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tarjapearce · 6 months

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You know the ‘girlfriend effect’ trend going on ? I feel like that would be mama and Miguel. Like Miguel having a horrible style and wearing the most outrageous terrible clothes and not knowing what to do with his hair or not doing any form of facial care routines (you how men are) until he meets our mama and she just helps him develop a style and find what works best for him but doing it in a way that isn’t insulting and belittling but rather caring and loving.

This is Pre-Soccer Family 🤭

Boyfriend Makeover

Ever since MJ's birthday party at Peter's, things had taken a turn between you and Miguel.

Something that had left him with the little seed of seeing you as many times as possible from now on, rooting and blooming within. And in truth, you couldn't wait to see him again as well.

He had this je ne sas quoi that drawn you in like bees to pollen. Like gasoline to a fire, and anything intrinsically related in nature.

When you went home to a little more intimate and girls only after party, you spilled the beans and Jessica slid a couple of bucks in MJ's direction when you were too busy fangirling and gushing like a teenager whose crush just noticed her for the first time ever.

"He tried to kiss me!"

"Miguel?"

"Yes!" You plopped on the bed with a nervous squeal.

"You two kissed?" MJ watched at Jessica eagerly, as if ready to receive more money from the secret bet they had done on who kissed who first.

"Nah, he gotta work for it. But, damn... I was holding back so badly. He looks like a good kisser."

Jessica giggled at your ecstatic state.

"Just kiss him, woman! Pretty sure he'd die on the spot if you do that"

And so you did. The first kiss had been nothing you had expected, A little fumble and clumsy but sweet. He was taken aback when you made the first move, but couldn't complain. He had sandwiched your face in between his big hands and gave you a kiss you only fantasized often, once the movie had finished in TV back on his apartment's living room.

Things just flowed from there. He once grabbed your hand as you ventured through the sea of people in the mall when you were shopping.

"Won't find you later, Chaparrita." (Little one)

"Well, if you're gonna hold my hand, then do it properly."

With an impish smile you entwined your fingers with his, he only flared an airy yet bashful chuckle as his hand tightened it's grip on yours.

----

Even though he had asked you to date him officially, the doubt in people's faces remained. Not that you cared, but seeing him particularly serious after a gathering meant that someone had said something either about you, or the both.

"Do I look awful to you?"

You truly weren't expecting something so trivial to upset him that way, sure there were things he could improve about himself that would just only add him a bonus to his already effortlessly gorgeous looks.

"What?. Who told you that?"

He shrugged and kept driving. His style was something basic and borderline boring, office like all the way. Like if the nerdiness refused to leave his body completely and had rioted big time and now was the ruling sovereign of his closet.

Sweatpants in different tones of gray and black, graphic tees that had endured through college time and other basic things, sneakers and a couple of shoes and boots. The only stylish sort of thing he had was a navy blue suit that ripped as he tried to slid it past his broad shoulders.

"Shit you hear around." He grumbled while driving.

"Well, if you don't like your style we could change it. I could help if you want to, of course."

"What would you change about it?"

"Even though I love when you wear your lab coat and those sweatpants together" You giggled and took his hand briefly, "I'd add more color to your wardrobe and other different textures. You'd look even more handsome with summer colors."

"It's not summer."

"I know, just saying I'd add a bit more color to it."

"Right. We can do that. What about eh, the... things you put on the face. Masks and shit?"

Your face lit up upon the questions he was throwing at you as he gestured to his face.

"What about them?"

"How do you use them?"

In truth, he had overheard some things behind his back. Him looking like a tired creep that always wore the same clothes, them surprised at you tolerating such lack of style, but what had affected him more than what he let on was hearing that you deserved more than just a greasy haired nerd guy in your life. Mostly said by guys that looked straight out of a photo shoot in Italy.

His hair hovered on his shoulders, either tied in a lazy man bun or simply slicked back. Skin rough and oily, a few ingrown hairs in his stubble. Some pimples here and there. As long as he was clean, like his clothes it had been more than enough for him so far. Contrary to you. Ever glowing, stylish and delicious smelling.

Hell, some of his clothes still smelled like you even if he washed them. But now that a new chapter of his life started with none else but you, he wanted to be better. He was already a bit self conscious about his overall looks, and didn't wanna add more to the list of things he already hated about himself, but for some reason you loved.

He wanted to increase the latter. And if a makeover was needed for you to be even more into him, he'd go under them. And what a better chance to do so when you were excited about it. Another excuse to spend the day together, really. Even if it meant to go under layers of things foreign to his skin or be switching into things in a secluded changing room.

"We could meet tomorrow at the mall, buy new clothes and spend the rest of the day pampering ourselves."

"Sounds scary."

"The only thing you gotta be afraid is what the lack of sun block does to the skin."

"I'm aware that cancer can be developed after the constant exposure to high UV lights."

"You're so sexy when you speak like that."

"I'm actually surprised you find me appealing given my lack of-"

"Ah don't ruin it, Miguelín. You know that's not why we got together."

"Still, I wanna be better. Can't look like a tired creep." You swatted his head gently with a deadpan in your eyes.

"Miguel, even if you wore an unicorn onesie, I'd still adore you the same and I'd definitely fuck you afterwards."

He snorted and looked at you with softened eyes.

"But the gesture is highly appreciated. I'm excited really. We get to spend the day together and have fun."

"Shopping day tomorrow then?"

"Of course!"

-----

You visited different stores, even took a mini photo shoot of the outfits you had picked together for him. He wasn't that into flashy or saturated prints. He was more of plain colors, and if something was printed it had to be minimum. Attention seeking was in the least of his priorities.

His confidence seemed to take a higher place the more clothes he tried and new compliments flew out your mouth.

You had him a blushing mess as you asked him to twirl for you only to slap his ass and give a rather thirsty yet loving comment on him. You already made those when he wore your favorite gray sweatpants. Nothing had changed really, except for one outfit that had your cheeks a bright red the more you stared .

Cotton plain navy blue polo shirt that adjusted perfectly on his upper frame, white pants that made a perfect job in accentuating his waist and white leather loafers. It was the winner of the day.

"Never in my life have I been envious of a shirt, until today."

You then went for the skin care. Exfoliants, moisturizers, masks and so many other tools he had the slightest idea they even existed. Even though you explained each and their functions, he had to take a break to let all sink in.

"How many times I must put all this in my face?"

"Twice a day. Morning and night before sleeping."

"Don't get me wrong but, how do you find time to do this?"

"It becomes a discipline over time. And now I can't live without it."

"If something's worth saying, I like the... uh, the scent and feeling that it leaves in your skin. It's nice."

He cleared his throat as you kept adding products to the basket.

"Why, thank you." You kissed his cheek as you both looked over the men section of skincare, "We gotta get you a proper shaving kit also. Razors only damage your skin. Wanna keep your beard?"

"Do you like it?"

"I don't mind it honestly. With or without it you look scrumptious." Your eyebrows wiggled at him and his ears turned a light shade of pink.

"Let's get it then."

----

His eyes were all teary and glossy the more you pulled the peel off mask from his sensitive skin.

"Ow! Ow, ya! Amor, ya!" You laughed silently as you stopped. Hips straddling him, face to face, masked with the pore cleansing charcoal product, smeared in your features.

You had tied his hair carefully to then teach him how to properly clean his face, after a session of much needed steam to relax and open his pores.

Also squeezed some tools as gently as possible to get gunk and black spots out, but even so had him squirming at the beginning, then you had taught him how to properly cleanse his face, and in what order each product had to be applied. He was genuinely interested at the components of each thing and how well they seemed to react on his skin. Secretly taking a picture of him while having his eyes closed.

"Relax Eddie Brock, we're almost done!"

"¿No te duele o qué?" (Does this even hurts for you?)

"We are Venom." You giggled but he just deadpanned,

"You're not funny. You're a psycho."

"After you do this a bunch of times it comes out easier and less painful."

To his horror, you peeled off the mask without much ows and hissing, like he was, cringing at the way the black and elastic thing abandoned your face, coming out in in a piece.

"It would've be a lot less painful but you put it on your eyelids and so damn close to the ears. The first places I told you to not put it on!"

"I don't know about these things-" He hissed as you pulled in a go the last remnants of the mask. A little whimper and a grunt came out later.

"Canija!" You kissed his face softly where the mask had been, trying to soothe the pain as he cussed.

"Please tell me we're done with that"

Instead of words you smooched his lips with a proud smile.

"We're done. Now let's get you some serums."

"You're not putting needles in my face, are you?"

"What? No. It's not that kind of serum. It's like vitamins for your skin in oily or creamy textures."

By the end of the day he had fallen asleep as you used your jade face roller on him, but woke up with a glowy and healthy looking skin. Even some pimples had diminished their redness. His tired face not only was less tired but looked like he had slept well for weeks. No longer oily and breaking out.

Despite the pain, it all had been worth it. But your shocked face upon seeing him well dressed in a cream button shirt, black pants and dress shoes, and a fresh haircut that would turn into his forever look; holding a bouquet of tulips before your door, was absolutely priceless.

Needless to say you didn't make it to the dinner date, too busy ravaging eachother to care.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#Pre Soccer Family 🕷️🌷#t writes✨#Boyfriend Miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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gyuswhore · 8 days

Text

Never Shall We Die [teaser]

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: est. 30k | [teaser]: ~1k

RELEASE DATE: est. May 19th, 2024 - may change

‼️PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)‼️

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, smut tags to be added in the full fic

[AN]: hai i am back with another monstrosity 😃 biggest thank you to @highvern for brainstorming with me and beta-ing for me, this fic would not exist without her!!!!! im super excited for this to come out, its my best work yet and i hope you all like it too!!!!

teaser under the cut!

“Did your stupid father drop you on your head as a baby?”

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully; “What?”

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone else.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.

Is he about to cut my hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

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azriels-shadowsinger · 8 months

Text

Confessions (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you and azriel are best friends, but his flirting with elain has become too much for you to bear, so you decide to try to move on.

wc: 3k

a/n: !!warning: mentions attempted SA!! This is the first real fic i have written in years so it’s probably shit but if you decide to read this thank u and i love u.

Read Part Two

For months now, you have been fairly upset about seeing Azriel pining after Elain, but even more annoyed that your friendship with him has become insignificant to him now that he spends all his time with her. About a decade ago, you decided that being hopelessly in love with Azriel was pointless since he would never see you that way, so you settled for friendship. It’s better to have him as a friend than not at all… or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Mor is the only one who knows about your crush and has kept your secret, but not without constant pestering to tell him how you feel.

“He’s in love with Elain, Mor. I’m over it and over him. I’m ready to move on.” You lie as best you can to her and to yourself.

