#I HAVE TO WAIT FOR MORE AND I HATE IT I HATE IT LEMME CONSUME FASTER PLEASE

[doctorsiren]

HOW WE FEELIN’ FRIENDS?

[coquettepascal]

purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin. 

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you. 

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play. 

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you. 

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed. 

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him. 

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you. 

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body. 

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles. 

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts. 

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases. 

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond. 

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him. 

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs. 

[nights-at-crystarium]

DUMPS A MASSIVE STACK OF NOTES IN FRONT OF YOU OKAY SO- No I didn't just wait and hope for someone to ask about them, why'd you think that- I'll omit the details of how they grow close and what pushes them apart, but lemme dive into the broader chemistry. A fair warning for Fragments-spoilers if you wanna experience the comic's story as it unfolds.

Vivi needs An Adult, someone who'd stand up to his unruly character, ground him in reality, protect him. Raha perfectly fills this role, but so does Emet, merely with a different flavor. Vivi needs someone who experiences isolation and dehumanization on his level: being the wol is a lonely experience. He looks for an equal. He's okay with Emet's condescending attitude, his self-esteem doesn't want for coddling, and he can talk back anytime.

The Soulmate Magnet trope's fun, but on its own it's not enough for these two. Well, it obviously is for Emet, who seizes the chance to nibble on some crumbs that are left of Azem, what's dignity in face of all-consuming desperation. Vivi, however, his whole thing is showing middle finger to his destiny, the further it goes, the more allergic he gets to the "ooooohh it was meant to be this way~" bs that gets thrown at him ever so often. Emet's careful with the order and amount of information he discloses to Vivi, like expertly boiling a frog. Manipulation or not, they mutually benefit from this relationship. Emet gets his partner back, even if it's Not Him, half of Him feels pretty damn familiar, and Vivi gets a clear escape route from his destiny. Exchanging meaningful looks and knowing chuckles with you because we can tell that he embraces his overarching, ancient destiny this way, but shhhhhh, let him enjoy his hubris.

Out of the two, it's Emet who's a sad fool making a mistake that'd cost him everything. Of course this relationship has an impact on Vivi, but at least it doesn't kill him, eh- *gets kicked*

More under the cut /o/

Emet knows that he might be sabotaging himself, but he won't stop. He's infinitely more vulnerable to the Soulmate Magnet out of the two. He acknowledges that this could easily fail, that he might have to kill Vivi, but my Emet's killed so many not-azems anyway. He trades the potential pain of tomorrow for the small illusion of comfort today. As time goes on, he dares hoping again, hoping that this time might be different, goes all in with his cards, and, well, *waves vaguely* you'll see how that goes eventually.

The line between wolgraha and wolemet in Fragments is thinner than one may expect, the divergence where Vivi fully sides with Emet hinges on one human impulse. They already feel comfy enough, but Emet still hesitates to bare too much of his heart. They simply need more time together, which they can't have in canon because everyone expects Vivi to keep killing Lightwardens. The moment Vivi sees Emet's genuine smile and realizes that he wants to save him, to make him smile again and again, is when he trades entire world(s) for that. The catastrophic divergence isn't some epic scene, but a quiet click in his head. This decision still doesn't come easy, but Vivi would do it once he's sufficiently invested in Emet. The world owes him so much anyway. Time to take back what's been taken from him.

One important difference between Vivi and his Azem: what they'd do in a trolley problem. Vivi would literally burn worlds for one person dear to him, Azem would do (and actually did) the opposite, he didn't support the Zodiark plan AND left his lovers (Emet and Hyth) because he saw himself belonging to the people as a whole. This's becoming a tangent but Vivi absolutely hates his Azem when he finds out what - who - that infamous betrayal was really about.

But yeah Vivi takes Emet's side once he learns enough about him, he generally finds his company easy and pleasant. Another difference between Vivi and Azem: Vivi's incredibly nonjudgmental, embrace your cringe kinda guy. It takes time (which, again, they don't have in canon) for Emet to stop expecting to get teased at every turn, but even in the canon timeline he grows fond of Vivi, Vivi himself, not Azem, because Vivi's kind to him in a subtle, emotionally intelligent way that Azem's never been, he's casual and easygoing and dismissive, Emet's "tsun" just has no reason to activate. He expects betrayal, and it just. Never happens. (ofc it does in canon, but again, the line between canon and divergence is super thin).

Emet doesn't awaken Azem's memories in Vivi for several reasons. Vivi doesn't remember how they were back in the ancient past, but Emet does, he knows how to hold Vivi, who doesn't need much tbh, just company, just being quiet together. He acts disproportionately tired to the 3 years he's spent being the wol, and Emet, conveniently, just wants to chill with him. Funnily, Raha's regained excitement to be alive ends up being too much for Vivi sometimes, but I'm straying off the topic.

I treat their world as a real world that has literature, fiction, tropes, and Vivi tends to dream of being seduced by a villain. He thinks "enemies to lovers" is hot. He's cringe and he doesn't care. Surely this isn't the main force that drives them together, but it's worth mentioning for giggles.

Perhaps the most deliciously fucked up thing about villain!Vivi is how normal and human he'd remain, and drag Emet back up with him. He has no interest in the unsundered world, but he'd join the labor to make Emet happy. (I think I hit Vivi's chaotic neutral alignment on the head here). As long as Emet's in charge, as long as Vivi has no real pressure of responsibility, as long as he's merely a weapon (ironically, yeah), an instrument in master's hand, he doesn't mind. This pic should make more sense now.

Vivi finds someone who can save him from his destiny, break free from Hydaelyn, he never has to make another decision again if he's with Emet. His manic search for agency loops on itself, but hey, he DOES choose this, so arguably, this's more agency than he has as the wol. Even this early in the comic we can see that he simply wants to vibe, to be left alone. Just for that, Emet's actually better than Raha, if we dismiss the morals and destruction of worlds and all such nonsense.

When Emet's inevitably gone at the end of 5.0, it doesn't spell the end of their story. He lingers in the form of Vivi's obsession, questions that Vivi didn't get to ask him, agony of the Soulmate Magnet that Vivi's now aware of, Raha's bittersweet memories of him. He haunts this story forever. And ofc I'm writing an au on the side where he gets to live. It's not as enticing from the storytelling perspective because it's just "duh Emet lives and gets to be happy", but damn it heals my soul to indulge in that.

[lipglossanon]

I had sent a while ago a message about Las Plagas! Leon and pheromone perfume (those were literally the only words I sent) but my brain is still stuck on it. Leon coming home from Spain, thinking everything is fine, that there was no lasting damages from Las Plagas, that Luis’ machine worked perfectly. He’s feeling a bit more angry at things he usually would let slide off his back, but that could be the trauma talking. He’s a bit more sensitive to smell and lights, but he figures he’s either overstimulated or that he got a minor concussion at some point, so it doesn’t worry him. What /does/ start to worry him is the uptick in thoughts he’s been having about you. He’s been in love with you for a long ass time, probably longer than his emotionally constipated ass realized, and youve always drove him wild. But now, it feels all-consuming. Every thought seems to connect back to you in some way- and I mean every thought. When he is eating, he thinks about you and if you are properly eating, if he should learn to cook better (I headcannon that Leon is a terrible cook. Like just barely good enough to make scrambled eggs) so that he can make sure your fed properly, what diet is best for fertility -wait, what? Then he goes to get dressed, and he’s thinking what clothes you like, what would make you attracted to him, what would be easiest for you to tear off him so he can breed you- he’s got to get his hormones under control!

It continues like this all day: when he wins a spar, he’s thinking how impressed you’d be at how well he can protect you, when he reads his emails he wonders if you’re doing the same and how he could provide for you so you’d never have to read one again if you hate it. It’s been a week since he’s been back, and he’s seen you a few times since this madness started (and has to hide his hard cock every time he sees you or smells your scent. He’ll never admit to jacking off while face deep in the shirt he wore when you hugged him. He also will never admit to then humping said shirt to get the scent of you on his dick). But today you’re coming over and you said you got a new perfume and you wanted to see if it he liked it since he said scents were bothering him more lately (his heart warmed at the thought of you changing your perfume just to make him more comfortable. His dick also harden at the sweetness of it but he doesn’t want to acknowledge just how desperate and pathetic that makes him feel). The only problem? Your new perfume says that it’s also pheromone based. You didn’t notice/care, since you figured that was a bullshit selling point, but the scent was nice and lighter than all the others you smelt, and honestly you were getting a headache from all the smells so you just went with it. And for a normal person, thatd be it. The pheromones really wouldn’t have any impact whatsoever. But Leon isn’t normal, not anymore, not after Las Plagas.

So you walk to Leon’s door and knock, and he’s already tucking his dick up into his waistband because the thought of you in his territory, no den, fuck no, home- where you’ll smell like him and get his space to smell like you is making his dick leak precum. And when he opens the door, smells you with higher pheromones, smells just how perfect you are, something in his brain just snaps and tells him that your perfect little cunt would feel like home for his fat dick and all the cum in his balls <3 he whines desperately with just the smell, making you worried. You walk into his house, and you put a hand on his arm in concern, wondering what’s going on, only for Leon to let out the most pathetic and panty ruining moan you’ve ever heard. Just a single touch from you and he’s no longer thinking with his big brain, it’s his dick (and the Las Plagas) talking now. And boy do they talk.

