but your mouth was otherwise occupied as Cregan began to fuck your face, curses and groans falling from his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth as spit dribbled around the edges. Your hands snaked from his thighs to his balls, cupping them gently in your hand making him groan loudly.

His thrusts were messy and hard but grew sloppy as you squeezed gently. You felt his body tense but before you could tell what was coming a salty taste filled your throat. Cregan’s hand moved to hold the back of your head gently, his thrusts far slower as he rode out his orgasm.

“Fuck,” he murmured as he slipped his member out your mouth, his hand moving to cup your jaw. He tilted your head, forcing you to face him with spit dribbling from your lips and a few stray tears that had fallen during his fun. “Get on the bed, “

“But- “you tried to object despite a flutter rising through your chest at the suggestion.

His hand tightened around your jaw, “Now princess. You’ve earned my loyalty now let me return the favour,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

#cregan stark #cregan stark smut #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan smut #cregan x reader #cregan imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #kinktober

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bits-and-babs · 6 months

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✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

captain john price x f!reader (raven) | smut, 18+ | 4.2k

summary: when a seemingly bulletproof mission goes awry, captain price makes the vital mistake of pursuing the target alone and contributes to the chaos that almost claims the life of one of his men. When he returns, he lacks the humility to accept your reprimand lying down.

cw: mwiii spoiler free. war and violence, mentions of wounded, ooc price maybe a little? angst, enemies to enemies that fuck, reader is pathetically attracted to price because same, literally a voice kink fic disguised as a deep throating fic, very light degradation, bratty behaviour from reader, heavy face fucking, hair pulling, praise, gagging, very little aftercare.

price mlist | main mlist | taglist

It all goes tits up.

Shouts of distress arise across the coms in the CIA conference room, blaring through the headphones glued to the watchers’ heads. Ghost’s gruff voice calls out a casualty, leading General Shepard to launch out of his seat and crash his fist against the tabletop. Mugs of coffee tip over from the force of the impact, liquid bleeding into top secret documents- they aren’t his primary concern.

“Lieutenant, this is Gold Eagle. Is there an issue, Ghost?” Shepard’s voice snarls down the coms.

“Sir, it’s Soap- he’s been hit.”

Hanging your head between your shoulders, you barely register the orders that Shepard screams into the microphone of his headset, his spittle peppering the laptop screen where he oversees the mission descending into chaos. Your ears are ringing, your heart thumping wildly against your sternum. Further panic ensues, Gaz shouting a brief, hurried explanation of the mission breakdown. “… snipers in the mountain, sir. Had to dispatch them- I can’t see Captain Pri—”

“Bravo 2-6, this is Raven. Confirm Captain Price’s location,” you insist, swallowing the alarm that threatens to haemorrhage from your lips.

“Negative, Ma’am. Lost him while dispatching the snipers.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your blood boil at The Captain’s recklessness. “Fuck!”

Your fingers blur over your keyboard, focusing your attention on John Price’s coms. Again, Shepard barks orders at Ghost, but you can’t hear him over your own heavy breathing and pressing tone as you address Price in a fury.

“Captain Price, this is Raven; confirm your location immediately!”

Silence at first. Coffee drips from the edge of the tabletop by your feet, pooling into the navy-blue carpet. It stains like blood, a dark smear. You can imagine it in Price’s camo uniform, spreading thick and fast from a bullet wound- a direct hit to the chest.

“We’re gonna lose Hassan.”

“Captain Price,” you yell down the microphone, simultaneously relieved to hear his voice and enraged at his increasingly frequent decision to go AWOL, “We will most definitely lose Hassan if I must bury every member of 141! Return to Team Bravo immediately!”

You’re almost certain you can hear Price’s teeth grind together, the enamel straining under the weight of his fury and threatening to crack down to the root. “Are you tellin’ me we let him go?”

“Captain Price, I am telling you that we were given faulty intel. I am telling you that we are sustaining heavy losses and that Sergeant MacTavish is critically wounded, and I am calling for EVAC!” Your knuckles are bleached where your fists hover over the keyboard, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure the indents they leave burrow straight to the bone as you await confirmation of Price’s retreat. “Task Force 141 is a priceless tool against Al-Qatala. I cannot afford to lose every member for the sake of a man we will ultimately have to chance to apprehend again!”

Your eyes float to General Shepard. He’s furious, his irises swallowed by the hollow blackness of his pupils as he jerks his head in confirmation of permission to evacuate 141. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Do you copy, Captain Price?” You yell down the microphone, finally losing your cool with the maddening Englishman that continued to defy your authority.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

The ticking minutes-hand of the analogue clock that hangs above your desk sweeps away half of the day before you have confirmation of 141’s safe return to American soil. A further two hours of urgent, life-saving surgery have you chewing your nails to the quick. By the time word reaches you of Soap’s stable condition, your nailbeds are bloody and raw.

“Intel confirms a convergence of Las Almas fighters on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. We believe they intend to smuggle Hassan out of Mexico and into Venezuela, where they would almost certainly grant him sanctuary. Air surveillance suggests that armed guards patrol the border twenty-four seven, concentrated significantly around a central point where we suggest they will attempt to help Hassan over it. Ghost and Soap will lead a special operations unit to kill all Las Almas fighters on sight. Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him with the help of the Mexican Special Forces. Captain Price, you have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.”

Enraged by the complete breakdown of the mission, your mind replays your mission briefing repeatedly, scanning the tiniest of details in vain hope of understanding how such a concise and faultless plan had almost killed a vital member of your task force. You couldn’t have made it more transparent, having covered every possible eventuality. Even the risk of faulty intel had been accounted for, enough backup issued should teams Alpha and Bravo find themselves outnumbered, yet…

“Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him.”

High-ranking officials sidestep you as you turn the corner to your offices, just barely escaping your warpath as you zero in on your target. The heels of your polished shoes crack against the lino flooring of the hallway like gunfire, the sound ricocheting off the walls and alerting those in your way to your fury.

Perhaps it would explain the wide-eyed shock already present in both Shepard and Captain Price aimed at the door of the General’s office when you throw it open with rage.

“John!”

“I fucked up--“he attempts to assure you of his guilty conscience, gesturing vaguely to his commanding officer, who no doubt had already laid into him over his poor decision-making. It does little to dispel the bubbling temper that churned in your stomach and coated your tongue with a sour taste.

“You’re damn right, you fucked up,” you scoff loudly, watching Price cross his thick, bulky arms across his chest as he surrenders to your verbal onslaught. “Your decision to ignore my plan and, arguably, go AWOL nearly cost Johnny his life! I’d issued a faultless mission briefing and paired you with Gaz against Hassan! With Gaz!”