“You’re so full of shit. But fine, I’ll play along. When we go out tonight, you’re finding someone to go home with!” She says excitedly while finishing her eyeliner. Mor forced you to put on a tight, navy party dress that barely covers your ass instead of letting you wear your go-to little black dress.

After she finishes getting ready, the two of you head down to your room to grab your lipstick, but when you open the door to the hallway, you see Azriel and Elain at the end of the hall whispering and standing only inches from each other. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight and turn the opposite direction to head to your room, refusing to look behind you when you feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

———

Rita’s was crowded, as per usual. After about an hour of drinks and dancing, you were decently drunk and had forgotten all about Azriel… well almost.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You hear a male say from beside you. He’s tall and fairly handsome, but nowhere near Azriel’s level of attractiveness- damnit you need to get him out of your head!

“Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.” You try to say seductively, but it just comes out awkward. Gods, when was the last time you tried to flirt? He chuckles and orders your drink. Mor gives you a wink from across the bar and disappears into the crowd with a stranger.

After a while of talking, you decide this guy, Mikael, is exceptionally boring, but the night is almost over and he’s your only option. Anything to forget a certain dark and mysterious shadowsinger. Why not try to have fun?

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Mikael whispers in your ear. No reaction. If Azriel had been this close and whispered something to you, you would be all goosebumps and blushes, but with Mikael… nothing. Fuck, this is probably a bad idea. Maybe you should just go home and try again another night.

“Y/n?” His voice pulls you out of your daze. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here.” He says a bit annoyed while sliding a hand up your thigh. Gods, this guy is kinda an ass. This is definitely a bad idea.

“Um… I’m pretty tired. And I came here with a friend, so I should probably find her to make sure she gets home safe.” You slowly stand from your chair to leave. You immediately stumble and feel much dizzier than before. You were never good at handling your liquor, and apparently tonight was no exception… except you don’t remember drinking enough to feel this drunk. Mikael’s hand grabs your shoulder to stabilize you, but his grip feels too tight and he doesn’t let go once you balance yourself.

“Cmon honey. We were having a fun night, let’s keep it going.” He leans too close for comfort, giving you a slimy grin. You pull away and stumble back.

“I really should find my friend. I’m sorry!” You say nervously and look around for Mor. She’s nowhere in sight. Shit. She probably either left with that girl thinking you were gonna go home with Mikael or she’s lost in the crowd. Either way, you just need to get away from Mikael. You stumble towards the door, feeling dizzy and seeing double. Each step feels slower and heavier than the last, but you finally step outside, savoring the winter chill that will hopefully sober you up. Just as you take a step outside, you feel a hand grab your wrist too hard and pull you towards the alley next to Rita’s.

“I spent a lot of fucking money on your drinks tonight, so I’m not gonna ask again. You’re coming home with me.” Mikael’s whiskey breath is inches from your face, making you want to gag. You want to scream for help. You want to kick and fight back, but your body feels weak and your vision keeps getting blurrier. After a moment, you slump onto Mikael and he helps you walk down the sidewalk. To everyone else, you probably look like a drunk girl whose boyfriend is helping her home.

No. No no no. You need to get away. You need someone to notice you aren’t okay. How the fuck did this happen?

You hear a voice behind you and your feet stop moving. It’s too blurry and dark to see, but soon you’re on the ground and someone is yelling. You shut your eyes, accepting whatever horrible thing is about to happen to you. But suddenly you are in someone’s arms, and a moment later you’re inside somewhere. You open your eyes, and despite the blurriness, you recognize your blue curtains. You’re home. Somehow.

Mor must have found you and winnowed you home. Thank the gods for that. You are set on your bed and covered you with blankets.

“Thanks… thanks for finding me, Mor.” You slur and curl into your blankets. “I think that guy… put something in my drink.” Your voice trails off as you become incredibly sleepy and shut your eyes. Mor sits you up and forces you to drink some water. Your eyes feel too heavy to open, so you keep them shut.

“Just… don’t tell Azriel about this. It’s embarrassing enough to go looking for a quick fuck to get over my crush, but it’s even more embarrassing to get fucking drugged by someone in the process.” You get the words out slowly between sips. Thinking about everything that just happened tonight should make you want to cry and vomit, but you’re too tired to do so. When you finish the water, you lay back down and immediately fall asleep.

———

Your head is pounding and the sun is shining too bright. Someone is yelling outside your door. You roll over in bed, half expecting to see some male, but thankfully you are alone in your room. You don’t remember much from last night, but apparently your attempt at a one night stand was unsuccessful. Probably for the best.

The yelling gets louder.

“She was on the fucking sidewalk outside Rita’s!” You hear a male voice yell. Azriel’s voice. Why is Azriel here? And why is he so damn loud?

You slowly make your way out of bed and to the door so you can tell him to shut up, but as soon as you open the door, you see several worried faces staring back at you. Mor, Rhys, Cass, Feyre, and Azriel all stare at you. Mor looks like she’s crying and Azriel is red in the face with a murderous expression.

“Can you all shut up? I have a head-“ you start

“Y/n I’m so sorry!” Mor hugs you tight, almost knocking you over.

“What the…” you start to question before you’re cut off again.

“Do you know his name, y/n? I’ll make sure he is taken care of.” Rhys asks. His voice is gentle, but his face is full of anger.

“Like hell you will. I would’ve killed him last night if I didn’t have to get her back here. I should’ve fucking killed that piece of garbage.” Azriel mutters.

What the hell is going on? You pull away from Mor and face the group.

“Does anyone care to tell me what we’re talking about?” You ask cautiously while rubbing your temples in an attempt to alleviate your headache.

“Of course she doesn’t remember you guys. Give her some space.” Feyre says softly and leads you back inside your room with Mor. The three males protest, but Feyre gives them a stern look and shuts the door. “Sit down, y/n. I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

You sit on your bed and look between Feyre and Mor anxiously.

“You were found outside of Rita’s being carried by a stranger and you were close to unconscious. You’ve been asleep for almost the entire day now.”

You stare back in stunned silence. The memories slowly start to return, but before you can ask a question Mor starts tearing up again.

“You don’t know how sorry I am y/n. You were hitting it off with that guy and next thing I knew, you were gone. I thought you went home with him like you planned, but when Azriel told me-“

“Azriel? Wait… what?” You ask.

“Azriel found you and brought you back here. He made sure you were safe before finding me and going ballistic on me for not watching out for you. I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to let you get hurt!” She cries again.

“I don’t understand. I vaguely remember someone bringing me home, but I could’ve sworn it was you, Mor, not Azriel.” They both shake their heads. You sit silently and process the information for a minute before saying the only thing that may be helpful in this moment.

“His name was Mikael. He had dark hair, hazel eyes, and wore a red shirt.” You whisper, still in shock. Feyre’s eyes glaze over for a moment as she relays this information to Rhys. Suddenly its completely quiet outside your door.

———

You spend the rest of the day in your room, still exhausted and fighting a hangover. Or the after effects from the drug… not sure. There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Come in.” You call out. Azriel slowly opens the door and walks in. You can tell he just got back and tried to clean up quickly, but there’s still a few smears of blood on him.

“Uh… hi.” You say awkwardly and motion for him to sit. Azriel sits on the end corner of your bed and looks at you with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. His shadows are swirling around you, as if to check that you are actually okay. They’ve always taken an interest in you, which you normally appreciate, but right now it just makes you feel guiltier for last night.

“Thank you for finding me last night. I probably wouldn’t be okay right now if you hadn’t.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze. He takes a deep breath, like he is trying to control himself.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He mutters angrily. Azriel stands and starts pacing the room. “You could’ve been fucking killed!” He raises his voice.

“I know. I didn’t-“

“And then you go and say… fuck y/n!” He runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Az.” You whisper, fighting the tears that are building. Wait, why the hell is he mad at you? You didn’t drug yourself. “Azriel, it’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You say a bit annoyed. He lets out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, but you planned on going out to find someone to fuck. Wearing that fucking dress and letting that fucking worthless filth touch you.” He spits out angrily as his shadows swirl around your ankles.

“Okay look, I can do what I want and wear what I want. Why is it any of your business if I try to hook up with someone?” Your eyes burn and you fight the tears. “Obviously I wasn’t expecting someone to put something in my drink. I’ll be more careful next time!” You yell louder.

“Next time?” His voice drops to a whisper and he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Azriel. Why do you even care? You’re never around anymore. Always too busy sneaking off with Elain to hang out with your best friend!” Hurt fills your voice. You hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out.

“Why are you bringing her into this?” His voice drops lower and his brow furrows.

“She has a mate, Azriel! What the hell are you doing?” You sigh and put your head in your hands. “I just miss you.”

He stops pacing and stares at you. “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have! I never see you anymore!” Its true. He never makes plans with you anymore and it has been tearing you apart. It’s strange that he was even at Rita’s in the first place, because he never wanted to go even before he ditched you for Elain. Wait, why was he there? “You were at Rita’s last night when you found me.” It’s not a question.

He nods.

“Why were you there?” He obviously wasn’t expecting you to ask that because panic flashes in his eyes for a brief moment. “I know you weren’t there with Elain because she hates it there. And I didn’t see you inside with the guys.” I try to remember him outside the bar, but it’s all fuzzy.

“I was worried.” He mutters so quiet you barely hear.

“What?”

“I was worried about you y/n!” You look at him surprised. “I saw you in the hall ready to go out in that dress. God, that fucking dress. And the entire night I kept thinking about something bad happening. So I waited outside to make sure you and Mor were safe. And then I saw that fucking piece of shit with his hands on you and I just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “If something had happened to you… if I hadn’t been there to stop it…” His expression looks angry again.

You pause and process his words. He almost sounds jealous. But that can’t be it. Because he has no reason to be jealous.

He sighs again and continues with a softer voice. “Do you remember anything after you left?” He asks with a hint of desperation in his voice. You think hard for a moment. You thought Mor got you home and you told her what happened. But it wasn’t Mor. It was Azriel. And then you said not to tell Azriel because… fuck. Your eyes go wide.

Azriel stalks closer and is inches from you. “Do you remember what you said? Was that the drug talking or you?” He whispers low and gets closer, his eyes searching yours for an answer. This cannot be happening. If you thought your friendship was screwed before, this is definitely the final straw.

“Az…” you whisper.

“Tell me.” His voice is demanding.

“I don’t-“ you start, but Azriel turns and runs his hands over his face in frustration. He stays facing away from you, muttering something to himself.