“Please, fuck, smell so good. Need it, need it, need you. Please please, I’ll do anything, just lemme, lemme, fuck nngh, want that pussy, wanna breed you, know youll take it s’good, take it so good for me, be the best mommy f’me. Uh-huh, you’ll be the best, cunts gotta be perfect, gotta be s’wet and sweet and pretty. Perfect lil mate. Lemme breed you, lemme make you a mommy, do anything for you, ‘m the best mate for ya, can protect, can breed, just lemme show you”

Depending on how far down the monster fuckjng rabbit hole you want to go, you can either just have him cum loads that would put a firehouse to shame every time he cums, or having him cum both semen AND some eggs. All I know is that Leon loves you, and wants you to be his perfect little mate as he traps you anywhere and everywhere as he breeds you until he has nothing left to give 🥰

Much love, 🐶 anon

🐶 anon!!!! 😩 😩

You’re a gem , a complete an utter Diamond in my inbox every time I see one of yours asks!! 💜 💜

Yes 👏 to all of this!! 😤😤

He’s so unhinged and just babbling what sounds like nonsense but you can’t think with your legs tossed over his shoulders as he fucks you dumb on his cock 🥴

Like I’m definitely okay with monsterfucking 🤭 god and you’d be so full of cum and eggs that Leon’s going crazy with how much he loves stuffing you full 🥵 🥵

Bless you 🐶 anon 🙏

[td-rarepairs]

Describing every single rare pair of total drama I have, if you hear the name Ezekiel a lot, get used to it:

Ezekiel x Harold:

This is one of my favorites, Yes, I was the previous Harzeke anon

Ezekiel x Duncan:

Opposites attract? Lemme consume all the art of it (I don't even like one of the characters here, but I still ship it)

Ezekiel x Justin:

Anyone here who shipped this before slimeysoda's au?

Ezekiel x Geoff:

It all started when I saw a funny looking piece of fanart, then I went down the rabbit hole, and now I ship it.

Ezekiel x Noah:

This can also be used to summarize most of the ships here, because I can

Ezekiel x Tyler:

The first guys who fell for Alejandro, you guys mainly all talk about "I like girls!" Meanwhile Ezekiel doesn't even deny it, just that "Wow eh..." IT FEELS LIKE I'M GRABBING AT STICKS TO SELF PROJECT- Wait, where am I? Or right, Ezekiel x Tyler, dumbass x dumbass

Ezekiel x Alejandro:

Same as above, just minus the Tyler specific part, and directed specifically at Alejandro.

Ezekiel x DJ:

They both love animals, and you can't rid that headcanon from me (on Ezekiel's side, DJ's love for animals is canon).

Ezekiel x Trent:

Ruined character gang.

Ezekiel x Eva:

Last one with Ezekiel, Ok? Anyways, this is the only straight Ezekiel ship I like, Lifts them like some grapes x some grapes, anyone?

Harold x Lightning:

Blame Totaldramarama for this, but you can't explain that "Your handso- I MEAN AWESOME!" Line, and the blush afterwards without at least a little bit of contemplating if that was a childhood crush representation.

Owen x Justin:

I'm starting to see a theme with kinda canon but not explicitly stated, Owen is a Bi-con and no one can change my mind.

Izzy x Eva:

It just works imo.

Katie x Sadie:

I eat up friends to lovers for diner

Raj x Wayne:

Same explanation as Katie x Sadie, just less annoying.

Wayne x Damien:

Himbo x Smarter, Gotta love that dynamic, also, enemies to lovers too! Well, I still feel like that whole enemy thing with Damien was meant to mean like Wayne doesn't see him as an enemy, instead he has one giant crush, but he doesn't wanna feel like he's copying Raj by having these feelings too, so he pretends it's an enemy thing.

Dave x Shawn:

I hate Dave with every inch of my body, but I accidentally fell into this rabbit hole, and now I ship it, trust me, this is the only Dave ship I have.

Alejandro x Tyler:

It's a great dynamic, but in the end, the video we shall not speak of messed it up.

Geoff x Brody:

I wanna see them marry all over again.

And that's all that I have that I'm not questioning the rare pair validity of, I have two more I'm questioning and I'll mention them here:

Gwourtney

Nowen

Thank you for listening to my rare pair list.

.

[jin-mukang]

I finally finished reading Tress of the Emerald Sea. A little late, I know, but hey, this has been the first book I've physically (ebook) read myself and not listened to as an audiobook in years.

Anyways, I just wanted to sing my praise for Brandon Sanderson writing a predictable book.

More under the cut cuz spoilers and rambling

Lately, I feel like a lot of media has gotten this hate train for predicability. Marvel, for one, is an easy example. But there's also things like movies and shows made with an already popular IP that is another example. Directors, authors, writers, everyone seems so obsessed with shocking the consumer. They want endings that come out of nowhere, leaving the consumer feeling nothing but awe struck whiplash. And quite frankly, I've gotten real tired of that years ago.

Anyways, I'm rambling.

When I first started reading Tress, the first thing I predicted was "Tress is going to be a knight in shining armor, Charlie will be the damsel in distress". I knew this, because when Tress and Charlie were talking about damels and knights, they talked about it specifying how Tress wouldn't be a very good damsel, and Charlie wouldn't be a very good knight. It's an easy conclusion for a reader to come to for there to be a role reversal, so when it actually happened, all I could feel was relief. Thank GOD the story went along my prediction. I got very excited thinking that Tress would be doing the rescuing, and if that didn't happen, I would have been disappointed, not shocked by how unpredictable it turned out to be. I didn't want a "Tress is the damsel, but wait, there's a twist!" Situation. The way they talked suggested a role reversal, and that conversation would have meant nothing if it went any other way. It would have just been a rude gesture of "hah! You thought you could predict the story by just this conversation! You fool! I tricked you! I purposely put in this conversation to trick you!"

Lemme get it clear that I don't expect Brandon Sanderson to write like that. Admittedly, when I pledged to the Kickstarter, I hadn't actually read a single book from Brandon Sanderson. I had NO CLUE what I was getting into, but it seemed like the perfect deadline to actually sit down and go through the Cosmere stories before the books started getting sent. Trust me, if I didn't spend money on the Kickstarter, I never would have picked up The Way of Kings. I've been frightened of that book since Junior High. It's been haunting the corners of my mind every time I visit the library. It looks like a good book! It's just so fucking long! So yeah, I spent money on a Kickstarter for an author I've never read a book from before. And I'm glad I did. I got through Stormlight, in getting through Mistborn, I love these books so much.

ANYWAYS. I just want to stress because of how much I loved Stormlight and Mistborn, I truly didn't expect Brandon to do a "HAH! FOOLED YOU WITH MY FALSE LEAD!". In fact, going into Tress, when I saw that foreshadowing, I knew I could trust it. And it still felt so rewarding for that little, easy to come to prediction, to actually come into reality.

So, when I met Huck, I knew the moment we learnt about the Sorceress's curses, that Huck was Charlie. This prediction was a little harder to stick to, but the subtle inconsistencies of Huck's story and goals kept me firm on it, but it was also done with such care that I knew if I was wrong, then there's surely something that makes sense and will wow me anyways. I wouldn't be disappointed that Huck wasn't Charlie, the book didn't lead you on to focus on that.

And then, this is where Brandon Sanderson does throw you in for a loop. It's so subtly obvious that Huck is Charlie, but then Tress gets to the Sorceress and suddenly, just for a page, you're confronted with a human Charlie who is so so Charlie and you're stopped there thinking "wait, where's the catch? How are Charlie and Huck not the same?" And you're suddenly confronted that not only did Tress change, but you as the reader changed too. At the beginning of the book, you know they're perfect for each other, you want to rescue Charlie too, you want them together and happy, but Charlie didn't change. He's the same. The same old Charlie... just doesn't seem right for Tress anymore. She doesn't seem happy. You don't feel happy. All the Sorceress wanted were her cups? But what about Huck?

What about Huck.

And then, Tress realizes, and you nearly jump out of your chair screaming when she realizes YOU were right all along. Huck is Charlie! This human Charlie is a fake!! Tress goes back to the Sorceress to demand her real Charlie back.

It was so exciting. So so so enjoyable.

Anyways, this isn't to say I think the story was purposely predictable, or that it was meant to be guessed ahead of time, but man, it was so so nice to see a story just. Happen. There's so many things Tress of the Emerald Sea could be complimented about, but I haven't seen anyone talk about the predicability of the story itself, and how it's done so well, and proves that shock factor doesn't make a good story, a good story makes a good story, and sometimes good stories are oh so delightfully predicable.