General Shepard watched you chew up Price from his seat at his desk, lacing his fingers across the surface littered with pictures that looked as though they’d been ripped from the bodycam and air surveillance footage of the failed mission. Photographic evidence of Price’s incompetency—or rather, his blind faith in himself that he could singlehandedly take on a small army of Las Almas fighters and legendary terrorist fighter Major Hassan Zyani.

A bitter spark flashes across Captain Price’s cerulean eyes, his inflammatory retaliation worming its way between his gritted teeth and rumbling in his chest.

“It’s easy for you to criticise my split-second decisions when you sit behind a desk every mission, barkin’ orders with coffee in your hand.”

It’s a miracle that you restrain yourself, momentarily considering issuing a reminder of your military prowess in the form of hand-to-hand combat. If it weren’t for the haggard strain of John’s voice from his bellowed EVAC orders in a desperate attempt to save Soap’s life, you’d have connected your balled-up fists to his face. Instead, you spit in retaliation.

“Need I remind you that before I used to call the shots, I used to shoot people?”

Price lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at your comment and opening his mouth to argue. You don’t let him, smothering the threat of his stupid rebuttal of ‘with what, a water pistol?’.

“Your decision to pursue Hassan nearly killed Johnny,” you repeat the undeniable fact, punctuating it with a violent jab of your finger towards him, “Do you realise how close I was to calling into Scotland? How close I was to organising the coffin to bring him home in? How dare you undermine me- disrespect the resume that put me in that seat and the people I killed to get there, Captain.”

If it weren’t for you, Price’d be standing in the pews of a church in Glasgow, draped in black and drenched in red.

Clearing his throat suddenly from his seat, General Shepard just barely splits the brutal tension bludgeoning your skull in the form of a migraine that only seemed to arise in the presence of Captain John Price. It thumps against your temple when Shepard makes a show of standing from his seat and pointing to the door.

“I can leave you both here to sort out your differences. The last thing you will both do is undermine my authority by screaming like petulant children in the corridor in front of my colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you both manage to address him, eyes still pinned to each other like a missile’s locking system. Shepard grunts, and you note the twitch of a muscle in Price’s lower eyelid, his anger threatening to claw its way out of his face before he erupted with it.

The door to Shepard’s office swings open, heavy footsteps passing the threshold. In a sick, comedic chain of events, he doesn’t bother to pull it closed again. Instead, it creaks as the hinge closes achingly slowly.

You feel sick when you stare at Price. Not because you fear the words he could aim towards you in a critical hit—instead, you felt nausea at the concept of hearing the gravelly tone of his voice alone, the stabling force of your commanding officer absent.

It’s a dirty little secret that you’d never allowed yourself to speak. Even four Proseccos deep into a rare Christmas gathering of 141, you’d swallowed the word bile down that threatened to use your inebriation to rid yourself of the guilt. Price had admonished your choice of alcohol that night, commenting on how you could have chosen something better- like whiskey. The rumble of his voice in his sarcastic assessment had pooled in your stomach like the liquid amber he had suggested.

How could you possibly admit that the tone of his voice, so gritty and deep, swelled in your clit when you went to bed at night. That you replayed the ridiculous, pathetic one-liners he’d utter over the coms to you. The one time you’d issued a warning of an incoming threat, and Price had offered thanks in the only form he knew to give you: “Tha’s a girl”. You’d made a late-night Amazon order for new bedsheets and a mattress protector that same evening.

Click.

The door shuts, and the sound makes you jump as though John had slammed his fist on a big, red nuclear button.

“Are you done?”

The swallow that drags down your throat at the husked whisper he’d started with is far more audible in the now silent room. The spiteful gaze you had levelled at Price melts away, transfixing on him instead with something akin to dumb-struck, doe-eyed idiocy.

“P-Pardon?” You stumble over the two-syllable word that had confidently come to mind. Working in a building that relied so much on manners, there was absolutely no excuse for butchering a word you used upwards of fifty times a day.

Price’s eyebrow arches pointedly at you, the flickering ember in his irises that had previously resembled an inextinguishable fury instead glows with an amused curiosity at your very sudden surrender.

“Are you done making me look like a rookie in front of General Shepard?” He clarifies, stalking forward. He crosses the space between you both with long, cocky strides that make your heart pump double time when he finally settles in front of you. “Are. You. Done?”

“Hah-!” You laugh. You mean for it to mock his ridiculous notion, but instead, it’s all choked, nervous and airy because that damn voice knocks the oxygen from your lungs like he’d rendered a sucker punch to your gut. Price’s eyes pin you to your spot on the floor, root your feet to the coffee-stained carpet.

It’s utterly infuriating how he tilts his head in a smug observation of your panicked expression. You can see the exact moment he notes the tremble of your inhaled breath and the heat of your arousal rolling off your body. Fuck-

“John-“

There it is. Comprehension. The glistening sweat at your temple, the wide-eyed nervousness in your expression, and the breathy whisper of his name all surged forward and lit the bulb of realisation in his mind. You can practically see the golden glow of it in his pupils, a switch tck’ing when he murmurs an ‘oh’.

His lips split into a toothy, wily grin, “Oh, look at you, Station Chief.”

You bristle with panic with the way he makes a point to emphasise your rank, your lips parting in shock when he reaches up to grasp your chin in his hand.

“Who are you to question my decisions? You don’t even know if you want my cock in your mouth or your cunt.”

The sheer filth he utters makes your head reel as though he’d fed you some of his mind-numbing whiskey. You’re confident you’re gawping at him when he smirks at your reaction, his calloused thumbpad brushing across the bridge of your jaw. It reminds you of the way he caresses the trigger of a sniper rifle before he fires it and how you’d spent so many nights imagining that touch when you circled your clit-

“How ’bout we start with your mouth?” He urges you with a smokiness that rivals the puffs of his cigar. You loathed him for his smoking habits when the acrid scent clung to your hair but worshipped him for it when you buried your nose into your pillows when you came with a silent cry of his name.

You see his smirk widen suddenly, and it takes you far too long to realise that you’d let out a devastating whine at his lurid suggestion. John’s fingers and thumb settle on the pillowy flesh of your cheeks on either side of your mouth, pushing against them until your lips are pursed. It’s undignified, far beneath your station, but then-

“Gunna wanna open that mouth nice an’ wide for me, Dove.”