“Azriel, I cant. You already avoid me as it is. I don’t think I can handle losing you as a friend. Losing you completely.” He obviously already knows, but saying it feels too real. Your words cause him to turn back around and get closer to you. Azriel leans over you, caging you against the bed in between his arms and stares at you silently for a moment. His shadows have stilled completely around you two. There’s something desperate in his eyes. He’s so close, closer than he has been in months. Hell, he’s closer than he’s been ever. You look from his eyes to his lips for a split second, mesmerized by the way he barely bites his bottom lip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. Before you can ask what, he crashes his lips into yours. You freeze for a moment in shock, before melting into his touch. He lets out a low groan as you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. His calloused hands wrap into your hair and tug slightly, earning a small whimper from you. It takes several moments before you come up for air.

“Azriel… I don’t understand.” You ask breathlessly.

“Please tell me what you said last night is true. That you feel the way I feel.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“What about Elain?”

“I don’t care about Elain! I care about you! She knows that I’m in l-“ He pauses and takes a breath. “I was trying to get over you.” He grabs your chin softly and pulls your face to meet his. “It’s always been you, y/n. Please.”

You stare silently in shock for several moments. “Y/n…” Azriel’s voice pulls you from your trance and you realize he’s waiting for you to answer.

Just as you are about to respond, there is a knock on the door. Azriel quickly pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed away from you, as if nothing were happening.

“Come in!” You call out softly, and Feyre opens the door holding a plate of food.

“I should go.” Azriel says quietly and heads towards the door.

“Wait.” You try to stop him, but he keeps walking.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, y/n.” Azriel opens the door and leaves without a second glance. His shadows remain for a moment, before quickly retreating, as if being called to follow. Feyre gives you a questioning look, but you just shake your head and fall back onto the bed, finally letting the tears flow freely.

thank you for reading!! :)

Read Part Two

#acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #acotar fic #bat boys #my writing

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callsignhoney · 2 years

Text

the captain’s daughter ➤

pairing ➤ robert “bob” floyd x fem!mitchell!reader

genre ➤ fluff, allusions to smut

summary ➤ an unlikely candidate has you breaking your dad (and brother’s) “no pilots” policy

———

Your entrance to the Hard Deck was announced with a wave of cheers from the squadron of naval aviators tucked against the far wall. You laughed and gave a show of waving at them before scurrying over. You passed out hellos and high fives to them all before reaching your—in every way except by blood—brother.

“Hey, short stack,” Rooster greeted you when you gave him a side hug.

“Hey, beanpole,” you returned.

“What’s going on, Miss Mitchell?” Fanboy said.

“It’s a pleasure to see you as always,” Payback told you with a grin.

“God, don’t I know it.”

“Looking good, Y/N,” Hangman said, taking a step away from the pool game to greet you with his usual line.

“I’m sure you say that to all the pretty girls you meet,” you recited back at him.

“You know I only have eyes for you, baby.”

You laughed when he winked at you and shoved him back toward the pool table. “Piss off.”

This was the usual greeting you got from your father’s students. It all started back on that first day they all had landed on North Island and took to the Hard Deck to meet each other prior to training. You’d grown up on navy bases and eventually found your way to working a job near Top Gun, often putting you in the path of your father and brother on their numerous orders.

You’d been out with your dad that night when Hangman approached you. Maverick, your father, had quickly cut in and Hangman took to taking the piss out on him for the rest of the night, a decision he regretted almost immediately as he learned who your dad was the next day for training.

Once the trainees all got more comfortable with your dad, and got to know you in turn, the flirting from them all became a running joke to ruffle your dad’s feathers. No matter how well he knew that it was all a big joke to get him riled up, it still worked. Sometimes even Rooster butted in to draw a line, but you just found it hilarious and started giving your own flirty remarks back.

“How long is this going to go on for?” your dad asked, coming up behind you to pass out drinks to the crew. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, dad.”

“You know we’re just playing, Maverick,” Fanboy said.

“Do I know that, Fanboy? Do I?” your dad sighed.

“Mav, trust me, if any of them actually tried anything, I’d cut their dick off before you even heard about it,” Rooster spoke up.

Several of the men winced at that. Fanboy took a long drink from his cup.

“What if I want a shot with Miss Mitchell, here?” Phoenix spoke up, sending you an award winning smile.

“You may be the one I approve of the most, but it still is not going to happen,” Maverick said. “No Navy fighter pilots. It’s my one dating rule I’ve ever given Y/N.”

“Who do you approve of the least?” Phoenix asked.

“Hangman, obviously,” Rooster answered for him.

Maverick gave a small look of agreement but said nothing.

The table laughed.

You found a seat beside Fanboy. To your other side, Bob. Your heart beat a little faster as you sent him a small smile. He and Phoenix had been deployed on a mission that had them away for a few weeks. Their safe arrival back home was the reason you all were out drinking tonight.

The night went on and the flirting only reared its head a sparse few times. No one noticed how your and Bob’s hands were intertwined under the table, or how his grip tightened anytime one of the others made a flirtatious comment toward you.

———

“I can tell them to stop, you know,” you told Bob later, tucked against each other in the afterglow.

He tilted his head to look up at you, resting on your chest. You ran a hand through his hair and he closed his eyes, almost purring with the small, blissful sound he made.

“I can tell them to stop the flirting and the jokes if it bothers you,” you said. “Tell them I’m getting tired of it, or whatever.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said.

You gave him a look.

“I’m serious,” he laughed.

“Right. And that wasn’t jealous sex.”

“That was I haven’t seen you in three weeks because of a mission and I missed you very very much sex.”

“Hm.”

“I’m serious!”

“You’d tell me if it bothered you, right?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I promise.”

He kissed your collarbone to assure you. You leaned down to kiss his forehead and fell into quiet again, holding each other as you settled down from the high you’d given one another. You ran your fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He smoothed his palms over your body, tracing small shapes into your skin.

You didn’t think you could ever need anything more than this. You wished you could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.

You drifted off to sleep and woke up still tangled together. It felt like you were unable to get enough of him on a normal day when he came home to you every night; he’d been away for three weeks and you felt insatiable, not even able to whine about missing him to anyone lest your dad or brother found out about you two.

If you had to guess, you’d say Bob felt the same way based on how he rolled on top of you the moment he woke up. The kiss was slow and messy and left you panting, desperate for more. You could do little more than steady your breathing as he disappeared under the blankets and wrapped his strong arms around your thighs to keep you in place.

Your head had just started to cloud over when you were abruptly snapped out of your lust-filled haze.

“Y/N! Ever heard of checking your phone?”

You inhaled sharply. “Bradley.”

You grabbed Bob’s shoulders and wrenched him out from under the covers.

“What? Are you okay?” he asked.

You slapped a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. “My brother’s here.”

Bob’s eyes widened and he repeated back what you said into the muffle of your hand.

“Y/N? Hello?” Rooster called.

You and Bob stared at each other as you tried to come up with what to do or something to say. Eventually, you managed out, “Hang on, I’m getting dressed!” and practically shoved Bob out of bed, both of you scrambling to find clothes to put on.

“Mav and I texted you last night about breakfast today. Are you coming?”

“Uh, sure!” you said, hopping around to pull your pants on.

“Did you not see our texts? In the group chat.”

You chucked Bob’s shirt at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“Did you pass out after getting home last night? Couldn’t bother checking your phone?”

You glanced at Bob, flushing as you remembered last night. “Something like that.”

Bob turned to look at you helplessly, fully dressed despite his shirt being on backwards. You scanned the room then zeroed in on the windows.

“We are going to tell them about us eventually, right?” Bob asked in a whisper as you pushed him across the room.

“Yes, eventually,” you said, wrenching the window open.

“Why not just tell him now?”

You looked at him like he was insane. “This is not the introduction you want to have with my brother as my boyfriend. Eventually, yes, we’ll tell him and my dad but not like this, and not right now.”

You started hitting him to get him to climb out the window. “Okay, okay!”

You reminded yourself not get distracted by the way his muscles moved in his arms as he maneuvered himself out the window. You glanced back at the door to your bedroom but it had remained safely shut during the whole endeavor.

“Rooster won’t actually cut my dick off when we tell him we’re dating, right?” Bob asked, hanging onto the windowsill.

You blinked at him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Y/N—��

You leaned down to kiss him. “Go, or I close the window on your fingers.”

“Alright.” He pulled himself enough to kiss you once more. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He dropped down from your window and you shut it quickly after him.

———

BONUS!

“Hey, Bob!” Hangman called out. “I’ve got a question for ya.”

Bob had his hands busy in the underbelly of one of the jets he and a few others were working on. Neck craned to see what he was doing, he looked around one of his extended arms to spot Hangman coming over to him. Phoenix trailed after him, looking mildly irritated by his existence as usual.

“Uh, yeah?” Bob said, keeping his hand aloft in the jet he was working on.

“Who gave you the hickey?”

Something clunked inside the plane as Bob lost hold of it. “W—what?”

Hangman gestured to Bob’s neck where a bruise was on full display. “That little thing. Where’d you get it?”

“I—I didn’t— it’s nothing.”

Bob’s hands were still caught up and busy when Hangman spotted something else incriminating. He tugged the neck of Bob’s shirt down just enough to reveal the bruise that had blossomed on his collarbone.

“Hey!” Bob protested, shouldering Hangman’s hand away as best he could.

“That seems like a little more than nothing,” Hangman said with a shit-eating grin.

“Leave him alone,” Phoenix spoke up, elbowing Hangman back to put herself between him and her WSO.

“What? You can’t tell me you’re not curious, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna harass him about it.”

“Who was it, Bob? I mean, the only girls you ever talk to are Phoenix, Halo, and Y/N.”

Maybe he was reading too far into it, or maybe the way Bob swallowed at the sound of your name and glanced around the hangar wasn’t just a coincidence.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Hangman said slowly. “Would you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bob said, too quickly.

“Holy shit,” Hangman said, “you’re fucking Mav’s daughter.”

“I’m not,” Bob argued, trying to force out a laugh.

“You actually are,” Hangman said, and he sounded almost genuinely impressed. “You’re fucking the captain’s daughter.”

“Okay, no,” Bob argued, finally getting his hands free from the jet. “I’m not… seeing Y/N. I’m not. I don’t know where you got that from, but we are just friends. Hardly that. Acquaintances, really.”

“I’m starting to think you might be right, Hangman,” Phoenix said.

Hangman looked at her in shock.

“Don’t get used to hearing that.”

“You’re siding with him?” Bob said incredulously. “Because I… hit myself in the neck. With a book. Hard.”

“You talk too much when you’re trying to lie,” Phoenix told him. “It’s your tell.”

“I am not dating Y/N, okay?” Bob said, forcing out laughter that just sounded pained.