[celestie0]

I’m so sorry that you have to deal with that. It genuinely is a gap in maturity because he’s a person with a life before reader (I know Gojo is fictional but for the sake of this topic I’m going to ask yall to be realistic since IHM touches on a lot of reality). People aren’t just side characters to your story, they’ve existed and will continue to exist whether or not you’re around. That doesn’t devalue anyone or make them gross, that’s just life 😭

You are absolutely right that it is a red flag if someone (that’s interested in relationships and stuff) has not had any prior experience bc that means there’s a reason for it 😭

We still don’t even know WHY they split, people break up over things all the time and sometimes nobody is the villain in the story. We don’t really know all that much about Gojo yet so let’s be patient PLS

Yes we’ve seen that his ex is going to try and get him back but we literally know nothing about where Gojo and Y/N stand at that point. Right now, we know they’re (at least physically) attracted to each other but they’re not at the point where exclusivity is expected. Maybe the ex is trying to wait out their marriage, maybe she actually does just suck but we DONT KNOW ANYTHING YET PLS WAIT 😭

I’m so sorry you’re getting those asks. I get that people are super excited but damn, these are the things that discourage writers from sharing their works or leaving platforms. The worst thing we can do is pressure someone (unless it’s gege) to change their story so that it’ll please you. LET AUTHORS COOK (unless it’s gege) 😤

ILYSM and I’m so sorry about the essay 😞 I got your back and will support any and all decisions you make as an author 🥰 now get behind me 🤺🤺🤺

hiiii makimais bb thx sm for ur sweet words ahhhh i adore u. n you’re one of my readers who understands ihm so much n so it really means a lot 😭💕

thank u sm. yes i think i have always try to write my gojos as their own ppl. i want to develop them outside of just the reader. this is partially bc i adore canon gojo n it’s fun to picture how he would think/feel/act in these alternate universes im putting him in based on what we know of his personality per gege, but also i think that it makes a story more interesting? i have high standards for media i consume, esp when it comes to character devlopment, so there is high chance i will include things in fics that ppl may not like if it means it matches my vision for the character’s growth

and yeahh i think that’s the thing. i understand being antsy over learning things ab the story, but like…we don’t know anything ab ihm gojo (well i know everything ab him actually but yall stay safe tho 😂😂😂) n so the pre emptive hate was kinda shocking

yes pls lemme cook i promise i’m makin a meal over here. truuussstttt. and if it’s not to ur liking, simply leave the restaurant hahah

thanks bb <3 love u tooooo n yes ellie has been feeling a lil fragile lately so i shall get behind u ty

[margridarnauds]

*knocks on the door*

HELLO HELLO!!! I bring with me a whole basket of questions for Kitrye and Raphael for you to answer, to chase away the fatigue of your workload today!! SO, HERE THEY ALL ARE (and omg lemme grab my popcorn because I cannot wait for it): I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP 3.Who felt romantic feelings first?

5.What would their lives be like if they had never met?

6.What was their "flirting stage" like? II. GENERAL 6.How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

8.Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

9.Who gets jealous easier?

15.What is their most common argument about?

III. LOVE

2.What are their primary love languages?

5.Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

10.What do they like best about each other?

HAVE FUN! 😁😁😁😁

3.Who felt romantic feelings first?

I think it was actually Raphael, though it's hard to tell with these two since there was a major discrepancy between developing romantic feelings and REALIZING they'd developed romantic feelings. I think Kitrye BEGAN to develop romantic feelings first, since he was very persistent with wooing her and he was very much her type, but she was deeply in denial. He was the first to REALIZE he'd started to develop romantic feelings for her (he hated it), even though I don't think he realized exactly how far gone he already was.

5.What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Honestly...I want to say that they would be doing perfectly fine, but I kind of think that if Raphael had gotten the Crown of Karsus from some other group of adventurers, it would have consumed him. Totally. She kept him grounded, even if he'd never acknowledge it, providing a calming presence to him, keeping him tied to the real world while also being his fiercest advocate.

She would have been hunted by Lolth ad infinitum, if she hadn't killed herself. Despite hiding it very well, Kitrye has struggled with a deep depression for ages, ever since she was in Arach-Tinilith Academy when she was fifty years old (she's now 253) and, even though she can still smile and enjoy life, the depression's never quite gone away. (Arguably, even before that, even though the Academy brought the worst of it out, since she was always a kind of somber and sad child, even as she was also the one who'd sneak out to go to dances and forbidden gatherings.) Raphael was the one who taught her to enjoy life, who gets her to laugh openly, who brings out her most affectionate, loving self.

He *needs* someone to love him completely, desperately, madly, like her very life and sanity depend on it, and she can give him that, and she *needs* someone who will never leave her, and he never will. They're in this very gothic level of codependence but they're very happy with it.

6.What was their "flirting stage" like?

Short answer: "A whole mess".

Raphael was interested in Kitrye because (1) he likes a challenge and (2) she pulled a sword on him and, as we know, that's a personal aphrodisiac to him. She was interested in him because she's ALWAYS had an interest in older evil men (her first crush was Gromph Baenre), but she was in denial because she didn't WANT to be developing a crush on a devil as a paladin of Eilistraee. They started getting close when he listened to her play her harp and gave her his copy of Folksongs of Faerûn with his annotations and then was the only one who was willing to actually try her Drow food when she was in the Underdark.

Then, in Act 2, she went hard into the denial route, which confused him, which caused HIM to double down on the denial route, which led to both of them flirting obliviously, even as HE was rapidly becoming more and more interested in her with each Thorm family member that she talked into killing themselves. (I maintain that by the time she got to Yurgir, he was in an....excited state.) They did have a moment together shortly before the battle with Ketheric. By the time she got to Baldur's Gate, she was in a better state, they were more knowingly flirting with one another, but it was still a push and pull situation right until Gortash's coronation ceremony, where he pulled her into a tango (...right in front of Gortash's salad, too), as a way of essentially marking his territory, since he knew that Gortash was interested in making an alliance with her. She made the first move that night, and the rest was history.

6.How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

They both have naturally very teasing personalities, both of them are incredibly sharp, both of them are heavily into culture and music, with a preference for using their words over their swords in social situations. But, whereas Raphael is theatrical, Kitrye has learned to be naturally quite quiet. If Raphael is in pain, and he isn't in a situation where he is ACTIVELY in danger, everyone in the house will know that he is in pain, whereas Kitrye will hide her injuries until the last moment, because she's never been ALLOWED to be hurt or to acknowledge when she's in pain. They are both pragmatists who are very good at thinking ten feet ahead, but the issue is that, whereas Kitrye usually *does not* take the pragmatic option unless she actually HAS to, Raphael usually *will*. They are two people who are both primed for survival, growing up in cut-throat social environments, but whereas Kitrye chose service to Eilistraee and a devotion to others, even at the cost of herself, Raphael chose to only ever look out for himself, and that is something Kitrye's choice galls him (when he says "they don't deserve you" it is both a genuine means of manipulation and also because. He truly doesn't think anyone but him is good enough for Kitrye.) This can lead to her sometimes accept things that she doesn't really want to accept because she's been taught to hide her emotions. What makes their relationship work at the end of the day is that Raphael is uncannily good at reading her and forcing her to take care of herself, in the same way that she's very good at reading *him*.

8.Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

Kitrye will USUALLY allow him to take the lead, especially when dealing with Mephistopheles or infernal matters, though she takes the lead in Drow matters. (Raphael is never prepared to be around Drow who treat him like his opinion doesn't matter because he's a man.) (Hope, somewhere in the background: "HOW DOES IT *FEEL*?")

Honestly, I don't really think that Raphael HAS many friends, which is why he's so eager to befriend Tav in-game. He has a vast circle of acquaintances, but would I say that he has *friends*? Not really. Kitrye has a good working relationship with Korrilla, since they're both, at the end of the day, loyal to him, even though Korrilla thought she was an idiot during their Break Up Period, and the two of them will sometimes conspire together. Kitrye doesn't feel any insecurity towards Korrilla, Korrilla doesn't feel any insecurity towards Kitrye, and they both know where the other stands. Haarlep, on the other hand, Kitrye HATES. Not just because of the obvious (what do you do when your SO's former partner/fuckbuddy/"personal incubus" is STILL living in his house and insinuating they want a threesome), but because they fight one another over Raphael's bed, because as far as Haarlep is concerned that is THEIR bed. They don't care that Raph's attention's shifted (they're actually kind of RELIEVED because the sex truly wasn't that good and, anyway, it provides excellent gossip to send to Mephisto), but THAT! IS! THEIR! BED! When Raph's away on business, they actually get along with one another relatively well -- never to the point of being FRIENDS, but to the point where they haven't fought in over two days, since Kitrye will usually go off to her own room if Raphael isn't there, unless she wants to pine and see if she can still catch a hint of his scent on the bedding.

Raphael despises most of Kitrye's friends -- he thinks, not entirely INACCURATELY, that the canon companions don't really care for her. Mallathalra, Kitrye's sister, despises him, and it's relatively mutual, though they put up with one another for Kitrye's sake. He has, at various times, tried to get Malla under his thumb, trying to make a deal with her, almost recreating his ideal version of the Hope - Korrilla relationship, but Malla is a lot less desperate and grateful than Korrilla was, so it never works, and, during their Break Up Era, she was the one to take Kitrye in, very happy that she has Finally Seen Reason (...it didn't stick). They did finally begin to come to terms with one another after Ana's birth, as she finally began to see how truly devoted he was to her.

9.Who gets jealous easier?

Both of them are fairly jealous, but I would say Raph initially, Kitrye later on. Raph was VERY jealous of all of the male companions (even though Kitrye only had eyes for him), as well as Gortash, Zevlor, etc., and that never really went AWAY, but I think that Kitrye's jealousy took a lot longer to come on but it also a little bit more...lingering, in a sense? Both of them are worried, on some level, that the other one will leave them, but I feel like, if Raphael feels brief, intense spouts of jealousy, Kitrye's tends to linger and sink in more, not so much individual cases (even though there does come a point where either Korrilla or Malla asks her, point blank, if she was really HORRIFIED by what he'd done to Hope...or jealous that there'd been another mortal cleric before her, which Kitrye didn't have a response to), but seeing him be so at ease, so naturally flirtatious, and knowing there are plenty of people who would jump his bones for either his power or prestige or because *broad gesture to how he looks*. I do think there comes...some point, probably after Ana's birth, when they finally begin to settle down a little bit. Like, he makes her his queen and consort, he's chosen her to have his only child across millennia of existence, they are SETTLED, she's not going anywhere, he's not going anywhere (though I still think that they both still like to...remind the world at large that this is Their Person, especially by marking one another's necks like teenagers or putting an arm around each other at social gatherings.)