You sink to the floor of your commanding officer’s office floor before your rational mind even has a chance to talk you out of the offence- or acknowledge the choice of pet name that cheekily undermined your call sign. Your perfectly tailored office trousers crease beneath the weight of your knees… But suffering through cleaning and ironing them again was worth the rumble of a groan that fell from John’s lips as he watched you kneel for him.

“Fuck,” Price hums in appreciation, those gorgeous sky-blue irises swallowed by the midnight black of his pupils once more, “Spend all your time issuin’ orders, but you just needed someone else to take control, didn’ you, Love?”

For a moment, you hesitate. It’s improper, the way your knees ache with the hard floor beneath them. A tiny, quiet voice urges you to stand and rush out of the room before you damage your reputation any further, but the clink of John’s standard-issue belt buckle has your jaw falling slack before the idea can truly take root.

“Look at you,” he stresses again as he pulls the length of the belt from its loops with a slow thwppp sound, “So greedy for my cock. Anyone would think you’d been desperate for it all this time.”

John drags down his zipper, watching you look at him through your lashes. You don’t dismiss his hypothesis, instead choosing to stick your tongue out for him in an obscene act of fervour. The haggard groan that lurches from John’s lungs settles deep inside your cunt.

“You filthy girl,” he gasps, hurrying his hand into his trousers. He doesn’t even strip the pants from his hips, instead fishing his cock from his boxers and settling his balls against their waistband. “You have, haven’t you? How often did you touch yourself beneath the table while I spoke to you over the comms? Hmm?”

You’re so far gone now, so drunk on the idea of the agitating, ridiculous, utterly infuriating Captain finally fucking you that you might have answered that question-- if you’d heard it. Instead, his voice, which previously captured every fibre of your attention, drowned into the background of the thumping pulse in your ears. His cock sits just in front of your face, and it’s like you can’t breathe.

Ruddy and red at the tip, his cock already drools precum down the curve of its shaft. Veins throb beneath the thin, velvety skin, their ridges glistening beneath the wet tracks that his leaking seed leaves. It settles at the base, where his heavy balls rest against his boxer’s elastic waistband.

His question dies in the thick tension in the air, and you lean forward on your knees to press your drooling tongue right at the base of John’s cock where his precum pools. Your unexpected starting position causes John to spit out a curse, his fingers flying out to grip the strands of hair at the crown of your skull. “S-Shit-“

Saltiness coats your tongue where you lap up his cum, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft to trace his pronounced frenulum. Dragging your tastebuds upwards, you collect the tracks the droplets had left behind until the tip of your tongue rests on the underside of his fat cockhead. It’s disgusting, the relieved whine that escapes your open throat, but the vibration tips Captain John Price over the edge.

“Fuck! Eyes on me, Dove. Wanna see your eyes- that’s it.” John’s face contorts, brows creasing, and the edges of his lips turned down beneath the coarse hair of his beard as you look up at him, kissing the head of his velvety dick and slipping it into your mouth.

“Take orders so well. So obedient,” he purrs, the rumbling sound edging into a moan when you ease more of him into your mouth. He’s trying to play off the power dynamic, you note. Getting off on the fact that you’re his superior, but that he held the authority like this. A playful resentment teases the edge of your mind, urging you to remind him of his place.

You drag the edges of your teeth over his shaft. Not hard enough to hurt- just enough for a singing hiss to echo in the quiet room when you pull back from his cock.

It’s a mistake.

John grasps your hair at the back of your head, winding the strands around your fingers and suddenly rocks his hips forward. The length of his cock slides deep down your throat, and you splutter as your nose crushes into his pubic bone. “Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

His gravelly reprimand swirls a ghost-like touch around your clit, and you gag around the length that intrudes against your throat walls. Price tuts softly, feeling your nails dig into his flesh beneath the camo canvas still covering his muscular thighs. It’s only when tears cling to your lashes that he draws your head back with a pull of your hair.

Gasping down a heavy breath, you splutter when John groans loudly. His cock twitches, drooling more precum as you gasp for breath, and he drags his eyes across your face. “Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me like that- didn’t it feel good?”

God, you’re nodding pathetically, tongue already lolling from your lips in a silent plea for more. The heaviness of his cock against your tongue and the vibrations of his lurid tone are enough for you to cum on their own, and you want more of them. John groans, a chuckle settling somewhere between the sound as he grasps the nape of your neck.

“Jus’ like that, you dirty girl,” he urges you, his free hand tapping at his balls in a wordless order. This time, you obey, tonguing over his finger before taking one of his balls into your mouth. You can hear the shaky exhale that rattles in his lungs when you suck.

“So fuckin’ good for me. I’ll fuck you against that desk one day, you hear?” You see him point in the corner of your vision, his index finger aiming at General Shepard’s desk. Realisation slams into you and rocks your clit with arousal- Shepard could walk in at any second and see his right-hand man stuffing Captain Price’s cock down her throat in the ultimate show of disrespect. John doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, it’s as though he gets off on the idea, his eyes darting to the door as he details his plans for you.

“Think you’d look real nice on it. Far better than ‘is tacky nameplate. We’d make a mess together, get our cum all over it so he can smell jus’ how wrecked I left you-“

Moaning around the length of his cock, your clit throbbing desperately with his words, the vibrations cause John’s hips to lurch forward again. The head of his dick prods the back of your throat, but John’s tight grip doesn’t allow you to pull back. He’s buried to the hilt, twitching against your palate.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ for it, Love. It’s dripping down your chin—Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” He’s slurring his words as he watches you bob your head up and down on his length, swallowing around him and just barely holding back your gag reflex. It’s quick, messy, and loud, the wet sounds ricocheting off the office’s walls.

“D’you think he’s got cameras in here?” John muses, his voice thick with his incoming orgasm. The sound of it, the arousal coating his tongue has you whining desperately, “Why don’t you touch yourself, hmm? Give ’im a show.”

You sob around his girth like he’d just offered you a miracle. Fumbling, you don’t even bother wasting time trying to shove your hand down your trousers. Your fingers find the vague outline of your cunt through the crotch, roughly circling your clit through the layers of material.

It’s all you need. Your eyes roll back into your skull at just how close you are to cumming, your thighs trembling beneath your weight. You soaked through your panties and into the crotch of your trousers.

“Fuckin’ slutty girl,” John gasps, and you feel his cock jump at the sight of you already teetering on the edge, “’s my voice getting’ you off? Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect-“

Stop. Stop; you need him to stop. Your orgasm is ebbing at the edges of your abdomen, threatening to swallow you whole and drawing up tight, but John won’t shut the fuck up.