“Tell Y/N to film it when you two finally decide to tell Rooster and Mav,” Hangman said. “I would pay to see their reactions. And what they do to you afterward.”

Sure of himself, Hangman gave a laugh and walked away. Phoenix hung back for a moment and patted her back seater on the arm.

“Good for you, Floyd,” she said. “Just try to keep your dick attached to the rest of you.”

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun bob #top gun bob x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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panther-os · 2 months

Text

@amikoroyaiart did this awesome commission of my OC Lennie and my version of Ghost! I've wanted to commission her since I first came across her art over a year ago but it took me a while to save and just ahhhhhhh so worth it

Fun fact! The pants are uniform accurate. 141 is an international task force, and while Ghost and many of the rest of the team are SAS and wear black or navy fatigues, Lennie is an tArm (Irish Army) and wears that specific camo pattern! Their neon pink hair is definitely out of regulation, but no one dares call them on it.

Lennie is nonbinary and their full name and rank is Lieutenant Lennie Lynch. They're from Carrick-on-Shannon in Leitrim County of Ireland, and they're the 141's Chief Logistics & Supply Officer. Anything from toilet paper to ammo to fresh fruit to video games, it all goes through them. They have a ton of smuggler contacts in order to get supplies out to remote areas, and they use this network for information as well.

Basically Laswell's job, but more focused on keeping people alive via food and bandages and etc than keeping people alive via intel on the enemy.

Price met Lennie at the same time he met Nikolai. It was a joint an tArm and SAS operation where the two squads wound up trapped in a snowstorm with dwindling supplies, including much-needed medical supplies. Lennie asked for an hour with the sat phone, spent that time making threats and promises and calling in favors, and then Nikolai (the only pilot good enough and crazy enough) dropped off the supplies not too much later, which is how he and Price met. Then, a few years later, Price pulled Lennie for the Taskforce knowing their skills would be needed.

Lennie drinks far too many cups of coffee a day, barely sleeps, and spends the majority of their time in their dark office staring at computer screens. Their first date with Ghost was a joint nap on their office couch. Their best frenemy is @atohii 's OC Niko, the Chief Medical Officer, friend because they've made him weep tears of gratitude over the supplies he needs to keep everyone healthy, enemy because they've cut him off from energy drinks (the hypocrite) and gotten the entire rest of the base involved in it.

It's best assumed that Lennie knows everything and could be anywhere. They walk very quietly and often surprise people by slurping their coffee from right behind them. If they were an animal, they'd be a wild hare - the kind that surely speaks a thousand tongues and knows exactly how you die.

Ghost is still with Soap, and Soap is also with Niko, and sometimes Ghost and Niko are together as well, but romantically, Lennie's just with Ghost. We love a poly141.

This Ghost is based on TikTok cosplayer Kuromi (his account is tagged MDNI, please respect that) and Irish actor Fra Fee (because Les Mis is an old SpIn and my Ghost is Irish, his ggparents immigrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger). I don't have any specific scar or tattoo headcanons for Ghost, but I like Amiko's usual spread so I asked her to just use those, and I'm thrilled with how it came out!

And just ahhhhhhh I'm still screaming over Lennie 😍

#/incoherent noises/#call of duty #amikoroyaiart #cod oc #my oc #oc #simon ghost riley #lt lennie lynch

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b00kdiary · 3 months

Text

Yours | Rhysand

Rhysand X Plus size reader

Y/N meets Rhys in a bar- one month after the worst night of her life. One month after he saved her. But Rhys has no interest in being a hero, and Y/N doesn't want to be a victim. They only want each other.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, allusions to SA/ r*pe, fluff, angst and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"For Cauldron's sake, Rhys," Cassian laughed, a husky, low sound. It interrupted my hazed thought, dragging me back to this room, with its incandescent lights and booming music. "You've been staring at her like a creep for hours, why don't you just go talk to her?"

I clear my throat, forcing boredom into my face as I roll back the sleeves of my navy shirt. My eyes move to stare at my brothers before me, both of them smirking, a knowing gleam in their dark eyes.

"No idea what you mean, Cass," I drawl, leaning back against the leather seat, my long legs spreading out before me. I curl my fingers around the cold glass on the table, a nonchalant smile tilting my lips as I bring the cup to my mouth and sip.

"No? So, you haven't been staring at the female sitting at the bar all night?" Azriel mused, his brow raised mockingly and the shadows around his shoulders dance with every word, as if amused. "The pretty one with all those lovely curves and the smile that could melt ice?"

My hand clenches around the glass at his words, just for a second, barely even long enough for anyone to notice- but Azriel does, he always does. I shake my head as his eyes twinkle, knowing he was goading me, talking about her to force a reaction from me and like an idiot, I fell for it.

"There are plenty of pretty females here tonight, Az," I counter, lying through my teeth with an easy smile. It takes every ounce of control in me, five hundred years' worth of control, to not look in her direction, to not be drawn back to her lovely form. "Why don't the two of you go bother them and leave me alone?"

Cassian snorts and my eyes narrow at him as he runs a hand over his stubbly jaw, his hazel eyes darkening as he glances at her- sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine in one hand while the other moved animatedly as she talked and laughed with her friend.

I felt a smile tug at my lips at the sight, at the bright grin and glowing eyes, that could indeed melt ice.

I can't help but look over her again, taking in her bouncing hair and plump, soft face. I ran my eyes down her body, over the dress that clung and moulded perfectly to every curve and dip and roll of flesh she had been blessed with.

"You're right Rhysand, we should go speak to one of the lovely females here tonight," Cassian nodded and as he began to rise from his seat, his eyes unwavering upon her, Azriel chuckled.

Under any other circumstance, I would have been laughing too, would have been utterly amused by Cassian's teasing, by the banter we always found ourselves in, even five hundred years later. But as he watched her, as that familiar desire lit in his gaze, something in me burned.

"Since you're not going to make a move on her brother, you won't mind if I-"

"Sit down," I breathe, low and sinister, and more than a few eyes turn to me at the vibration of dark power that begins to emanate from me as I glare up at Cassian. He smiles, victorious, and even despite the violence promised in my gaze, he doesn't relent. "Now, Cassian."

I could feel the Fae instinct in me scorching to life, that terrible, violent urge to hurt Cassian- he was my brother, my family, and yet the mere thought of him even looking at her, thinking about her in any way, made me want to tear his throat out.

"Now that we've established, you're a territorial prick and you are interested in her," Cassian beamed, unfazed by the intense and unfathomable power radiating off me, merely sitting back down and cocking his head at me. "Why don't you go talk to her? I've never known you to be shy, Rhys."

"I'm not shy," I bare my teeth at him, tendrils of jealousy and aggression still clawing at my chest. Cass and Az share an amused glance and I grit my teeth, choosing to chug back the remaining alcohol in my glass, before slamming it back onto the table. "I just don't want to make her uncomfortable, she might not want to see me."

"Why would she-" Azriel stops, and as usual, unsurprisingly, he connects the dots faster than anyone else would. Cassian furrows his brow at the contemplative look Azriel gives me. "The female you walked home last month- that's her?"

"The one with the boyfriend Rhys nearly killed?" Cassian scoffed, clearly remembering how furious I had been that night, how it had taken so much restraint and the both of them on guard to stop me from flying out to rip that bastard's head off. "Cauldron, I haven't seen you lose control like that in years."

"He was lucky- if the two of you hadn't stopped me and she hadn't begged me to leave it alone-" I grit my teeth, trying to extinguish the raw, scorching wrath still burning in my chest. My dark eyes turn to look at her, and as I take in her breathtaking smile, my chest tightens with the memory of that night.

The sound of her broken sobs, the way those bright eyes had shattered, filling with endless tears, how she had curled into herself, wilting like a dying flower- all because of him.

"Easy, Rhys, he isn't even here," Cassian cautions and I swallow thickly at the familiar feeling of the beast inside me rearing its head, the kind of violence and danger in me that only arose during the biggest threats, during the worst battles and now, in defence of her. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I know," I sigh, my eyes shut as I pinch the bridge of my nose, the tension in my body almost suffocating as I'm bombarded with the thoughts of that night, with the thoughts of her. "Fuck, I know."

"Go talk to her, Rhys, for your own sake at the very least," Azriel muses softly, and I can hear the unspoken words in his hazel eyes, the kind that told me to be happy, to stop putting everyone first and think of myself. "You never know what could happen, brother."

I inhale deeply, the strength of my brother's stares weighing heavy on me and yet again, my violet gaze drifts over to her and this time I don't ignore the magnetic force that pulls me in.

***

"Another drink, Y/N?" Lin smiles, her slim waist curving as she turns her long legs towards the bar, a sparkle in her eyes as she glances from the bartender back to me. "I know I need another one."

"You don't need to ply me with alcohol, Lin," I muse, cocking my head at her and she shrugs nonchalantly at my knowing smile, an innocent pout gracing her red lips. "I'm having fun, I promise."

"Are you though? It's been a long month and I just-" Lin sighs, her manicured nails coming forward and curling around my hand, settling our hold against one of my plush thighs. I smile at the worry creasing her brow, dimming the radiance in her eyes as she stares at me, "I just want you to be happy, Y/N."

"I am happy, Lin," I scoff, ignoring the ache in my chest, duller than it had been a week ago and yet still an ever-suffocating presence that loomed over me like a dark cloud. "But you know what you could do to make me even happier?"

"Tell me," She leans forward, her lovely face melting into an even lovelier smile, and her hand tightens around mine, an anchor that I'm glad for. "I'll do anything."

"Well, you can go and talk to that ridiculously tall and attractive male who's been ogling you for the last two hours," I drawl sarcastically, taking a pointed sip of my drink as she glances over her shoulder, her blonde hair bouncing as she locks eyes with him. "Don't think I didn't notice the two of you eye fucking from across the room."

She giggles, a purely feminine sound and I smirk at the way the male watches her, his blue eyes darkening into storm clouds, raking down her toned and slender figure like he could see through her clothes and Lin grinned like she knew it.

"But this is meant to be a girl's day, me and you and endless drinking until we're vomiting and regretting it desperately tomorrow," Lin groans and my shoulders sag at the conflict in her eyes- the pity. She didn't want to abandon me, and I hated it.

"I think I've had my fair share of drinks tonight; I'll probably head home soon-" I gnaw on my lip, already seeing the protest in her eyes, but when I raise a brow, glancing at that male again, she sighs, "Go, have wild sex with a hot stranger and then tell me all about it tomorrow."

I can see the anticipation in her body, and I force down the teasing remarks dying to come out as I take a sip of my drink, the burn as it slides down my throat distracting me from my own infinite loneliness.