15.What is their most common argument about?

They love to bicker, it's how they flirt, especially with their 500 page marriage contract which they both like to pick through. Despite the bickering though, I actually think they don't FIGHT all that often. Their most explosive fights have inevitably been about morality, especially re: the debtors/Hope, which is what initiated their Break-Up Era (obviously, they got over it, but it was hard for both parties involved.) It got to the point of him accusing her of never having loved him after she poisoned him in order to knock him out to free Hope, which was all an inevitable argument for them to have. When they are more settled, after the Break Up Era, it becomes more about Ana and raising her, since they are both very different in what they want for her, especially since Raphael wanted an *heir* but not necessarily a *child* who could take his beloved wife's attention away from him.

2.What are their primary love languages?

He loves to dote on her, especially giving her anything her heart desires. He would be very happy keeping her in a gilded cage forever, and she isn't...AS opposed to that as she probably should be.

In turn, she also dotes on him, taking care of him, washing the blood off of him after a torture session, stroking his hair, pressing her lips against his neck.

5.Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

She usually initiates kisses -- she likes to bury her head in his neck or to press a kiss to his chin, he favors her neck, throat, or shoulder-blades.

10.What do they like best about each other?

He likes the cunning beneath her kindness and compassion, she likes the way he can seemingly effortlessly understand her.

[bananaapplewaffle]

Scalding Sands Al’ab Nariya | A Firelit Sky over the Sands Books: 3, 4 & 5 + Vignettes

Book 3: Bazaar Exploration

A Traditional Holiday & Getting Into the Spirit

Ah here’s the Aladdin lore 

…I’m gonna be real

I barely remember actual movie

The KH story…

Or even the 2019 movie ( I really only remember the songs from that).

But uh— I feel like they cut a lot out and took uh some creative liberties. 

Was there a firework show…

I feel like that was only in Aladdin and Genie’s meeting…unless that happen in the actual story

Man ion

:/

All Over the Place & A Hungry Monster

If y’all don’t feed my brother 

He will become Abu and start committing steal

Give 👏 me 👏 more👏 meat👏 

Grim, take your time! Savor it!

…

Grim I swear to god…

I CAN’T BELIEVE IT

THAT’S SOME REAL SIBLINGS SHIT RIGHT

“I know we don’t really look alike—” Y’all literally look alike but okay

Why are y’all surprised

CATER

YOU BITCH

Silk City’s Produce & Just How We Are

Jamil

You just gonna say that

In front of us

Like that

Wow

Virgo Shit tbh

IS THAT A FUCKEN PAOPU

Highkey what is Malleus talkin about

Oh that looks good

Did he not spilt an apple and some bread with Abu

Also I can’t believe this

Abu erasure 

NOW JAMIL IS TALKING ABOUT THE LEGEND OF THE PAOPU

GIRL THEY STEALING 

It’s cuz it the fruit, Cater.

Maybe next time

Tower Baguettes & Playful Streak

Wow this whole Book is just eating, huh

Ah there’s where the bread comes in

I feel like he shared it with Abu only but I deadass don’t remember 

Shit I love me some bread

I mean I didn’t ask for help, but sure

Ah there’s the commit steal and on the run part

But without the steal

…

Someone get they brother

…

Did the urn actually not have a bottom in Aladdin

Or is another steal from Kingdom Hearts cuz there’s a heartless that does that

Grim…what are you doing?

If its that hot then you don’t need to be on the ground

Your poor paw pads…

WE’RE STILL CONSUMING???

Allow Me & By My Reckoning & Doing Just Fine

Wrong part, Grim…

MALLEUS RAW STRENGTH DRACONIA IN THE BUILDING

Oh lawd not a bug

He probably almost sent all the stalls on fire

I FUCKEN KNEW IT

Girl not the trauma 

Grim please…

WITH WHAT MONEY

God I feel like I know this toy

Its on the edge of my memories 

Oh fuck

We lost the prince

Book 4: A Change in Location

Actual Gold & Down the Middle!

Oh wow he really knew where to look

WELP

HAI KALIM

A;LKXDLA;KD;LSALDALSDLA

HELLO

THE BELLS ON WHOSE CLOTHES HAVE WHAT ON WHAT

Take this shit off me

GIRL

THEY GOT US ON LOCK

ABU IS THAT YOU

Alright y’all what would gramps want?

Y’ALL WHAT

GIRL

Refrain from Comment & Fortune-Telling

I fucken hate it

Which means Lilia will probs love it

Wait wait wait

This tacky ass shirt’s tagline is:

“Liberated attire for those freed from their shackles”

A fucken choice that was

Moving all the way on

Oh wait, come back

I forgot Genie wore a tacky ass shirt

Okay sure whatever

GIRL THE FUCKEN MUSIC

THE LOOK ON MALLES’ FACE

AS TREY SUGGESTED GETTING SPICES 

SALDSDASDLAD;’DLALSD

MALLEUS REALLY SAID

“If he makes something with the ingredients you bought, I’m coming for both y’all asses.” 

Not Cater being into Astrology

Cuz he is gonna be the best mage, Trey.

Poor Grim. 

It’s okay, I believe in you!

A Family Heirloom & Stretching Super Long

That man do be getting worked up

AWWW YOU’RE GETTING’EM FOR MY BOYS

Good grades and focus, huh….

Seems about right

OH NO

MALLEUS

MALLEUS PLEASE STAY CALM

Chile lemme gon head and get a scarf too

Can’t Set Them Off & Just an Employee

WHO STOLE THE DETONATOR

GIRL THE USB STICK

I GOTTA GOOOOOOOOO

IT WAS THE FUCKEN MONKEY

ABU GET YO ASS BACK HERE

MALLEUS NO YOU’RE TOO POWERFUL

Not rue the day…

Trey shoulda took off his glasses

GET HIS AS GRIM

You have my permission 

And then Jamil beat his ass and saved the day

YIPEE

Book 5: Firework Celebration

Worth Cheering For & Especially Nice

Mint lemonade…

How things collide

I refuse to elaborate

Damn I kinda really wanna try it tho

I did actually buy the lamp from the shop lol

GIRL

ITS THE FLASH OF THE INSANE SMILE FOR MEEEEEEE

Okay so…this is the shortest twistune,

One of the shortest events,

And like 

Really could have spent less time eating 

And some time learning that dance at the end

Cuz that’s not the type of dance you can get just by looking 

That’s a practice a week before the function kind of dance

MY HEART

JAMIL 

AUGH

MY HEART

What a nice end card

Vignettes 

An Expert Opinion (Part One) | Cater - Silk Adorned 

My boys look so upset

And just like that

After the promise of getting something

They (Ace) are fine

Riddle—Ace and Deuce are the only pumped ones here

And they’re not even going???

Jamil watching with a Virgo eye

That’s literally the perk of being a Virgo.

We just be seeing shit

Cater really said

“Ion, you pick”

An Expert Opinion (Part Two) | Cater - Silk Adorned 

Really reading the fuck outta you

Yellow: For the bolder Cater

Black and White: For the don’t stand out too much Cater

Salmon Pink: For the gentle Cater

And yet,

There is still more to Cater

AND THEY REFUSE TO EXPLORE IT

I WANT HIM TO OVERBLOT

It’s Not Magic | Trey- Silk Adorned 

I thought we got there way closer to the time…

My brother—he’s so happy

Don’t you dare

SALDKLA;SDKK;DKLA;DKAL;DKD

[image of me and jamil being the same]

I SWEAR I DIDN’T KNOW HE’D SAY THIS

Oh girl we’re in science class

I hope everyone has on their lab coat and goggles

Oh my

I forgot this man was in the Science Club

Bro I hated the snake ones when I was little

It looked like poop

Rather Enjoyable | (Part One) | Malleus - Silk Adorned 

Oop 

And this is where he got separated

And here’s Kalim!

Sweetheart, you are lost.  

Oh no

They’re in a tourist trap!

They got out

But where will they go next

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON—

Rather Enjoyable | (Part Two) | Malleus- Silk Adorned 

Oh an antique shop

Then man said “Lemme pop a squat and get ta reading”

WHAT

ITS WRITTEN IN AN EXTINCT LANGUAGE

What’s happening next week?

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON—

[simofabitch]

Ooh uhh @azumetapraline @morp @arisplotle and anyone else who wants to

Three ships I love??? Uhh shit lemme check my ao3 rq --

..... 😶 was not expecting megatron/starscream to have the biggest share of my relationship bookmarks but here we are. Theres something viscerally satisfying about screamer just getting the slag kicked out of him . Okay. They've got the best toxic dynamic going on and it's kinda fruity. Not my fault !!!

two more.... metalor obvs... one more uhhh

Vash the Stampede/Nicholas Wolfwood . Guy that would let himself die to save others with guy that would kill others to keep his loved ones from dying. Yes teach that man to take care of himself... two sides of the same coin.... etc etc I need to watch the original.

First ship? Uh

I'm blanking out here ngl..

Oh. Why would you make me remember the kirby characters/reader deviantart fanfic group I used to frequent. And now I lost the game.

The first ship I ever shipped. I'm so sorry but that's gonna have to stay a secret because I hate the media with all my soul now (its. Extremely bad and Actually Racist), and the "friend" who got me into that media was an equally shitty person. So sad that was my first anime, my god..... I couldn't have picked a worse introduction to fandom and smut....