“C’mon, Love. Deeper. Deeper, that’s it. I’ll fuckin’ lick your pretty pussy if yo-“

His promises drown out with the surge of bliss that roars in your ears. Price times it perfectly, rocking his cock further down your throat so that you gag around his length. The lack of oxygen causes your nerve endings to sing when it cracks down your spine, bursting through your abdomen and spidering across your limbs like white-hot plasma.

Everything is loose with ecstasy, and it allows Price to issue one, two, three more brutal thrusts of his hips before he’s choking out a haggard warning that he’s going to cum.

“F-Fuck-“He chokes out, holding the nape of your neck before burying himself as deep as he possibly can without choking you, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat. Even in your post-orgasm haze, mind numb, you swallow him down greedily. Big, heavy gulps, even licking your lips when he removes his dick from your throat to milk out the last drops of his cum onto them.

“Tha’s my girl, good, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

Price’s hand pushes back the mess of your hair from your face, careful to remove the strands that had clung to your tear-soaked eyelashes. You hold your breath, heart stilling its rapid beat as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone to swipe up the tear tracks that had leaked from your eyes during his assault on your throat. It’s a single moment of tenderness, barely there, before he withdraws his touch to stuff himself back into his pants.

“Can you stand?” Price asks, his voice even hoarser than when you’d first walked into the room, like the moans you’d elicited from him were like sandpaper in his already raw throat. He holds out a palm- but you’re not cock-dumb enough to believe it’s a makeshift olive branch.

“Yes,” you whisper, matching his brutalised tone with your own as you bat away the helping hand he offers you. Price can’t help but scoff at your dismissal. Turns out even a dick down your throat wasn’t enough to change your uptight attitude. He watches you stand on shaky feet, trying to smooth out your creased knees before Shepard could wonder how exactly you’d made such a mess of yourself.

Besides your heaving breaths, still desperately pulling oxygen in your lungs to soothe the burn, the room is silent. Price finishes righting himself, smoothing his fingers through his cropped hair.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he murmurs, eyes sliding over to the desk. His promise to fuck you on it only barely re-enters your mind following a pointed look. Satiated somewhat by the blistering orgasm that had ripped through you, your rage struggles to roar to life like it had when you’d entered this room. Now it smelt like sex, and your anger only simmers in the base of your stomach.

“That is not happening again,” you promise him firmly.

“Mhmm,” he hums, following Shepard’s footsteps towards the door, “We’ll see about that, Dove.”

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.”

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone.

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes.

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears.

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip.

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped.

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock.

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence.

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

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lettersofalover · 10 hours

Text

-> adore you | paige b

paige x black!fem!college!athlete reader

genre: fluff

authors note: she’s for the girls and yall go together. read bad

from the moment you woke up in your hotel room next to paige until now, about to step on to the espy’s red carpet, you were anxious. you were a famous athlete in your own regard but the spotlight had never quite been on you the way it was now - helping team usa win gold, setting a personal record and a uconn record, all while being in a loving private relationship with paige. everyone knew but nobody told. the athletes at uconn had each others backs and without a doubt, paige had yours. she popped candy into her mouth mindlessly as you got your hair and makeup done in the chair. “when you get on stage, not if but when,” she said matter of factly, “there’s going to be a countdown. don’t pay it any mind. just say what you want. literally, whatever. except curse words, they’ll fine conn for that.”

you couldn’t help having paige’s voice echo through your head, somehow drowning out the noise of the photographers. it was already a sunny day in california and the size of lights made you struggle to keep your eyes open. paige was coming behind you and suddenly all the photographers focus was on the both of you. the speculation had always been there, but there wasn’t any concrete proof. paige shot you a big smile and an awkward thumbs up and you covered your mouth to laugh. the shouts of the photographers were so deafening you couldn’t make out what they were saying until paige approached you and locked her fingers with yours: “they want us to take photos together.” she whispered in your ear before dropping your hand. the moment her hand left yours, the comfort was lost.

“just focus on something in the distance.” she whispered and wrapped an arm around you gingerly. you leaned into her touch, thankful to have her by your side. the contrast of your outfits made for a subtle declaration of your relationship. as the moments passed of you switching between a wide smile and a soft one, paige stopped the photographers for a moment and stood in front of you.

“what?” you mumbled, scared that you had done something wrong. did you look too cozy? was it obvious that you were dating? you were beginning to breath harder as paige reached up to fix your hair.

“wait let me fix your hair.” she mumbled, with her eyes focused on your delicately designed hairstyle. she was taking the job of fixing you so seriously that she had her tongue slightly out of her mouth in the process. “i think i got it,” she said turning away but immediately turned back, “one last thing, hold on.” she smiled and twirled of on the curls around her finger and it immediately came back to life.

“good?” you asked and the flutter of lights and the shutters of cameras began again. paige grasped your forearms and nodded.

“you look stunning.” she said loud and proud before facing the photographers once more.

—

they didn’t sit you with paige and it depleted your spirit. you kept calm conversation with the people surrounding you - a few athletes, an executive board member from uconn and other old men who were keen on getting you to explain your tennis career and why you hadn’t gone professional yet.

“i love uconn, my family is there, my team is there, even my girl- my best friend is there.” you corrected yourself. they all nodded in understanding but one of the more assertive man said, “you know college is always there. you should go while you’re still in your prime. you can get the money and find a nice husband while you do so.” he sipped his champagne with a smile that was confident - as if he gave you the most precious bit of information to skyrocket your career.

“i didn’t come to school to get my mrs. degree.” your voice was laced with snark. men like him wanted nothing but money as their main objective. it was never about the passion. as if she could sense the solemn energy radiating off of you, paige walked to the table and began introducing herself. they fawned over her for a few minutes and you were able to still your beating heart for a few moments. once paige spoke them all, she made it to you and dropped onto the balls of her feet next to your chair.

“you’re up next, yeah?” she said, her glimmering eyes scanning your face. “remember: go at your own pace, don’t let them freak you out.” paige squeezed your hand three times, saying “i love you.” it was a code you two developed when you first started dating. it was a way to express the love you shared subtly.

“you got this.” she said as she rose to her feet and said her goodbyes.

“what a nice young lady.” one of the gentleman said, watching her walk away.

“she’s amazing.” you agreed as the lights dimmed and the first presenter walked to the stage.