"Or you could go find a hot male and have some wild sex of your own?" Lin giggles, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me but I roll my eyes, slapping her hand and trying to usher her from her seat. "Fine, fine, but are you sure-"

Lin pauses, the words dying out on her lips and under the fluorescent lights her tan skin goes pale, her eyes widening in surprise as she glances, not at me, but past me.

"Hey, are you okay?" I laugh, my brows furrowing as Lin's eyes turn back to me and the smile that tugs at her lips is odd- knowing, giddy almost. "Lin, what-"

"I'm fine, incredible even, and you're about to be too, I think," She bites her lip, giggling as she lifts from her stool and onto her platform heels, her eyes shining like stars as she slowly backs away. "Have fun, Y/N."

"Okay, you too," I say slowly, half-laughing, half-confused as Lin saunters away, her hips swaying as she moves toward that expecting male. His eyes meet hers and the tension goes taut between them. "Don't drink anything he gives you!"

I laugh quietly to myself as I turn away from her, tucking my legs under the bar and shaking my head at her bizarre behaviour- it seemed Lin was more of a lightweight than I thought.

"Hello darling," A smooth, deep voice, like melted chocolate, greets me from behind and my body shivers at the easy sound, "Is this seat taken?"

"No, it's available, this one too I'm just about to leave-" The placated smile on my lips turns to a surprised 'o' as I toss my hair over a shoulder, my bright eyes lifting- and meeting with a constellation of violet.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court- and the male who had been there when I was at my lowest.

"High- High Lord," I stutter, my eyes widening and it's as if his presence spurs something deep in my chest and it has me shifting to sit straighter, my head angling up to meet his captivating gaze. "These seats are available-"

"Please, it's Rhys," He smiled, and I smelt the sweet aroma of night-blooming Jasmine and ocean breeze as he pulled out the chair beside me, his long, toned body elegantly taking a seat inches from me.

"Right, Rhys," I breathe softly, remembering how he had said the same thing that night. Though his eyes held more softness now, unlike that night no violence or death was gleaming in them.

"Can I get a bourbon on the rocks," I watch his handsome face glance at the bartender, and I can't help but run my gaze over him- the silken raven locks effortlessly tousled, the strong bridge of his nose, the tilt of his lazy smile, how he leaned back against the chair, his powerful form at ease.

"And another of what the lovely lady beside me is having."

My eyes snap back up to his at the words, and my cheeks burn at the sparkle in his eyes. The kind that told me he knew I was looking over every inch of him, and that I, like most females, liked what I saw.

"You'll stick around for one drink, I hope?" He questions, and my heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer, his legs brushing mine and I felt the electricity of his touch lance through my entire body. "I could do with the company, darling."

Darling. The nickname made my stomach flip, the way it rolled off his tongue made it sound so erotic, sensual like he knew he could pleasure a female with just his words.

"One drink," I nod, swallowing thickly as the bartender places Rhysand's glass of Bourbon and my wine before us with a soft clink. "I suppose it's the least I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything, I hope you know that" His voice softens, his eyes do too, and I know he's picturing me as I was that night. Crying. Shaking. A mess. His throat bobs, ringed finger tracing the rim of his untouched glass.

"I know, but I want to," I manage a small smile and the heat of his eyes on me, I feel it over every inch of my skin. Not purely sexual but seeing, like he couldn't take his eyes off me. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for what you did that night, I really am grateful for you helping me-"

"Please don't," Rhysand frowns, and his body is stiff now. All the warmth, all the teasing, has vanished from his eyes. Replaced by one thing- sadness. "Don't make me out to be some kind of hero for that night, Y/N. Anyone would have done the same-"

"And yet you were the only one who intervened," I scoffed, and his face tightened. The violet turned dark like midnight. "So many people passed us, so many people saw him grabbing me, heard how he was speaking to me. They saw me crying, heard me say no-"

My back hit the wall. Arms caged me in.

'You're nothing but a worthless fucking slut.'

'No, no, please, don't,' I felt the side of my dress tear open, the cold wind prickling my skin.

'A fat bitch who never listens,' I could taste metal in my mouth, his hand clamped down on my jaw, pinning me down. 'A fucking tease, wearing this dress and then telling me no when I want to touch what's mine.'

'Please, you're hurting me,' He laughed as I sobbed, groping along my body, the smell of alcohol on his breath making bile rise up my throat.

I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling.

'Someone please help me.'

"Y/N," His voice was hoarse as he spoke my name, pained. And when he laid one of his large, ringed hands against my knee, fingers curling around my flesh, I released a tight, desperate breath.

"You saved me that night, you and no one else," I blinked away the burning tears and locked my gaze with his. Power thrummed from him in waves, and the shadows in his eyes told me he remembered that night as well as I did, that it haunted him too.

"Perhaps you're too humble to think so," I cleared the lump in my throat, throwing Rhysand a teasing smile, or as much of one as I could manage. "But as far as I am concerned you were my hero that night, Rhys."

"I don't think humble is the word my family would use to describe me, darling," Rhys's lip quirked, and I knew he slipped into a mask of charm and playfulness for my sake. It made the ache in my chest ease. "I think the words they would use are more along the lines of arrogant, cocky, smug-"

"Charming, charismatic, flirtatious," I continued with a sly grin, and as I brought my glass to my mouth, Rhysand watched every movement keenly, shadows eclipsing his eyes as my lips parted and I sipped. "Clever, witty, swaggering."

"Careful, darling," His eyes flashed when my tongue flicked out to collect the droplets of wine off my bottom lip and I nearly purred when his fingers curled around my knee tighter. "You're inflating my already massive ego."

"I'm not done," I mutter softly, setting the glass before me again. Rhysand raises a brow, and his chest is rising and falling so harshly now. "Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive."

His eyes twinkled like a thousand stars bursting to life and I knew he could hear how my heart was thundering in my chest.

"I fear you've got us confused," He breathed, and my entire body felt alight as he swooped his thumb back and forth against my thigh, his touch so consuming it was as if he were touching my bare skin. His lip quirked as if he knew it. "Those are words that describe you, not me."

I scoffed out a laugh, rolling my eyes but I couldn't deny the way his words made me feel. The way he made me feel. Tracing over my bright eyes and beaming smile, down my neck and chest, across my stomach and hips and thighs, his power thrummed as he took me in.

"Did you come here alone tonight?" I angled my head at him, feeling hot under his stare. Again, his thumb didn't stop soothing against me, so soft I was starting to get dizzy.

"I came with Cassian and Azriel," Rhysand nodded over his shoulder, "It was actually them who encouraged me to come speak to you."

"Encouraged you?" I raised a brow, surprised and the chuckle that escaped him ran over my skin. "What happened to arrogant, cocky, smug Rhysand?"

"Apparently as Cassian put it, I became the creep who was staring relentlessly at a beautiful female for hours," Rhys drawled, and a surprised laugh burst from me at his words. He rolled his violet eyes, but I swear under these lights, I could see a tint of red staining his cheeks.

The High Lord of the Night Court.

The most powerful High Lord in existence.

Blushing.

"You're laughing at me?" Rhysand cocked a brow, hand coming to his chest in faux offence, " I've been mocked by my brothers and now by the female, I like. I'm wounded darling, truly."

The female I like.

Cauldron.

"Poor High Lord," I pouted, my delicate hand coming down and resting over his at my knee. I shivered at the feeling of his skin against mine, and his eyes flashed down to where we touched. "It seems you can't catch a break tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's been a total loss," He mused lowly, his eyes lingered on our hands, on how much smaller mine was compared to his before they lifted to meet my gaze. Shadows and stars. Utterly consuming. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"And I'm here with you," I smiled, and it was the most genuine smile I've had in a while. Rhysand's eyes softened as if he knew it too. As if he could feel my content right now as strongly as I could.

But it wasn't just content. As I stared at him, at this beautiful, powerful, captivating male before me, I couldn't deny the ache that spread through my core. Couldn't ignore how just his hand at my knee made my thighs clench.

His eyes fell to where my legs clamped shut and something wholly dark filled his gaze, something that made it impossible to hide my arousal. His throat worked, and I knew he could smell exactly what my body wanted.

"Would Cassian and Azriel mind if I stole you for the night?" I asked, soft, breathless, I couldn't get the words louder than a whisper. Because I was afraid- of rejection, of embarrassment, of saying it aloud.

But he heard me. I knew he did.

I saw the muscles in his thighs tense, his whole body turning hard as stone. Even that hand at my thigh seemed to turn stiff. His eyes met mine, his mouth parting- and then closing. Like he didn't know what to say.

"Oh," I forced out a strained laugh, humiliation burning through me as I sat up, pulling my thigh from Rhysand's hold and frantically looking anywhere but at him. "It seems I've read this whole situation wrong."

He didn't want me.

He was just being kind.

He was just trying to make sure I was okay.

Of course, he didn't want me.

"No, no, don't-" His voice was sure, strong. As I reached to grab my purse, his hand curled around my wrist, gentle but firm, keeping me sat where I was. I clamped my eyes shut, twisting my face so that I did not have to face him. "You did not read this wrong at all, not at all Y/N."

"Rhysand, it's alright," I mumbled, trying to pull my hand free from his hold, but he wouldn't relent. I heard his body shift until his thighs were pressed to mine and I knew he was inched from me. "You don't have to say anything, I understand-"

"No, you don't darling," He snarled softly, and my body shook when his hand came to my chin and turned my face to his. I blinked, barely breathing as I met his burning violet eyes so close to mine. "I can hear those thoughts running through your mind right now. Stop, stop and don't even dare think that for a second again."

His thumb brushed my cheek, and I couldn't breathe with how close he was to me. So close I could smell the bourbon and mint with every breath against my mouth, so close I could count the stars in his eyes.

"I would like nothing more than for you to steal me away tonight, to steal me away every night," He admitted, his voice stern and commanding. "Some very selfish, greedy, dark part of me has been staring at you all night picturing exactly that. Picturing just how we would spend those hours."

Low, sultry words that made my heart race.

"But?" I whispered, my voice shaking. My whole body was shaking now.

"But I do not want you to see me as a hero, to see me as some kind of saviour," His words were unsteady, pained and I hated the frown that tilted his lips. wanted to soothe out the furrow in his brow. "I don't want you to think you owe me this. I want you to want to."

I swallowed and melted into the touch, the callouses of his fingers at my face making me sigh. My hand curled around his wrist, strong and sure, and I met his eyes with certainty.

"I do want to," I said, louder this time, "You do not want to be a hero, fine. But I do not want to be a victim, Rhys. Don't try and make me one."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. And something else. Something akin to fire, like my words lit a blaze in him.