But the ship after that I was most into was self ship with Meta knight so let's pretend that's my answer

Last song I listened to uh

I'm a bit of an edge lord I'm sorry

Last film was the Mario movie . Pretty good for a kids movie but not great but I love seeing my friends

Currently reading.... I've got two fic tabs open that I'm reading rn, ones a dimentio centric super paper mario fic, the other is rock book

Watching... I havent watched the next episode in a few days but a friend really got me into nabari no ou, it's really good and the backgrounds are gorgeous. I love the aesthetic and how everything looks hand drawn. Also the characters are really good and interesting, they take your expectations and flip them upside down. The powers are cool, everything is cool and when im.in the mood I cant wait to see how it ends and then start consuming fandom content

Consumed a piece of milk tea boba flavored mochi just now

Craving? I'm so restless rn. I'm in one of those moods where I dont want to work but I also don't want to rest and hopefully this video game can burn out my brain a bit. I guess I'm craving for my friends to finish all their stressful finals/graduations and everyone can come over again and I can help dye someone's hair and then sit in someone's lap until I fall asleep watching a youtube documentary. .. jeez I didnt know what was wrong with me until a tumblr ask game forced me to articulate it.,, I,ah, eto bleh and I lost the game again!

Hey, tagged by @rulerofmarsandearth , oke I wanna try it ❤️

Tagging some people I’d like to know better ^^ :

@noyin @birbwell @timeturner-jay @flame-shadow @pollyannam3 @melissa-s23 @poisonhemloc

Three ships I love: hmmm… I mean I’m not recently much into fandom shipping, I’m focusing more on my ocs, but the ships that are special for me are the crack ships I made so genzayra, tisocloth (someone called it tissue I’m dying) and kingceit ❤️

First ever ship: something from Naruto probably 😂 Kiba x Hinata? I can recall writing a fanfic for my friend about them once

Last song: listening to new fave song on loop for hours gang 👌 For me recently Siren’s Call Seafoam Mix by DM DOKURO has definitely the most loops

Last film: … the last movie would be Avatar 2, like half a year ago. … my cultural self growth is in stasis

Currently reading: too many fanfics to count

Currently watching: watched few episodes of Glow Up with friends and enjoyed it a lot so we’ll probably continue, but I don’t meet with them too often so it’s gonna take some time to get through even one season 😂 I still don’t know who won this one but don’t wanna spoil it for myself

Currently consuming: raisins and nuts

Currently craving: 10 hour mountain hike

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

waiting for you hypocrites to say how you want to be eaten by timmy.

How dare you

I don’t want to be eaten by Timothée

I want him to fuck me directly after eating someone else while he’s still covered in blood

Oh! You’re talking about Armie, huh? I’m actually really glad you sent me this, then, firstly because I love anon hate, I think it’s hilarious, and second because it gives me an opportunity to tell you my feelings on this topic. So, lemme explain something to ya, anon. And no hate, btw, but yeah truthfully I don’t mind Charmie shippers, necessarily. Like, if reading and writing those fics makes you guys happy, then you should keep doing it, y’know. Seriously, have at it. However, I have four main concerns

Firstly, the charmie community has made people who accuse Armie of SA/abuse feel unsafe. There has been stalking and harassment. I don’t care what someone has done, that’s never okay. It’s not okay to do it to Armie, either, and I don’t even like the guy. It’s not okay to do it to anyone for any reason ever. Except the members of the Supreme Court who fucked us over a couple months back, I hope they get beaten to death with a brick. But I digress.

Second, thinking a RPF ship is real is very harmful when you’re assigning someone a sexuality. Tim has been clear that he isn’t into dudes. So either you guys are wrong and you’re assigning him a sexuality and outing him (which, if you’re doing that by thinking it’s real, as a queer woman who came out later in life, fuck you extra hard and not in a fun way), and neither of those things are okay. Not at all. If you guys are right and Tim is gay and he’s in a secret relationship with Armie and has been since 2017 (or whenever, y’know), it’s still not okay. And I don’t mean writing fanfiction about them isn’t okay, that’s fine. What’s not okay is thinking it’s real. There are real life instances of a fandom shipping two people and then repeatedly saying, “no, we’re not gay, we’re just friends and that’s it” and the fandom not believing them and then them coming out as being gay and together years and years later, and it makes people uncomfortable. I’m talking about Dan and Phil here, btw. But yeah, it makes people uncomfortable, so regardless of whether you’re wrong or you’re right, thinking it’s real isn’t okay.

Third, even if the allegations are not true (which… I doubt that none of them are true; something is very likely true, imo. It takes a lot of guts to come forward like that and I don’t think these women would do it for clout. Look at the hate they’re getting ffs. I don’t know if the claim of SA is true, of course, since it’s still ongoing, but do I think some of those DMs are real? Absolutely), Armie doesn’t seem to respect women very much. Like… at all. And no, I’m not kinkshaming, of course not; I’m so submissive Tim could chain me to a radiator and I’d thank him for it, okay, and I’m not gonna bash anybody’s kinks. The issue is that apparently Armie has been pushing his kinks onto women who don’t want it, and I suspect that has to do with his issues with drugs and alcohol, and I truly hope he gets better. Really, I do. If the allegations are true, he took advantage of their inexperience in the kink world, and that is not okay. Kinks are great. I love kinks. I’m into some of the stuff Armie was talking about (not actual flesh eating part, more like I want to be used lol), but here’s the problem: the women he was involved with are not, and he pressured them into it anyway. This is not okay. Kinkshaming isn’t okay, but neither is pressuring someone who isn’t into something to do it anyway. That’s not acceptable, and I hope he learns from this experience and never ever does it again.

Fourth, fiction and real life are separate. Yeah, fiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum, absolutely, but people who consume kinky fics are doing so willingly, generally speaking. They know what they’re getting into. The key here is consent. I won’t name writers because I don’t wanna put them on blast, but writing about a toxic and possessive Tim isn’t the same as him being like that in real life, nor is writing about him, say, being a fae that coerces someone into fucking him. Those things are not real. Those things are fictional. We know they’re fictional. The allegations are real (note: I’m not saying they are true, merely that they were actually made because we are supposedly not living in a simulation, I’ll notify you if my opinion on that changes lmao), these kinks are really being acted out, and there are rules for engaging with them. If you are incapable of following those rules for whatever reason, you should not be engaging in that kink.

Regardless, anon, I don’t care if you ship charmie. I really do not give a singular fuck. I only care if you think it’s real. If you think it’s real, we got a problem, and I don’t wanna talk to you. If you don’t think it’s real and just read and/or write it, cool, I hope you enjoy. And kinks aren’t a problem either. Lack of consent is a problem. Harassment is a problem. Abuse is a problem. I do genuinely hope Armie is able to get better, and I hope the women get hurt are, too. Wish you the best ✌️

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him.  “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast  the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low,  “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.  

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

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[bulletnotestudies]

I’d love to hear your lgbtq+ book recs!!

I hope you have a lovely weekend as well!

well now you've opened pandora sabrina's box asgdbhjq

okay firstly, lemme just link u to some recs we've previously compiled in the studyblr w/knives server: top 2021 books, lgbtq+ main character, trans main character (more recs incoming next month ;))

and now, to single out some recent(ish) faves: (cut bc this is long)

exciting times (n. dolan) - contemporary fiction they say this is the closest it gets to sally rooney but i haven't read any of her books so i wouldn't know about that. i would, however, know that i absolutely love the writing in this one - barely anything happens and i rarely like plotless books and yet here i am, tabbing the hell out of this book

gideon the ninth (t. muir) - sci-fi horror fantasy it took a little for me to get used to the writing but oh. my. god. it destroyed me in the best way possible and i already have the sequel on my shelves, waiting till after finals to dig in (very much recommend it - feel free to dm me and i can tell u more)

the charm offensive (a. cochrun)* - contemporary rom-com this had the lovely vibes red, white & royal blue has; i read it in a day and had a blast, it also has a main character of color and neurodiverse rep!

the six of crows duology (l. bardugo) - ya fantasy you surely already know abt it, but it's among my all time absolute faves so of course i have to mention it

the raven cycle (m. stiefvater) - ya urban fantasy same reason as with soc lol

things have gotten worse since we last spoke (e. larocca)* - conteporary epistolary horror horror indeed. chilling, gripping, delightfully horrifying and fucking disgusting - i probs won't ever be rereading but man, it was a ride

damaged like us (b.&k. ritchie)* - contemporary romance is this the height of literature? certainly not. but did i enjoy it and read it at lightning speed? i did. i really did.

the house in the cerulean sea (t.j. klune) - urban fantasy a hug in book form. reading this feels like being bundled up in ur fave blanket, sipping your fave hot beverage and Vibing™

hepdale rain trilogy (c. paul)* - ya urban fantasy i don't like werewolf stories. these books tho? had me in a chokehold. the characters are amazing, the writing is lovely af, and each book is better than the last.

the atlas six (o. blake)* - urban fantasy some ppl hated this but me? it made me go absolutely insane. i was making inhumane noises as this took my heart and twisted it in like 5 diff dimensions, 5 stars, immediate new fave.

top secret (e. kennedy, s. bowen)* - contemporary romance kinda a frat house you've got mail au. shameless smut ngl. a great pick if u just want sth quick, super non-demanding to read while getting over a book that ruined u lol

him (e. kennedy, s. bowen)* - contemporary sports romance same as the previous, just with the hockey gays flavor this time.

cemetery boys (a. thomas) - ya urban fantasy this. book. asdfsdghfjkl. my poor heart. just sweet and so soft, but at the same time amazing at tackling themes like your identity and belonging and culture and

simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda (b. albertalli) - ya contemporary romance a classic by this point, but i read it in 2018 and def wanna reread :')

heartstopper (a. oseman) - ya contemporary romance the graphic novel that stole our hearts <3 also go watch it on netflix everyone (if u want to Emote be consumed by warmth)

the magic between (s. hoyt) - magical realism romance this wasn't exactly a fave, but the dedication reads "for all the bisexuals out there - this one's for you." and yes. the bisexual rep this world deserves