—

you couldn’t believe it was you who won national women’s college athlete of the year. you couldn’t move from your seat for a long while, hands covering your face ready to swipe the tears that were pouring down your perfectly made up face. you stood from your seat and held the bottom of your dress, walking slowly and as steady as you could. the yelling behind you was a roar of applause and shouts of your name from your fellow uconn student athletes and the loudest of them - was your girlfriend, paige. you stood at the stairs for a moment, unsure of your balance in the heels that adorned your feet. before you knew it, paige’s hand was in yours, helping you up the steps. she squeezed your hand three times and you smiled at her once you finally made it on stage. she shot you another cheesy thumbs up and the audience laughed.

the microphone was louder than you expected as you loosed a breath. your eyes scoped the audience, looking for that familiar face. everyone was in their seats, except paige. she was recording you and your acceptance speech and it was adorable.

“gosh,” you said looking down at the trophy before back up, “i don’t even know where to begin. i never thought my journey as an athlete would bring me to this moment. i was just a little girl years ago, watching uconn athletes and dreaming to be where they were. to stand alongside the greats and be in the arena where they existed. i never, ever,” you sniffled and wiped at your tears, “expected to be a part of uconn the way that i am now. i never knew love like this existed until uconn became my life. i have a thank you list that’s a mile long - so i’ll spare you all,” you laughed and the audience followed, “there are not enough words to describe the family and love i found while being an athlete at uconn. to my people, i love you and to my girlfriend, i adore you. thank you for believing in me and thank you for all those tough training sessions where you kicked my ass - it got me this trophy!.” you laughed and the crowd erupted in applause once more and you could’ve sworn that your girlfriend paige, was the loudest.

—

paigebueckers: after party with my girl, my national women’s college athlete of the year. she learned it all from me. so proud of her.

kkarnold: she’s really that girl

azzifudd: the dress is stunning just like her

paigefan1: so happy for yall 🥺

paigefan2: my heart, i cannot take it anymore

paigefan3: she’s so in love with her and i love it

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader

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wishesunderthestars · 8 months

Text

The King's Advisor // Ch. 1

Pairings: King!Yoongi x Advisor!reader

Summary: The king's advisor is the most crucial position in the kingdom, the king trusts her judgment and always listens to her opinions and advice. They are a formidable pair but behind closed doors, the king and his advisor bicker and throw back-handed insults at each other more often than not. The feelings of dislike are very much mutual. She is a champion at testing the King’s patience because she knows she is too valuable to his rule to face repercussions. So it’s bickering and sarcasm dripping from their lips–

Until war breaks out.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.6k+

Warnings: war, injuries

“Well, that was stupid,” you said, leaning back on the chair and crossing your legs.

Yoongi, who had just closed the wooden doors of the council room, turned to look at you with raised eyebrows. The meeting of the King’s Council had just ended and it was just the two of you left inside.

“I beg your pardon?”

You huffed. “That boy isn’t ready to be a captain, he isn’t ready to be a lieutenant even. He doesn’t have the barest idea of how to lead, he can barely fight himself. The fact that his father used to be captain doesn't mean anything.”

“His family is one of the most influential in the kingdom, I couldn’t deny him the position,” Yoongi said. “I don’t want any disputes with them and there would have been a lot if I didn't promote him to his father’s position.”

You leaned your elbows on the long table. “You could have given him a smaller team, told him you would promote him to a larger one when he was ready. Would you trust him to lead a hundred men into a battle? Or defend a city? Because I wouldn’t.”

Yoongi stood opposite you. His long blond hair was pulled up into a neat topknot with a gold and black headband securing it in place. “His family wouldn’t be happy with that. They would question whether I trust them and whether they have done enough for the kingdom.”

“I, for one, don’t trust them,” you said. “They have been salivating after the throne for years, looking for higher and higher ranks in the military and positions in your council. If anyone ever tries to overthrow you, it will be them.”

Yoongi put his hands on the table, bending forward. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why they don’t have a seat on my council and why you are here instead of their eldest son.”

“If their eldest son were in my place, you would already be dead,” you said getting up.

“Watch your tongue.” Yoongi gritted his teeth, a fire burning in his eyes. The day had been hard on him, he had been in meetings since the morning and he had several hours of sword fighting practice as well. It was easier to rile him up when he was tired and you were the only one who wouldn’t pay for it.

You got up and sauntered up to him. “And if I don’t? You know as well as I do that he won’t be a good captain. He isn’t ready for it and he might never be ready for it. His team will be a liability.”

“I know what I’m doing. An incompetent captain is better than a family with connections like a spiderweb planting words against me.”

“If I heard word of that, I would cut off their webs with silver scissors. They aren’t the only ones with connections,” you said. “Things are tense on our northern borders, we shouldn’t be treating military positions lightly.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, up close you could see the reflection of the candles in them. “The-”

A knock on the door interrupted him and you both turned to look. The door opened without any announcements or permission from the King. Namjoon walked inside, his short brown hair combed back, splashes of ink on his white sleeves, and a few papers in his hands. Namjoon was the only person other than you who could barge into the council room like this and face no repercussions.

He took one look at the two of you and closed the door behind him.

“What are you arguing about this time?" he asked. You rolled your eyes and Yoongi scoffed. "Forget it, I don't need to know. We have to go over these papers so get comfortable."

Wordlessly, Yoongi sat down on the chair at the head of the table and the two of you took the ones next to him. Namjoon had missed the meeting because of these papers so they had to be important.

You and Namjoon were the King's most trusted members of the Council. The three of you would often gather late at night or early in the morning to discuss matters of the kingdom and make the difficult decisions.

Namjoon was the son of one of the best warriors the kingdom had ever seen and it had been a surprise when Namjoon hadn't followed in his father's footsteps, choosing books and ink over sword and armor. He had soon become known for his smarts and his eloquent speech—he was the one who went over the King's speeches, putting into words what Yoongi couldn't—and had been easily granted a place in the King's Council. His friendship with the King had a lot of people doubting the decision but soon he proved that he belonged there as much as anyone else. More really.

Unlike Namjoon, you and Yoongi hadn't been friends at any point in your life that you could remember. Maybe when you had been too young to read or write and you were hiding behind your mother's skirts, but not since then. Your father had been the late King's advisor and as his only child, you had been prepared to take his place since you could pick up a pen. He and your mother didn't have any other children and the fact that you were a girl didn't deter them, none of the past King's advisors had been female but your father was determined you would be the first one.

You had spent days and nights over books guided by your father and the best teachers in the kingdom, the same ones teaching the future king. You would see each other occasionally but didn't exchange more than a few words. During your teenage years, your fathers deemed it wise for the two of you to share a few of your lessons, you needed to build trust between you if you were to work together in the future. Instead of friendship, a rivalry brewed. You didn't remember how it started but you couldn't forget how it continued. Exchanging jabs about who was the best at which lessons and who did better at tests. Glaring and provoking each other.