"Cassian and Azriel definitely will not mind you stealing me away tonight," He rasped, voice like gravel and my body shivered at the smirk he gave me. "Let me grab your purse for you, darling."

***

Walking back to my apartment with Rhys, it was hard not to remember that night.

How different it had been.

How I had been shaking and crying, wrapped in a blanket to cover the exposed skin revealed under the tatters of my dress. How Rhysand had been violently still, his eyes so black it was as if a void had sucked away all the stars in them.

And how that awful, pulsing black magic had coiled around his hands. The same black magic that had wrapped around that male's throat, that had ripped him off of me, dropped him to his knees and squeezed the air from his lungs until he turned purple.

I remember seeing Rhysand appear in a cloud of black smoke, looking like death itself.

My head spun with how he had looked at me as he guided me home, walking trembling step after step, and something so pained, so agonised had filled his gaze. I knew it was me and me alone that kept him from killing that male, it was his need to take care of me first that had quelled the unparalleled desire he had to destroy him.

And now, a whole month later, as we walked under the sheet of stars and moonlight above, I couldn't help how my stomach coiled, a mixture of nerves and excitement dancing through me.

"I'm sure it's not the kind of luxury you're used to," I smiled, turning the handle of my front door, and pushing it open to reveal the dark expanse beyond. "But this is it. Home."

The Fae lights in my living room flickered on, dousing the small space. I stepped inside, Rhysand's tall form ducking under my doorway as he entered. I couldn't help but glance to and from his face as I locked the door behind us, watching him take in my home.

It felt intimate somehow. Him being here.

"It's lovely," Rhys smiled, violet eyes bright as he took in the simple leather couch and oak table, the shelves full of books and ornaments. He glanced forward, to the kitchen attacked to the side, drink bottles littering the island.

"I don't really bring people back here, males I mean," I laughed awkwardly, my stilettos clicking against the floor as I led Rhys further into my house. "My roommate, Lin, usually has people, males and females alike over all the time."

"I'm honoured to be here, then," I stopped at the kitchen island, dropping my purse on the table. My eyes met his, saw them darken as a smirk lined his lips "And selfishly, I'm glad that you don't bring males back here."

"Why?" I breathed, my chest rising and falling in waves as he inched closer to me. Stopping close enough that my taut nipples brushed his hard chest. "Feeling possessive? I didn't think High Lord Rhysand was the jealous type."

"Oh darling, I am the jealous type. The possessive type too," He murmured, and my eyes fluttered when his hands fell to my hips, pulling me flush to his chest and kneading the flesh there. "Because when you're mine, you're only mine."

"And am I?" I tilted my head to meet his eyes and the look in my gaze made his fingers tighten at my hips. "Yours?"

"Yes, if you would like to be," His voice turned quiet, sincere. I smiled at it, at the softness in his eyes. "I would like you to be."

"I would like to be too," My hand came up and cupped his strong jaw, loving how he melted into the touch. "Especially tonight. Kiss me Rhys."

He groans like I'm going to be the death of him. And then his head is dipping, and those sweet, pink lips collide with mine.

Cauldron, I knew he could kiss. But this was better than I could have hoped for.

My back hits the island as Rhys claims me, lips moving slow and steady against mine, strong hands keeping me in place. My mind spins as he kisses me, working me through every lap of his tongue teasing mine, one hand moving to tilt my chin, before resting at my throat.

The marble at my back digs painfully, but I don't care, not as Rhys slips his tongue past my lips, wet and hot and exploring. He groans at the taste of wine in my mouth, and my pussy clenches around nothing at the heady sound.

"Rhys," I whimper at the feeling of his long, hard cock straining in his pants, and pulsing against my stomach. He kisses and nips at my jaw, and I can't help but rub against him, loving how he shudders.

"Darling, I suggest you stop doing that," He snarls softly, canines scraping my neck and his hands clamp down, halting my movement. "Unless you want me to bend you over this island and fuck you raw right now."

I moan at his filthy words, back arching when his hands shift down to cup and fondle my ass. He laughs, sinister and low, violet eyes flashing to mine and brightening.

"Dirty girl, you'd like that wouldn't you?" He muses, smirking as he kneads my ass, rings digging into me. "Perhaps another night. Tonight though, I'd prefer to be a gentleman and take you for the first time on a bed."

"I happen to have a great bed," I whisper, my hands on his chest, pushing at the corded muscle. He chuckles again, mocking me, but he does relent, pulling me along with him. "First door on the right."

"First you let me into your home, now your bedroom," Rhysand smirks at me over his shoulder, his large hand interlaced with my small one. My stomach tilts and whirls as he pushes open my door. "It must be my lucky night."

"Arrogant, cocky, and smug indeed," I roll my eyes, seeing his smile brighten when the lights in my room flicker to life. Before I knew it, we were inside, the door closed and locked behind us. Alone.

He must sense my unease because he turns on his heel, his face serene as he glances over my small room. The double-sized bed, the pink cotton sheets, the small dresser and cabinet and more shelves stuffed full of books.

"You like to read?" He muses, walking over to the bookshelves and running a long, slender finger across their spines. My breasts ached at the thought of him touching me with those hands. His eyes peered over a shoulder at me- dark like he had heard that thought.

"Yes," I managed to say, throat dry as I fiddled with my thumbs. "I was big on fairy tales as I kid. Now I like more... adult stuff."

"Adult?" Rhysand's brow rose and every inch of me was molten as he turned around to face me, leaning against my draw with his arms tucked into his slacks and his powerful body at ease. "Adult-like romance or adult-like females being pleasured six ways to Sunday?"

I burst out laughing at that and Rhysand's smile grew, broad and lovely at the sound. He made it so easy to be around him, made it so easy that the anxiety in my chest faded into nothing.

"The second," I said quietly, and the air turned still as I moved toward him, taking step after slow step. "Though I'm yet to experience it myself. Being pleasured six ways to Sunday as you so eloquently put it."

I stop before him. I place one hand on his hard chest, feeling his heart racing under my palms. And then I glance up, fluttering my dark lashes and praying this looks sexy and not creepy.

Again, he laughs.

"Allow me to remedy that for you, darling," He grins and when his hand cups my jaw, I let myself go slack against him. His lips against mine are heaven, I could kiss this male for the rest of my fucking life. He kissed me back like he shared that sentiment.

I stumble back with him, our teeth clashing and lips bruising as we kiss and my hands touch him everywhere- through his dark, silken hair tugging at the roots, scratching down his neck and broad shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple under my fingers as I claw at him.

My legs bump against the bed but instead of pushing me down, his hands move to my dress. To the ties at the back. He pauses, panting as he pulls his lips from mine. I groan at the loss of contact, nibbling on his teeth as he draws away. But he peers at me, and I can see all the questions in his eyes.

For a second, I feel different hands touch me. Vile and degrading and horrible, all over my body. I smell bitter alcohol, invading my senses, and it's almost as if I can feel the wind piercing through the rips in my dress just like it did that night.

But then I blink. And It's Rhys again. With that lovely smile and those kind eyes. With those exploring, gentle hands and those lips that taste like sin. It's Rhys. And he wants me.

"May I?" He mutters, brushing his lips across mine in the barest kiss. I sigh when his fingers rest on the knots at the back. If I gave him the word to stop, he would, no questions asked. That was exactly why I didn't want him to stop.

"Yes," I said, and my voice did not so much as shake. I met his eyes and showed him how I felt, how badly I wanted him and nodded again. "Yes, please."

Rhys smiled and his eyes never left mine as he tugged the strings at the back of my dress, something akin to adoration blazing in his eyes as it all came loose. I braced myself as his gentle hands tugged down the material, letting it fall down my body and to the floor.

I was in nothing but my underwear now.

Rhys didn't look down. His eyes stayed on me. My throat bobbed, but I nodded to him again.

It was palpable, the shift in his eyes the second they lowered from my face. Down, down, down. Over my bare aching breasts, over my perked nipples, across my stomach and hips, over all the fat there, and down my thighs, dipping between them as I clenched them shut.

Desire. I felt it vibrating off him in waves. Like he truly thought I was beautiful.

"I hate the doubt in your eyes right now, in your mind," He said softly, and my body shivered when he trailed one finger across my collarbone, and down my chest. "I hate that you can't see how perfect you are, how fucking perfect your body is."

I shivered as he traced his fingers over my taut nipple, a moan slipping past my lips at the feel of his callouses against me.

“It’s not easy for me to feel like that,” I whispered, my voice shaking as he cupped my breasts, pinching the nipple and letting the weight and feel of them fill his hands. “But it’s easier right now. With you, it’s easier to believe.”

Something shifted in Rhysand’s eyes at my words. It was almost emotional, like what I said meant more to him than I could ever know. I lifted onto my tiptoes and pressed a slow, exploring kiss against his lips. It was the kind that I had read about books, that I had dreamed about, his lips moved against mine and felt right.

His hands are sure as he guides me down to sit on the bed and not for a moment does he break his lips free from mine. Rhysand’s hands explore my body, kneading my flesh as he kisses and suckles down my neck, my moans mixing with the wet sound of his mouth against my skin.

I’m not sure I’m breathing as he runs his hands along my hips and thighs, mouth smearing spit and scraping teeth against my breasts. His fingers hook under my underwear and within seconds it’s tugged down my legs and tossed to the floor.

I flutter open my eyes and something molten spreads through me.

Because Rhysand was on his knees before me. And it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“Do you like me this, darling?” He muses, purely male satisfaction on his face as he drags my supple thighs apart. His eyes drop between my legs, to the swollen wetness there and he moans. “High Lord of the Night Court, bowed before the prettiest cunt he’s ever seen.”

I feel like I might climax just from his words. Just from how fucking feral he looks as he takes in my wetness, his hands at my thighs bruising as he keeps my legs apart.

I rest back on my hands, my arms shaking as Rhysand’s smug face inches closer and closer to the apex of my thighs, the violet in his gaze almost as dark as midnight as my arousal fills the air. I’m burning hot, everywhere and the anticipation is killing me.

But mercifully Rhys is no tease. He doesn’t have the patience for it tonight.

“Rhys,” I moan, my toes curling when his head dips between my thighs and he licked a broad stroke up the length of my cunt. Taking all the wetness from my entrance and smearing it up to my swollen clit. He does it again, growling, and I can hear how wet I am.

“Relax, darling,” Rhys murmurs and I gasp in surprise when his hands hook under my thighs, tugging me to the edge of the bed- and then he goes feral.