*contains (varying degrees of) graphic sexual content

okay i'll stop with that for now, feel free to ask for more literally any time. but bc i cannoT shut up and you have been warned, here are some fantastic lgbtq+ books i have on my tbr (recs courtesy of my friends with superb reading tastes):

the darkness outside us (e. schrefer) - ya sci-fi romance my preordered paperback is on its way as we speak

in the dream house (c. m. machado) - non fiction a memoir that apparently doesn't read as non fiction and tackles multiple incredibly important topics

if we were villains (m. l. rio) - contemporary mystery i won't even say anything, this has been on my tbr for 6 years and that's that.

summer sons (l. mandelo) - urban fantasy (magical realism?idk) this was pitched to me as "the raven cycle but darker and more unhinged". sold immediately lmao

heated rivalry (r. reid) - contemporary sports romance hockey gays with a lot of angst

crush (r. siken) - poetry

iron widow (x. j. zhao) - sci-fi

the starless sea (e. morgenstern) - urban fantasy

19 days (o. xian) - manga

the gilded wolves trilogy (r. chokshi) - historical fantasy

if you have any recs for me (any genre), definitely do drop them in my asks or dms and if you ever run out of books of a specific genre to read or just wanna scream about a book, you know where to find me ✨

[niksfics]

↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE

↬ PAIRINGS: bokuto x f!reader? (Side) atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: nothing really. Just some heart wrenching angst, bokuto is careless with your heart I guess

↬ SUMMARY: you fell in love with your bestfriend but your bestfriend has never felt that way about you.

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.7K |

My first year at Fukurodani had been lonely to say the least. I had been new to the area wheras everyone else had gone to middle school together, and I'd been the odd one out. The cliques had already formed leaving me to fend for myself.

My second year though I'd seen a flyer for the boys volleyball team needing a new manager. I signed my name against my better judgement and hoped for the best. When I'd shown up to the first practice game after a talk with the coach, I had realized signing that flyer was the best decision I'd ever made.

Bokuto Kotaro a second year -at the time- like myself was just a ball of energy. He was an honest to god enigma. Being around him was just intoxicating, a rollercoaster you never wanted off of. We got along fairly quickly and him and the rest of the boys had made my second year a little less lonely.

In my third year I was always greeted in the halls, by my fellow classmates who'd known me because of Bo. When he'd learned that I was basically friendless in my second year he'd gone around and introduced me to just about everyone he knew. Eyes shining with love and happiness. That was the third time my heart had skipped a beat because of him.

By the time I realized the butterflies in my stomach increased as the months went by in my eventful second year, the more I realized I was falling in love with my best friend. My heart thumping against my rib cage every time he'd look at me. My skin lighting on fire as his skin brushed against mine. My breath catching in my throat whenever he'd look at me a certain way, or whenever he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. He made me feel breathless and I could never get tired of it.

The day I realized my bestfriend, Bokuto Kotaro, just might not be in love with me as well was the day I'd stayed late after practice to put some of the equipment in the storage closet. I'd been proudly wearing his jacket. It swallowing my body because that's just how big he was. He'd rounded the corner into the closet and smiled at me sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Y/n, I was wondering," he'd paused and my heart beat against my chest almost as if it was gonna burst right through my skin. The breathless feeling coming back and I felt myself starting to smile until he'd finished his sentence, "well uhm... I was wondering if I could have my jacket back, Koyuki is cold and I don't want her to freeze," my smile dropped in an instant. The way he'd said her name, it was.. well it was different than whenever he said anybody else's name. "Oh yeah sure Bo, lemme just put this stuff down really fast," I'd turned from him nose stinging from the tears welling up in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat down. Suppressing every single emotion in my body.

I'd handed him his stupid jacket back and slammed the door closed as I watched him drape it over her shoulders and she smiled brightly at him.

I should have known then. Known that he was falling head over heels for akaashi's twin sister, because when bokuto falls in love it's not quiet, its loud and powerful and passionate and it'll swallow you up if you let it.

Koyuki akaashi did just that. Let his love consume her like the raging fire it was. They were a beautiful couple. A match made in heaven.

She was beautiful and confident. His personal little cheerleader. She was undoubtedly the most wanted girl at our school. She was perfect for him. I knew that. I felt it, and I tried my damn hardest to be so happy for him. To love him differently. The way he loved me. Platonically. I watched them fall in love.

Watched him kiss her with a passion I only dreamt of feeling from him. They held looks of love whenever they looked at the other. The hardest part though. The hardest part was she was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever meet. A heather. No hidden agenda. Nothing like those girlfriends in the cliche best friends to lovers trope books. She welcomed me as a friend and fully supported me as bokutos bestfriend. She was impossible to hate, and how could I hate her when she was the reason my best friend smiled the way he did. The reason his breath caught in his throat just the way mine did.

When we graduated and I'd become a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals, because I'd promise Bo to not leave his side. Promised I'd followed him to the ends of the earth. We were y/n and bokuto. We came in a pair. It was hard. Hard being around him when he'd talk about Koyuki and how he couldn't wait to feel her again and how it was so hard being away from the person you love more than anything, and then he'd say "you know?" With his puppy eyes, and I'd just shrug and agree.

The way I'd wished and hoped that it wouldn't last. That somewhere in bokutos head he'd realize she wasn't the one. That they'd get in a fight too big to cool down from. The more I'd wished that the more I felt guilty. Why would I wanna ruin my bestfriends happiness? Why would I wish that to go away?

So when shoyo hinata asked me on a date, I'd excitedly agreed. Finally I could, maybe, forget about the big himbo I'd fallen for. No. In fact that made it worse. I found myself comparing hinata to bokuto. The way hinata walked, the way hinata talked, the way Hinata's touch didn't make my skin burn up quite like bokutos did. Me and hinata didn't last. It was a disease, and I was dying. Being eaten from the inside out. My very heart collapsing in on it self, and when he'd proposed to her. God, the way I cried. The way I ached. The way my chest clenched and the tears finally fell.

"Y/n, what's wrong?! What did I do?" He asked desperately grabbing my wrist as I'd gasped and tried to turn.

"Nothing Bo, I'm so happy for you!! These are happy tears Ko!"

He smiled big and bright. Bokuto wasn't dense. He was more aware of anyone's feelings than he was of his own. Either he saw the pain in my eyes that night and ignored it, or he saw it and in fear of our friendship crumbling right in our hands that night swallowed down what he'd wanted to say. It was the latter.

The day of the wedding finally came. Here I stood, next to my favorite boy. Waiting at the end of the aisle for a girl who was not me. My bestfriend, the boy.. no man I'm in love with. Tearing up as is his wife to be walked closer towards him.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I forced a smile as they fell down my face. Atsumu tapped my shoulder. I turned and he'd held open his arms. I'd buried myself in the tight embrace of the setter who knew. Who knew the story. Who'd held me as I cried many times. Times just like this one. He kisses the the top of my head and I turn back around catching the eyes of bokuto.

After the ceremony everyone had gathered at a venue for the reception. I walked away from the laughter. The buzz of the party and the cheers as the groom dipped the bride and kissed her.

Unfortunately for me, he'd soon noticed my absence and come to find me. "Y/n" he whispered hand closing over my elbow, and a warm, salty tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the corner of my lip.

I turned away from the salty water washing over my feet, and my toes dug in the sand. "Don't touch me" I tried my hardest to sound determined, but my voice cracked.

"What was it? What does she have that I don't Ko?" I asked. Desperate. Reaching for anything. Grasping at straws.

That's when I looked at him, and his eyes said it all. He was never very good at hiding his emotions. His eyes always gave him away, and he'd known. He knew the whole time. I knew that now.

Lovely Bokuto Kotaro had known all along.

He was quiet for a minute. "You have everything that she has and more." He said what he felt and bokuto never lied. He hates lies I knew that.

"Then why not me? I know you knew. You knew the minute we were sitting in that boba shop and you looked at me staring at your hands interlocked. I know you realised. Then and there." I pulled my elbow away from his hand.

"I love you y/n, just not in the way I love koyuki," he says it so casually as if he'd just told me he'd left my purse on the counter. Not tenderly. Not carefully.

My eyes closed collecting myself, "don't you think I know that Bokuto? Don't you think I've cried over that every night for years? I know you do, and God it's so fucking hard to be happy, and bite my tongue. To swallow down the word vomit, because I love you so fucking much, kotaro. I've loved you since the middle of our second year, but now you've gotta let me go. Leave me behind." I turned back facing him again.

"Please don't ask that of me, you know I can't do that. That'll kill me sweets-" I stopped him and turned to glare at him, "you can't fucking call me that anymore. That's a pet name for lovers, not for a man who is married to use on his bestfriend."

You could hear someone walking towards you guys, "y/n?" You knew that voice. "I'm here tsumu," you sighed. Moving around bokuto and walking closer to the setter. "Just... just.. enjoy you're honeymoon Bokuto, and please let me move on and heal. Congratulations on your marriage"

You smiled softly at him kissing bokuto on the cheek as you took the hand of the blonde. Atsumu smiled down at you, heart beating faster just like yours did the day you made eye contact with bokuto for the very first time.

[shushiyuii]

Atlantic Runaways (Part 3)

Lol we got part 3, which is mainly just a lot of fluff and plot developement uwu

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, vore, trauma? Swearing.