When his father passed on and Yoongi ascended to the throne, it was his time to choose his personal advisor. You had been training for the position all of your life but you were still surprised when he asked you, bearing the gift of a gold bracelet engraved with flowers and embellished with precious stones. The King had to base his decisions on many factors but the most important was trust. Trust to work towards a bright future for the kingdom. Trust to support him through everything.

You didn't ask him why he chose you, you didn't voice any of your questions about trust. For years, you worked together and it was almost like nothing had changed from your teen days.

Half of the candles had gone out by the time you had gone over all of the papers. Your eyes hurt and a headache was brewing behind your temples. Your usual late nights ended earlier than this.

Namjoon gathered the papers with clumsy movements. Yoongi had to catch one before it flew away after Namjoon shoved it off the table.

"I think I may fall asleep if I stay any longer," Namjoon said when all the papers were safely in his arms. You could relate to that. "I would recommend going to sleep now. Have a good night."

You echoed his words and he left. The door closing was the only sound in the dimly lit council room.

You rubbed your eyes and looked at the King. His hair was coming undone and it glinted like threads of gold in the candlelight. His sharp eyes were softer, the way they got at night when his walls weren't as high as the castle's.

"I will be going then," you said, getting up and smoothing down your dress. There was no reason to do it, no one other than the guards would see you at this time. It was more out of force of habit than anything else.

"Wait for a moment," Yoongi said. You stopped before you could move to the door. "The Lee boy will be trained under Hoseok. He will be answering to him and if anything goes wrong I trust Hoseok to make it right. I wouldn't jeopardize the safety of the kingdom."

"It still doesn't sit right with me," you said. You knew that Yoongi had the best interests of the kingdom in mind but that didn't mean you always agreed. More often than not, you didn't. "But that's enough for tonight. It's late and frankly, I'm too exhausted to debate about the Lees. We can talk more about this tomorrow."

Yoongi opened his mouth and closed it again. "Don't forget a lamp. Unless you want to walk in the dark."

"Of course," you muttered, annoyed that Yoongi had to remind you. The torches in the hallways would have gone out a long time ago. "I would have remembered to take one."

"I don't doubt it," Yoongi said, smirking. Ignoring him, you picked up an oil lamp from the top of a large chest and tilted it close to one of the lit candles to share the flame. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, my king."

You saw his eyebrows twitch before leaving the room. He wasn't fond of his friends using his title to address him. You wouldn't exactly put yourself in that category but you didn't use his title when it was the two of you, you didn't use it in the council either. You would throw it out there occasionally just to see his reaction.

The guards were standing at attention on either side of the door, their hands on their long swords. They stared ahead as you walked down the empty corridor.

A few days later, you strolled into the private training grounds. It was a wide space surrounded by trees, right next to the gardens accessible only to the royal family. You were one of the few exceptions.

The continuous sound of metal clashing on metal rang in the otherwise silent place. The swords glinted and glimmered, reflecting the light of the midday sun. Yoongi and Hoseok were sparring, their movements so quick they were but a blur.

Yoongi's hair was pulled up in a tight knot and sweat was running down his face and his sculpted chest. His shirt was thrown aside, too much of a nuisance after what looked like several hours of practice. You had to swallow to ease the dryness in your throat.

You watched them—transfixed by their deadly dance—until the King's eyes locked with yours. Others would have cowered at the power in his gaze but you held it steadily like you had done all your life. One second of distraction and Hoseok's sword touched his pale neck, a whisper away from drawing blood.

"And I win," Hoseok said. He turned around, his eyes falling on you, and he smiled as if he understood a joke. "I see. I guess I owe this one to you."

You grinned and walked closer to them. "I'm not sure about that. I think you would have won either way."

"You should join us more often then," Hoseok said.

It was a view you both dreaded and craved to get used to. You didn't make a habit of visiting the training grounds, the King's private ones, or the much larger common ones. The art of battle wasn't one you had delved into. Your father had taught you the basics of protecting yourself but your interest had stopped there. And although watching shirtless men training, wielding swords and bows, and sweating was appealing in theory, you found that the reality wasn't as satisfying.

That's what you reminded yourself and the heat swirling in your stomach.

"How much longer will you be in our company?" you asked Hoseok.

The situation in the North wasn't getting better. Soldiers from the neighboring kingdom had been breaching the borders for months, engaging in small-scale conflicts with your forces stationed there. This was clear as day provocation but you didn't want to go into war.

Hoseok would go along with his team to survey the state of affairs and send a report back.

"The day after tomorrow," he said, sheathing his sword. "It isn't a short trip and it would be for the best to arrive as soon as it is possible." He looked at you and Yoongi, who had turned away. "I will be leaving then. Go easy on him. He's tired," he told you. Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. "I hope we have a chance to catch up before I leave."

"I can always find some time for you," you said.

Hoseok's smile widened before bidding you goodbye and walking away, leaving you and Yoongi alone.

Yoongi gulped down the contents of his leather waterskin, his Adam's apple bobbing, shiny with sweat. "What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed?"

"That is not what I said." He put away his sword in its jeweled case and left it on a stone bench. "If you are here that means you were looking for me for something."

You didn't deny it, although it wasn't the complete truth either. There were plenty of matters pending to be discussed and there were about ten things you weren't seeing eye-to-eye and you had to reach an agreement on. Nothing new. But the reason you were there was none of those things.

You had gone on a walk to clear your head after a morning of socializing with some of the most important people in the kingdom and your feet had carried you to the royal gardens before you realized where you were going. Finding Yoongi and Hoseok wasn't your intention. But you weren't about to say that.

Yoongi crossed his arms and looked at you, awaiting an answer. Your eyes strayed to his bare arms and chest and you scolded yourself and pulled them back up in what you hoped was a subtle manner.

"Are you going to stay like this?" you asked.

Yoongi gazed down at himself and what could have been a smirk played at the edges of his lips. "Why? Is it bothering you? Have you not seen a man's body before?"

"Are you a child?" He knew very well the answer to that question. Hell, it wasn't the first time you were seeing him half-naked. That was one of the perks—or cons, depending on your viewpoint—of your job. "For a king, you forget about decency an awful lot."

"When have you cared about decency?"

He picked up his white shirt that had been carelessly thrown on the bench and wiped the sweat off his face and neck with it. You had to look away.

"Where have you been all day? You weren't in your office and you didn't attend tea."

"Were you disappointed?"

"On the contrary," you said sharply. "I was only wondering if you were alive."

He extended his arms to the sides. "As you can see I am very much alive. Sorry to disappoint. I was here."

"All morning?" you asked, not convinced.

The royal gardens weren't a place Yoongi visited often. You were more likely to find Namjoon here observing nature with a book in one hand. Yoongi hadn't displayed any fondness for the place other than the privacy it could offer but his rooms could offer the same privacy and he preferred them.

"I'm the King, can I not take a morning to myself?"

"It's because you're the King that you can't," you shot back. "Did you sign those papers I gave you?"

"I did."

"Did you read them or did you sign them blindly?"

"I read them." Yoongi walked to you until your faces were inches apart. "I read every single one of them. I don't do things halfway. Is that all?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Do you perhaps want more work? I can arrange for something. There is always more work to be done."

Yoongi scoffed and backed away. "You're impossible."

"Thank you, I try," you said. Your mood sobered as you remembered what had been swirling in your head for the past week. "A letter arrived ahead of the envoy from Harfush, they will be here in three days."

Yoongi's demeanor changed, his shoulders tensing. "We will be ready when they arrive. We have prepared for everything."

"Almost everything," you pointed out. "They are set on this. I know it. They have been pushing for months now and it has only been getting worse. This isn’t going to end with a talk with an envoy. They’re hoping to get land from us in exchange for stopping their attacks but that is only prolonging the inevitable.”

His eyes hardened. “If it comes to it then so be it. We are not giving them anything. We will fight and they will regret bringing the war to us.”

“I will hold you to that.”

The envoy arrived and you were proven right. They were after your northern lands, a large stretch of the kingdom. Yoongi told them in the most political way to go fuck themselves, which—to no one’s surprise—the delegation wasn’t pleased with. They left two days later with thinly-veiled threats of war.

Your kingdom hadn't seen war since the days Yoongi's great-grandfather was king. Peace was a fragile thing but Yoongi's father and grandfather had protected it like the most precious jewel in the realm despite the aggressions of their neighbors. But it had never got that bad. Petty thievery here and there, a few arrogant nobles that dreamed of war. The carefully balanced scales had tragically tipped during Yoongi's reign.

The turning had found you prepared. Your soldiers were many and had trained tirelessly with the cloud of war hanging above them. Your numbers were fewer than the enemy’s but you had something they didn't. Fire. Pyres burning in your souls, stronger than forest fires. That was the gift of the people of Tinigris, the nation of the Tiger.

And so it was only a matter of time.

“What are you still doing here?”

Yoongi was standing over the large map of the continent. On it, figures like chess pieces were carefully arranged, depicting the bigger picture of the stationed troops—your own and the enemy’s.

Yoongi looked up at you, the light casting deep shadows on his face. His hair was falling in his eyes and underneath, dark half-moons were inked in his porcelain skin. "What does it look like?"

"Like you are exhausting yourself going over matters we have already discussed to great lengths when you should be resting."

Yoongi's eyes flashed with something unreadable in the flame of the candles. "The drums of war are at our doorstep, minutes away from spreading like an infection in our land. It is not the time for resting."

"If you want to be dead on your feet tomorrow when we will actually discuss strategy and diplomacy then by all means, it is not the time for resting. If you want to be able to participate in the conversation, I would advise you to go to sleep now."

His hands twitched on the table. "I am not the only one awake, am I?"

The truth was that you had laid in your bed, closed your eyes but sleep refused to come to you. You had tried and failed. Your room was too dark and restricting and you were too restless. You had dressed in a simple black velvet dress with a low neckline, which some of the older nobles would consider scandalous, threw a silky shawl over your shoulders that did nothing to keep you warm, and wandered into the long shadowed hallways.

You couldn't tell him any of that so instead you said, "No, you are not the only one."

The majority of the little soldiers were placed along the borders. Hoseok had sent back a letter confirming what you already knew. There was a war brewing in the North and there was no stopping it. You couldn't run away from the storm, you could only walk into it prepared.

Yoongi's hair wasn't done up in its usual style but he must have carelessly pulled it up himself. Several strands were framing his face and he wasn't wearing his headband. In the quiet madness of the night, he seemed almost vulnerable.

"Why do you speak to me about sleep when you are as awake as I am?" he asked.

"Because at least one of us should sleep," you said. "It will be a long day tomorrow and days will only get longer from here."

His gaze went back to the pieces on the board. "I know that if I go to my chambers, I will find no more peace than you did." The shadows seemed to grow longer on his face. "We have avoided war for years. All of our attempts have been in vain. I'm sending my people into a bloodbath."

"If there was anything more we could do, you know very well we would have done it," you said. "Your people know you don't want this war. We can't stand here while they attack our lands. If we don't fight back, they will raid the villages close to the borders. It will only get worse. Kill, take slaves, do unspeakable things. Blood will be spilled either way. The North is thirsty for it. Better for our people to die defending their homes than be slaughtered with their families at night, unaware."

Yoongi's jaw clenched. In his eyes, you saw the fire and you saw the tiger. "I won't let them. I will fight for them until my last breath. If the North wants blood they will have it. It will overflow."

Yoongi glowed brighter than any flame in the room. Fierce and alluring in the way a sword is, tempting you to cut your finger on the blade to test how sharp it is.

"I won't offer empty words, to you I never have," you said. "It will be hard and we can't know how long it will last. There will be death and there will be wounds that won't heal. But we won't back down. We are the descendants of fighters, of warriors of great deeds. We prospered in peace and we will thrive in war. We will hold the borders, we will hold them back. And I believe we will emerge victorious."

Yoongi reached for something behind him and upon placing them on the table, you realized they were two glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured a generous amount into each and extended one to you.

"Let's drink to that," he said.

"To victories," you said and your glasses clinked.

Everything moved on faster from them, a river getting more and more narrow and running faster and faster. Strategies—political and military—, estimations, gathering the troops, reaching out to allies, making plans. You weren't a great warrior but you had studied battle strategies for years and you viewed battlefields as chess boards. You were great at chess.

Nobles, soldiers, townsfolk, and villagers alike were talking about the war in hushed whispers. Everyone knew it was approaching, a black galloping horse, neighing and squealing. Letters were being exchanged swiftly with the troops on the northern borders, keeping you informed about the moves of the enemy. When war was officially declared, you had to be ready.

Tensions rose in the palace as they did between the two kingdoms. You could barely sleep. When you closed your eyes, you saw images of a red sky, swinging swords, disembodied limbs, and unseeing eyes. You saw destroyed villages and burned houses. They haunted even your dreams. Most nights, you spent in the council room with Yoongi, both of you restless. Sometimes you discussed strategies, sometimes you were quiet in each other's company, other times you fought the way you often did. Upon returning to your rooms, you were able to steal a few hours of sleep.

Time was but an illusion to you. Days blended into each other yet you were intensely aware of each one passing. You drowned in meetings with the council, late nights with the King, and dealing with the noble families—an art you had once upon a time mastered but was slipping through your fingers.

Tensions were rising in the palace. Yoongi was on edge, running from meeting to meeting until he was bound to burn out. Your patience was running thin.

And the King, most of all, was testing it.

"You can't ride at the front in the battle," you said, repeating yourself for what felt like the thousandth time. You were in his office with Namjoon, debating his stupid ideas. "If you are killed, the war is over. Who will be left to lead the soldiers? You have no heir, no brothers or sisters, no one to continue the line."

"Who will lead them then?" Yoongi asked ferociously. "Who will they follow if not their king? Hoseok will be by my side. We will protect each other."

You gripped the glass of wine tighter. You wanted to get up and pace but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "This isn't training. This is a real war, protecting each other won't guarantee that either of you are safe. You will be the main target the moment you step into the battlefield. Do you expect the king of Harfush to charge first into battle? To fight at all?"

"I'm nothing like him!" Yoongi said sharply. "I will not hide behind my soldiers while they fight my kingdom's battles! I refuse to cower in the camp like a coward."

"I'm not asking you to," you said, trying to keep your voice from rising. "I'm asking you not to run first into the battle and become an easy target. Do you know how easy it will be for them to shoot you with arrows?"

"She is right, you know," Namjoon said. He was sitting on the other chair in front of Yoongi's large wooden desk, bent over a few papers. What he was writing, you had no idea. Yoongi narrowed his eyes in betrayal. "You want to lead the charge, I understand that, it's the honorable thing to do but they aren't honorable. If you are dead, our people won't know who to follow. There will be chaos and Harfush will take advantage of that."

Yoongi got to his feet, it sounded like an earthquake. "What would you have me do then? I will fight! You can't hold me back from fighting for my kingdom!"

Silent words passed between you and Namjoon. Neither of you liked the idea but it was true that you couldn't stop Yoongi from fighting. You would have to tie him up to keep him in the camp.

You sipped on the wine, an action that seemed to only agitate Yoongi further. "You will fight. But not in the front lines and you won't have only Hoseok with you but your personal guard as well. The ones who are willing to lose their lives to save yours."

"Is that it?" Yoongi asked, something animalistic in his expression. It was coming closer to the surface the past few weeks, clawing and snarling. "Are you making all the decisions for the war? Deciding what is best for MY people?"

Namjoon paused his writing. "We are not making any decisions for you. We only want you to see reason. We are here to advice and guide you, not force your hand."

You held back a huff. "Riding first into battle is suicide. And who will lead YOUR people then? When you are no longer here to do it."

"Why don't you lead them since you seem to believe you can do it so much better?" he snarled. His hand struck the desk with a loud thump, papers, candles and glasses clattering. Namjoon steadied the ink bottle before it could spill and paint the room blue. You held yourself back from flinching.

The world stood still for a moment like it was holding its breath. Yoongi's lips parted. Quickly he pulled back his hand and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said, gritting his teeth. "I let my temper get the best of me."

Your heartbeat was rising but you kept your voice steady. "I have no desire to lead, only to advise you. I can do nothing more. It isn't only your life on the line. It's the kingdom. Your life is more important than honor or your desire to prove you are a good king."

His jaw clenched. "I will think about it." A dismissal of the conversation. Namjoon went back to his papers and you rested back on the chair, your fingers drumming the tune of war on the arms.

The days grew smaller and the nights longer. Your blood was either freezing or burning. The songs in the court were lifeless, a front no one was believing anymore. Fewer people were good enough pretenders to sing and dance. Wine tasted dull on your tongue. Underneath everything, you were scheming.

War. It had turned from a whisper into a chant. It was the cold breath on your neck in the middle of the night, chilling you to the bone. But you were ready for it. As ready as someone could be for the cruelty humanity had created.

It didn't start with fire or a war cry. It started with a letter. A declaration of war sealed with the royal seal of Harfush.

The night before the King's departure, you and Yoongi met in the council room.

"You are not coming to the front," Yoongi said, thunder flashing in his face. "You are to stay here and rule in my stead. There is no place for you on the battlefield."

You stood your ground, you were used to Yoongi's dangerous looks that would have made anyone else cower. The candles burned around the council room like pyres in the night.

"I am no ruler," you said. "I am the King's advisor and I should be where the king is. Be it the Castle or the battlefield. I will go where you go."

Yoongi clenched his fists. "You are not coming to the front and that's the end. I need you here to take care of the kingdom while I'm gone."

"Namjoon is more than capable of taking care of the kingdom, the council listens to him more than they listen to me." Many in the council believed you were too young and too inexperienced to be the King's advisor. No one would say it in front of Yoongi but amongst themselves they whispered that he had chosen wrong. "You need me there," you continued. "I have studied battles all my life, I am one of the best war strategies you have. It would be foolish not to take advantage of that."

"I have studied battles all my life too and I will have my generals with me. Your place is here in the castle and that is where you will stay."

Anger licked your insides with tongues of fire. "Are you ordering me?" When he stayed silent, you went on. "Do you seriously believe they need me more here than on the front where our fate will be decided? You have always been the better fighter, I was never good at that, but when it comes to strategy, I was better and you know it. Let me be there for you, let me do what I'm meant to do. What is a King's Advisor without a king?"

"Don't." The power was gone from his voice, his head bent. "Stay here. The kingdom needs you."

"The kingdom needs to win and they need you. And I shall be by your side,” you said, not leaving him any chance to contradict you. “I won’t go into the battle, obviously. I will stay at the camp which will be protected and if they reach the camp, that means the war is over. It wouldn’t make a difference if I were there or in the castle. I would be doomed either way.”

“If we lose,” he said through gritted teeth as if it pained him to think about it. “You can escape the castle, go to another country, take Namjoon with you and start anew.”

You were fuming. “Would you run away if you had the chance? Would you escape if you were in my place? Take the coward’s way out?” He looked away. “I am not going anywhere.” Concealed in a pocket of your dress, you pulled out a blade as long as your hand and threw it on the table. “I would rather slit my neck with this blade than run away. I either do this here or at the camp. You choose.”

Yoongi stared at the blade. He was as tense as a tightrope. Watching him was like watching a forest fire. Until something crumbled or it could have been the tremble of the flames surrounding you. He drew back, pulling his eyes away.

“Don’t do it,” he muttered at last. “Stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Do as you please then.”

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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