“Cauldron, oh my- Rhys,” My body is shaking as Rhys tastes me, his tongue flicking over my bundle of nerves again and again, so hard and fast I can feel the pleasure down to my toes. He groans as he does so, the sound vibrating through my core and making my head spin.

My eyes close, my arms give out and I’m lying on my back, arching against my sheets, Rhys holding my thighs and hips like a boulder. He doesn’t relent even as my cries grow erratic, his tongue slipping down to fuck into my hole, hot and warm and knowing exactly what he’s doing.

One finger slips in. and then another. And another.

Three fingers and I’m clamped around him like a vice, his fingers fucking into me, his tongue suckling at my clit, my moans, his moans- it was dancing through the room like a symphony. It feels like minutes before that pit in me starts to grow and I know I won’t last long; I don’t want to last long.

“Rhys, please-“ I don’t know what I’m begging for. But he does, he knows what I need. Because his lips close around my clit and those long, graceful fingers curl up into a deep, spongey spot inside me, hitting a button that makes me scream.

Searing hot light burns through me and I can feel Rhys grinning against my cunt as my orgasm hits me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I cry his name again and again, my body on fire as he buries his fingers inside me, still sucking and nibbling on my clit. Dragging out every last inch of my climax.

“Rhys, Rhys-“

He chuckles, like a smug bastard, lips plucking back from my swollen clit and those three fingers slipping out of my pulsing hole. I shudder, sweat coating my skin and when he finally unhooks his arms from my legs, I sag to the bed, panting.

My eyes are closed and all I can do is catch my breath as tendrils of my orgasm coil through me, disappearing inch by inch.

The bed dips around me and I feel the familiar power and warmth as Rhysand ascends over me, two hands braced on either side of my head, my thighs wrapping around his waist. I blink my eyes open, seeing a constellation above, and the sweetest smile.

“Hello, darling,” Rhys smirks and I chuckle as I take in the pleased expression he wore, loving me so strung. He lifts one hand, brushing the damp hair from my face and I croon when he runs the pad of his thumb over my mouth. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I say immediately. Something almost terrifying drapes across his face as I take his thumb past my lips and into my mouth, twirling my tongue around the digit and staring into his eyes. He plucks it free, looking like he could devour me. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive.” Rhys muttered, voice like gravel and my entire body purred when he knelt back on my bed and began to undo his shirt. “Definitely the words to describe you, Y/N darling.”

I stay silent as I watch him easily undo one button at a time, the graceful movements of his fingers almost sensual as more and more skin, covered with dark whorls is revealed to me. I’m breathless as he tugs off the material throwing it off the bed, captivated by the lean, hard muscle, and the slender dip of a v-line at his waist.

He grins down at me as my hands come up to his chest, muscles flexing as I claw down his pecs, teasing his nipples, scratching his abs, tracing the faint dusting of hair all the way down to his slacks. His eyes burn into me as I fiddle with the ties, tugging the front of his slacks loose to free his length straining inside.

I undo the last button and my pussy clenches as his cock springs free, slapping back against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. Long and thick, veined and tan, small beads of pre-cum slipping down the head and dropping onto my thigh.

Not sure I’ve ever had a female tell me my cock is pretty before, darling.

The sound echoes through my mind and I jolt at it, surprised. My eyes meet his, see them twinkling and every atom in me throbs when his hands wrap around his length, and he pumps himself. I whimper, his eyes on mine watching me fall apart at the sight of touching himself.

Fuck me, Rhys.

I send the thought out to him through my mind, not knowing how it works but hoping he would get the message anyway. He did- I could tell just by how hard he fisted himself now, his pre-cum spilling down his hand as he stroked up and down.

You need it, darling? Need me? He teased through my mind, so arrogant it made me scowl at him.

Yes, asshole. I hissed, and he laughed aloud, eyes bright with amusement. I need you, fuck me, please.

He groans and I’m grinning as he leans forward, bracing his palms on either side of me, his powerful body atop of me now. I felt small under him, felt like I was completely at his mercy and that feeling seemed to make me even more wet.

“Wrap your leg around my hip, darling,” Rhys said softly, and I was more than eager when he guided my thigh up, wrapping it around him, fingers splaying over my flesh. “Wanna get as deep as I can into this sweet pussy.”

“Rhys,” I whined, my eyes fluttering as he dragged his tip through my folds, the pressure against my swollen lips and sore clit making me feel like I might explode. “Rhys- please-“

He slips his tip into me. And my eyes roll as he sinks and sinks and sinks into me. Inch after perfect inch. Stretching me so fucking wide that my head starts to spin. He stops when his hips meet mine, maxing out and I swear I feel the shape of him imprinted against my stomach.

“Fuck, you’re wrapped around me so tight,” Rhys curses and his fingers tighten around my flesh. I tilt my neck up when his lips meet mine, desperate and needy for the feel of him, the taste of him, as the pain between my legs slowly eases to mild discomfort.

“Move Rhys,” I claw up his chest and shoulders, burying my fingers in his hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He mutters, groaning as he slowly pulls his length out, my wetness making it so easy for him to move. I moan at the tendrils of pleasure that spark through me as he drags himself out and then in, again and again, barely moving.

“I can handle it, Rhys,” I force his eyes to meet mine and I know he’s holding himself back. For my sake. I roll my hips, and the moan that escapes him as he slips in deeper makes my toes curl. “Move, Rhys.”

Rhys snarls low in his throat. And then he pulls out to the tip before shoving his cock inside me in one full stroke until his hips slam against mine. I cry out and it’s almost euphoric how good it feels.

“That’s it,” He praises, jaw clenched and muscles hard as stone as he rolls his hips into me, hard and fast, tip brushing against my walls in a way that makes me endlessly moan. “Feel how good you fit around me, darling.”

I whine at the filthy words he snarls into my ear, canines nibbling at my earlobe as he fucks in and out of me. He lifts my leg higher up his waist and our moans sync when he sinks into me, so far, I can feel him hitting the back of me.

“Oh Rhys,” I cry his name again and again, his cock inside me feeling so full, every stroke stealing the breath from my lungs.

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Rhys commands, and I gasp, eyes fluttering open when his hand clamps around my jaw, tilting my neck to meet him. I see the darkness and depravity and need burning like fire through his eyes. Watching my face twist, my eyes roll as he fucks me, skin slapping skin.

“I’m so close, Rhys-“ I babble, back arching and my hand curls around his wrist still holding my jaw. My insides feel like mush as he hits that button inside me again and again. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come, darling?” He taunts, and I nearly start sobbing when his hand moves from my thigh, between our bodies and starts rubbing erratically at my clit. He laughs, like he fucking loves it, loves seeing me fall apart, “That’s it, come for your High Lord. Wanna feel you milk me dry.”

There’s something so commanding, so burning and domineering in his words, in those star-flecked eyes that when he dives his hips into me again, when his thumb flicks at my clit, my entire body erupts with my orgasm.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys-“

I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Rhysand grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“Just like that,” He pants, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him.

My body trembles with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Rhys still moved in and out of me, chasing his own high. And when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

My eyes blink open, desperate to watch him fall apart. And it doesn’t disappoint.

I watch, breathless, as Rhysand tips his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat and the sound that escapes him, the guttural moan, as he stills inside me has the walls of my room shaking. Pure, unfiltered power radiates from him and my pussy throbs as he spills inside me, hot and wet and endless.

I can’t tear my eyes off him as his orgasm fades and I’m smiling as he sags against my body, the both of us sweating and panting, melting into the other’s embrace.

He stays seated inside me and wraps his arms around my body, sinking into my warmth and softness and looking more than content. He sighs, pressing a kiss to my lips, once, twice, a smile curling his lips when I giggle.

“Darling,” Rhys whispers, his eyes tender as he lifts onto his elbow to meet my stare, “I meant what I said before. I want you to be mine. And not just tonight.”

There’s an ache behind my eyes as he stares at me, looking at me with so much adoration, so much love that I feel like he’s wrapped a hand around my heart and squeezed.

“I want that too,” I whisper back, cupping his jaw. He presses a kiss to the inside of my palm, grinning.

“As a gentleman, I should ask then,” He teases, inching his face closer to mine and resting his forehead against me. “Will you go out with me?”

I snort, eyes creasing as I laugh and Rhys beams at me, peppering kisses at my jaw and lips as I giggle.

“Yes, Rhys,” I say softly, drowning in those wonderful, tender, violet eyes. “I would love to go out with you.”

__________________________________________________

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femoso-seben · 2 months

Text

Serial Killer! Reader

You were raised in hell, a world of violence, where violence was praised

You were one of the best, for you had no morals and only fall rules because it’s more convenient

You slowly ended branching out of the underworld into the mainstream world

Your first mistake was killing a SAS soldier, then two navy SEALs

You disguises yourself as a a PMC person and slowly recruited into smaller faction

You could not care for the war or who was who but money talks and you do love money

One of your client ask you to target a task force full of SAS memebers

The best way to kill an entire to is to join them

You were scouted straight out of a PMC by one of the higher ups.

Soap

Soap didn’t care you were a PMC, as long as you were good

Soap notice you had lots of scars, especially on your back, it was religious

Soap was the first to discover your ability to speak Russian and know a lot of shady deals

Soap and you ended up forming a strange twisted friendship base on the most dramatic comebacks

When Soap got injured you were there… you were so close to killing him when Ghost arrived

Ghost

Ghost kept his distance, their was something off about you

Ghost looked into your career, you were a PMC with no military background, how good can you be?

Ghost didn’t care for you, as long as your useful that’s good enough

Ghost found you hovering over Soap and thought that was suspicious

Ghost begins to follow you

Price

Price didn’t like nor hate you, you follow his order but show no respect for his rank

Price found your background suspicious and ask Laswell to look into you

Price notice where ever you go you tend to kill and ask question later

Price thought you would be the weakest to gore and violence but it seems like you were the most comfortable

Price also was inform Privates and rookies were being found dead

Gaz

He hated you

Gaz’s gut was tell him you were bad news and he never doubted his guts.

Gaz is very social and keep up with the other soldiers and when more than one we’re found dead he got worried

Gaz also found out the killings only begin after you join

Gaz would give you a lot of attitude and snide remarks of your his teammate

Laswell

Laswell felt like sje saw your face

Laswell begins to dig through any crime family once Soap told everyone you have a specific saint on your back

Laswell contact 141 one night that your a killer

She got no reply

——-

@knight4xmas

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #141 #captain price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #serial killer au #tf141 x reader #task force 141 x reader

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 2 years

Text

siren song

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

This used to be an OC but I'm changing it to a reader insert; Other characters will still talk about "you" in the third person. While a reader insert, the MC will still be American and have a fleshed out backstory.