Words: 1.8K+

He rolled in bed as his alarm went off, the familiar tune of the able sisters calling him into awakening. Much to his displeasure. How dare this alarm tell him to get up when wait- shit! He had a job!

He came to his thoughts as he shot out of bed, checking his phone to see that the alarm was late. “SHIT!”. But then stopped for a minute, he remembered it was a Saturday. Why would his alarm be going off on his day off?

Then he realised he was going too late for his meeting with Tubbo.

He grabbed his hoodie, rushed downstairs and ran across the street to the nearby park that he and Tubbo would meet up in.

As he ran his best friend came into view, with an unamused face of course. “Tubbo! My man!”. He managed to get out as he came to a halt, panting his lungs out. “About time, you dickhead!”.

“Sorry! Sorry! A lot of things happened yesterday…”. It came out almost abrupt but confusing as the reality of yesterday’s events were finally hitting him. No wonder he overslept, he was exhausted.

“You okay Toms?”. He snapped out of his mind and looked to Tubbo, “Fine! How about we grab some coffee from the café?”, “Sure, but I’m not grabbing coffee. I’m getting hot chocolate!”.

…

“Tubbo, it’s the middle of fucking summer…”, “THAT WILL NOT STOP ME FROM CONSUMING AND ENJOYING MY CHOCOLATEY BEVERAGE!”.

The two made their way to the café in the middle of the park, it was quite a famous public area so many people frequented the place. They took their orders, the hot chocolate and coffee with a side of biscuits. Because Tommy didn’t have breakfast.

The two just sat on their phones for a moment, the atmosphere of awkwardness raising, it was apparent to Tubbo that something was off about Tommy, he was normally more hyperactive, talkative, and well, energetic. Something was clearly on his mind, and he didn’t want to talk.

But Tubbo was determined to get answers. The drinks soon arrived and Tubbo put away his phone, sipping at his hot chocolate. Ignoring the boiling temperature in favour of looking dramatic. He looked at Tommy with narrowed eyes, but his attention was focused on his phone.

“So…”. Tubbo spoke up, Tommy’s attention went from his phone to Tubbo. “What’s up?”, Tommy asked while furrowing an eyebrow, Tubbo was acting differently.

“What’s going on? You’re acting differently.”. Tubbo usual tone is gone, replaced with a serious one. Oh god, it was a serious one. Did he do something? Was he suspicious? He didn’t really want to tell Tubbo what had happened.

“Uhh, nothing?”. Tubbo slammed his fist on the table. “Okay! Okay! Maybe almost got murdered yesterday at work?...”. Tubbo always held a level of intimidation so Tommy couldn’t help and spit it out, much to his displeasure.

“What?”, Tubbo spoke quietly, not wanting to get more attention from the customers that were already staring at them.  “Okay, let’s finish this outside.”.

The two then quickly ate their biscuits and finished their drinks, Tommy grabbing a can of Coca Cola on the way out. The two then made their way to their usual bench, secluded from the rest of the park.

“So, what do you mean you almost got killed?!”, Tubbo asked the moment they sat down. Tommy almost choked on his cola. “Right uhm…”. He tried to find a way to put it.

“Basically, you know that trainer guy who was really sketchy?”, “Yeah…”. “Basically, he threw me into the water with a dangerous Mer? Well, not really dangerous now... But-“. Tubbo slapped a hand over Tommy’s mouth and pinched his own nose and sighed. “Slowly.”.

Tommy in turned sighed when his mouth was released, he was going to have to go into more detail. “Trainer guy I was working under was treating Wilbur like shit, course me and Wilbur weren’t on the best of terms but that isn’t a right to treat a creature like us like total shit! So, I stood up for em’ “.

He continued, “In turn, he got mad and pushed me into the water. As you know I’m not the brightest out there and I didn’t manage to suck in any air. So, I was drowning…”. “That’s how you almost died?...”.

Tommy looked down and nodded, his arms hugging himself. Tubbo comforted him with a hug, rubbing his back as Tommy leaned into the touch. “Mhm…”. He mumbled. The two stayed there for a moment, in comforting silence.

“How did you get out?” he asked once Tommy had calmed down. “I- Wilbur saved me. I don’t know why but he did, he fucking ate me while doing it too!”, “What?!”.

“Turns out some Mers have what’s called a brooding pouch, a place where they store young. Wilbur put me there for a while”. “Wait- Brooding pouch?! He ate you but didn’t eat you?”. Tubbo said in confusion to which made Tommy laugh.

“Yeah, turns out he can speak too! So, now I can actually talk to the bitch! And now we’re friends, I guess? Well, that and he actually comforted me after what happened, so after all that I walked home at whatever time it was and fell asleep.”.

Tubbo went straight into protective mode, hugging Tommy with a lot of strength, “I’m glad you’re alive! But Wilbur, you think you guys are friends?”. “I guess so, he seemed rather friendlier than usual”.

“Whatever it is, be careful. He could still be dangerous!”, “I will don’t worry! I just, I feel bad for Wilbur. I’m gonna try and do whatever I can to help… Wait- how come you’re okay with all this?”.

“Because I know you Toms, and I know I won’t be able to stop you even if I tried so you have my support, okay? If you need a hand lemme know”.

The two did their usual antics after that, playing around and such like they have since childhood and after all that he went to bed.

…

The next day went by quickly as he was mainly playing games and stuff. He tried to think of plans, something of what he could do to help Wilbur.

…

He woke up with a lot of energy that morning, he had plans and he knew that work is going to be absolute chaos.

The moment he arrived at work that day there was a sort of rush of anxiety and excitement, he was excited to see Wilbur again but also scared of the fact of how Wilbur would react.

He walked past the halls and into Wilbur’s containment. There stood the trainer, sitting on a stand, smoking his darn cigarette.  

He heard the door open and looked over to see Tommy. His eyes widened in shock, coughing as he clumsily inhaled his cigarette. “Y-you’re!”. “Yeah, I’m alive. Shut it”.

The man opened his mouth and stood up, approaching Tommy menacingly. Tommy’s confidence faded as he brought up his arms to shield himself from the man. But the man didn’t even stand a chance as water splashed around the two.

And there was Wilbur, barring his sharp teeth, his eyes dilated as he saw the man staring down at his trainer. The trainer immediately backed off when he saw the Mer, running away cowardly out of the room. Leaving him and Wilbur alone.

Tommy looked nervously to Wilbur whose harsh expression turned softer as he looked down at Tommy, he leaned down to Tommy’s height. “You, okay?”. “Yeah, fine. Thanks Wil.”.

Wilbur smiled as he brought out his hand, offering it to Tommy to which he looked down at it in confusion, to which Wilbur responded by just picking him up completely. “Glad to see you’re okay, I’ve been worried”. He nuzzled Tommy.

“Oi, stop it bitch!”. It made Wilbur laugh. “Why are you so cuddly?!”, “You should know this, it’s common knowledge for mers”. Tommy took a minute to understand what he meant then the realisation hit him.

“Right, you bitches get attached to things easily”. And in response, Wilbur brought a claw to gently rub Tommy’s hair. “Right there, gremlin boy!”. “I am no gremlin!”.

The two then settled down with Wilbur swimming around in his small pool, which honestly made Tommy cringe with how small it was. “You hungry?”, he yelled out as he pulled out a heavy bucket towards the pool, it was filled to the brim with fish.

Wilbur popped his head out of the water, “Always hungry, honestly”. He swam towards the end of the pool where Tommy was, “Right”. He brought the bucket to Wilbur, to which Wilbur opened his mouth wide.

Tommy could make out the many sharp fangs, he could easily be swallowed whole. It freaked him out, he shrieked and stepped back. Wilbur closed his mouth and tilted his head in confusion at Tommy’s sudden yells. “What’s wrong?”.

“N-nothing, just you kinda scared me for a second “, “Oh! Sorry! Just thought you’d feed me like that”. “O-oh…”. Tommy then took a breath and came back close to Wilbur, Wilbur picked up on what Wilbur was doing and opened his mouth back up.

He then threw the bucket of fish into Wilbur’s mouth, who immediately swallowed the fish. Although not normally a part of a whale mer’s diet, it was the only thing that he could really give Wilbur to eat out here.

Wilbur then went back to swimming whilst Tommy laid his feet in the water and surprisingly, Wilbur didn’t mind it.

“So. Uhm- you okay Wil?”, “Just fine, Tommy” he answered as he swam. Fortunately, Mers could hear just as well from above the water, even if they were underwater. So, the conversation would be rather normal.

“How are you feeling after that day?”, “Fine, I talked to a friend about it. Got it off my mind and shit.”, “You told somebody about me?”, his tone changed. Tommy looked to Wilbur, “Y-yeah, I hope that’s okay!”, “Are they trustworthy?”, “Yeah!”, “Okay.”.

There was another moment of silence until Tommy spoke up, “Wilbur, don’t you hate being here?”. “Yes, I do, I absolutely despise it here. I hated it the moment I got here”, “Do you wanna go back to the ocean?”.

…

“Yes I do, but that isn’t possible.”.

“What if it is though?”.

“Tommy, you’d have to be a maniac in order to pull off an operation on your own”.

“Well I am a maniac, I’ll do it!”.

“Toms-“.

“Let’s run away Wilbur!”.

…

 “Tommy!” Wilbur pinched his nose and sighed, “I get it, you wanna help and I’m all up for it. But it’s dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

“It’ll be fine Wilbur! Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?!”. Wilbur looked to Tommy who had determined eyes, he couldn’t help it, he found them adorable. He sighed again, “Finee, but we’re going to be really careful about this okay?”.