They called you Siren They called him Ghost

----

"Siren," Price told Laswell, "Sniper, expert in infilitration and undercover ops. American Special Forces."

Kate stared at the picture for a moment before asking, "Siren? As in the sea creature?"

Price shot her a half-smile. "Yes, the same. She seems to be the weakness of every man and she knows it. She's damn good with a rifle but her best weapon is herself."

next chapter: chapter 1

Notes: This is my first Ghost story! I have played the campaign and I just couldn't help myself! This is just the prologue but they will meet next chapter. Oh, and this fic will 1000% have smut. This takes place before and during the first mission, "Strike"

This used to be an OC but I'm changing it to a reader insert; Other characters will still talk about "you" in the third person.

Prologue

"Who's your crew?"

John Price sat opposite of Kate Laswell, taking in the cozy atmosphere of the cafe, but still somehow feeling on edge from recent events.

"Sergaent Garrick," Price replied.

"Kyle?"

"They call him 'Gaz'." the Captain continued, "He never said anything."

He handed Kate the folder for Gaz and continued reading. "John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper - demolitions. Goes by 'Soap'."

"Why?" Kate questioned as he handed her Soap's dossier.

"That's classified."

Kate gave him a dubious look, eliciting a chuckle before he moved on.

"There he is..." Price said, handing Kate the folder. "Simon Riley."

Laswell's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "There's no picture."

Price's reply was quick. "Never."

He handed her a final file, one with a picture of a woman with hair the color of fresh espresso and with a face like an angel. But it was the eyes that set you apart, a piercing hue that seemed a little too empty, void of emotion in comparison to your smile. At first glance you seemed harmless, but the longer one looked, the more unnerving your portrait grew.

"Siren," Price told her, "Sniper, expert in infilitration and undercover ops. American Special Forces."

Kate stared at the picture for a moment before asking, "Siren? As in the sea creature?"

Price shot her a half-smile. "Yes, the same. She seems to be the weakness of every man and she knows it. She's damn good with a rifle but her best weapon is herself."

"Now the rest," he continued, leaning forward across the table, "That's need to know. Unless we got a deal."

"What are you calling this task force?" Laswell asked.

"1-4-1."

---------

Months later

13 July 2022

2200, Upscale hotel somewhere in Europe

The bar was crowded but you weren't focused on all the other people. Those who were drinking away their sorrows, the ones meeting mistresses, and suits on a business trip. No, you was focused on the group of ten Russian Ground Forces operatives in the corner, sporting casual clothes instead of a uniform. Your eyes jumped from man to man, silently matching them up in your head with some of the pictures in the brief General Shepard gave you. Of course, this was only a portion of them, there were about fifty in total staying in the hotel. All of them were waiting on a flight to Al Mazrah and transporting a boat load of weapons, and it was your job to figure out exactly where they were headed.

You leaned back against, resting your elbows on the bar as you sat on a barstool, softly jutting out your chest and letting your hair perfectly frame your face. You knew you were beautiful, and you knew what men would do, what men would say, for a beautiful woman; all the secrets they would reveal, just to touch. A strapless navy dress stuck to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve on your body, save for a slit in the leg that went up to your mid-thigh.

Your targets were already glancing your way. Oogling, more like.

Too easy, you thought. You intentionally locked eyes with one of them and batted your eyelashes innocently before looking away, appearing embarrassed to the untrained eye. For extra affect, you crossed one leg over another, causing the slit to reveal more of your smooth skin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw some of his buddies nudging him and pointing in your direction, all of your plans falling neatly into place. You brought your eyes back to the man now coming towards you and made a show of looking at him up and down, pointing your gaze in between his legs for a second longer and giving a sultry look. You could see his throat working to gulp down his nerves.

He squeezed himself in the opening beside you and you turned to fully face him. He was average looking, nothing too special. It was what was in his pants you were interested in.

His phone.

"Hello, beautiful," his accent was thick, but the English seemed fluent.

"Hello there," you cooed, letting your voice become sickeningly sweet.

"You are not from here?" He questioned, noticing your accent sticking out among the natives around you.

"No," you replied, "I'm from America but I'm on a work trip. What brings you here?" As you talked, you ran your finger over the hand he had placed on the bar and traced nonsensical patterns.

"A-Also business," he said, obviously getting distracted by the physical contact. You kicked it up a notch, going as far as to rub your high-heeled foot along the side of his calf. You leaned forward and was pleased to note he seemed already intoxicated, speeding up your plan by being able to avoid spending needless time ordering drinks.

You placed your hand on the man's chest and ran it slowly upwards before traveling down one of his arms. He seemed young and nervous but also attempted to exude confidence while you carressed him.

"I'm only here for tonight but..." you purposefully trailed off, looking at him with doe-eyes and gently biting you lip. "I've been looking for a real man to help me." You were laying it on a little thick, but time was of the essence, and he didn't seem all that concerned. You had him right there and decided to go in for the kill.

You leaned in real close and whispered in his ear, "I need a man to fuck me."

He audibly groaned, prompting you to bite his earlobe softly before pulling his hand off the bar and setting it on your waist. "Can you be that man for me?"

He nodded comically fast and pulled you to stand up, not bothering to wait for any privacy before sliding his hand down over your ass. A long time ago, you would have been repulsed. You would have showered for days, trying to scrub off any evidence. Now, you didn't feel it at all, didn't pay attention to anything except your next goal: getting him away from his phone. He led you out of the crowded bar, leaving his friends to cheer him on. You boarded the empty elevator and he pushed you against the wall after pressing his floor, smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy and anything but a turn on but you willingly let him explore your mouth and grope your body and reciprocated with responding movements, all while you were plotting on how to steal the information from him.

A hand made its way to your covered breast. I bet the information is in his email.

Another grabbed your thigh and hiked it over his hip. These lower guys never bother to encrypt anything, a blessing, really.

A hardness grinded into the apex of your thighs and you let out a manufactured moan. Luckily they are on a tight schedule, they likely won't look for a body tomorrow when he doesn't show.

The ding of the elevator caused him to break away and grab your hand before rushing to a hotel room. As he fumbled with the keycard you kissed and bit his neck, all while sliding your fingertips below his belt. He finally got the door open and pulled you inside. He attacked you with his lips again and shoved his tongue in your mouth, pawing at your ass and grinding into your hip.

Pathetic. You thought to yourself while you faked a whimpering noise and a gasp when he moved on from your lips to bite the top of your left breast. While he was occupied, you reached for the small, curved knife, a minuture karambit, that sat holstered in a sewn in slot inside your dress, just under your armpit. One of his hands creeped up the inside of your thigh, touching the edge of your lace lingerie.

However, he never made it to his destination on account of the knife sticking in his neck.

A quick kill, although a little bloody. His body fell limp on the ground in front of you, blood continuing to pool out. You dislodged your knife and searched his pockets, finally pulling out his phone.

"Jackpot."

You used his finger to open up the phone before stepping over his body and sitting on the bed, all of your attention now focused on scanning for any information about tomorrow's final destination for the selling the weapons. A certain message caught your eye; it detailed the schedule for tomorrow and the directions to the base they were meeting at in Al Mazrah for the arms deal. A sense of satisfaction filled you at acquiring this information. You did not feel guilty about killing the man. You have killed many men, and the part of you that felt guilt for the role you played died a long time ago.

You wiped off the blood that got on your chest and walked out of the room, phone in hand. You were not worried about cameras, you knew the CIA counter-terrorism team would take care of it. You took the elevator back up to your own room and immedaitely went for your computer once inside. You pulled up the video call option for General Shepard and sat in the chair, not caring about your mused hair or slightly smeared lipstick or the bruise forming on your upper breast.

He answered immediately and with him was Kate Laswell, the CIA Station Chief. "Siren, tell me you have intel," the general said in lieu of a greeting.

"Of course, sir," you replied. "I have the location, I'm sending you the coordinates now. They are located in Al Mazarah. It says they will be meeting with General Ghorbani."

Both Laswell and Shepard sported a confused look at that. "Why would they be meeting with Ghorbani?" Laswell questioned out loud.

"We will find out tomorrow," Shepard said. "For now, Siren, continue."

"Any hiccups?" Laswell questioned.

"Just the usual," you said. "I will need someone to remove a body and dispose of security footage but other than that, everything was smooth."

"Great work, Sergeant. Your next assignment will begin immediately. You have been apart of the 141 Task Force for some time, but now you will begin your work with a team. Your flight leaves tonight."

---

15 July 2022

1600, Al Mazrah, U.R.A

"Watcher-1 to Bravo 0-7, you in position?"

Ghost walked through the rocky terrain, stepping back into the sunlight.

"Nearly there," he replied, continuing moving, climbing towards a vantage point on the sands below. He heard the helicopter before he saw it, flying straight overhead and towards the target point. "Got a heli incoming."

"That's General Ghorbani." Laswell replied.

"He's punctual, I'll give him that," General Shepard chimed in. "Now get up there and see what he's up to in the middle o' nowhere."

Ghost climbed up a few more rocks, finally reaching the opening and peering down at the base. "I'm eyes on."

"What do you see?" Laswell questioned. He brought out his Spotter Scope and peered down at all the equipment and people milling about.

"Armed personnel, armor and hardware," he replied. "All Russian."

"Our intel was right about them meeting," Shepard said. "But it still doesn't explain why the Russians would be meeting with Ghorbani."

"Supplying Iran," Kate replied, "it's an arms deal." Ghost sat silently as they talked, observing the scene below.

"You copying this Shadow-1?" Shepard asked Graves.

"Affirmative, two birds, one stone..."

"We need positive ID on Ghorbani before we kick this off boys."

"Ghost, can you identify the General?"

Ghost scanned the area, zooming in to look at specific people, checking to see if they were Ghorbani. He found a bunch of soldiers in one spot and said as much. "Armed escorts around one VIP. Russians are very happy to see him."

"It'll be the last time they do..." General Shepard said in response.

"Visual on General Ghorbani."

"Copy. All stations target confirmed."

"Shadow-1," Shepard started, "you are cleared hot for launch."

"Roger that, Actual," Phillip Graves replied. "Ghost, you are danger close to the zone. This arrow's gonna pack a punch."

"Copy. Approved," Ghost replied. "Send it."

"All stations, Shadow-1. Missle is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch. Coordinates. Target designated. Two... One... Shot out."

Soon enough the missle hit the target and the force of it made Ghost step back a bit. "Bloody fuckin' hell. Direct. Target destroyed."

#simon ghost riley #ghost #cod mw22 #ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #this is now a reader insert #simon ghost riley x you

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