Tommy smiled and stood up, reached out for Wilbur, Wilbur happily hugged him back with his hand. It made Tommy laugh, which brought a smile to Tommy’s face.

“We’ll run away!”.

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 7- Drinks

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warning for male masturbation

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

You must have cycled through half a dozen different outfits before you finally settled on one you liked: a careful balance of sexy and comfortable after a long day of hero work. You’ve only been to Masahiro’s once before but it’s a nice enough place and the drinks are good. You spend a stupid amount of time putting on makeup and then double, triple, and quadruple checking how you look in the mirror before you finally head out.

It’s an easy train ride into downtown, a few people recognize and stop you to ask for an autograph or words of wisdom or advice. It’s a surreal experience, sure your popularity has been exploding lately but it’s still odd to be treated as a celebrity. As you walk past a billboard of yourself advertising athleticwear it occurs to you that you kind of are a celebrity. Your train of thought is interrupted by Masahiro’s coming into view. You hurriedly duck into the bar, it’s pretty empty on a Thursday night so it doesn’t take you long to spot Bakugo. He, of course, looks incredible. He’s got on a plaid over shirt that he’s rolled up to his elbows, impressive forearms on display. The black tee he wears beneath it stretches tightly over his muscular chest. He’s sitting at the bar top but you can still appreciate the way his jeans hug his legs. He’s scowling down at his phone, having not noticed your entrance, and it shouldn’t be an attractive expression but somehow on him it just is. You take a deep steadying breath as you steel your nerves, trying to calm down your racing heart as you walk over towards him.

“Where are the others?” Bakugo’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, eyes connecting with yours. “They bailed,” he scoffs, his annoyance clear in his voice. You hum in acknowledgment but then lean against the bar to flag down the bartender. Bakugo watches you curiously, only now properly taking in your appearance. You look good, he’ll admit. In the back of his head a voice that sounds suspiciously like Denki corrects him that you look hot. It’s his first time seeing you in civilian clothing, he realizes, and you wear it well. He’s still trying to decide whether he prefers you in your civilian clothes or hero costume when you finally get the bartender’s attention and the sound of your voice snaps Bakugo out of his trance. His ears go slightly pink when he realizes his train of thought and he quickly shakes his head as if doing so will physically dislodge the thought from his brain. He decides to instead focus on whatever you’re talking to the bartender about. “An order of your finest saké please, and just keep the bottles coming until we ask you to stop,” you tell the bartender with a grin. Bakugo is about to stop you, it’s a ludicrous fucking request considering the astronomical price tag that will surely come with it, but then you finish your sentence. “Oh and would you mind putting it on Chargebolt’s tab? He wanted to treat us to celebrate our big bust today but had to bail cause of work stuff. Y’know how pro hero work is,” you continue. “Of course! No problem Mercury, I’ll get right on that,” the bartender tells you before whisking off to fulfill your request.

As you get comfortable in your seat you find Bakugo giving you a slightly impressed look to which you respond with a shrug. “If he’s gonna bail on us the least he can do is let us get plastered on his money. If the bill gets too ridiculous we’ll switch to one of the other flakes’ tabs,” you reply with a grin. To your delight, Bakugo’s mouth stretches into an amused smirk as he chuckles. “Well played Mercury, well played,” he tells you as the bartender brings over the first bottle and fills two small glasses for you both. “We’re off duty, at least call me (y/l/n),” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “Well then (y/l/n), let’s make dunce face’s fucking wallet hurt,” Bakugo tells you, grin almost feral as he takes his glass and holds it up. “I’ll drink to that,” you grin before raising your own. The two of you cheers before quickly drinking down the contents of your cups, probably too quickly considering the quality it, and then pour yourselves another round.

Fast forward a few hours and you both have had way too much to drink. Your laughter is too loud, your grins too wide, but neither of you seems to care and after one person had tried to tell you to quiet down and Bakugo nearly ripped their head off no one else has made an attempt. Bakugo genuinely didn’t expect to have this good of a time. Sure, you occasionally would start teasing him, bringing back his trademark scowl, but it was always good natured in the same way Kirishima, Kaminari, and (dare he say it) even Deku tended to be. The kind of teasing he didn’t hate, the kind that didn’t make him want to hide under the bluster and temper that he’d worn like a shield most of his life. He also can’t help but notice little things about you like the beautiful color of your eyes, the way your outfit hangs off your incredible body just right, the way your laugh seems to brighten the entire room. The more the two of you drink the harder it is for him to push the thoughts away. Every time you almost catch him staring a little too intently, he’s immensely grateful he can blame the flush in his cheeks on the alcohol. You are distracting in a way no one has ever been for him and it’s a disconcerting enough thought that he shoves it away and locks it in a box full of things he refuses to think about.

“Hey Bakugo, you listening?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his face. “Course I’m listening dumbass what?” he snaps, disgruntled at being caught lost in his thoughts of you. “That’s a lie,” you snort. Bakugo is about to snap at you but you raise your hand to cover his mouth with a giggle to stop him from saying anything. “Last call was like an hour ago, they’re kicking us out dummy,” you tell him, sliding your hand away from his mouth to let him reply. “You’re so drunk,” he accuses you like a hypocrite. “So are you,” you fire back. He doesn’t have a rebuttal for that so he just rolls his eyes before grasping hold of your hand and pulling you from the bar and into a waiting rainstorm outside.

Bakugo knows he should let go of your hand now that you two are outside. He knows you both should go somewhere to take shelter from the rain. There’s a lot of things he should do but instead he’s just standing opposite you, staring at your wide delighted eyes as you grin from ear to ear, alcohol keeping you warm even as the rain soaks through you two’s clothes. This is the part where he’s supposed to say goodnight and the two of you will walk your separate ways but he finds himself not wanting to leave you yet. “C’mon idiot, lemme walk you home,” he tells you tugging you along towards the train back to Hosu City. “I can walk myself home you know, I am a pro hero,” you tell him teasingly as you catch up to walk along beside him. The mere thought of you walking around the city drunk and alone is enough to send a protective surge through Bakugo as he growls out “Absolutely fucking not.” Even on the train he tugs you in closer against him, hiding you in the protective shell of his body and trying very hard not to think about exactly how close you are right now as you giggle and tease him. Your smell fills his nose and it’s intoxicating. He almost feels more drunk off your very presence than he does the copious amounts of saké the two of you had consumed.

Finally the two of you arrive at your apartment and Bakugo finds himself wishing the walk had taken longer. “This is me,” you tell him as the two of you walk up to your front door. He needs to let you go, you’re both soaked through and could use a long, hot shower but his alcohol soaked brain insists on telling him the two of you should conserve water and shower together. He tries to keep his eyes focused on yours but he can’t help the way they instead wander down to your lips. They’re so close and you’re standing there so open and vulnerable. Without consciously choosing to do so Bakugo feels himself start to lean in as if pulled by some gravitational force. He’s close, so close and when your eyes flutter shut he knows you feel the same pull he does. Just before he can close that final distance between you two, your phone rings, shattering the moment and causing both of you to spring apart. You curse and fumble to retrieve your phone before hurriedly answering. “Wha- yea. I just got home actually. Yes I’m fine,” you tell whoever is on the line with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You mouth an apology to Bakugo but he’s a little preoccupied trying to figure out what the actual fuck just came over him as you finish up your phone call. Finally you hang up and turn back to him. “Sorry about that, just a friend checking I made it home safe,” you explain. “It’s fine I should, uh, get going,” Bakugo says, looking anywhere but at you with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Oh, ok,” you reply and Bakugo wonders idly if he’s imagining the disappointment he hears in your voice. “I’ll see ya around I guess,” he tells you. “Yea, I’ll see you around,” you reply. He nods and then turns around on his heel and quickly walks back down the direction the two of you had come in, oblivious to your gaze still trained on his back long after he’s entered the stairs.

When Bakugo gets back to his own apartment he almost immediately peels out of his wet clothes, leaving them in a heap in his bathroom as he pads across the cool tiles over to his shower. He can’t get you out of his head. Your laughter, your smile, your body, and especially the way you’d looked as he’d started leaning in towards you in front of your door. He turns the water on hot, waiting until it heats up properly before he steps beneath the spray. He thought the water might help clear his mind but it has the opposite effect. All he can do is think what may have happened had your phone not rang. Unbidden his brains offers him images of him closing that final distance to bring your lips together. He pictures pulling you in closer and kissing you senseless, pictures the way you’d breathlessly pull away just enough to invite him into your apartment. How the two of you would have made your way to the bathroom and stripped out of your wet clothes together instead of alone on opposite sides of town. His dick is already painfully hard when the temptation becomes too much and he reaches down and wraps one hand around it. As he slowly begins to jack himself off, he closes his eyes and pictures your hand wrapped around him instead. The image is so vivid, the memory of you so fresh, that it doesn’t take long for him to start approaching climax. He uses his free hand to steady himself on the wall as he moves his hand faster and faster, still pretending it’s you driving him closer and closer to orgasm. When he finally falls over the precipice, his cum splattering against the shower wall opposite him, it’s your last name that he moans as he slowly pumps himself through it until he’s finally spent. As he slowly comes back to himself, the post orgasmic haze clearing little by little, Bakugo is struck by two thoughts:

1. He is going to murder his idiotic friends

2. He is completely and utterly fucked

A/N: The fic finally earns its 18+ rating. Also, Masahiro’s comes from Masahiro Sakurai, the game developer who created the Kirby and Super Smash Bros games, which have always been my favorite.

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx