#note to self: find head references BEFORE you start drawing the body

[samptlay]

Gracing Your Way Into His Heart Pt. 1 ♡ ⁠~⁠♪◍⁠•

A/N: To be honest, this took me 4-5 days to do, so look forward to part two which will be shorter but lots of fluff aaaaajsjdksncks 💋

Blade is a little self degrading 💔

You can picture the reader as a dancer, like Nilou. (If you can't already tell that's her in the banner lol)

ENJOY MY FIRST FIC🫶💗 PT.2 WILL BE SHORTER I PROMISEEEE ❄️

Word Count: 2k+

Part Two ❤️

You were everything he wished he could be. You were gentle, careful, graceful, captivating, easy on the eyes and so much more. How could a sinner like him even dare be in the same room as you? Breathe the same air as you? Yet he wanted more. So much more. The longing was too much for his empty heart.

When Kafka asked him to tag along with her and Silver Wolf to a theater on some random planet near the Stellaron Hunter base that none of them had been to, Blade declined, deeming it a waste of time.

Yet he found himself with the two of them all disguised, walking into the lively building after much pestering from S.W. and her cute yet mischievous "friends." They did their best to not draw attention as they made it through the lobby, not wanting to be recognized.

Of course, if anyone were to see them, he would take great pleasure in eliminating handling them, but Kafka scolded him before they left claiming he should avoid conflict and let everyone enjoy the "little moments in life before the joy slips away."

“Unnecessary.”

He snarled as the Stellaron Hunters found seats along the middle row, not too elevated but now too flat, just the way Kafka liked it. S.W. was (surprisingly) not on her phone at the moment, obviously bored and waiting on it to start. There’s two minutes until everything begins, yet he already wants out.

“Too many people.” He thought, observing as the auditorium was filled with faces of people who would rather spend their life sitting in a large crowded room, watching the movements of a person they’ve neer seen before Unbelievable.

“Too much noise.” He thought, ears ringing with all the murmurs around him, testing the mara deep inside his heart as they commented on the design of the stage, discussing how the last performance was apparently just amazingly perfect, how the star of the show shines brighter than everyone in the room. Curiosity made its way into his simple minded head.

“Too-” But his thought process was cut short, as he caught a glimpse of ombre hair up on stage, medium length yet just as perfect and petite. He raised his head as the audience fell quiet and he assumed all eyes were now on the stage, all eyes were now on her.

Each step she took was careful, as if the ground beneath her could collapse at any given moment. She made her way to the center, her footsteps so quiet you would notice her if she were to approach your figure and stab you with a dagger. That reference was unnecessary, he realized but quickly tucked it away in his mind as the music started, and so did your movements.

Even he, as a weapon himself, had to admit you were breathtaking. He was sure he had stopped breathing the second you flashed a gentle smile to the audience as if the crowd was your whole world. A smile that he knew he didn’t deserve, that he did nothing to earn, still, it made his heart yearn with longing.

As a Stellaron Hunter, he surely didn't smile, at least genuine ones that weren't forced for the person to stay alive. But he couldn't blame them. He didn't find anything about himself deserving of something so pure. He knew it wasn't meant for him personally, yet- he wanted to see it again.

You twirled across the stage, your long hair floating around your as you moved gracefully. Body light and flexible, every movement flowing seamlessly into the next. You could feel the music flowing through your veins, every note a part of your soul. The audience was hypnotized, unable to take their eyes off the beautiful sight as you danced. You were truly in your element, every step a work of art. You were beautiful. You were powerful. You were too much yet not enough all at once. In a blink of an eye, it was done.

“It was too short.” That was the only thing he could even process as the clapping started, along with the throwing of roses and cheers. He wasn't thinking, never in his life had he been more grateful for the ability to see. He even considered praying to the Aeons. He took a glance at his peers to see Silver Wolf cheering with a smile and Kafka clapping in an elegant manner and a satisfied look. He turned to the stage again as you took a graceful step forward and curtsied in appreciation.

He felt a sense of longing as you made your way out of everyone's sight and backstage, wishing you would at least gift them a glimpse of that precious curve of your mouth once more. But he was grateful, the most grateful he had ever been. The theater was starting to clear out but he didn’t even notice. His gaze was still on the stage, where you had been warming everyone’s heart a moment ago. He was… confused, to say the least. He had never felt something like this before and he wouldn’t mind feeling it again. But he’s a weapon. He’s not meant to feel, he’s not meant to have interests, he’s not meant to— want.

“—LD MAN!”

S.W. exclaimed, one of her “friends” waving their little hands in front of Blade's face as he finally came back into reality. He looked up to see both women had gotten up from their seats and stood in the aisle, the three of them the only ones in the auditorium. S.W. had a concerned expression which was the complete opposite of the amused look on Kafka’s face as she chuckled and shook her head. He was sure she knew what was going on with him but he would ask. He knew Kafka too well to know he wouldn't get a straightforward answer from her.

“Hm, it seems that Blade enjoyed the show. Don't worry about it too much Wolfie. Now let's get back to the base, we don't want Elio nagging us about leaving for too long, no?”

Kafka starts walking back to the lobby with Silver Wolf lingering for a moment before following while glancing back at Blade. After a few dragging seconds, he got up. He got up and followed, shifted, and walked before somehow finding himself in his dark, bland, basic room which was such a contrast compared to your enchanting soul.

He was cultivated by you. He was caught up in your web, in your dance, in your eyes, he was hooked, strung along your figure. He suddenly realized how empty he had felt inside. He realized how big the void in his heart was, and how utterly lonely immortality is. But it is his price to pay. It's his and his alone, for he must pay the price.

He sinned, he's a monster, an abomination who's been struck with mara. A monster who takes pleasure in the suffering of others. He can't control himself at times, and he's dangerous. He's a wanted criminal, bounty higher than life networks. He's a weapon. He wasn't even supposed to feel anything— but instead you decide to cast a spell on him? A spell that makes his heart thump until it physically hurts?

He used to be pure. He used to be the one making the blade, not wielding it. He used to have white, clean, held up hair. He used to be gentle, soft, generous and considerate. But who could ever consider him as a love interest with all the blood on his hands, with all the screams of the dead in the back of his mind. Would you even stand in the same room as him without trembling in fear?

Now he's getting ahead of himself. He's being delusional. A love interest? You most likely didn't even know he existed. Or perhaps you could, considering the bounty on his head. It would be even worse that way, if you really did know who he was. He prayed you didn't. But now he's frustrated with himself, with the world. You most likely had hundreds if not thousands of admirers, he could take note of that because of all the roses thrown at the stage that evening... Roses?

—Flowers. The beauty in them are undeniably alluring and calming. Just like you. Just like his heart as he felt your presence deep inside his soul. His mind refers back to when Kafka had forced him and S.W. along with Sam to start a "book club", which was really all of them reading her favorite books. One of them showed how happy and captivated the female lead was once the male lead brought her flowers. And they weren't roses, they were a curtain color that represented what he felt for her.

Pink. As he scrolled through his phone, he found that the color on flowers represented admiration, thanks, and affection. Those were all the things he felt for you. All the things he wanted to keep feeling, for you and you only. But would you accept him? He had to approach you eventually if he wanted anything with you, but he couldn't.

He knew he would scare her off if he suddenly came to her, proclaiming he was bedeviled by her and craved her presence. He knew he would have to plan this carefully, and he knew he had to wait.

He pulled out the chair at his desk and took a seat, opening the drawer to pull out paper, a pen, a seal, and an envelope. He didn't know how long he was sitting there for, considering that he was quite literally in space so outside looked the same, but he didn't care. He couldn't give up on you. You made him feel a comforting warmth he knew he'd never get anywhere else. When he had finished, he looked over it with a soft, satisfied gaze. He was surprised with himself, honestly.

To you, wonderfully graceful dancer,

As I watched you move, it seemed as if time itself stood still. Your graceful, flowing movements, the way you seem to float on the stage, it all captivated me. I felt as if I was under a spell, and you were the magician, casting your spell with your every move. I have never been so entranced by anyone before, and I fear I will never see your like again.

I find myself unable to stop thinking about you, your every step, every move, etched into my memory. Sometimes I catch myself humming the tune of the music you danced to, and I cannot help but smile, thinking of you.

For I am a sinner, but aren't we all? That's what makes us human, no? We can't be perfect. But when I look at you I think otherwise. Nothing about you could ever be unnerving.

I don't believe I could ever convey in words the depth of my feelings for you, but I hope this letter will convey some measure of it. You have absolutely consumed my thoughts, and I know that I am at your mercy. I am at your mercy, and I am yours, body and soul, should you choose to have me.

Yours always and forever,

B.

He knew he couldn't let go, either. It's impossible to not think of you without feeling the uncomfortable emptiness inside his heart. He couldn't let anyone else hurt you either. Aeons forbid someone put their hands on you and walk away with no consequences the first time...

Surprisingly, he used his phone as he shipped the letter to a bouquet delivering business that would send you over 200 pink roses along with the letter to your theater on that planet.

Yes, 200+ pink roses, yes the money came from his own allowance he rarely uses, and yes, he was satisfied. He got some curious looks from Elio the next day, Blade assumed he noticed the purchase from his account, not that he cared. Though now he had to wait.

He'll keep sending roses(a lot less but more that 7 at a time), he'll keep writing letters, all until your ready to see him. He'll try not to miss a show, if he has to he'll write so in the letters and send you extra roses along with some chocolate.(He hopes you're not allergic)

He'll wait until you give him a sign. A sign you're ready to see him, a sign you'll accept him for who he is. But he noticed how you were more expressive on stage after his first letter. So he knows it'll be soon. It's all you to you.

AAAAAJSJDKSNCKS. PART ONE IS DONE 🗣️🗣️. I KNOW I SHOULD HAVE WAITED FOR THE VOTE AND JING YUAN IS WINNING BUT WTVR I COULDN'T WAIT OKAY? BE GRATEFUL 😤.(/j)

JING YUAN WILL BE DONE BY THE END OF THE POLL IF HE WINS THOUGH, SO DON'T WORRY~💋

HOPE YOU LOVED IT! 🫶❤️

[esper-aroon]

Wei Ying and Xian-er by @esper-aroon

from @besanii ‘s Shattered Mirrors

Or, the two lives of Wei Wuxian - before and after Yunmeng’s fall.

[victoria1676]

LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME BUILD MY S**T! Prologue Part 1: The Execution of the ‘Imposter’

Notes: Damn I didn’t expect a lot of you peeps to love my crossover Sagau preview XD But anyways I did say I wouldn’t disappoint and here’s Prologue part 1!! Legit had to change it a bit and this one was exhausting to write but worth it cause I wanna go to part 2 so that I can start destruction UWU

But Anyways enjoy the Prologue 1! ^^

Please comment on what you thought of this series, Like it and reblog it please!

(My drawing of what I imagine My Reader of this story)

(Second updated Version of Reader)

P.S: Reader here is a female so I apologize for those who expected it to be gender neutral TwT I'll try my best to make it Gender neutral in my other stories in the future! ^^

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(Preview) (Prologue Part 2) (MASTERLIST)

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PLEASE LIKE, FOLLOW AND REBLOG! IF ANYONE STEALS MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION PLEASE INFORM ME!

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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GENSHIN IMPACT OR THE DREAM SMP! THEY BOTH BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS AND I ONLY OWN THE PLOT! EVERYTHING HERE IS MADE FOR FUN AND NOT CANON ON GAMES AS THIS IS AN SELF AWARE IMPOSTER AU MIXED WITH VILLAIN AU OF THE SAGAU/SELF AWARE GENSHIN IMPACT!

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Summary: The Last thing you remembered was finally putting Dream to jail and then everything went black only to wake up in a world you don’t recognize. trying to find a way home you found yourself in a mob chase that you find irritating and once they are satisfied threatening and killing you who then respawn the in execution made them realize who they almost killed and just as they were about to fall from their knees and beg for forgiveness.

You destroyed their homes in Revenge.

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WARNINGS: SWEARING, MENTIONS OF BEING TORTURED, BLOOD, MENTIONS OF CHARACTERS GETTING ABUSED BY YOUR IMPOSTER, MENTIONS OF CHARACTERS THAT DIED, HEAVY GORE, HEAVY TORTURE, REFERENCES AND SPOILERS FROM THE DREAM SMP, DARK THEMES.

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Prologue Part 1: The Execution of the ‘Imposter’

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Click

clack

Click

clack

“Move it imposter” One of the guards pushed you.

You rolled your eyes and continued walking with a bored expression. The chains clicked together from your cuffed hands that are attached to a chain which the guards from each of your side are holding

‘Asshole’ You curse the guard in your thoughts but you maintain your poker face.

Wait till I get out of these and then I will sacrifice your body for the blood god.

blood

blood

Not yet voices.

Not yet

Still why does it feel like I'm in Techno’s place when he had his execution?

“Our Grace will be at your execution to see the faker who copied her face” The guard in your side side said.

“Best not to annoy this prisoner”

“Hah?”

“Didn’t you know? Barbatos almost lost life from getting shot by those fireworks”

“Fireworks almost killed the Anemo god!? That’s some crazy tale I heard”

“I’m telling the truth!”

‘He is not wrong I didn’t expect my fireworks to almost kill that tiny bard who is actually a god’ You recalled using your unlimited Fireworks at Venti who kept chasing when you are in the middle of looking for a way home to the Dream SMP.

You remembered looking at your map while chatting your crows until you heard an arrow being fired as you tilt your head to the side before glancing behind on who had the audacity to shoot you after running away those angry cult like knights and angry mob only to find a tiny man in green with a Cecilia on his hat (Why does he feel familiar) with his hands holding bow that is directed at you.

“Imposter!” You groaned hearing him spat that word as your chat flew away while you turned around and face him.

“Let me guess you hear to kill me for your so called Creator?” You asked while raising your eyebrows making tiny man seething at you.

“HE IS A BARD FROM MONDSTADT!

“VENTI IS THE NAME I HAVE HEARD FROM THE LOCALS!”

“IS HE A TRAP?”

“I THOUGHT HE IS A GIRL”

PFFT!-

You released a huge wheezed hearing the chat as you could see Venti the tiny man stun in shocked before he snapped out of it and then started firing his arrows at your laughing figure to which you bring out your shield and flew upwards laughing.

You dodged and dodged Venti’s arrows before you pulled out your crossbow loaded with Fireworks and started  shooting him with fireworks as you cackled hearing his yelp and kept firing.

Blood

Blood

Blood

No focus!

You shake away the voices before flying away leaving an injured Venti who then was found by the knights of his nation.

“HEY! Move it you-”

“If you keep talking I might actually make you bleed if I get out of these chains” You glared at the guard who keep pushing you as your eyes flashed red while the guard trembled at your glare.

The guard gritted his teeth before pulling harshly out of the prison. You huffed and compiled with the actions. You and guards slowly walked out of the prison as you closed your eyes seeing the harsh light from the sun before opening them as you saw a crowd of people, vision users and Archons from each nation (You noticed that Sumeru's God and people are not there including or rather surprisingly Snezhnaya's people and their God aren't there as well.) infront of a stage with a circle giant stone pedestal in the middle of it.

"Finally! The imposter has arrived”

You looked to the front as your eyes narrowed before blinking to see another person you don’t recognize-

Oh wait.

You know this person.

You narrowed yours eyes slightly seeing a familiar person you will kill first.

You remembered her watching you get tortured by the Electro Archon and Pyro Archon laughing like a little kid who got their bully punished while clutching Aether's arm who watched it all yet was uncomfortable being clinged like a toy. You screamed in agony as you glared at the Geo Archon who ripped your wings apart and threw it like trash as you felt your face being punched before spitting our blood.

“Hmphed at least they destroyed your wings” Your faker spat at you while you maintain your calm expression.

You remembered hugging poor Bennett’s cold dead body and seeing poor Razor’s dead as well with Fischl crying seeing her friends bodies. Anger, confusion and disgust ran through your throat as you hugged Fischl-no Amy in your arms as you glared at your Imposter who smirked but you also remembered her fear when she saw your blood red eyes.

(I will kill you once I get out of these chains)

'I prefer my death be killed without her presence' You thought, 'Being near her high ego and disgusting pride makes me wanna vomit and kill myself…'

(But if you do that then you won't see Tommy anymore)

(You promised yourself and Mom after all right?)

"Your Grace you should be in your throne instead of being near this-"

"You have no right to order me Morax!" Your imposter screeched (You winced along with the guards) at Geo Archon who quickly bow with the word 'apologizes' before giving you glare which you hummed at as he then order your guards to move you the place for you tube executed.

The guards bow with respect and dragged your body with the chains they have on their hands while your imposter clapped like a little kid until she suddenly starts yelling at Kaeya who then got slapped by her for touching her shoulders without her permission.

Kind, Benevolent and we'll mannered my ass. She just hit one of her best knights for nothing.

You wondered why hasn't the Archons or anyone realize something was wrong with their so called creator but then you saw people whispering before shrugging off like nothing however you did see Mondstadt's knights looked uncomfortable and sadden but didn't say anything.

You then stood in a big pedestal as you looked around curiously at the crowd who are glaring at you. It was then you saw your imposter in front of the crowd holding grinning like fool. 

“PEOPLE OF ALL NATIONS!” She shouted, “MY CREATIONS OF MY WORLD THAT I HAVE CREATED IN MY BEAR HANDS! WE HAVE GATHERED TO ANOTHER EXECUTION OF THIS OUTLANDER WHO HAS MY BEAUTIFUL FACE THAT SHOULDN’T BELONG TO HER!”

Beautiful? That means you toke my beauty because your beauty must have been ugly like your ego and personality. 

“NOW! WE SHALL SHOW HER WHY SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE MY FACE WITH HER!”

The crowd yell while vision users just clapped their hands as the imposter lifted up her hands stared at the crowd in excitement however both the crowd and imposter were unware that one of the building had a person wearing cloak. No one has realized there was someone up one of the buildings as that person stared at you who looked exhausted and battered with wounds along with your hair matted and damaged. Although your expression was a hilarious sight of you suddenly now falling a sleep of your imposters introduction.

"You never seem to be faze that you are gonna die…" He muttered before pulling out what it seem to a strange green like pearl, "I guess you have experience death before when you told me your adventures…"

"-AND NOW WE SHALL LET MY BELOVED ARCHONS KILL HER UNTIL SHE SCREAMED HER LAST BREATH!"

More Crowd cheering as all Archons (except two missing) summoned their weapons.

"Too bad nobody can help you right imposter?" Your imposter smirked knowing you are glaring at her in pain.

Snoreeee!…

Silence.

Everyone stopped shouting and clapping as the cruel or exciting atmosphere dissapeared in an instant as your imposter froze for 5 seconds only to turn around to see slumped down with your head looking down and your eyes were closed with your breathing slowly and steady.

Snoreeee!…

"What…"

Few people in the crowd let out tiny chuckles while others were holding their laugh and some we're in shocked that they didn't expect someone who is gonna be executed to fall asleep in the middle of the speech of the creator.

"Oh my…" Lisa blinked in shocked as she covered her mouth.

"Did…Did she fell asleep?!" Paimon exclaimed next to Aether who was in disbelief.

"Well…" Ayato shifted his stance as he covered his mouth, "Never expected the imposter to fall asleep in a execution from our divine creator"

In the crowd a building next to them, you could see something white trembling as people we're trying their best to stop that person from blowing their cover.

Snoreeee!…

"The audacity!!…" You imposter marched towards you as she was about to slap you.

Your eyes opened and spit on their cheeks causing them to screech before wiping off the spit and glared you who huffed with a smirk to tease them.

"Your speech was way to boring and if you wanted to have an proper execution do it with too many words in your execution" You told her off.

"HOW DARE-"

"For a so called creator you should be acting one who doesn't screech or suddenly get angry at your followers for touching you with out permission. The way I'm looking at is that you look someone who always get away and got what they always wanted like a child"

Your imposter fumed as you glanced at the crowd who are whispering but then went silent knowing the didn't want to face the wrath of their beloved creator with doubts about them.

Fools…I pity you guys for dealing this tyrant who is two faced and a bipolar ruler.

"HOW DARE YOU LECTURE ME!" You winced away the screech wishing she could shut up, " YOU MAY HAVE MY FACE BUT I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING!! DON'T LECTURE ME YOU IMPOSTER!!"

You spit on her causing her to screech until you got punched by the Pyro Archon as you spat out the blood before liking it as your eyes flashed red looking at the Archon who glared at you.

Just as you were about to speak you paused as you saw something flying towards the execution stage. It was very familiar and it was a shape of a circle.

"hm?"

Suddenly it hit the stage and revealed a person in cloak causing shocks and little yells in confusion before something was bring thrown by the crowd as screams and vision users are getting their weapons ready to attack the person.

"Bow before the Abyss!"

Two portals appeared revealing the Abyss heralds who then started attack them as the imposter screamed and hide behind Aether clinging on him like a child. The travel struggled to move since the imposter is like clinging his arms as it was hard for him to try to attack with someone clinging on him.

"IT'S THE ABYSS!"

"PROTECT THE CREATOR!"

"WE MUST NOT LET THEM TOUCH YOUR GRACE!"

"GUARDS PROTECT THE CITIZENS!"

You whistle lowly at the sudden chaos that just appeared as you could hear the voices in your head cheering in excitement.

"I should have Ender pearl to you before that Pyro Archon punched you"

The head of the cloak was shoved down revealing a familiar face of an alchemist-no someone who looked betrayed identical like the alchemist of Monstandt only they don't have a star on their neck.

"Ru?"

"Hello (Y/n)" Rubedo greeted you before going to your chains to get you out.

"How did you find me and are you with the Abyss" You whispered to him as you showed your cuffed hands at him as he tried to open it since the cuffs you have are made of power that no mortal.

"The Princess ordered her people to come with me in saving you"

"Behold!"

Another portal appeared behind Jean who jumped away from it as the one who appeared in the portal was an Abyss Electro lector.

"The Abyss has come!"

"Lumine?" You asked him who nodded as you and him crushed that the cuffs wouldn't break ignoring the chaos behind you.

"From the ashes…To this world anew"

Another portal appeared and this time it was a familiar Pyro Lector.

"It's him!" Paimon pointed at the familiar lector that both she and traveler encountered in Enkanomiya.

"Hear the inferno's call!"

Fire began to appear as the imposter screamed being pushed away from Aether who then dodged from being burned.

"Try my using tools maybe they could work?" You said as you watched your surroundings in case someone attacks Rubedo.

"It could-"

You eyes widened when you saw someone ready to kill Rubedo.

"RUBEDO BEHIND YOU!"

On cue he turned around and was face to face with Kaeya who smirked before both of them started to attack eachother.

'Damnit!' You cursed in your thoughts.

Just as your we're about to move you froze when a familiar chat box opening making you feel your heart race up whether in excitement or fear.

Is it-

STAB!

!!!

"(Y/N)!!" Rubedo screamed before kicking Kaeya away as he then used his powers at the Cavalry Captain who dodged.

"HAHAHAHAHAH KILL HER!!" You hear your imposter laughing, "KILL HER XIAO!! MORAX HELP HIM AND RAIDEN KILL HER WITH YOUR SWORD!!"

You spat out more blood as you felt another spear going through your body and twisted it making you gag out more blood.

Fuck I forgot how much getting stab hurts again.

"KILL HER, KILL HER!!"

You felt yourself getting burned and getting shot. More blood spilled on the stage. Pain filled your body once again knowing you are about to die again. You couldn't hear anyone as your vision began to blurry and your ears began to ring.

Ah…I'm…dying……again.

Ding!

TommyInnit was slain by Dream

W…h..at??

You slowly lifted your head up as your vision cleared but began to blurry as you could see Raiden getting her sword out but what you are focused on was the message on the chatbox that finally appeared

'TommyInnit was slain by Dream'

No…

Please…No

"(Y/N)!!"

(TOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEAD)

Please tell me its a lie…!!

MESSAGE BOX PLEASE DON'T LIE.

MY BROTHER IS NOT DEAD.

TOMMY ISN'T DEAD.

HE WON'T DIE.

TELL ME IT'S A PRANK!!

I PROMISED HIM!

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"I will prove to you Big (your first letter of your name) to Phil, Wilbur, Techno and you that I can be strong as you guys!" Your brother grinned.

You snorted as then grab him and gave him a noggie which your brother groaned and struggled on your grip.

"Sure Little Toms, sure"

"DON'T CALL ME LITTLE TOMS!" Tommy yelled at you, "I'M A BIG MAN! A BIG MAN BIG SIS-"

You froze and Tommy froze as well. Both of you didn't move before you quickly pulled Tommy in a bear hug which he yelped with a red face screaming insults.

"YOU CALLED ME BIG SIS AGAIN!! I'M SO HAPPY!!" You cried as your brother kept struggling in your grip.

"I DIDN'T CALL YOU THAT SHUT UP!!"

"LIES LITTLE MAN! YOU JUST CALL ME BIG SIS!"

"I AM NOT LITTLE AND I DID NOT!!"

You laughed with a big smile making Tommy looked at you angrily before looking away with a frown. Suddenly his frown and anger disappear and stared at the ground. You stopped laughing with your smile going away when you felt Tommy's mood changed as you release from your hug and he walked away from in 5 steps before turning around to face you as you looked away.

"Something wrong Toms?" You asked him.

He didn't say anything before pulling out Wilbur's beanie -You toke a sharp breath seeing your other half's beanie that he used to wear alot- and looked at it with a frown.

"Hey…You won't leave me right?"

You blinked.

What?

"I…" Tommy looked like he ate something bad before saying, "Did alot of bad stuff that pissed alot people right?"

"…"

"And your the only one who corrected and never give up on me being a child right"

"Tommy…What are you saying?" You walked towards him as he then clutched Wilbur's beanie tightly.

"You won't abandon me right"

You reeled back in shock hearing Tommy's words as you quickly lifted up his head and started pinching his cheeks making him wince and yelp from the pain.

"DON'T YOU SAY THAT!"

He flinched hearing your shout.

"I will never abandon you!! Not when I made a promise that day I saw you as a baby in mom's arms! That I will never let you die or be abandon when you are someone who I will place my life into!"

You remembered staring at your new baby brother who cooed at you and reached his small hands at you.

How small....

You let your finger be touched by your baby brother who let out a grin and a laugh as your wings shaked hearing that laughter you haven't heard.

"(Y/n)…"You heard your mom called your named, " This is your new baby brother. Theseus Minecraft"

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at your mom who who chuckled at your displeased expression.

"You don't like the name baby bird?"

"I don't it doesn't fit him…" You rubbed your nose.

You baby brother continued laughing as your mom laughed at your expression.

"What do you want to call him?" You mother asked you as she handed your new brother in your arms.

You quickly made sure he was comfortable in your arms as your new brother then started biting your hair.

PROTECT!

PROTECT!

PROTECT!

CALL HIM TOMMY!

"…Can we call him Tommy?"

"I swear to you Tommy" You said as your cupped his cheeks and make him look at you.

"Over my dead body I will let you die not when I love you so much my little brother"

You saw Tommy's eyes glistening knowing after Wilbur's death he couldn't expect another family died again. Techno destroyed L'Manburg and left with Philza who looked at the destruction before shaking his head away as you watched in betrayal yet you didn't stop them.

Not when you basically yelled at Wilbur for making Tubbo the new president of L'manburg when he is still a young to be one.

Not when you didn't stop Techno started yelling at everyone for betraying him to make a new president of Wilbur's nation.

Not when you screamed your other half's name when you saw your father stabbing him as you could only focus on hugging Tommy from getting hit by the explosion.

"I swear to you Tommy. I will never leave you"

"Protect your family okay baby bird?" Your mom told you with a heavy breath.

"So please-"

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Raiden slowly began to pull out her weapon out of her cleavage as you continued to stare at the chat box helplessly denying the reality or what you have just received.

Suddenly-

You screamed the name of your little brother that you always speak and made sure he would grow up into a good man someday.

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

"-Don't say I will abandon you when you are still my brother and my family"

Both of you and Tommy hugged as you could hear your brother letting out his vulnerability with a loud sniff and a sob coming out of him.

Tommy may have mistakes.

But it's also your fault for not teaching him or telling him what he shouldn't do knowing he will get himself hurt or even worse-

You shaked those thoughts away as you continued hugging Tommy with your wings covering his figure.

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

"Thanks…Big sis…For not giving up on me"

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

"TOMMY!!!"

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

B A N G ! !

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

The Whole Teyvat world or planet shaked as a massive light appear showing a totem that was on top of your body before digging into your body as you felt your whole bones and flesh quickly heal rapidly. Your wing bones appear in your back as the flesh and feathers regenerate quickly.

An earthquake erupted causing the crowd of people to scream in fear and panic. Your imposter to fall off her throne that exploded into debris. The Archons and Vision users tried to keep their balance while some went to save her citizens others went to the imposter who was crying like a baby. Rubedo watched your whole body suddenly come back to life and your crows head towards the place where you are supposed to be executed. A certain princess whole was riding your horse looked at the beaming light in shock before returning to her normal expression and glances at the floating island.

"It seems she has awaken her role…"

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

"Hmm?"

Kristen saw the bracelet that was gifted by her daughter flashing brightly in the underworld.

"…It seemed he was right"

A flash of a familiar child with (h/c) hair grinned at her holding her hands out to be carried. Her wings flapped in excitement letting our falling feathers that made her coo while her husband laughed seeing the adorable sight before cooing with her.

"Mama!"

Kristen kissed her bracelet. She then frowned remembering the anger of her husband yelling at a certain God when he spoke of what her daughter's role will be in the future that left her and Phil in disbelief.

"In the future once your daughter is old enough she will become a God.

"But Not just any God"

"Or rather she will return to be the Creator of another world that is different from our world"

"…I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you or be with you baby…"

Kristen looked at the magic mirror that showed her husband and her second Son looking for something or rather someone who disappeared from the server.

"…I hope you will forgive your father and your brothers.…And I hope you could forgive me for leaving you and our family…"

A single tear fell from her face as she put her hand on Philza who looked genuinely worried and confused.

"Our daughter has fulfilled her role Phil…"

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

Your imposter choked when your blood was finally revealed and everyone gasped.

Instead of red.

It was gold

“...Fuck it that hurt but thank god that totem saved my ass” You said.

The chains broke when you pulled it as skin began to bleed gold. You stared at it in confusion before shaking the blood away from your arms and stared at your new golden scars that indicate you used a totem.

This will probably last for a year to go away.

One moment you were killed by the archons and then suddenly a totem (Was it yours?) you had thought it was yours when you remembered using your totem and seeing this one suddenly appear before you the moment you saw Tommy’s death notification (HECANTBEDEADHECANTBEDEADHECANTBEDEADHECANTBEDEADHECANTBEDEAD) and revived your ass like a guardian angel or something.

TOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEADTOMMYISDEAD-

The archons on the other hand are trembling in shock realizing who you are as your imposter ran like a scared rat through the crowd of people who are frozen in shocked. You felt your wings again and stretched them as you could hear your chat ‘cawing loudly’.

You glanced up and see them circling above you indicating either someone died or something.

What a scary sight, “They sure know how to make this execution looked like death has appeared to kill them"

“Indeed but in my opinion I think they are more likely want to show off or frighten everyone”

You blinked and looked towards Rubedo who threw his cloak away as the Heralds and Lectors stood by him.

“I take it this is the power of that totem that only prevents your deaths easily once in your world?” Rubedo walked towards you and threw you a familiar crossbow that is loaded up with fireworks.

“You could say that…" You caught it and looked at your crossbow before opening your inventory to see your fireworks are still unlimited, "But I shouldn't have it with me since I already used it once before yet another came and revived me…"

"How peculiar…" Rubedo mused putting his hand on his chin into a thinking pose as you grab the stuffs he gave you.

Bless Rubedo for keeping your stuff but you noticed your sword or axe was gone as you looked at him who shooked his head that indicates he wasn’t able to get your weapons back or able to find it under the buried snow. He only found your pickaxe and crossbow with fireworks along with your TNT.

Shame but at least you have something.

(WEMUSTLEAVEWEMUSTLEAVEWEMUSTLEAVEWEMUSTLEAVEWEMUSTLEAVEWEMUSTLEAVE)

"Say Rubedo can you and the Abyss Order do me a favor?"

“Of course anything for you”

“Y-Your G-Grace...”

You ignored Ei’s words before you pointed your crossbow at archons and the crowd behind her. The voices appeared in your head again as you felt your (e/c) eyes turn blood red.

BLOOD!!

BLOOD!!

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!

STAB!STAB!STAB!STAB!!

KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!

BLOOD!!

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!

MAKE THEM SUFFER!!

BLOOD!!

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!

CHAOS!!

KILL THEM ALL!!

MAKE THEM BLEED!!

“Spill some of their blood for me and for the blood god please”

“As you wished”

No one could say anything but scream in terror as fireworks went flying. Rubedo ran towards Albedo who quickly defended himself and the heralds began to attack. More fireworks were fired as you could hear Itto’s famous ‘Its showtime’ and suddenly people went flying in the air. You chuckled at the destruction before throwing some TNT to Rubedo who caught it and threw them at the crowd that went flying.

“My, what a colorful destruction you just did your majesty” Enjou floated beside you as you snorted.

“Please what I just did is just a baby destruction” You retorted at him, “Now if you could excuse me I need to head to Celestia ASAP”

Especially you just saw Tommy’s name show up in the chat (That finally appeared but in the wrong timing and wrong message you didn't want to see) dead by Dream’s hand.

PleasetellmeyournotdeadPleasetellmeyournotdead PleasetellmeyournotdeadPleasetellmeyournotdead PleasetellmeyournotdeadPleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-

Before you could fly Enjou said something that caught your attention, "Your Highness is waiting is by one of the escape route caves you always used with your horse in hands that she currently taken care off”

You mentally thanked the Abyss Princess for keeping your horse safe along being in debt for her bringing her heralds to save you as you nodded at The Pyro Lector who then started burning the soldiers from the different nations who screamed in agony. You flew off to the direction to one of the caves as your chat suddenly appear beside you flying at you in happiness and other stuff.

“BIG SIS IS BACK!!”

"POGGGGGG!!"

“WELCOME BACK!!”

“YOUR ALIVE!!”

“TECHNO STYLE!!”

“(Y/N) NEVER DIESSS!!”

“QUEEN!!

“OUR QUEEN IS SAVED!!”

“RUBEDO TO THE RESCUE!!”

“IMPOSTER RAN LIKE A RAT!!”

“LUMINE IS WAITING!!”

“LETS KILL EVERYONE!”

“EYYYYY”

“TOMMY IS DEAD WHAT?!”

“LETS GO HOME!”

“TOMMYS NOT DEAD PLEASE”

“DREAM KILLED HIM WTF”

“HURRYYY”

“TOMMY NOOOO!!”

“LETS LEAVE”

“WE NEED TO SEE TOMMY”

"I know chat. I know" You quicken your wings as you flew faster to where Lumine and your horse is located.

A flash of a familiar blonde teenager with a stupid idiotic grin with a red scarf on his neck as he held the disk you gave to him for his birthday.

'I'm coming Tommy please tell me your not dead! I refuse to believe your dead by that Green Blob's hand!' You thought as you spotted your horse and Lumine in the cave waiting.

You didn't notice a certain someone glaring at Lumine in anger before heading to the cave as well.

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

"The Mission is a success seeing you are still alive" That was the first thing you heard from Lumine. 

“As expected you are still cold as ever your highness” You chuckled before cooing at your horse ‘neigh’ and snorted at you.

“Then I’ll be leaving since the mission is complete” Lumine said.

“Not gonna stay and chat? I definitely owe you for saving me with your Abyss Order and bringing the Rubedo safe to my failed execution.

“Unfortunately I am quite busy with my role in the Abyss and to destroy Celestia so I can't stay to chat with you" She explained as portal appear behind her revealing her Abyss Herald.

"We will meet again (Y/n) and you have a guest behind you that you might not like but something you could release your bloodlust"

The moment she said those words you turned around and blocked a sword with your pickaxes only to find yourself face to face your imposter who looked enraged making you groaned in irritation causing her to sneer at you.

“Of all people have to fight it had to be the one who can’t fight...” You sighed purposely saying that to make the imposter take the bait which she did as you smirked seeing her enraged expression.

“I”LL KILL YOU!!” She screamed, “IF YOU DIE THEN I CAN STILL CONTINUE THIS CREATOR WORLD AND MAKE AETHER ALONG WITH ALL TEYVAT MEN AND WOMEN MINE!!!”

You began to laugh as you put your hand on your face. Your laughed echo the cave as your imposter trembled in rage at you laughing at like she is a fool.

"Did you seriously think…" You placed your hand down as you cockliy smirked at her, "That you could kill me that easily?"

That was the last straw.

Your imposter let out a war cry as your eyes flashed red as both you guys began to attack one another with a sword and pickaxe clashing together creating a large noise that could be heard outside the cave.

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

"YOU HAVE DONE SO MUCH FUCKING DAMAGE TO EVERYTHING I HAVE BEEN BUILDING AND SUCCESSFUL USED THE PLAN CELESTIA HAVE GIVEN ME IN REPLACING YOU!"

you dodged another swing from up and down before rolling underneath her as swing your pickaxe at her face before defended it with her sword.

"IF YOU HAVE NOT APPEARED I COULD HAVE EVERYTHING!"

Charged at you and you swing your pickaxes to defend all her attacks as she continued yelling at you.

"I COULD HAVE CONTINUE THIS ANNOYING ROLE JUST SO I CAN HAVE ALL THE PEOPLE I WISH TO HAVE UNDER MY FOOT!"

Another swing deflected.

"I COULD HAVE MADE THAT TRAVELER MINE IF HE WASN'T LOOKING FOR HIS BITCHYING TWIN"

You furrowed your eyebrows but still kept dodging and deflected another attack from her.

"I COULD HAVE BEEN THE QUEEN OF THIS LAND AND MAKE IT INTO MY OWN CREATION!!"

Okay that's enough screaming. Your ears are in pain but at least you know what her desires are and who is the culprit of making her take your identity.

Bending your whole body backwards along with your head avoiding the stab that almost hit your face as you then swing your pickaxes to the side of the imposter causing yelped in pain before getting her self hit by the side of the wall causing her to lose grip on her sword slightly as you then pulled out your crossbow that had one Firework in it before shooting at her face with it.

She screamed in pain as her ears were throbbing in pain, red blood came out of her nose and head as her eyes blurred. She felt another pain causing her to cry as she tried to move making the pain intensive she blinked and shaked away the running noise and once she got her vision not blurry anymore her pupils went small when you appeared crouched infront of her with your pickaxe downward.

"I have a pickaxe-"

She wanted to move but couldn't only to scream in pain realizing she dropped her sword as it stabbed through her to the wall on her arm making her cry out of pain.

"and I'll put it THROUGH YOUR TEETH!"

A scream of agony and pain echo the cave including the outside that is was so loud animals ran away from it.

Your horse neighed before eating as it was lucky it ran away from the fight not wanting to get hurt. While your chat with it either screaming or chasing each other while waiting for your fight to finish.

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

WARNING: FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ MY WARNINGS ABOUT THERE WILL BE A TORTURE SCENE HERE SLIGHTLY AND READER WILL BE LOSING CONTROL FROM HER BLOODLUST.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED BECAUSE THIS WILL BE HAVE HEAVY STABBING ALONG WITH GOREY PARTS SUCH US READER DESTORYING HER BODY AND REVIVING IT AND DOING IT ALL AGAIN TO MAKE THE IMPOSTER SUFFER!

IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE YOU MAY LEAVE THE FIC OR PLEASE SKIP IT UNTIL YOU SEE THE WORD:

(END OF THE TORTURE SCENE)

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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

THUD!

Everyone gasped saw they their 'grace' body fell and battered in the stage with their blood dripping down. Everyone whispered and gasp seeing the color before looking up at you with that is hovering before landing on the stage softly. You clicked your tongue as you kicked the body slightly that was shivering and bleeding in pain. Your chat land on each building cawing loudly.

"Sheesh she was a pain especially I had to damage her vocal cords since they irritated my ears"

Your imposter cried as she reached to the crowd who lean back in disgust causing her to cry even more but spat out more blood when you had place your foot on her chest. Putting pressure on your foot cause more tears run down her face as you leaned your foot glaring at her coldly with your eyes still red and your wings stretched menacingly.

"Look at you" You spoke, "What happened from getting so excited in killing?"

Your imposter couldn't reply but gag out of blood since you have ruined her face and vocal cords. Her right side of her eyes was skinned through and bleeding alot showing you have left a huge scar on her face that will never heal.

"And now you are under my feet with no power and revealing you are not a creator but a stupid mortal just like these people" You pointed your finger at the crowd who bow in fear and guilt but you were still staring at your imposter.

"You had so much fun torturing me and making your minions go after me when I just wanted to go home but NOOOOOOOO" you raised your voice at the end mockly in anger.

The voices were getting louder and faster in telling you to kill her but you ignored it and wanting to continue torturing her.

"You decided to make them go after me and kill me when I just wanted answers if where I was and what you do? You agreed with it and don't care for the people who are gonna help me so long I get killed"

Lifted up your foot causing the imposter to gasp in relief before gagging alot of blood as she saw you stabbing her with her sword grinning sadistically.

"How about I torture you?" You grinned madly, "That way you can feel what I feel but also feel what my friends I made feel that you have killed"

The imposter fell limped as you tut before lifting up your free hand as a message box/chat box appeared. Your glanced at it before quickly typing those words that will forever be embed through everyone in the execution including your imposter who will forever remember it.

"/revive…!"

"Enjou" You called out the Pyro Lector who bow and was floating behind you.

"Yes your majesty?" He said.

"What's the name of this imooster" You said.

"If I recall her real name is: Mei Mallory"

"I see"

You quickly typed that name.

"/revive Mallory Mei 10 times"

Click!

GASP!

Everyone watches the imposter come back alive but her appearance and your face shed off her revealing an older woman with short red purple hair and green eyes that are wide awake. The scar you left on her was still there on her face which may be permanent although that's a good thing since you want to leave a reminder of her biggest mistake.

And that was fighting you when she never stood a chance against you.

"I'm-"

She gasp realizing she could talk but in her original voice instead of your voice.

"Alive?!"

You heard Ei's sharp breath as you glanced at her.

It looks like she recognized one of the people of her nation as the heralds pushed her forward with the chains that are wrapped her body. Actually most of the Archons are all chained up with the same chain you had on you. Even the vision users as well but you could see Aether injured and bruised while Paimon was stuck in a jar that was about her size which was surprising as you glanced at Enjou who shrugged.

"Rubedo said to put her in a jar since we don't have chains for her size" He said without a care.

You looked at Rubedo who also shrugged making you snort. Before looking back at Mallory was struggling to pull out the sword as she is very weak at the moment.

You pulled your sword out of her chest making her cry a bit of the pain before letting out a scream as you stabbed her harder enough to hear it. Everyone in the crowd flinched while parents hid their children again from the sight by covering their eyes and telling them to cover their ears with their hands. You on the other hand still grinned madly as the voices became louder.

DIE! DIE! DIE!

BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!

MAKE HER SUFFER

LET HER SCREAM!

TORTURE HER!

BREAK HER ARMS AND LEGS!

MAKE HER FEEL IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

You followed the voices suggestions with nod as you then kept stabbing your former imposter who continued bleeding and screaming only to be revived again. You broke her arms and summoned a random Diamond axe and cut her arms with it making her scream and cry. Blood splattered on your face as you continued cutting her arms and then her legs as more blood spilled the stage.

People looked away in horror while some couldn't watch and crouched down covering their ears with their eyes closed. Some vomited at the gruesome sight. The vision users either looked away or watched the sight in horror. The Archons watched as they are used to the gruesome sight but mainly they are afraid now they realize who their creator is and what they are.

Mallory was revived again but this time you stabbed her face earning a scream from the crowd.

"This is for Razor"

She is revived again and her fingers her cut off and then her arm again. More blood and scream came from her.

"This is for Bennett"

Revived again. You slice her toes, her knees and her legs like a chopping board before slicing her head off.

"This is for making Amy cry"

You scratch her face.

"This is for killing Diona"

Pulled her legs out.

"This is for XiangLing and Guoba"

You based her head on the stage 6 times and then slicing her head off.

"For Xingqiu"

You stabbed her eyes.

"For Chongyun"

You broke her jaw.

"For Sayu"

Head cracked.

"For-"

KILL!! KILL!! KILL!!

Somwhere in the crowd you could see a familiar bough keeper walking to the stage and watching you torture Mallory over and over again before you began to laugh maniacally in excitement finally losing your clam exposesure and killing Mallory again and again.

Mallory continued to cry as she then felt her jaw snapped and crushed. She then got revived and her tongue as cut off along with skull getting crushed as you keep smashing her head on the stone floor as her blood splattered on you and your clothing.

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!!

HAHAHHAHAHA YESSS SUFFER BITCH!!

SUFFER!!

DIE DIE DIE!!

FEEL THE PAIN YOU HAVE KILLED FOR NOTHING!!

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!!

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!!

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!" You screamed and and just as you were about to stab Mallory's slowly dying body that will be revived again your eyes were covered by a black hand.

"Calm yourself"

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

(END OF THE TORTURE SCENE!)

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

…Dainsleif?…

Another pair of hands stopped your hand that was about to continue stabbing Mallory with the sword.

"I think you lost control of your bloodlust (Y/n)…"

…Ru…bedo?…

NO CONTINUE!!

KILL KILL KILL!!

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD!!

MAKE HER SUFFER!!

"Shhhh…calm yourself"

"Don't listen to the voices anymore…"

"…"

But the voices continued and just as you were about to break the grip you felt your whole body froze when you felt Dain talking.

"Your brother wouldn't like it if you keep losing yourself to your bloodlust"

!!!

"…"

Suddenly instead of seeing a black hand covering you saw yourself again in the Dream SMP with Tommy and Tubbo being knuckle heads at eachother. You could hear Tommy's laughter and then you felt a hand on your shoulder as you glance and saw Wilbur looking at you with a sad expression.

"Come back to yourself sister"

"…"

"You promised you wouldn't lose control"

You looked at your Mother who is beside Wilbur causing you to lose your composure.

You felt like you were back home.

And just like that you lost your grip on your sword as Mallory began to come back alive but is now crying in fear and in pain. Traumatized of what you did.

Rubedo releasing his hands and Dainsleif remove his hand on your face as you then opened your eyes revealing tired dull (e/c) instead of red. You got off Mallory before kicking her through the crowd as you then stood up wiping away the blood splattered on you. Your chat began to fly around again with many black feathers falling from the sky.

"…I want to go home…"You spoke as you felt a cloak wrapped around you.

"You will go home" Dainsleif said, "For now let's leave"

"…"

You allowed yourself to be dragged away by Dainsleif as the moment your back was facing the crowd you could hear them calling you back desperatly. Portals being opened and felt your back being rubbed comfortingly. Chain noises of being dropped or disappearing as you could hear a lot of footsteps but the Heralds and Lector the block their way to you who continue heading towards one of the portals of the abyss.

"YOUR GRACE WE ARE SORRY!!"

"COME BACK!!"

"I'M SORRY!!"

"PLEASE GIVE US A CHANCE!!"

"YOUR GRACE!!"

"ANOTHER CHANCE PLEASE!!"

"WE DIDN'T MEAN TO!!"

"WE'RE SORRY!!"

"It's too noisy.…" You muttered tiredly.

Suddenly you felt your body picked up in a bridal style and you could hear the chat laughing or teasing you but you didn't care as you were too tired to care properly.

You just want to be with your baby brother again…

"Sleep your grace"

With those words you press your head against Dain's shoulder while closing your eyes and ignoring the sounds behind you. Trying to relax and get some energy since you used it all up for the torture of your imposters.

All you could hear was the screams of anger of Tommy and the laughter of your other halfs making you feel like you are back in the SMP instead of this unknown world that you found yourself in.

You could see Tommy waving at you before running towards his home, Tubbo and Ranboo behind him, Wilbur playing his guitar as he looked at you in happiness-like he hadn't gone crazy or didn't destroy L'Manburg- You then saw your Mother and Father walking with each other as you felt your head being patted looking to the side to see Techno nodding at you before pulling out an axe scaring the boys who screamed in excitement or fear.

The sight was a home for you.

"…I miss you…"

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

SHEEEEESH WELP THAT'S A WRAP HAHAHAHAHAHHA

OKAY SO LIKE I THOUGHT I COULD FINISH THIS ON WEEKENDS BUT NOPE I LEGIT FINISHED IT TODAY HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

ANYWAYS YEP THIS IS PRETTY LONG AND DEFINITELY A HUGE PROLOGUE AND ITS STILL PART 1 BECAUSE THEIR WILL BE AN AFTERMATH AND AS I MENTIONED DESTRUCTION!!

I'M SORRY IF THIS CHAPTER WAS VERY DARK AND GRUESOME I WENT OUT WITH A BANG SORRY TAT

BUT TELL ME IF THIS STORY IS OKAY SINCE I'M VERY MUCH RUSTY IN WRITING AND WILL BE EDITING STUFF HERE IF I SEE THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH GRAMMAR AND MISSING WORDS.

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE PROLOGUE AND PROLOGUE PART 2 WILL COME OUT NEXT MONTH!!

Fun fact: back when @willowedwisteria had her old account I was inspired by the SAGAU x Philza Reader to create this except instead of Reader being Philza I made her his child and one of the SBI. Plus I had to tweak and change stuff while listening to this song that kept me going to make this prologue: 👇

But anyways I hope you like this and please do comment, like and reblog! ^^

No hate comments or I will block you and report you since it has been awhile I have made a long prologue like this.

Welp Imma rest now and do Prologue part 2 next month XD

You can message me as I am online sometimes due to being with school! ^^

[strawberry-cowmilk]

It's not your fault!

-> Beelzebub x Mc

Welcome to episode 1000 of 'decomposing in my drafts.' So, this one is heavy angst (with some comfort??). Please, make sure to read the content warnings and the a/n because this fic may be upsetting to some.

Mc's gender is not mentioned, and this is not proof read.

-> sequel here

a/n: I feel like I have to put a little note here saying that Belphie is portrayed VERY negatively in this post. If you don't like that, I suggest you don't read this.

Content warnings: lesson 5 spoilers (character spoiler), lesson 16 and 17(?) spoilers, blaming (literally Belphie telling Beel he is responsible for that thing), strong language, references to gambling-like activities, fighting (that gets out of hand), yelling, death threats, attempting to end somebody, broken bonds, reverse-comfort, self-sacrifice, insulting, crying

-----

Last week, there was a lottery-type event at Akudonald's. The person who owned a ticket with a certain number could oder 300 grimm worth of free food. Of course, you and Beelzebub bought about 10 tickets in the hopes of drawing the winning number, and you succeeded.

The two of you dumped the contents of three big bags of Akudonald's food onto Beel's bed. 'We're going to have quite the evening.' you smirked, and the demon nodded his head happily, not taking his violet gaze off of the haul. Just as you were about to dig in, the door of the twin's bedroom slammed open, revealing a very distressed Belphie standing in the hallway. The youngest brother stepped foot inside the room. 'Beel, I can't find it anywhere!' he got out between pants. The avatar of gluttony looked confused. 'Can't find what?' Belphegor looked his older brother dead in the eye, the stress still apparent in his expression. 'The photo album, the one with all the pictures of Lilith. It's- it's gone!' You looked at Beel next to you, who was now staring at his brother in shock. Oh no. You knew how important their late sister was to them, and that album was, other than the occasional photo Asmo has, the only keepsake they had left of her. 'It's gonna be okay, I'll help you find it.' you offered. Belphegor sighed. 'That's nice of you, but I've almost blown up the whole house looking for it.' Then, realization hit Beel. He looked at you in worry. That thing he ate last night during his 2am hunger-attack... That wasn't a sheet cake.

'Belphie... I'm so sorry.' the sixth born said quietly. 'I- I think I ate it...' Beel looked at the floor, despite his younger twin's burning gaze on him. You started to panic internally, but you didn't show it. You had to stay calm. For Beel. So, you grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze, in an attempt to calm him down, even if that is a little bit. Belphie was at a loss of words. 'You... what?' he stammered before turning into his demon form in a matter of seconds. 'Are you fucking serious? Can't you control that damn apetite of yours for one minute or are you just plain stupid?' the youngest brother showed anger greater than Satan's after his favorite book series got discontinued. Beel squeezed your hand tighter, still not looking at his twin. You, completely in the middle of this,had no idea what to do. Beel was clearly hurt by his brother's words but did not say anything, so you decided to try to calm the fuming Belphegor down. 'Hey, Belphie, it's okay. Beel was probably very hungry and we can always make a new album right? Doesn't Asmo have some pictures?' The avatar of sloth's head shot towards you. 'Shut up, human! Say one more word and I'll snap that pathetic neck of yours again!' you felt fear wash over you as the demon threatened you. In response, Beelzebub hugged you against his body. 'Belphie... I know you're angry, but that was mean. Mc is trying to help.' he defended you. Despite the fact he too was getting absolutely bashed by the younger demon, he defended you. 'I'm so sorry I ate the album, but please don't take your anger out on Mc.' That was the comment that made Belphie unintentionally lose every last piece of rationality. 'You're right, I should be killing you, not Mc! After all, thanks to your big fuck-up, Lilith is gone now!' Belphie breathed heavily before continuing. 'It's your fault, Beelzebub!'

Beel completely tensed up in your arms at his twin's words. He just stared at him as he was getting ready to actually kill him. Having realized this, you broke free from Beel's embrace, stepping in front of him to protect him from Belphie. 'No!' you yelled, masking your fear. You thought you would die for a moment there, but somebody had rushed into the room and restrained the avatar of sloth. 'When I heard yelling, I didn't expect shit like this to be goin' on!' It was Mammon, also in his demon form. 'Fucking scumbag, let me go! Now!' Belphie did thrash around and scream in his grip, but the second born was stronger. 'Oh, Mammon thank you!' you breathed before turning to Beel, who was shaking behind you. You softly smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek. 'Let's go sit down, okay?' you suggested. Before he could answer, somebody else burst into the room. This time it was Lucifer. Before he spoke, he looked around the room. He saw Mammon holding a very angry Belphie down, and he saw you trying to comfort a shaken-up Beel. The avatar of pride had many questions, but decided to restrain Belphegor with his trusty rope first. Lucifer sent Mammon away, and threw Belphie over his shoulder, ready to leave. 'I demand an explanation later.' he said. But, before he could go, Beel stopped him. 'Lucifer, please move me to the attic. As a permanent room.' it was almost like he was pleading. Belphie scoffed, but the oldest brother silenced him before he could say anything. 'Silence, Belphegor!' he said sternly. 'Fuck you, Lucifer! Go suck Diavolo's dick!' the youngest spat, his words like venom. Lucifer dug his nails into Belphie's back, repressing his anger. Everyone knew the avatar of sloth was in even bigger trouble now.

It was just you and Beel now. You shoved some of the Akudonald's aside and guided the demon to sit down on the bed, next to you. 'Beelzie, how are you feeling?' you said, as gently as you could. You even used the nickname you used only on special occasions. The avatar of gluttony didn't seem to react to your words, he just stared in front on him. 'Can I touch you?' you tried asking gently. To your luck, Beel nodded, so you took both of his hands between yours. 'I... I don't want him to hate me...' the demon confessed. 'We used to be so close...' and that was when the tears started falling from his face. It was the first time you had actually seen him cry. You let one hand go to wipe his tears away. 'He didn't mean what he said, I'm sure he'll apologize in a few hours.' you reassured him. the sixth born shook his head. 'N-no... he is right, it's my f-' you cut him off by hushing him. 'Beel, it's not your fault at all.' he did not look at you. 'Mc... I love you, but don't lie to me.' his words broke your heart. There was only one way to help him now, and that was telling him you sometimes could see Lilith in your dreams, and it felt real every time. 'Hey... look at me.' you asked him. Eventually, the demon carefully turned towards you. 'I can see Lilith in some of my dreams...' you started. This got Beel's attention. The tears ceased falling from his eyes as he listened to your voice. 'She says she loves all of you so much, and... she doesn't blame you.' you continued. 'She's so proud of you, Beel. She's so happy you've finally found peace after the war.' You swear you could see a smile make its way on his face. The demon released his hands from yours to press you against his chest, hiding his face in your hair. 'Next time you see her, tell her I love her. Please?'

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[samwisethewitch]

Tapping Into Your Psychic Senses

Every single person on the planet has psychic abilities, but most people never realize that they’re using them. As Tess Whitehurst says in her book You Are Magical, “There is almost certainly something you assume that everyone can perceive that is actually a perception that is relatively unique to you.”

For example: you may be a gifted artist. Drawing and painting come naturally to you, and you have an intuitive sense of form and color. You probably know people who claim that they “don’t have an artistic bone in their body” or “can’t even draw a stick figure,” but you can’t bring yourself to believe it. Surely, those people are just psyching themselves out, because if art comes so easily to you, everyone must be able to do it to some extent, right?

Psychic abilities are similar. You’ve probably been tapping into at least one psychic sense all your life, but it feels so normal to you that you assume everyone experiences the world this way.

Once you become aware of your innate psychic abilities, you can start to harness them. For this reason, I think it’s a good idea to become familiar with (and comfortable using!) your natural psychic gifts before you try to learn any kind of divination.

Read over the following list of common psychic senses. Does one or more of them sound familiar? Once you recognize which of these you resonate with, focus on strengthening that gift over the next couple of weeks. You’ll be amazed by how easily you’re able to tap into it once you know how!

Clairvoyance: Clear Seeing

Contrary to popular opinion, the word “clairvoyance” does not describe any and all psychic abilities. Someone with clairvoyance receives psychic messages through their sense of sight. They may see these messages with their physical eyes, or see images in their mind’s eye. Seeing auras is an example of clairvoyance in action.

You may be clairvoyant if…

You often see flashes of light, blurred figures, or other visual phenomena that others do not see. [Note: This is NOT the same as visual hallucinations. Clairvoyants typically see things with their mind’s eye, not their physical eyes, and can differentiate between their visions and what is physically in front of them.]

You often experience random mental images that seem to have nothing to do with what’s going on around you.

Your meditations are primarily visual — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may see a bubbling fountain in your mind’s eye.

You are a visual learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairvoyance

Keep a journal of the mental images you receive “out of nowhere.” Do these images mean anything to you? Do individual visions fit into a larger pattern?

Meditate on the energy systems in your body, starting from the feet and working up to the crown of the head. What does your energy look like? Are the colors bright and clear, or more faded and muddy? Does the energy move quickly, or is it slow and sluggish? Are there certain areas of your body where the energy seems to be tied up or stuck? How does its appearance correspond to your life? 

Do research into auras and what the different aura colors mean. Do you always seem to see or think of a certain color when you’re around a certain person? How does that color represent that person’s energy and personality? Write down your findings.

Clairaudience: Clear Hearing

Someone with clairaudience receives psychic messages through their sense of hearing. They may hear messages with their physical ears or “hear” them in their mind. A medium who hears spirits is an example of someone using clairaudience.

You may be clairaudient if…

You sometimes “hear” things in your mind, as if someone else was talking to you from inside your head. [Note: This is NOT the same as “hearing voices” or auditory hallucinations. Clairaudients usually “hear” messages with their mind, not their physical ears, and they can distinguish between psychic messages and physical, “real world” sounds.]

Sometimes, when you listen to music or watch a movie, a specific lyric or line of dialogue seems to jump out at you, as if it were a special message.

Your meditations are primarily auditory — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may hear a babbling brook.

You are an auditory learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairaudience

Keep a journal of the messages you “hear” out of nowhere. Are they consistent, forming a larger pattern? Do they all seem to be “in the same voice,” or coming from the same source? (If so, this could be a deity or spirit guide reaching out to you.)

Do a meditation with the intention of holding a conversation with a helpful spirit guide. (If you are not comfortable working with spirits, you can set the intention of speaking to your inner self.) What does their voice sound like? Is it different from or similar to your own? Do they speak with an accent or have a unique inflection? Write down your thoughts.

Experiment with shufflemancy. This is a modern form of divination where you put a playlist on shuffle and receive a psychic message from the song that plays first. (You can find playlists specifically made for shufflemancy online, or make your own.) How does the song make you feel? Are there certain lyrics that jump out to you? Write down your thoughts.

Clairsentience: Clear Feeling

Someone with clairsentience feels psychic messages, either through their body or through their emotions. They may feel physical sensations, like an upset stomach, or may be very sensitive to emotional energies. Intuitively picking up on someone’s emotions without needing to ask is an example of clairsentience.

You may be clairsentient if…

You often feel physical sensations, like a hot flash or a cold chill, out of nowhere.

You are able to feel other people’s emotions — you can always tell when someone has had a bad day, even if they’re trying to hide it.

You can sense the “vibe” of a room as soon as you walk in. Do certain buildings feel “angry” or “sad” to you? Can you always tell the energy of a party even if you just arrived?

Your meditations primarily focus on tactile sensations — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may feel waves lapping at your feet.

Ways to Strengthen Clairsentience

Pay attention to your “gut feelings.” Do you feel a sinking sensation when thinking about something, only for it to go badly later? Do you feel a warm, fuzzy sensation thinking about something, only for it to go really well? Write down your experiences — and be honest. It’s okay if your gut feeling doesn’t always match the outcome.

Do a pathworking meditation (this is just a type of meditation that focuses on taking a mental journey) to a forest, or a beach, or some other location that appeals to you. Try to feel as many tactile sensations as possible, as if you were really there. Feel the grass or sand under your feet, feel the wind in your hair, feel the sun on your skin. Write down your experience.

Practice feeling the energy of a plant or crystal. Reach out and touch the plant/crystal, and try to feel it out. Does it have a calm, stable energy, or is it more bright and zingy? Try feeling a different plant/crystal and see how it feels different. Write down your experience.

Note: Some (but not all) clairsentients are also empaths, people who take on the emotions of others as if they were their own. All empaths are clairsentient, but not all clairsentient people are empaths. You may be an empath if you often find yourself matching the emotions of the people you’re around — you cry when they cry, laugh when they laugh, etc.

Claircognizance: Clear Knowing

Claircognizence is the gift of psychic knowing — people with this ability often “just know” things, even if they should have no way of knowing. They may know what someone is about to say before they say it, or know personal information about someone they just met.

You may be claircognizant if…

You “just know” what’s going on with your friends and family, even if they haven’t told you. For example, you may suddenly feel like you need to call your sister, only to find out after you call that she just broke up with her boyfriend.

You always know who a text is from as soon as your phone dings, or always know what song is going to play next on shuffle.

You often know things about new people as soon as you meet them, only for them to confirm it later. Did you know your friend was a vegetarian before he told you, even though you’d never shared a meal with him?

Your meditations often include “downloads” of information, where you feel like the answer to your question or some other revelation has just been dropped into your brain.

Ways to Strengthen Claircognizance

Every time your phone goes off, try to guess who the message is from. Keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

Do a meditation with the intention of receiving the answer to a specific question. Retreat to a place of stillness and focus on your breath until the answer to the question “just comes to you.” Write down your experience.

This is a game I used to play with my sister before I knew what claircognizance was: have a friend show you a picture of someone they know, but whom you have never met before. Focus on the picture, and see if you get any info about the person — are they a jock? Do they like rock music? What’s their personality like? Get your friend to confirm or deny the info you got from the picture, and keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

The Other Clairs

There are two other “clair” senses that are less common, so I’m not going to talk about them at length here. Clairalience, or “clear smelling,” refers to receiving psychic messages through smell. (If you smell roses out of nowhere, with no roses in sight, you may be using clairalience.) Clairgustance, or “clear tasting,” refers to receiving psychic messages through taste. (If you taste chocolate out of nowhere, you may be using claigustance.)

In my experience, these psychic senses are less common than the ones listed above. Most people I know who have clairalience or clairgustance seem to use it as a secondary sense, in addition to a primary sense like clairvoyance or clairsentience.

Conclusion

You are probably using at least one of these psychic senses every day, without even knowing it. Most people have two to three “main” psychic senses, but some may regularly and easily use all of them. For example, my primary psychic senses are clairsentience and claircognizance, but I also find myself receiving messages through clairaudience fairly often. It’s rare for me to receive clairvoyant messages, but it has happened.

Once you’ve identified the psychic senses that you naturally lean towards, you can begin to develop and strengthen them.

Resources:

You Are Magical by Tess Whitehurst [Specifically the chapter, “Reading the Signs.”]

The Fat Feminist Witch Podcast, Episode 68: “Clear Knowing”

The Angel Code by Chantel Lysette [Specifically the section on the psychic senses.]

[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.”

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @ellies-iced-coffee @nehemikkele @misswonderflower

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter One}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara's blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

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5 years later….

Nyx looked at his birthday cake and the lone candle that was lit atop the icing before looking up at Feyre with a confused expression on his beautiful, little face.

His mother laughed, quietly, before leaning forward and taking out the candle. She had just blown out the flame when Rhys barely pushed the cake closer to Nyx, who put his chubby, little hands smack-dab in the middle of the icing and dug in.

Everyone had come to celebrate, and even Nesta couldn’t stop her smile from showing. At least, she let it show when she was on the opposite end of the house from the one and only, and massively self-centered, Cassian Nazari.

Of course, he would be at Nyx’s first birthday party. He was Nyx’s uncle - maybe not by blood, not that blood mattered when it came to Cassian, Rhysand, and their other lifelong friend, Azriel.

He, too, stood across the kitchen, watching as Elain snapped picture after picture of the jubilant baby, the mess atop his high chair the largest Nesta had ever seen. She knew Elain was taking notes for their own daughter’s birthday party, though she was barely three months old.

Rhysand’s smile was as big as Feyre’s as they watched their son, listening as his giggles filled the kitchen. Nyx realized quickly that the cake was for him alone and after smashing it for a few moments, he lifted a large handful to his chubby face and took a bite. His eyes lit up and that started the giggling anew.

Nesta loved her nephew and niece, had loved him since the day they were born, but she didn’t envy her sisters and their happy families. Unlike them, she had remained perfectly content on her own, especially after the endless string of disaster dates she had been forced to sit through throughout the years.

And children? It wasn’t that Nesta disliked kids. Not all kids, at least. She loved her nephew and niece, anyway. Having one of her own, though? Having to be around one every day? Every night? Having to constantly try and make a tiny person content?

No, thank you. That was a challenge she had little interest in.

A deep rumbling laugh came from across the house and Nesta looked up to find Cassian entering the kitchen, still chuckling at something Mor had said.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her lip from curling slightly as she looked at him. It only infuriated her more when he caught sight of her as he raised his beer to his lips and winked.

He was absolutely insufferable.

After their catastrophe of a date years ago, which Nesta had made Feyre promise was a stunt she’d never pull again, she had only been forced to be around Cassian Nazari a handful of times.

One of which was during Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, only months after their date.

“You only have to walk with him for thirty seconds,” Feyre had sighed, while Mor continued to pin and curl her hair into place. “You don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Good,” Nesta said, draining the glass of champagne in her hand. “Because I’m not.”

As Feyre’s maid-of-honor, it was customary that she was supposed to walk out of the wedding arm in arm with Rhysand’s best man. She wished that he’d picked Azriel, but since it seemed the Cauldron hated her, it had to be Cassian.

Elain, who was harboring the world’s most obvious crush on Azriel at the time, was thrilled with how they’d be exiting the wedding. Nevertheless, she said to Nesta, “I think you two got off on the wrong foot. He’s a really good guy, Nes.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister a look of pure annoyance through the mirror’s reflection. “Have any of you ever been on a date with the guy? And not only a date, but the worst date of your life?”

Feyre snorted, fully aware of where this conversation was headed. “No.”

“Then you have no room to talk,” Nesta snapped, admiring herself in the mirror. “Mother’s tits, Feyre, he wore jeans to the nicest restaurant in Velaris!”

“At least he didn’t wear his boots,” Mor muttered, then she caught Nesta’s glare in the mirror. “Really? He wore his boots?”

“He was dressed for an all-night, summer bonfire,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “And he’s completely full of himself. And, he forgot his wallet!”

“Not like you can’t afford dinner,” Feyre said, and Nesta’s lips snapped shut. She was fully aware that the conversation had somehow become a let’s-pick-on-Nesta session.

Feyre added, “You have to walk back down the aisle with him, share an entire table during dinner, and that’s it. No one is asking you to dance with him, but be nice.” Nesta met Feyre’s eyes, her jaw set. Feyre sighed, “Fine, be civil.”

She scoffed, but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was beautiful and elegant and the perfect wedding Rhys and Feyre had always wanted.

She ignored Cassian’s unending looks the whole night, managed to give her maid-of-honor speech without snarling at him, and after that, took advantage of the open bar her sister and new brother had so kindly provided.

She was coming out of the bathroom, a glass of wine still clutched in her hand, doing her best not to trip over her own feet when she walked into a wall.

A wall of solid muscle that turned out to be Cassian’s back.

When he turned around and she looked up at him, his eyes were nearly as glazed as hers.

“Hello, Nes,” he said, smirking down at her.

She bit out, “Don’t call me that.”

“That was a pretty, little speech you gave,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I know true love exists cause I’ve seen it first hand. Poetic.”

Nesta scoffed, brushing off the skirt of her dress as if he had tainted it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t referring to you. I was talking about Feyre and Rhys, in case you thought otherwise.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he promised. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were talking about anyone. Just some fluffy shit that sounded sweet. Unless it’s that guy that showed up at the restaurant and ruined our date. Oh, wait,” he began, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, “You dumped him though, right? Poor bastard.”

“You’re a prick,” Nesta bit out. She refrained from saying that Tomas hadn’t ruined their date. It was sad that seeing her ex was one the bright points of her night, rather than seeing the Greek god standing before her. The pretentious, cocky asshole of a Greek god.

He only grinned. “But am I a liar?”

Nesta’s jaw locked. She eyed his tux. “I’m just glad you decided to clean up for your own brother’s wedding. No jeans?”

He scoffed. “Is that the worst you’ve got?”

“Do you prefer me to give you my worst?” she asked, brows furrowing. “If so, you may want to be careful what you wish for.”

Cassian said nothing, just lifted the beer she hadn’t noticed in his hands to his lips.

Nesta rolled her eyes, brushing past him, and made a move to head back into the reception.

His voice called out behind her, “You don’t have to be such a miserable bitch, you know?”

She froze, looking back at him. He was no longer smirking at her. Instead, his eyes were intense. “Excuse you?”

“You’re so miserable that you won’t allow anyone else to have any fun, won’t allow yourself to either,” he said, still leaning against that damn wall. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, his dress shirt tight and loose in all the right places. “You want everyone else to suffer, just because you’re forcing yourself to, for whatever reason.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she bit out, stalking back over to him. She was so close she had to look up into his face.

“I don’t,” he said, words clipped. “I tried, but you didn’t seem very inclined to let me get to know you during our date. You were more concerned with my attire and your ex than you were with me. You thought all I wanted to do was fuck you.” His eyes, still glassy and glazed, dragged down her body and back up again. “Besides, you’ve got that damn stick shoved so far up your ass, there wouldn’t have been room for my cock even if I’d really even tried.”

A blink was Nesta’s only reaction. Then her hand was moving of its own accord, splashing her full glass of wine directly in his face and all over that pretty, white shirt.

“Go fuck yourself,” was all she’d said before she walked back into the ceremony, leaving him there to drip on the venue’s fancy carpet.

“Nesta!”

She blinked, Feyre’s voice drawing Nesta out of her memories, looking over at her sister. She stood next to Rhys and Elain, who had her camera in her hands, and Cassian stood behind Nyx’s high chair.

“I want a picture of him with his godparents, come here,” she beamed and Nesta tried not to cringe.

She had been so proud, her heart feeling like it would burst when Feyre and Rhys had asked her to be Nyx’s godmother. There was no hesitation when she said yes, tears lining her eyes as she’d hugged both her sister and brother-in-law.

She tried not to think about the fact that when they’d told her Cassian was his godfather, she nearly asked them to give the distinction to Elain.

But she hadn’t, wouldn’t. Despite what others, especially Cassian, thought of her… Nesta loved her nephew.

She loved her family.

With a sigh, Nesta meandered over to Nyx’s high chair. “Alright.”

“Closer,” Feyre ordered, gesturing Nesta to move in closer beside Cassian behind the high chair.

Nesta’s lips pursed but she took another step toward the boys for her sister’s sake.

“I’m not poisonous, Nesta,” Cassian muttered, smiling at the camera as he spoke. “You won’t burst into flames if we brush arms.”

“You’d be so lucky to brush arms with me,” she muttered back, hoping the smile she was giving her sister was convincing - and knowing full well that it wasn’t.

Without another word, Cassian tossed his arm around Nesta and said, “Cheeeeese!”

Nyx was giggling, looking up at his godparents behind him. There was so much joy and adoration in those big, beautiful eyes that Nesta didn’t have the heart to storm off, leaving Cassian in her dust, no matter how much she wanted to.

The camera’s flash went off and Nesta pushed Cassian’s arm off her shoulder.

The rest of the party was perfect. Feyre took Nyx up to the bathroom to clean him off, while Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian hauled his many gifts out into the living room. Feyre opened them one by one, despite everyone knowing Nyx had no clue what was going on, though he did clap his chubby little hands and giggle at a few particular items. Nesta stood off to the side with Elain, holding a milk-drunk, sleepy Seph in her arms.

Azriel and Elain’s little girl had been a surprise, neither of them planning on Elain getting pregnant so soon after they got married. They both fell into the role of parents so seamlessly though, that Nesta knew another baby would be in their near future. They adored the baby girl, and she was the most perfect baby Nesta had ever seen.

Persephone hardly cried, only doing so when she was hungry or needed to be changed, and once whatever wrong was taken care of, she became a happy, smiley baby again.

Nyx, on the other hand, had been a hellion as a baby.

Which was to be expected, considering who his father was. Although responsible when necessary, Rhysand was just as much of a madman as Cassian...especially when infused with alcohol.

“You look good with a baby,” Elain crooned from beside her sister.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You can keep trying to push me down the marriage-baby road, but I just won’t take it. Wasting your time.”

Elain sighed, dramatically, with that little grin remaining on her soft pink lips. “As long as you stay such a good auntie, I suppose I can’t complain.”

Nesta looked down at the sweet, sleeping infant in her arms. She didn’t mind those little snuggles.

She did mind the diaper blowouts, constant spit-ups, and loud crying, though. That’s usually when she gave Seph back to her parents and blissfully enjoyed her independent life.

Feyre gasped and Nesta looked up. She was holding a little guitar that had Nyx’s name and the night sky engraved into the dark-stained wood.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Cassian.

Cassian smiled, fondly, at Feyre. “I know he won’t be able to start messing with it for another few years, but I couldn't help myself.”

“He made that himself, you know.” Nesta’s eyes shot to Elain, who was watching the scene before them. She whispered again, “He doesn’t do it for a living, of course, but it’s a hobby of his, making guitars. He’s really good.”

She blinked, the information catching her off guard for whatever reason. But all she said was, “That’s nice.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the man as much as she could, as she always did. But as the guests began to dwindle, as Nyx and Seph went down for their naps, the three sisters gathered in the living room, while Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian went out back to inspect the small jungle gym Rhys was building for Nyx. Again, he was too young to use most of it, but the tiny swing and slide would be hours of fun for the little man.

Feyre brought two cups of coffee out to her sisters before collapsing next to Elain on the couch. “That could not have gone better if we tried.”

Nesta leveled her a look and raised an eyebrow.. “If we tried? You had a minute-by-minute itinerary for a one-year-old’s birthday.”

“Everything was perfect,” Elain smiled, cutting off Nesta, blowing on her coffee gently. “Nyx had a good time, neither he nor Seph had a blow-up, Cassian and Nesta managed to be in the same room without stabbing each other. All in all, a good day.”

Nesta rolled her eyes before throwing a vulgar gesture towards her sisters, who were both laughing.

“Fine, new subject,” Feyre grinned. “Oh! Before I forget, Rhys and I are going out of town for our anniversary in a few weeks. I was hoping you could watch Nyx for a few days.”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Feyre was talking to her. She froze, having been blowing on her own hot coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

Feyre laughed, quietly. “I was hoping that you could watch Nyx while Rhys and I go away for a long weekend. We’re going to the mountains for our anniversary. To his family’s cabin.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elain said, looking at Nesta.

Who blinked, having only unfrozen to set her coffee down on the table between them. “You want me…to watch Nyx…for the weekend? Alone? By myself? Just me and him?”

“That’s what I was hoping for, yeah,” Feyre said, nodding as she sipped from her cup. “You can come here, where all of his stuff is in one place, and make yourself at home.” She shrugged. “I’ll leave money for takeout and the key to the wine cabinet.”

Nesta hesitated. “I’ve only babysat Nyx a couple of times…all for, like, an hour each.”

“It will be fine,” she said, a genuine smile on her face. “It will only be three nights, really. We’ll leave after work on Thursday and be home Sunday evening.”

Nesta stammered and shook her head. “I have to work on Friday, the restaurant-.”

“I’ll keep him during the day on Friday,” Elain offered. “I don’t have any shoots that day, so he can spend the day with me and Seph.”

“You could keep him the whole weekend,” Nesta tried, looking at her younger sister hopefully.

“Seph is enough of a handful,” she chuckled, glancing at Feyre, who was nodding as well. “I don’t think I can handle two at once for an entire weekend.”

“Please, Nes,” Feyre said, drawing her eldest sister’s eyes to her. “I know you can do it and it would be nice for you to spend some time together, just you two.”

“And you can call me, if you need anything,” Elain added.

Nesta looked from Feyre to Elain. “You two already planned this.” They at least had the wherewithal to look guilty. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Fine. But I’ll probably end up calling both of you every thirty seconds.”

“I can work with that,” Feyre said, just as Elain said, “Then it’s settled!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “But, I hope you know that I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”

“Oh, I know,” Feyre grinned, “which is what makes you such a wonderful, wonderful big sister.”

“I am pretty damn wonderful,” Nesta agreed, grinning as she sipped from her mug.

As she drank, she peeked out the window, where the boys were putting together the playset. Once she did, only one thing caught her eye.

Cassian was already watching her.

And when he caught her gaze, that stupid little, cocky-ass grin appeared.

She hated that grin, hated it with every ounce of her being.

And she wouldn’t feel bad for it, no matter how much her sisters adored the guy.

She hated him, hated Cassian Nazari.

And she always would.

[starlit-scarlet]

Stress

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

This is a somewhat self-indulgent fic I decided to write this morning. Levi gets to comfort reader who's stressed out from school and an internship. Always such fun :) haha

Another long day of school, followed by hours at your internship where you got the thrill of doing all the work and reaping none of the benefits, and you finally staggered into your home, the sun having set below the horizon hours ago. Shutting the door closed behind you— metaphorically shutting away the day— you pressed your back against the door, eyes fluttering shut as you desperately tried to will away the migraine you could feel coming on at the base of your skull.

Fuck, could this day get any worse?

Tears pricked at the back of your eyelids, long having since wondered if any of this was even worth it at this point. Half the time you thought you’d made the wrong choices, picked the wrong path, yet here you were, continuing to truck along, because that was what you were supposed to do. Without having realized, the purse you’d been holding had slipped from your hand to land with a gentle thump on the floor.

The memory of the day flickered across your mind, remembering all the ways you’d apparently screwed up, your asshole of a supervisor never hesitating to remind you of that. Yet she always seemed to forget the way you made sure her files were always neatly organized in the proper drawers, the way you were always on time, never late, always willing to stay late when she needed you. The way your notes were careful and methodical, documenting as much of her time spent with clients as possible.

No. None of that she gave a shit about. She simply seemed hell-bent on pointing out each and every blunder you made.

‘You fucked up big time with that client. How you've gotten this far in your career and education, I haven't a clue. Go get me some coffee. Maybe that, you won’t screw up.’

It wasn’t that you minded criticism. No. You welcomed it. But there was a difference between constructive criticism meant to help you improve, and criticism meant to tear you down.

And you were doing all of this for an overpriced piece of paper that you weren’t even sure was worth it anymore.

Is this something I even want to do anymore?

Sighing, you pushed yourself off the door, wincing at the pull of your back. Sitting all day with shitty posture put a strain on your back, and it had you rubbing at the muscles as you made your way into your tiny kitchen. More tears flooded into your eyes at the sight sitting before you in the warm, dim light of the room.

There at the table was a steaming hot plate of your favorite dish, and you can’t help but drool at the sight of the bowtie pasta topped with the bolognese sauce. It was a meal that always brought you comfort, it having been the first thing he’d made you on that first date so long ago. Beside it, a simple glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, a couple of aspirin, and one of his notes he often left sitting around for you to find.

Oh, how that glorious man spoiled you to no end.

You picked up the note and unfolded it, a few tears trickling down your cheeks at the words.

‘Hey, don’t forget I love you.’

Sniffling, a weak, watery laugh spilled out of you at the simple little note. He may not be one for grand gestures and words of poetry, but fuck, the things he did had your heart pitter-pattering in your chest. As if you could ever forget. The man may be shit at verbalizing his emotions, but each and every day he made sure he showed you in some way that he loved you.

Making sure you had at least one hot, home-cooked meal a day, knowing the rest of your day was spent grabbing whatever was fastest.

Doing your laundry for you when you were bogged down with assignments for school, with work your supervisor forced you to take home to finish.

Taking you to your favorite spots on days where you had a little free time, the ones that held the most cherished memories for you.

Hugging you.

Kissing you.

Letting you cuddle up against him on the couch.

The fact that he did any of that even though he was also busy with his own job as a software engineer, was something so heartwarming, something only a man like Levi would do. His position was demanding, full of responsibilities, but he always made sure he made time for you, to take care of you.

Hearing a noise coming from the hall, you spun on your heel to watch as he entered the kitchen, your eyes filling with adoration for the stoic man stepping through the entryway. It stumped you sometimes, the way you’d been able to capture his heart, to break through the walls that had been erected around him, finally finding that soft and sweet interior you knew had existed.

He paused mid-step when he glanced up from his phone— most likely checking for messages from you— eyes widening when he realized you were already there.

“Oh you’re back already? Damn, I thought you were going to be a bit later. The soufflé isn’t quite done yet, but—”

The rest of his words are cut off as his breath huffed out of him at the force of you slamming into him, wrapping your arms tight around him. Burying your face into his neck, the trembles hit your body before you can stop them, breath hitching at the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you close against him.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

See, that right there was another way of him reminding you he loved you. Simply telling you that he was there for you never failed to have your heart flipping in your chest the way it did in that moment. His voice might be gruff, but the underlying tones of affection were there, and only ever for you, and it had another shudder hitting you.

As always, he held you without resistance, for as long as you needed, another way he showed you. It had taken you time to learn to speak the language of Levi Ackerman, but now? Now you knew, and you read him with ease, could pick up each and every nuance, each twitch of his brow, the quirks of his lips, everything he did that was a clue to what he felt and thought. His heart was held in the palms of your hands, in the most delicate of ways, just as yours was with him.

He pulled back a touch to kiss the top of your head, tucking his knuckles beneath your chin to draw your gaze to his, and swiping away stray tears with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and changed while I finish up in here?”

Nodding you leaned up to peck at his lips before making your way into your bedroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and tossing them into the hamper, your shoes placed neatly on the rack in the closet before changing into some comfy clothes and thick socks. Almost immediately, you felt a weight lift off of you, just from the simple act of removing the fabric you’d worn for the day, as if you’d been removing the events of the day with them.

Throwing your hair into a quick braid, you scurried back out, the smell of the food drawing a fierce rumble from your stomach. When you tried to help him finish, he waved you off, telling you to sit down and relax.

That’s how it usually went with him. He refused help when he sensed your day had been rougher than normal, no matter how much you insisted, not until he felt that you were at ease, relaxed, and taken care of. So you relented, settling in at the table, ravishly digging into the meal, slowly feeling more and more at ease. He sat in the chair next to yours with his own plate of food, and for several moments, the only sounds filling the room were the clinking of forks against the plates.

That was something else special about Levi. He always waited for you to eat, wanting at least one meal where the two of you could spend time together, enjoy each other’s company. It didn’t matter the time. Early afternoon, late evening, early night, no. He didn’t care at all, so long as you ate together. Another reminder of how much he cared for you.

When you’d finished, you leaned back in your chair, a satisfied smile filling your face at how his simple care had made you feel better, the aspirin not even needed as the headache faded on its own. Not having realized your eyes had fluttered closed, you started when he took your hand in his, linking your fingers together. You turned your head to meet his eyes, and your heart flipped in your chest at the affection you see in his, the dim kitchen light making his hair appear darker, and you couldn't help the way your free hand combed through the bangs flopping over his forehead, moving to cup the side of his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

Without even needing clarification, you knew what he was referring to. It was something he reminded you of regularly, reminding you that he would support you no matter what, that you didn’t have to continue on if you no longer wanted, that you would both figure things out together. You don’t know what you’d done to deserve him, but like hell would you ever let him go.

Tears prick your eyes once more, though gentler this time, and not from the stress of the day. “I know, baby...I want to do this.”

Because at the end of the day, this was something you truly wanted for yourself. You wanted to be able to look back and say, I kept going, and I finished. Even if it wasn’t the right path for you, you wanted the satisfaction that came with that overpriced piece of paper.

And that was all the reassurance he needed as he leaned in to graze his lips across your forehead, drawing a content sigh from you. He was your rock, and he was all you needed to make it through each and every day.

Timed perfectly, he pulled the soufflés out of the oven, setting them down in front of the both of you. His is a tart lemon, yours is a decadent chocolate and you can’t help but moan in delight at the richness that hits your taste buds as you devour the desert. Enjoying each other’s company, the two of you sit in companionable silence as you enjoy the delicious dessert he’d made.

Once finished, he rose to clear away the dishes, though this time you insist on helping, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Sensing that you were more relaxed, he relented, the chore passing by faster with the two of you working together...him washing and you drying of course.

With the dishes out of the way, the two of you were free to end the night in the way you both enjoyed best, cuddling on the couch with your legs swung over his lap, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. As he always did, he’d tossed a throw blanket over the two of you before flicking on the tv, selecting the next episode of the latest tv show you were indulging in together.

It was the perfect end to a shitty day, one that helped you keep going.

Back to Fluff/Comfort Menu

[keigoslovebird]

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He��s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 

 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [8]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, guns, anxiety

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god sam stans how are we feeling djkghdfjkhgdf. no thoughts only sam wilson in ep1 of tfatws <333

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Hey, I’m just going to step out for today.” You looked up from the doodle you were making on the corner of the paper. “Catch you later? Just find me if you need anything.”

“You okay?” You automatically sat up straighter, blanket creasing under you. Something was amiss in his body language.

“Yeah, just-” He seemed like he was struggling for words. “-Brooklyn.”

You didn’t get what he was making a reference to until it suddenly dawned on you.

It was the codeword he had suggested right at the beginning of your time in the house. If he was in danger you were sure he’d tell you, at least an inkling of information.

But no, this was for some time alone, further confirmed by the distant look in his eyes.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if you need.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, turning around and leaving the room.

You were left staring after him, the drawing you were making of the house layout discarded on the bed. You were working on strategies, vantage points- anything that could help in case something went wrong.

Was it because of the dumb ‘moment’ you had shared two days ago? It didn’t seem like it because he hadn’t brought it up at all and God knows you would never. Was it something else that had happened, something you did?

Stop overthinking. He probably just needs a day to himself.

You had spent almost a month in each other’s company and he had never once complained. He had a tendency to be petty about minor inconveniences, like you trying to watch a movie when his favourite segment on the local news channel was going on. He liked the cooking show they hosted.

He had never made it a point to specifically tell you that he needed some time to himself, much less use the word.  

“Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself, shaking off the nagging feeling you had.

If he had an issue, he would have voiced it. He never shied away from doing that before and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

You forced yourself to think about something else, grabbing the copy of American Gods you had already gone over once before but were subjecting to a reread. Opening the page you had last left it at, you were determined to distract yourself.

Nearly twenty minutes later and exactly zero pages since you had started, you realised that no matter how much you forced yourself to get into it, you went over the same line over and over again, not a single word registering in your head.

“Motherfucker,” you groaned, letting the book fall on your face. You took a long look outside the window, mind drifting.

It was a nice day out. Maybe some sun would help.

You lifted your legs off the bed, taking your book with you to the kitchen. You could get a nice sandwich-- the same as the last three fuckin’ weeks but you digressed-- a glass of water, and you could sit outside for a while. A mini picnic.

You opened a new packet of sliced bread, taking two out before stopping. You pondered over whether you should make him a sandwich for when he returned, knowing that he didn’t eat lunch before he left.

You thought about it for a good minute before rolling your eyes, pulling out two additional slices to make him one as well. It was just a sandwich. It wasn’t a big deal.

Tucking your book under your arm, you carried your lunch and a glass of water to the patio around the back.

The wind rustled the leaves and the sun wasn’t harsh. The low buzz of insects was the only sound that kept you company.

The air was crisp and you instantly felt better than you had all day in the room.

Setting your stuff down on the bench, you sat down, inhaling deeply.

The book suddenly didn’t seem so impossible to complete as you tried once more, slipping into the pages easily. Even after you finished your food, you continued to lounge about there, too engrossed and content to move.

You didn’t notice the afternoon go by, evening coming and going just as swiftly. You swatted at the occasional fly but nothing else bothered you.

It felt like summer break. At least what you thought it would feel like. You never had one, being homeschooled about things from various people in the organization. There wasn’t a singular, long break. You were just forced to adapt.

You didn't know how to deal with the suffocating realisation of knowing there were so many things you missed out on. It grew the longer you spent time away. You just shoved it away, forcing yourself to deal with it another day.

He comes back when the sky is slipping into shades of orange, a backpack on his shoulder. There was a patch of sweat around his neck and his head was hung low as he walked.

“Hey,” you hoped it didn't look like you were waiting for him. It could easily be taken as you camping out there, waiting for your husband to return from a hard day in the fields.

Sam looked up at your greeting. You noted that the bruise on his nose was starting to change colour but the swelling had reduced from how bad it used to be.

“Left you a sandwich on the counter if you’re hungry,” you added. He nodded in acknowledgement, making his way up the stairs and into the house without another word.

You let out an exhale, feeling a little better knowing that he was at least back in one piece. No reason to believe otherwise other than the anxiety you had developed over imagining the worst case scenarios.

You picked up your book again, intending to finish off the last bit before you went back inside for the day.

About half an hour later Sam re-emerged from the house, your attention snapping to him as the door opened and shut. He had changed into a new pair of clothes, looking a little cleaner like he was fresh outta the shower. He had a sandwich in his hand that he had already taken a few bites out of. You wondered if it was the one you left for him.

You didn’t expect him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He didn’t look at you or open his mouth to talk so you followed suit. You continued reading, or at least tried to, as he just sat there, finishing his sandwich without any kind of other interaction.

There was a strange tension he wasn’t addressing. He instead leaned back, arms crossed behind his neck to support his neck and closed his eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floor and rather than getting annoyed, you found solace in the repetition.

“They recruited me on this day,” Sam said to no one in particular. His eyes were still closed and his feet still tapped against the ground. “Parents died when I was a kid, I got shifted around orphanages and homes a lot. Finally Ransone had someone pick me up.”

You closed your book softly, setting it down beside you. That’s what was bothering him.

Secret adoption is what they called it officially in the business, but around the organization it was just known as the recruitment process. Every record of Sam being alive would have been destroyed to maintain anonymity.

To the world he just… disappeared.

It was a day that clearly brought with it so much pain. You were too young to remember when you joined, and no one had kept track either. You supposed it was for the good.

It was supposed to be a happy day, one filled with new beginnings. Maybe that’s what he would have thought when he got picked. It’s what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not having anything else to offer. You relieved your memories everyday in your head. Having a morbid anniversary of sorts would no doubt drain the life out of you; remembering one singular day that would trigger the rest of the decisions you made in your life.

He didn’t say anything in return. You turned your attention to the sky, finding it easier to look at that than the disturbed look on his face.

“Do you regret this?” he asked out of the blue.

“All of it,” you replied, without skipping a beat.

“Every single one, huh?” Sam’s one eye opened to peer at you.

“It wasn’t up to me to take someone’s life away.” You were just a child. You knew nothing other than what you were taught; so then why was it so fucking hard to forgive your past self for straying into this. “Even once I realised that I couldn’t leave.”

You didn’t form any relationships while you worked with Ransone. Whoever you did allow yourself to care for ended up dead or worse, sometimes as a cruel lesson to not make friends in the organization you worked in because all they served as were distractions and liabilities. Others were plain scum; people who you knew were using you but you didn’t care. The loneliness hurt worse.

“What about you?”

“I’d give anything to go back and change things,” he admitted. He didn’t have a say either. It didn’t make things easier.

“You regret all of ‘em too?”

“Mostly,” he said. “One of them I don’t.”

“That one must have deserved it then,” you deduced. It was the only logical explanation you could think of; the worst of the worst.

“Nah. I let him go.”

It took a while to register what he said.

“What?” You twisted your body to look at him.

“First mission I ever did.”

His hands were shaking lightly, barely holding on to the gun. This wasn’t what he was taught. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

He had already managed to get his way into the house through the back. His partner had taken care of most of it and Sam only had to knock people out. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet.

But now his partner was injured outside the door. Quick shot to the leg, a punch in the face and he was out cold. Sam was already in the master bedroom by the time it happened. He had no idea about where his partner was, only the crippling fear of being left alone and the nerves from the threat posed to him if this didn’t go right.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He had only a few minutes to kill him and get out of there before his family returned.

The man itself was sitting at the study table, his back towards Sam. Just pull the trigger and get out of here. It was deadly silent.

“I know you’re here to kill me,” the man said suddenly. Sam nearly jumped but instead tightened the grip on the gun.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded confident.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” His chair swiveled around, letting him face Sam. His hair was white with a beard that matched. He was dressed down in his pajamas, a robe covering him. He didn’t look nervous.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re younger than what I expected,” the man observed, not paying heed to what Sam was in. He was a considerable distance away. “You’re not even legal yet, are you? I got kids, I would know.”

Sam didn’t say a word, only lifted his gun up to align with his forehead. “I said, stop talking.”

“I’ve made mistakes. Several, actually,” he mused, “It’s why your boss sent you here. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Then it should be easy.”

“Oh, it never is,” the man chuckled. “It doesn’t get lighter. You learn to ignore it but it’ll weigh on you for the rest of your life.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It would get easier. It had to.

“I doubt that’s what you heard, however,” he continued. “Ransone’s a bit… unstable. It’s in his blood, but you- you don’t look like you could live with it.”

Ransone’s history was well known enough that rival gang leaders knew it too, apparently. The man would have been delighted at his infamous reputation.

Just shoot him. Just shoot him and end this.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, taking a sip from the tumbler he had in his hand. “You’re going to be the last person I talk to. It’d be nice to have a name.”

“Sam,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself.

“Sam. That’s a strong name,” the man said, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Sam?”

It wasn’t.

“I don’t have a choice.” He hated how defeated he sounded. It was a weakness.

“They want you to believe that. It takes away your freedom. I would know, I’ve used it.” The man smiled, setting down his glass. “I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

“Stop talking, man.” Sam pulled the safety off.

“Once you go down this way, there’s no way you can escape. Someone will always have to die; either him or you.”

“That’s not true.” He could leave at any time. He just needed-

“You’ll see for yourself.” The man leaned back on his chair, resigned. “But for now, go ahead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He simply closed his eyes and sat back.

You waited for Sam to continue.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Son of a bitch got in my head and I knew what he was doing too. Told him to get the fuck out before my partner shot him in the face.”

“Does Ransone know?” You were still reeling from the incident he recounted. You didn't know what else to say.

“Holds it over me every damn day,” he scoffed. “Some fucked up way of saying that I owe him one.”

To be frank, you were surprised Sam was still alive to tell you. Everyone knew that Ransone forgiven the first mistake someone made, but this was huge. If it were anyone else, he would have had someone try out a hundred different ways to push Sam to the brink of death and back; having him begging for the release that death would bring.

“He hasn’t ever cashed in that favour?”

“He did. Had me take out the leader of the Ten Rings after that.”

“So then why did you still continue?”

“I did something extremely dangerous a couple of years ago that he found out about recently. Used that to get me to come for this mission.”

He didn’t elaborate what he meant and you didn’t ask him to. You supposed it was a story for another day. This was heavy enough.

“He wants to get rid of me as much as I want to get away from him, trust me. We’re the weird, toxic relationship those self-help Instagram pages warned you about.” Trust Sam to make a dumb joke during a conversation like this. “Probably the only time someone from the gang let their target go and not died.”

That wasn’t as true as he thought he was but you didn’t want to seem like you were one-upping him. You didn’t want him to think you were making this about you.

“You remember the big break you were talking about?” you tread carefully, gauging his reaction before you continued. “The one that pushed me up the ranks or whatever.”

He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, bringing his hands from behind his head to fold across his chest.

“Similar story, ‘cept Ransone doesn’t know.”

“What?” His eyes shot open. “How?”

“I was so tired of him treating me like a child. Everyone around who joined after me was out there doinghardcore missions and I was stuck with petty shit.” You didn’t know any better. You wished you had. “So he told me if I made it through this one, he’d send me on more.”

This wasn’t your first mission. You had handled hits before, mostly in the shadows, from a distance.

This was different. It was broad daylight, waiting behind a wall near the gated entrance of the house for a car to pull up.

A challenge, Ransone had posed, with strict instructions to do it in broad daylight. If you got out of this undetected, he’d consider sending you on more sophisticated missions.

“Highly stealthy. They’re dangerous,” you were warned. “You won’t know what hit you if you’re caught off your game.”

The low rumble of the car outside the gate alerted you of your target’s arrival. The gates weren’t going to open, the guards were dead.

The car stopped, waiting for the path to open up. When it didn’t the car’s engine slowed to a stop. The man in the driver’s seat got out to open the gate, giving you a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut for a second before taking aim.

The body hit the gravel and you quickly made your way to the car. You could see the woman in the backseat gaping at where the man was standing a few seconds ago. She was struggling against the door, trying to escape.

She finally succeeded, the door opening suddenly as she stumbled over herself trying to get out.

“Stay there,” you commanded. She slowly looked up at you, face white as a sheet.

“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt us.”

“I’m sorry.” You truly were.

Her face changed, dropping the facade immediately. She just looked on in acceptance, not making an effort to move. Manipulative. She almost had you convinced

You held the gun over her, pulling the trigger. A single shot. Her body slumped over.

You stared at her in silence, expressionless. You let out an exhale, tucking the gun back into the waist of your pants, stepping over her body to leave.

A small, staggering breath made you stop in your tracks. It was so slight you barely heard it. You took a step back, trying to trace where it came from.

You ducked your head to peer into the car, your heart stopping. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

“What the-” you muttered, facing a boy who looked only a few years younger than you. He was staring straight ahead, muscles in his jaw tight.

The son wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be abroad, according to the case file. Unless there were two of them you didn’t know about, this boy wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Listen,” you began, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, body trembling. He was scared. He didn’t show it.

“Show no mercy,” Ransone’s voice rang in your head.

“He’s a child,” you murmured to yourself. Your gun felt heavy in your hand.

Show no mercy.

You could only imagine what would be in store for you if you returned to Ransone with some tale of sympathy. This boy was only a few years younger than you. He didn’t have anything to do with this.

Show no mercy.

“Kid,” you called out. He slowly turned his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Leave. You can’t be seen if someone comes back,” you urged. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

When he didn’t shift, you slammed the hood of the car, scaring him enough to pull at the door and stagger out of the car.

You turned your back to him, not waiting to see where he was going. The more deniability you had, the better.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“And Ransone doesn’t know.”

“There’s no record of this kid. He thinks he was at boarding school.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t going to correct him either.”

“If he did find out-” Sam trailed off.

“I’d be dead,” you concluded. “Being his favourite wouldn’t matter.”

“Why was it such a big deal, this mission?”

“She was a part of a major gang that Ransone was losing to.”

Sam just nodded knowingly, looking ahead again. You knew he’d done missions like this as well. Things like this were common so it didn’t need further elaboration.

“This job sucks,” he let out.

You gave a short laugh. That was an understatement.

“I want out. Can’t keep doin’ this for much longer,” he continued, however, to your surprise. “Don’t wanna keep doin’ this.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows knitted in concern. “You will.”

“How?” You hadn’t seen him like this before, this hint of desperation in his tone that left as quickly as it came. “I’ve tried, everything just comes up short.”

“I’ll help you.” You wanted to, God you did.

“You gonna kill him for me?” He looked at you. “‘Cause that’s really the only way out of this.”

If you were pushed to the limit, if he was on his knees in front of you and there was a gun in your hand pointed at him; would you be able to pull the trigger? Would you be able to kill the only constant you’d had for more than half your life?

“I can’t,” you muttered, dejection making its way into your thoughts.

“I know,” Sam said softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to either.”

You took a moment to observe him. The sun did him good. There was a soft glow to his skin, the colours of the sunset dancing in his dark eyes. Laugh lines were becoming more prominent around them, only adding to its charm.

He was a good man. He deserved better.

“I’ll find a way,” you sounded determined, “I promise.”

You didn’t say that very often. Your word didn’t mean a lot to people in the business, but it seemed to, to him.

“Thank you.” He appeared taken aback but didn’t show it in his words.

You simply sent him a smile, a reassurance. You knew what you had to do, just weren’t sure how.

He was right. There wasn’t a way out of it other than the one he proposed, but it wasn’t an option. You had to find another.

You would. You’d figure it out.

“It’s Cinnamon, by the way,” he said without any context.

You looked at him in question.

“My embarrassing nickname.” This was not where you saw the conversation heading but you were delighted all of a sudden. “My ma used to call me that all the damn time. Mortifying.”

“Cinnamon and Buttercup.” You didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across your face. “World’s best assassins.”

“If that name ever leaves this conversation, I’ll know who to murder.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” you said playfully, nudging his shoulder.

He shrugged, face relaxed. “T’was worth a shot.”

An unintentional pun you snickered at. You didn’t tease him any further, just filed the name away as a memory. Maybe you’d use it later.

“Have you ever let anyone go after that?” You didn’t want to keep coming back to this conversation but you liked having someone to relate to.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Me too.” One had been enough. You lived in fear for so long, waiting for someone to pull the plug and tell him what you’d done. That fear only grew everyday, finding a place at the deepest corner of your mind to fester.

“It’s what I meant when I said Serpentine had a motive to want me dead,” Sam said, piquing your interest once more.

“Huh?”

“The man I was supposed to kill- he was their old head. He disappeared after that and no one heard from him but it pissed off everyone, right from Ransone to their stupid gang’s janitor,” he explained, your eyes going wide with every word. “So the irony is, if we’re right, I might have led us into this situation. They’re looking for revenge.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered under your breath.

“I just assumed he died of old age if someone didn’t get to him first. He looked like he was one birthday away from the grave anyway.”

“How are you still alive, Sam?” you asked in wonder.

“I’d do it again.” He laughed, a deep one from his stomach.

He was reckless, clearly. Happily and unashamedly so. And if you continued to hang out with him after this was over, he’d probably get you killed in some stunt or two.

But maybe you’d deal with that if the time came. 

He leaned back again, this time no creases on his forehead from stress. He looked at peace.

You sat together in silence. You occasionally stole glances at him as the sun set in front of you, a small smile on your face.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tentatively. You could feel him tilt his head to look at you and you prepared to have him ask you to move.

It never came. Instead, he scooted closer to you, letting you rest against him more comfortably. Your heart skipped a beat; barely but surely. 

A realisation quickly hit you, suddenly before consuming you. Your stomach sank.  

“Fuck.”

Next part

[jaypsnax]

Alright then, to take it from the top... here’s some things I’ve done here or there for this dang game, from oldest to newest. With a big chunk of months starting with the margin Floofty there. Much is traditional and such, which is not my most practiced medium. Details on each below, just because I like over-explaining and it helps my nerves about posting.

1st: Fairly certain this Gramble is the first thing I did that was OK enough to show. Or, at least close to the first. He was one of my favorites and still is for his kindness(though he also can be really mean and paranoid, also a reason why I like him), so I wanted to get around to em. Also he’s very cute, I love my little malewife. I wanna scoop him up and hold him. Trouble is, Gramble has to have some of the most awkward proportions I’ve yet experienced while trying to draw a grumpus, I swear. That, and the more I looked at it, the more I grew to be unhappy with it. That generally applies to basically all of the drawings from last year, I find them to be “eh” at best. But it is what it is. 2nd: Second up is Flooftyyy, my most favorite. Intelligent, well-spoken, morally ambiguous, NB... and an asshole. But one with a cause they believe in that’s ultimately well intentioned, which they’ll go to self-destructive lengths to fulfill. And it’s clear they struggle to really get a grasp on how to treat people and have learned to cope with their frustration by shutting everyone out and believing them to be ignorant. While still obviously playing favorites between Eggabell and Triffany :p But by the end of the game, they’re learning that in order to really do what they want, they’ve got to really try and understand others. They’re the sort that I’d love to keep following to see their development. The awkwardness, the uncomfortable apologies and attempts at empathizing or opening up, the potential for blossoming relationships and a connection with others that, maybe, they’ve never quite experienced before. Their character is one that’s kind of close to my heart for being interesting and also quite similar to one I made and roleplayed for years. Add in the fact they’re NB and that just sealed the deal, that’s some fucking gender goddamn euphoria right there. So I had to draw them. 3rd: This one also mostly falls under the same explanation as above, except it was an effort as really figuring out grumpus bodies and proportions and stuff. Albeit in the form of solely Floofty, but my mental bandwidth for anything more than a drawing or two at a time is zilch. After that I’m spent. It was the first thing that I felt even marginally satisfied with, however.... I just feel like I’m in danger when looking at it. Like I’m gonna lose my way of things and habits I’ve built now from observing it too closely. Did keep the eyes, however. Kind of. 4th: To be real w you I just felt like drawing a Filbo after seeing a Filbo. He’s cute and I’d put a smooch on his dumb little head. Also more practice w grump stuff, but with some intentional attempts at stylization. I guess it didn’t stick, but who knows, maybe I could pick some of it back up?  5th: THE FIRST NEW DRAWING FROM A FEW DAYS AGO and it’s FLOOFTY, of course. It’s not really the first, there’s a few other things before it, but they suck so... yeah. I’d crawled out of the Bugsnax hole somewhat after a few months and failing to really do anything I actually wanted to do before, but a particular fic conked me right back 6 ft under. Piled the dirt over me and packed it in tight. So here I am again. And not only is it like that, but after binging a whole nearly 60,000 words in a night/morning, I was struck with the inspiration to actually write myself. Or try to, anyway. I have experience in RPing, but not a whole lot in actually... making a story myself. It’s not been going well, but I’ve talked plenty about that already... I’m sure it gets annoying for the whole maybe one person whose seen most of it to witness. And I’m still having fun. I’d mention the fic, but considering it’s NSFW and I’m officially tagging this... I don’t know if they’d want me advertising it as such. But surprise surprise, it’s Floofty related. And don’t get the wrong idea, while it covers explicit subject matter, that’s not entirely the point. Not a bad thing if it were, just that it’s more than that. I just like good character writing over all else, which is something liking this game to begin with heavily reinforced.... 6th: Heeeere’s Gramble, again. I’d been doing some little drawings for character profile stuff in my notebook, but I started to run into some difficulties when I got to him. This here is one of the results of the couple of little draws I did to try and understand. Again, his proportions are so *weird*. He’s just a little guy.... 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th: Here marks the first impulse draw after considering Buddy/Filbo/Beffica poly stuff. As well as the sudden Buddy drawing in general, which came as a big shock to me. These draws are suuuper rough, but I like the concepts. And goodness has this stuff been a whole ‘nother tangent... I did a fair amount of talking about it here. I’d do more, since there were TONS of details I still wanted to mentioned, but... my hands are starting to hurt. So maybe later. I realized that I kinda of messed up their design in my head bc I thought they had more similar teeth to Clumby. Whoops. That’s what I get for not using reference and same with FlooFTY’S TEETH AND THE WATCH NOOOOOOOOOO- .... *Ahem* I reckon the design is subject to change. Gotta make some little adjustment here or there, like maybe different eyes to distinct them from Floofty, but I actually rather... like the look. The hat, tie, and maybe a change to a bag on the side look nice... if totally not canon. But I will have just a little break from canon, as a treat. Otherwise it’s canon or bust. Personally, at least. I don’t really hold others to that standard unless they say they’re trying to follow canon or diverge so badly that a character is unrecognizable.

[neon-junkie]

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: After a too-close-for-comfort encounter with a wolf, Flaco finds himself in a new form, and he's willing to put all of his new abilities to good use.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 5254

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Werewolf/Human, Mating, Accidental knotting, Monsters, slight A/B/O, Scents, Praise, Dirty talk, Mating press, Transformation, Smut without a plot.      

Notes: This is ENTIRELY self-indulgent and super horny. I'm not sorry for it at all, not in the slightest.

It was just a scratch. A tiny, little scratch that could have been much worse if Flaco hadn't managed to draw his sawn off shotgun just in time, blowing the wolf's chest open. You fussed him, jabbing back at his protests, insisting that despite it barely bleeding, the wound still needed to be treated; who knows what diseases that wolf was carrying.

Flaco's gloves were ruined, and another scar is soon to join his various collection, dotted across his body. "I'll buy you another pair when I come to see you next," you told him as you patched him up before both of you retired to bed, throwing a few extra logs on the fire to keep the chill out tonight.

Only you wake up sweating, peeling off your clothes, tossing them to the floor in an attempt to cool down. You're no stranger to being naked around Flaco, considering how many times you've found yourself in those kinds of situations with him, but it feels odd, being completely bare and rolling over, your eyes half-lidded, to cuddle up to the thickness of his coat.

But his coat feels thicker than usual; the fur feels longer, cleaner, not matted and slightly rough like the usual, well-worn Bison coat that he wears. You try and not pay much attention to it, wrapping your arm around his waist, attempting to be the big spoon, only to be met with even longer hair as your palm rubs across his chest.

Not only does his coat feel unusual, but he feels big. Well, Flaco's a big man, but this is suspiciously big, as if he's doubled in size. After a few minutes of trying to ignore it, you give up, propping yourself up on an elbow and tapping Flaco awake. The logs from a few hours ago are finally turning into embers, barely lighting the cabin, but still keeping it somewhat warm and lit, not that you need that extra heat right now.

"What?" Flaco grumbles, making no effort to move.

"..." what are you meant to say? that you woke him up because his coat feels weird? "Just roll over," you instruct, and he complies without question.

Flaco's reaching out, attempting to bundle you up in his arms, assuming you just want to cuddle. However, you feel the life suddenly drain from you as you're met with a sight that you can't quite explain. That's not Flaco, or at least, not the Flaco that you know. That's not human, either, but it's still... him...

"Look at me," you order, your voice quiet yet firm, and Flaco laughs at your sternness.

"What? am I cuddling you wrong?" he chuckles. Flaco looks up with a happy smile, warmth in his deep, brown eyes, his ears perking up, and his wet nose wiggling. Your mouth is wide open, stuttering a string of incoherent sounds, and Flaco's smile soon fades away as he realizes that you seem off. "What is it?" he questions, shuffling up the bed and sitting upright, the blankets pooling down over his waist, exposing his thick hairy chest, only this time, he's covered. Literally.

"You're... uh... Flaco, you're a..." you attempt to inform in, but words continue to fail you. Should you laugh? cry? scream? Instead, you scurry out of bed, rushing over to your rucksack and fishing a pocket mirror from it. He laughs when you hand it over, assuming that you're making a fuss over nothing.

"Oh, have I got dirt on my face again? you know, it's not that big of a deal, there's no need to-" Flaco shuts his mouth once his gaze meets his reflection, only for it to fall open again seconds later when he's confirmed that yes, that really is what he looks like right now. "I'm a wolf," Flaco exclaims, and begins grinning at his own reflection, checking out his teeth, or specifically, his fangs.

Of course Flaco is going to be overjoyed about this. Something catches the corner of your eye, quietly thudding in the darkness beside the wall. You pull the blanket from Flaco to be met with his tail, long and fluffy, wagging away joyfully. "Nice," Flaco comments with a laugh, brushing through the fur on his tail with his large paws, as if to confirm that it's really there.

"Nice?!" you yelp. "How is this nice, Flaco? you're not human!"

"Yeah, nice! Now I really am a wolf, huh? it's not a metaphor any more," Flaco laughs, flashing his fangs as he chuckles to himself.

Oh, you know how much Flaco likes to call himself 'the wolf.' He wears his title with pride, like a badge of honour, so much to the point that he often refers to himself in third-person with that nickname. He's a proud man, and even prouder to associate himself with such an animal; and his pride only seems to be doubling in size due to his new form.

Flacos focus is on his reflection again, and you watch as he shuffles out of bed, attempting to stand, only to bonk his head on the roof of his cabin. "Mierda!" Flaco hisses, crouching over and giving the top of his head a rub; he lets out a soft whimper as he settles down by the fire, using its light so he can admire himself in more detail, opening up your pocket mirror once more.

You sit and watch, mouth open, questioning how this has happened. Flaco's reaction really shouldn't be a surprise to you, and you decide to leave him to gussy himself up, whilst you begin trailing into deep through about how this might have happened.

It must have been the wolf from yesterday, the scratch on Flaco's hand. "I think it's a curse," you mutter to yourself as you pull the blanket up over your shoulders, bundling your naked body up, something that for once, Flaco has paid no attention to. The blanket covers most of your frame, your feet sticking out at the bottom, and the rest of you is snugly covered.

"Cursed?" Flaco repeats. "Eh, I don't think it's a curse, but a blessing instead."

"A blessing?!" you yelp, "how?! what if you're stuck like this forever?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to get use to having a big, loving werewolf as a partner then," Flaco laughs. His laughter is deep, coming straight from his chest, as always. However, there's now a soft growl in the mix, his fangs on display as he chuckles away.

"Flaco this isn't the time for jokes!" you pout, standing up and peering down at him with softly furrowed brows. "I'm not joking!" he defends, and attempts to stand yet again. This time, Flaco doesn't hit his head; he's unable to stand up straight, his back arching slightly, his frame standing tall over you in a way that doesn't mean to be dominating, but it is. And for some reason, you don't seem to mind, knowing that this werewolf in front of you is far from a threat... unless this really is a curse, and he begins to change even more.

"You don't like me like this?" Flaco questions, and lets out a soft whine when you don't reply, his ears falling flat. He crouches back down to your level, attempting to meet your height. "C'mon, look how nice and soft my fur is," Flaco states as he moves your hand to stroke over his chest, "and look at how my tail wags whenever I look as you!"

You let out a light laugh, peering behind him to admire the wag of his tail. He knows you're concerned, seeing as you're the logical one in this relationship. "I don't want to start petting you until I know how to get you out of this mess," you explain, moving your hand off his chest to wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Okay, chiquita," Flaco nods. "You have a think about it," he encourages. Flaco finally puts your pocket mirror away, slipping it into your rucksack, and watches as you begin pondering on your thoughts.

The wolf from yesterday. The scratch on his hand. A curse. A blessing. You're no stranger to reading about werewolves in books, fictional books, fantasy ones, books that aren't real, or aren't meant to be real. Only there's a werewolf crouched beside you, watching in awe as you begin pacing around the room in thought. Flaco tries not to stare, not wanting to overcrowd you, and continues checking his new form out instead.

He gawks down at his frame, coated in a layer of thick, dark hair. His paw pads are soft, squishy, complimented by his long claws, sharp enough to cause some serious damage. Flaco's tail relaxes behind him, but begins softly wagging as he peers over to you, watching you pace and ponder.

You pull the blankets up higher, the edges brushing against your neck, your arms beneath them, cocooned inside with only your feet and head poking out. Flaco's head tilts as he admires how protective you are over him, so concerned for his safety, his future, and his current form. However, his admiration is paused, and Flaco's nose begins to twitch, picking up a scent he's never noticed before.

Flaco begins sniffing the air, his head perked up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut so he can put more focus into the scent that's caught his attention. It seems he's developed heightened senses, and he's putting them to good use.

"Can you smell that?" Flaco questions, but you're too trapped in thought to bother replying. "You smell different," Flaco states, his head now peering down at you, watching as you continue to waddle about his cabin. "Now right now, Flaco," you brush him off, shutting your eyes and rubbing your temples, attempting to find some sort of cure for Flaco's new form. "You smell sweet," he states, and shuffles closer to you, his nose twitching as he presses it to your shoulder. Flaco quickly moves it away, your scent now being covered up by the thick blanket, so he crouches further down, only to be lightly pushed away seconds later. "Flaco," you grumble. His deep eyes meet yours before he dips his head down again. He buries his nuzzle beneath the blanket, and you yelp as a cold, wet nose presses against your knee, swatting him away once more. "You smell slick," Flaco states. There's a huskiness to his voice, a deep and low growl that comes straight from his chest. His eyes meet yours, dark and alluring, peering up at you before disappearing beneath the blanket again. "Flaco!" you grumble again, but Flaco doesn't let you push him away this time. You feel something cold and wet on the inside of your thighs, followed by a gust of wind - Flaco has his nose pressed just below your pussy, and he's inhaling your scent. A large paw wraps itself around your thigh, and Flaco boldly moves his nose up, his wetness now pressed softly on your clit. "You smell like you need me to help you calm down," he states after taking in another deep inhale, before removing himself from under the blanket. Flaco stands tall, his back slightly bent over, gazing down at you with slightly furrowed brows - a natural expression for your partner. The hand on your thigh moves itself to your waist, now pressed over the blanket; his hands have always been big, but this is ridiculous. Flaco could pick you up as if you're nothing, his single paw covering most of your body, making you feel so small and inferior. "I know that tone, Flaco, and I'm not letting you... seduce me right now, not when you're like this," you huff, sending him a glare and gesturing to his body. He laughs. It's deep, a mixture between a growl and a human laugh, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. "C'mon, don't you want to try it?" Flaco questions. "You're just turned into some... dog... and the first thing you want to do is fuck?!" you yelp. "Correction, I've turned into a wolf, a werewolf, and mhmm," he nods. "I do, do you?" Your eyes meet the floor, looking away from the beast towering over you, his thumb now softly stroking over the blanket, attempting to soothe you. You can't deny that you're not curious, but is it wrong? to fuck somebody that's... well, that? He's still Flaco, he's still your partner; only now he's doubled in size, is covered in hair, and has perky ears, a snout, and a tail. "I can sense how curious you are, chiquita. My senses have heightened. I know how you look when you're aroused, but now I can really smell it," Flaco flashes you a toothy grin, dipping his head down to your level as he crouches. He licks your cheek, his rough and damp tongue brushing over your skin, coating most of your face in one stroke. "What was that?!" you cry, and attempt to push his snout away. "A kiss," Flaco states, before licking you again. Ugh, should you be surprised? of course Flaco is going to put all of his new abilities to use. All of them. He moves from your cheek, making his way down to your neck, attempting to kiss the usual spots that you enjoy. "C'mon, we can do doggy style," Flaco urges with a soft laugh, chuckling at his own joke. "You're a menace, you know that, right?" you huff, placing your hands on his large cheeks and moving his head so that he's looking directly at you. "I know," Flaco laughs again. "We can give this a try... but if I say stop, then you stop, alright?" "Oh, come on, you know I'll stop if you tell me to," Flaco shakes his head. He understands that you're after reassurance, concerned with exactly how this is going to go. "Flaco promises he'll take care of you," he says with a wag of his tail. "...and don't start howling," you order. Flaco laughs again, giving you another cheek kiss between his chuckle. "Okay, no howling. Flaco promises," he giggles, and begins urging you over to the bed.

Flaco's gentle as he slips the blanket from your shoulders, letting it fall back onto the bed. He attempts to kiss your neck again, running his tongue over your skin, resisting the urge to attempt giving you a hickey. The last thing that he ever wants to do is hurt you, so he's being extra cautious in his new form; his claws are sharp, his teeth even sharper, not to mention his intimidating size and figure. But his eyes remain soft, a deep brown, the same shade as his 'normal' ones. Those dark eyes meet yours as he climbs on top of you, before shutting them as he nuzzles you. Large paws find their way to your waist, trailing down to your thighs, the rest of his body following after as he shuffles down the bed. The bed is far too small for him, so Flaco pulls you until your legs are dangling over the side, and he settles on the floor, still having to dip his head so that he's in line with your body. His breath is hot, tickling your skin as he dips between your thighs. There's a pause of uncertainty, before Flaco presses his wet nose against your clit. He instantly moves it away, exhaling heavily, and mutters "too much," under his breath. His tail is wagging, thumping against the floor, and you can only assume your scent is making him a little too excited. Flaco dips his head down again, this time letting his tongue fall from his mouth, and licks a firm stripe across your cunt. He peers up to watch your reaction, checking for any signs of discomfort, and since you've shown none he does it again, over and over, both of you getting use to this new sensation. His tongue is rough, but soft, squishy, but firm, the perfect balance between wolf and man. The paws wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, his claws pressed against your skin, but not digging into you. Over time, Flaco becomes more confident, and begins lapping at your clit, his tongue occasionally slipping into your cunt, making his thick hair tickle the inside of your thighs. He's bigger in every way, his tongue reaching depths that it's never reached before, making you whimper as you finally relax on the bed. Flaco's ears perk up, overhearing your positive reaction, reassuring him that he's doing well. His licks become firmer, longer, wetter, more open mouthed; unintentionally Flaco's fangs begin to trail over your skin, light enough that he's not hurting you, or even realizing what he's doing. However, you're definitely aware; it's a strange sensation, having a set of sharp teeth almost nibble at your lower stomach, often trailing up to your bellybutton whenever Flaco opens his mouth wider, pushing his tongue deeper into your cunt. "F-Flaco, that's..." you stutter, your head still pressed to the bed. "Huh?" Flaco hums. He slips his tongue from you, resting his chin on your stomach, worried that he's accidentally hurt you. "Your teeth, they're..." "Sharp?" "Uh-huh, but they're... it's uh... they feel nice," you manage to stutter. Flaco bites back a laugh. He licks his chops, your taste heavy on his tongue and around his mouth, and dips his head back down to lap at your cunt again. "Oh, so you do like it when this big, bad wolf has his jaws wrapped around you?" Flaco teases, ensuring that his teeth continue to trail over your skin in between kisses. "Yeah..." you shyly confirm, and let out a soft yelp as Flaco dips his tongue into your cunt again. He removes one of his paws from your thighs, going to slip a finger into you, but stops in his tracks. "Mhm," Flaco grumbles, realizing that his claws are far too sharp to be risking that. "Hey, finger yourself for me," Flaco orders, and grins when you readjust your position, reaching down and beginning to work yourself open. You dive straight in with two fingers, seeing as Flaco's thick tongue already counts as one, possibly more. He watches for a few moments, admiring how flustered you look, before dipping his head between your thighs again. You know what's going to happen, but since Flaco is crouched down on the floor, his body bent over, you're unable to see what he looks like. Is his cock... normal? it must be bigger, surely? seeing as he's doubled in size. You decide to prepare yourself for the worst, or the best, you'll just have to wait and see. You begin to scissor yourself, attempting to loosen your cunt up as much as possible. Flaco takes up the opportunity, and dips his tongue into your pussy, slipping it between your fingers, and runs it along your soft, velvet walls. The noise you let out can only be described as a bitch in heat, a whine, calling out for Flaco to come and fill you up. "You can fit another," he urges, and lets out a soft sigh when you slip a third finger in. "Good girl," Flaco praises, and you assume the thumping you can overhear is his tail wagging against the floor again. Yet again, you attempt to scissor yourself, and within time you're certain you could fit a fourth finger in... but what about fitting Flaco? Hm, you'll find out eventually. You're getting there, slowly but surely; Flaco's spit and slobber is slick enough to help stretch you open, and he graces you with even more as he slides his tongue into your pussy again. Flacos hand disappears from your thigh, dipping down between his own legs, and you know he's touching himself. Nervously, you ask an important question "Flaco, how big are you?" "Big," Flaco blankly states, chuckling as he removes his tongue. "D-Do you think it'll fit?" you question. "I guess we'll just have to find out, eh?" he laughs. "Do you think you're ready? you look it," he comments, and moves his head back down to press his wet nose directly on your clit, his ears perking upright and his tail wagging even faster. "You smell it, too," he grins, flashing his fangs. "Yeah... Okay, I'm ready," you nod.

And with that, Flaco's up on his feet, crawling on top of you on the bed. He wolfhandles you, moving you up to the centre, giving himself enough room to join you. Flaco's grinning, and places a soft lick-kiss to your cheek before sitting back on his knees, finally showing you what's between his legs. Liar. There's no way he's going to fit. "What the-" you stutter, sitting upright and reaching out. Your hand alone is nothing compared to his cock, and even as you wrap both hands around it, there's still some untouched space left over. "Flaco, there's no way this is going to fit," you sigh, comparing his cock against your forearm. Flaco laughs. "It will, Flaco promises," he nods. "You've just gotta relax and let me take the lead, okay?" "Okay, but I-" "-Shh," Flaco hushes. "Stop doubting yourself, we both know you can fit me," he reassures, and presses his paw to your chest, lightly pushing you back down against the bed. The paw on your chest moves to your thigh, holding you steady, and his other hovers by his cock. You watch as Flaco spits on his cock- no, he dribbles on it, letting thick strings of spit coat his length, falling from his jaw, and then pumps himself a few times, ensuring he's generously slick. He moves his hand to the bed, just above your head, and uses the other to hold his length steady as he begins pushing into you. You lie there awkwardly, feeling the tip of his thick cock rub against your entrance, unable to slide in. Flaco begins to grumble, his tail no longer wagging, and his brows furrowing. He dribbles again, being far too generous and soaking your cunt, but it's enough to help ease in the head of his cock. You yelp and begin hissing, unintentionally tightening up around the tip of Flaco's cock. He's thick, unbelievably thick, and you're starting to question your life choices. "Relax," Flaco orders. He dips his head down to your level, placing a wet kiss to your cheek, and grumbles "relax," softly against your ear. Deep breaths. It's not that bad, honestly; once you begin untensing and calming down, you realize he's surprisingly snug, stretching your pussy in a way that makes you shiver, and your reaction came from fear, not his size. "Good girl," Flaco says as he licks your cheek again. "You let me know when you're ready for more." You take your time, relaxing your walls, unclenching them around Flaco's length. Finally, you give him a nod, and he begins sliding into you. There's a slight burn as he stretches you out, his cock getting thicker the deeper it goes, and he comes to a halt just past halfway. There's a knot to your stomach, a tight one, and you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. "How is this? okay?" Flaco double checks, straightening his back and talking down to you. "Y-yeah, it's okay," you nod. Once again, you're struggling to relax, so you calm yourself by rubbing quick circles on your clit, along with taking deep breaths. "Too big for you, eh?" Flaco chuckles. "Of course you're too big, Flaco." "Give it time, you'll warm up to me eventually," he shrugs, cockily grinning as he talks. Flaco's patient, waiting for you to ask for more, and when you do finally ask, he happily delivers it. He continues sliding in slowly, and your eyes go wide once you feel his fur press against your clit. "You fit?" you question, shuffling up on your elbows to peer down between your legs, instantly noticing the bulge to your stomach. "Mhm," Flaco nods, "I told you I would. Now we've just gotta see if you can keep up," he smirks.

Flaco takes a hold of your legs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist, your ankles barely crossing over behind his back. He bends forward, his body towering over yours; one paw stays wrapped around your thigh, whilst the holds his weight up, placed above your head. Your knees hit your shoulders, practically bent in half, and you're about to ask why Flaco's wolfhandled you into this position, but he begins thrusting.

His patience has worn thin, and Flaco jumps straight in with a quickened pace, forcing you to yelp beneath him. The new position makes sense, as he's able to really drive his cock deep inside you, smacking your cervix with every thrust, turning both pairs of your cheeks red. "You are tight, aren't you?" Flaco smugly comments, flashing his fangs as he licks your cheek again, his attempt of a kiss.

All you manage to do is nod, unable to process words, let alone thoughts. You begin rubbing your clit again, whining beneath Flaco, whimpering as he fucks you, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the cabin. "You sound like you need me to fill you up," Flaco states. He lets out a deep breath before saying "and it smells like you need it too."

"Y-yeah, I do," you stutter, nodding at the same time.

"All in good time, loba."

Flaco picks up his pace, mercilessly slamming his cock into you; his ears perk up at the sounds you're making, moans and mewls, and Flaco can't help but let out a choked whine, intoxicated by every part of you. He soon begins softly panting, slowly over-working himself from the fast pace, but Flaco's stubborn to the point that he won't slow down, not until you're overflowing with his load.

There's still a slight burn to your cunt, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel strangely good. Flaco's knot is threatening to slip inside you; it's wider than the rest of his cock, but only slightly, and you're certain that within time, it'll slip in. How big do those things get? There's only so much that you can, and now that you've taken this much, far more than you ever thought you'd be able to handle, you're uncertain on where your new limit lies.

You tighten your legs around Flaco's waist, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching, your clit rubbing so fast that your wrist is starting to ache. You attempt to grip onto Flaco's arm with your spare hand, but Flaco swats your hand away, and pins it down to the bed, his large paw wrapping around your wrist, feeling so dainty in his grasp.

"You're going to cum for me soon, aren't you?" Flaco questions, speaking directly into your ear.

"Uh-huh," you manage to nod.

"Good girl. Go on, I want to feel how tight you get around me," he orders.

Should you feel this good? being mercilessly fucked by your werewolf partner, whimpering and whining in his grap, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You've always felt small beneath Flaco, but this is taking things to a whole new level; he's towering over you, folding your body in half, your knees pressed firmly against your shoulders. Flaco shifts his weight, planting his feet on the bed and bending his legs, bucking his hips down against yours. He whimpers at the slight change of position, and both of you let out a choked moan as Flaco's knot finally slips into you.

The sensation of being full to the brim - overly full - causes you to cum. Your wrist is burning from being over-worked, and you clench tightly around Flaco's cock, panting and sighing as your body begins to tremble. Your orgasm catches Flaco off guard, letting out a choked moan as you squeeze his cock, milking him for all he's worth as he joins your high. Flaco cums, and he doesn't seem to stop cumming, fucking his load into you, hoards of it over-flowing and spilling from your pussy, dripping down over your ass and onto the bed.

His tail is wagging in the air, your knees are pressed right against your shoulders, and Flaco won't stop thrusting, over-stimulating both of you. Eventually, he's forced to stop, his cock buried deep inside you as his knot begins to flair up. "Mierda," Flaco yelps, tugging on it; he instantly stops when you yelp in pain, and mutters another string of swears under his breath.

"I didn't think it would do that," Flaco confesses. He sits back on his knees, not bothered by his mess on the bed, and gawks down at the sight of his swollen cock buried inside you, a visible bulge to your stomach. "Are you okay? does it hurt?"

"Not really," you shake your head; you're still trembling, catching your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. There's a slight burn to Flaco's knot, but you've been stretched to a point that your body seemed to be expecting it, and thankfully, it's oddly sensual, similar to whenever you've cock warmed him, only on a larger scale. "It's uh, strange, but it doesn't hurt. Just don't tug on it..."

"Good," he sighs.

Flaco asks you to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he shuffles about on the bed, finding a comfortable position for you both. He kicks off the dirty cover after using some salvageable parts to clean both of you up, and thankfully, Flaco's warm, warm enough to keep you cosy throughout the night, and you feel even warmer as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head resting on his chest.

"What did you think of that, huh?" Flaco eventually questions.

"It was... something," you sigh, unable to find the exact words.

"Oh. Did you not enjoy it?" he whines, perking his head up to peer down at you.

"No, no! I enjoyed it... a lot... too much," you sheepishly reply. "And I think you enjoyed it too," you tease, tensing your walls, giving his knotted cock a squeeze.

"Don't do that," Flaco whimpers, his ears falling back, "you'll get me worked up again."

Is that a bad thing?" you raise a brow, and Flaco chuckles at your eagerness.

"Hey, earlier on you were too nervous to try it, and now you're asking for me to fill you up again?" he laughs, trailing his paws tenderly over your back.

"You did spill most if it," you shrug, and Flaco rolls his eyes at your comment.

"How about I wake you up with a morning surprise? once this swelling has gone down. We didn't do doggy, so I think we need to make up for that?" he offers. Flaco smirks when you nod in agreement; if you had a tail, it would also be wagging.

He places another kiss to your cheek, but this time uses his nose rather than his tongue. Flaco's head rolls back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his arms wrapped around you, acting as a blanket. His cock is still swollen, but it's strangely soothing; it's practically the same as falling asleep whilst cock warming, something that you two have done many times before.

And you won't be surprised when Flaco wakes you up how he usually does, with slow and deep thrusts, and soft coos of praise and affection.

[insomniacowl]

Neon genesis Evangelion Analysis Chapter 23: Katsuragi Misato Part 2 Dear Shinji, this is my will.

Misato: So you don't want to meet your dad?

Just like me

Let us start from the beginning. The scene in the first episode where Misato drives down to meet Shinji. Her first words to him were, "Sorry, I made you wait." This, I believe, is the first of many times their interactions will revolve around the theme of "Waiting." The line also contrasts with her final words to Shinji, "Let's continue when you get back."

Her cross is first brought to our attention through Shinji's eyes as Misato shields him from the blast of explosions from the Self-defense force's missiles used against Sakiel. Then, on their way to NERV, Shinji confides to her about his feelings towards Gendou. Misato empathizes, saying, "You're just like me," pointing to their commonalities.

She later consoles Shinji as he refuses to pilot Eva-01 and tells him to "Not run away from himself." At this point, she was already seeing herself reflected in Shinji, and those words were meant for herself as well.

After this point, Misato constantly finds herself reflected on Shinji. While it has a positive influence, like in episode 1, it also frequently caused Shinji to hurt. One criticism viewers lay on Misato is the sarcastic tone she sometimes takes when talking to Shinji about his actions. "You don't want to pilot the Eva? With that kind of determination…. What a pain!", Is one of the harsh words directed at Shinji. Even in episode 12, her cold reaction to Shinji's contemplation regarding Asuka is also, in its own way, infamous.

Yet, if we consider that she sees a lot of herself in Shinji, those lines come to represent her self-contempt rather than how she sees the fourteen-year-old. Misato was not really in the position to take care of teenagers if we consider her character flaws.

While such actions are worthy of criticism, there is room to empathize considering the traumas she had to endure, which has shaped the kind of "Adult" she became. As a young child, she was in the center of the Second Impact, and the psychological impact has led to her being mute for a few years. However, she seemed to have eventually recovered. Perhaps to compensate, we are told that she became an overly happy and talkative person. On top of this, she has studied hard and become a student at the Second-Tokyo city University. She met and began living with Kaji in the year 2005, at the age of twenty. According to Ritsuko, she even had a week-long sex marathon with Kaji, where neither of them left the house during the period.

To elaborate on her constant need for physical pleasure, we can start from the glimpse of her inner monologue we get during the instrumentality. We learn that it was one of the few things she had control over that made her feel alive when she was intimate with Kaji. Yet she breaks up with him because She saw a glimpse of her father reflected in him, although that was what got her attracted to him in the first place.

What are you embarrassed about? You wanted the man you love to see you for who you were. NO!

I wonder about that. You wanted your father to see you for who you were. That's not true!

We can identify Misato as struggling with Electra Complex (Oedipus Complex for girls) regarding how she views her father. She then attempted to quench the thirst for affection her father failed to provide her from a different man who felt similar to him. This can be observed through Kaji and Shinji. Two people sharing the same character flaws as her father (Workaholic and being bad at human interaction) being the two people she opened herself up to (Mentally, emotionally, and sexually). Misato was hoping to compensate for the loss she suffered and recover from her past trauma using her relationship with these two.

Consciously or unconsciously, she likely understood this side of herself. She felt disgusted by herself, leading to her breaking up with Kaji while punishing and labeling herself as someone "Undeserving to love." While her relationship with Kaji was open and overtly described in the series, some of you might wonder how Shinji is involved in this process. Especially regarding the sexual aspect of this analysis.

We can definitively say that Misato and Shinji do not share a simple Guardianship relation. But the discussion about Misato and Shinji can wait for now. First, let us discuss Hyuga Makoto.

Hyuga is seen approaching Misato as more than just a direct superior at work (Especially after Kaji's death). "Only if it's with you (I don't mind dying from the base self-destructing)." It is a telling line that highlights Hyuga's feelings that he begins acting on in the latter part of the series. Turning him into a more dimensional character. While Misato seems to be aware of such advances, we never see her acting on it. Neither accepting nor rejecting him outright. Since this is at the low point of her emotional journey, Misato would have been okay with anyone. Thus, it makes us wonder if there could have been more intimacy between the two off-screen. I'd argue that Hyuga died a virgin (or at least that there was no sexual relationship between the two) based on Hyuga's fantasy during the instrumentality.

To bring our discussion back to Kaji, we are shown that he was the first man she trusted and gave her first intimacy to. At the same time, she was someone Kaji was able to trust and be vulnerable with. We never see either of them refer to each other by their names. While the reason is not depicted, we can make an educated guess and say that it stems from their determination to interact professionally. Without letting their (embarrassing) past hinder their work.

But perhaps it was destined that this guise was not meant to be. In episode 15, we see the two confide in each other. Misato laments about her father and her regret of not being a good lover for Kaji. Kaji embraces and accepts her of it. The last time they ever shared a bed, Kaji gives her his final present. His death led to Misato shedding many tears, but the present helped guide her to her next step. Before this point, we see her constantly drinking her favorite beer, but never after this event. All we see her drink from then on is canned coffee, Kaji's favorite drink. And now, two peoples' worth of "Will" lived on inside her. One from her father, the other from Kaji.

Now, let's discuss the last "Male" in her life: Shinji. As mentioned earlier, Shinji was more than just a child under her care. Shinji's first introduction of Misato was through her photo that she sent him. It is a revealing photo of herself with arrows drawing attention to her breast. As a side note, the actual words in this image were written by Anno himself, and the lipstick mark was from one of the female Gainax staff.

From the photo, we can see that Misato wants Shinji to see her as more than a potential caretaker (as ethically should), but as someone of opposite gender and a "potential" love interest. Although, of course, we can brush it aside as a part of her quirky and fun-loving attitude. But the problem arises in the latter part of the series where this attitude crosses the line. The suspicion is confirmed in the official pamphlet's character introduction describing her as Shinji's family + co-worker + superior + "lover."

Misato: Shinji, I'm going in. This is about all I can do for you right now.

Shinji: No!

The scene central to this discussion happens in episode 23 when she takes her seat next to Shinji, who is grieving the death of Second Rei on his bed. Although surface-level reading is, Misato wants to hold his hands to comfort him. If that is the case, the line "This is all I can do for you right now" is unnecessary. And not only that, but Shinji's rejection of this advance is also too strong to justify the conclusion of the surface level analysis. If anything comes to mind about an act that two grown-up adults do on the bed is "Sex."

Even if we try to give the benefit of the doubt and stay at the surface-level conclusion that is psychologically comfortable, this is Evangelion. It refuses psychological comfort. The film book released by Gainax has a note about this scene that says, "Misato is attempting to give Shinji her body." This is even alluded to in the shot right before the line, the head of the chair being where Shinji's Penis would be, and Misato coming to sit right on top of it.

Throughout the series, both Misato and Asuka approach Shinji as the "Other sex." it's natural for Asuka since they are the same age. However, it is unnatural to think of Misato (Who is twice his age) approaching Shinji sexually (neither should be accepted). So let's dive into how Misato might think about that. As early as episode 2, we are shown Misato yelling at Ritsuko through the phone, saying, "There is no way I will lay my hands on a boy!". This is perhaps foreshadowing what she will be doing in the later part of the series. So what changed in her throughout the series that she would end up trying to lay her hands on Shinji sexually. Did she genuinely believe that it was the only way she can console Shinji? Or perhaps there was a more selfish reason, to distract herself from the sadness of losing Kaji? Well, it could be both. There is a middle ground and an explanation that I prefer. Kaji was the only man she allowed herself to be vulnerable with. Because the best means of communication between the two have been sexual, she most likely believed this to be the most effective way to empathize and be vulnerable with Shinji.

We can see this as another manifestation of her Electra complex if we consider that Shinji also reminds her of her father.

As many of you are aware, Evangelion borrows concepts from psychology and is strongly influenced by Freudian psychoanalysis. Psychological terms are heavily used, especially in later episodes. The characters' internal conflicts are put into the spotlight in episodes 18, 19, and 20. All these episodes use terms from psychoanalysis for their title. Let me touch on each of them briefly over here. Episode 18's title is "Ambivalence." It refers to the coexistence of two conflicting emotions (Love and hate) regarding something and was coined by Eugen Bleuler in 1911. Freud borrowed this term in his analysis. His followers believed it to be an essential state that leads to the sadistic sub-phase of development. Episode 18 is also when the dummy-controlled Eva Unit-01 destroys Bardiel. Thus the title can also help us understand the Destrudo-led sadistic destruction of the dummy program.

Episode 19's title is "Introjection" and was a term heavily used by Freud. It is the unconscious adoption of the ideas or attitudes of others and a psychological defensive mechanism used by the ego to minimize anxiety. Almost every human being goes through this phase and is a part of healthy development as an individual. Episode 19 is when Shinji emits a strong dose of Destrudo and achieves a 400% synchronization rate. Here, we can try to explain the use of this term for the episode title in two ways. The first is to refer to the synchronization process of the pilot and the Evangelion. Secondly (and more specifically to the episode), to refer to Shinji becoming an individual that has become a part of Unit-01. Becoming a part of Unit-01 who have just absorbed the S2 engine and become as though god.

Last is episode 20, titled "Oral stage," and is the stage central to Freud's theory of Libido's development. Libido is the potential sexual energy, and Freud categorized the development into four distinct stages, starting with the oral stage. During this stage of development, the child clings onto its mother's breast for nourishment. This is also when the child begins to develop the ability to distinguish between themselves and the other. The significant happening of episode 20 is salvaging Shinji from Unit-01's Core, trying to bring Shinji back as an individual and away from the comfort of his mother. This can be seen to parallel the child leaving its mother's womb and coming to be born into its own person. And to add, they had to inject Libido into the Core to salvage him.

To return from our long detour, Evangelion is a series that heavily draws its conceptual inspiration from Psychology and Freudian psychoanalysis. What Freud posits, and perhaps most central to his scholarship, understands that desires created by both Libido and Destrudo, any forms of mental energy are irresistible and irrepressible. That is to say, if during one's development if any of such mental energies' expressions are disturbed and blocked off, it will results in the development of harmful coping mechanisms as an adult. In the case of Misato, her father's absence resulted in the absence of ways to healthily release her Libido. Therefore, Misato's inappropriate advance towards Shinji could manifested the harmful coping mechanism she developed as a child.

Losing her father as a child resulted in dysregulation in Libido. Losing Kaji, the only person she truly loved, left Masato broken. At this point, she had no other way to release her desires other than laying hands on a vulnerable child. When both Shinji and Penpen refused her the physical affection she needed, she could only find comfort in listening to Kaji's final voice message in repeat. Yet, she did not lose all possibility to recover. She was able to dry out her tears and began to follow the road her father once took. This leads her to analyze the evidence Kaji passes onto her and begins questioning the truth behind Rei. By the end, she manages to reach close enough to understand the "Truth." This is how she was able to explain to Shinji what was going on. She also experiences character growth through this process, becoming able to fully understand and empathize with the pain of others.

This is also when we see her starting to differ from Asuka. While both lost Kaji, whom they both loved, Misato comes to accept this loss and can carry herself as an adult. By the end, she was mature enough to send the grieving Shinji to Unit-01 during the End of Evangelion. While Misato has always convinced Shinji to get on the Eva, now, she was different from the past. Unlike in episode 4, where she emotionally manipulated Shinji into piloting Eva. Unlike episode 12, where she drew a hard line and coldly forced him. In EOE, she was no longer forcing Shinji out of her own hatred of the angels. All there was, was a grown adult's desire to convince a child that "Life is worth living." Even if she were to die during this process. All there was, was Misato's advice as an adult to the crying child. And it was this "will to live" that was passed on from Misato to Shinji.

Misato places her necklace on Shinji's hands and wraps his hands around it. Just as how she once held onto it while facing death in its face. Her father's memento. The love towards one's family. Hope for humanity. And all else that the cross symbolized. And the cross passed on from Misato to Shinji like the passing of the torch. To pass on the will to live. This was followed by a grown-up's kiss, just like how Kaji showed her, the perfect way to, perhaps the only way to fully communicate this will and pass it on. To want the other to continue living and hoping to live on as a part of their memory.

With the kiss, Misato stopped pretending to be Shinji's inept guardian.

She sent Shinji off, hoping that he could become a grown-up who can stand by himself.

Misato: You will be alone from this point on. You need to choose for yourself.

Shinji: No. I can't.

Misato: Crying isn't going to solve anything, either!

Misato: You hate yourself, don't you? That's why you hurt others. Deep down, you know that you suffer more when you cause someone else pain than if you just let yourself get hurt. But Shinji, that was your decision, so that makes it a valid choice. That's what you wanted, so that makes it worthwhile, Stop lying to yourself, and realize that you do have options. Then accept the choices that you made.

Shinji: But you're not me. You don't understand!

Misato: So what if I'm not you?! That doesn't mean it's okay for you to give up! If you do, I'll NEVER forgive you as long as I live.

Misato: I'm not perfect either. I've made tons of stupid mistakes, and later, I regretted them. And I've done it over and over again. A cycle of hollow joy and vicious self-hatred. But even so, every time, I learned something about myself.

Please, Shinji. You've got to pilot Eva and settle this once and for all. Find out why you came here. Why you exist at all.

And when you've found your answers, come back to me. Promise me. See you soon.

Kaji: Go and do what you can. No one will force that choice on you. Think for yourself and decide for yourself. GO and do what you must right now. So that you don't live to regret it.

Misato: If I had known it would end like this, I would have changed the carpet as Asuka suggested.

Many discussions about Eva centered around her last words, the one about the Carpet and Asuka. Most of the theories have interpreted it with the spilled coffee during the instrumentality scene. I'll touch on the scenes shown in instrumentality in future chapters. But for the discussion here, note that the coffee was not spilled on the carpet during the instrumentality scenes. So I'd instead interpret this line separately from it. Personally, I believe this to be Misato, as an adult, regretting not being as kind and compassionate as she could have been to Asuka.

Unlike Shinji, who she managed to pass on her will and true feelings, she did not have that privilege with Asuka. Instead, she wallowed in her sadness, not looking out for Asuka, who was herself suffering from traumas and grief. The regret of not being a good guardian and not making the home comfortable for Asuka would have hit her as waves of regret crashed in as she laid bleeding cold on the floor of section R-20.

After Shinji, who she just sent off, Asuka, who she feels sorry for, After Penpen, who was always there for her, Kaji now crosses her mind. Was she waiting for his praise for passing on his will to Shinji?

As though she can see him, she stares at the sky. Right before the explosion, we see Rei standing over her. Perhaps it was Lilith who traveled through time.

And we come to the final scene of the EoE. Shinji and Asuka are lying down on the shore, staring at the sky. At this moment, we are reminded of Misato through the cross, now nailed to a wooden post. The cross has come to symbolize Misato's hope and dreams for the two children who will now be growing up into two adults. Will Misato be able to revert back to her human form by her soul desiring it? Nobody knows. But I don't think that matters. Because now, Shinji carries on her will.

Let's continue when you get back.

I'm back. Welcome back.

Welcome Shinji, this is your new home.

I'm back.

Welcome back!

Sorry, made you wait!

TBC Chapter 24: Ritsuko Part 1 Mother and Daughter

[gallickingun]

please, i beg of you || b.k.

SUMMARY: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: smut (18+), praise kink, emotions, language, etc.  WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

TAG LIST: at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was born because of a conversation i had with @lady-bakuhoe about bakugou’s praise kink so i hope you enjoy it! i also have to say a HUGE thanks to @k-atsukidayo and @freckledoriya for reading over this for me and making me feel 10,000x better about it’s quality. also, this is my first time trying out a banner so lemme know if you guys prefer it over gifs!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Bakugou’s mind fills with a haze the more syllables that tumble from your lips.

Your lips part and it’s like heaven spills out from your honeyed tongue. He could get lost in the way your words wrap around his heart like a vice, the organ beating so intensely beneath his rib cage that he fears he might bruise his very bones. His eyes find your mouth, your teeth and tongue and gums, and he memorizes the way you spell out each syllable.

Praise does not stop with your words, though, that would be far too insufficient.

Your hands find his body in every different way, mapping out the muscle and sinew as if it were to be your lifeline one day. The protruding veins against his forearms and waistline and neck bulge underneath your touch, as if they are only there for you to see.

The first time you did not recognize it for what it was – instead believing that it was his arrogance incarnate in the way he moved his body, the way his tongue practically lolled from his mouth as you continued to praise him for his hard work.

When you met him for the first time, there were clues of it spread throughout your conversation like clues you would eventually pick up on when the time was right.

“Wow,” you run your fingertips over the muscles of his shoulders, watching as they ripple with each movement he makes.

You’re here to repair a gash in his skin – simple, only requiring a few stitches, but enough to get him sent to the agency’s hospital ward. He’s sitting on a tabletop right now, insistent on the lack of anesthesia. You tilt your head, readying the needle to start into his marred skin, “Are you-“

“Yes, I’m sure,” he spits out the words, turning to look at you from his uninjured side. Bakugou grits his teeth and wraps his hands around the edge of the surface, knuckles turning white from the force alone. “Now just fuckin’ get on with it.”

You swallow the lump of pure desire sitting on your tongue like sandpaper. It grates your throat as it goes down but does not blur your vision to the point where you can’t see the few freckles dotting his skin, tanned flesh maneuvered just so it might steal your attention. You have to blink a few times so your gaze will settle on the flayed wound on his shoulder, reminding your body why he’s here.

“You must be pretty good,” you manage, “I haven’t seen you in this wing before.”

Bakugou’s chest puffs up, his shoulders straightening. The shift forces you to adjust your positioning, but you don’t mind the way his back becomes more rigid at the compliment. You push your fingertips into the skin to keep him still as he speaks.

“Damn right.”

A light laugh falls from your lips, “Well, I guess that makes me your first.”

The phrase is more suggestive in it’s receipt than you mean by your delivery. Your eyes go wide and you pray that he does not hear you, that he will not respond or react.

Your whole world lights on fire when he murmurs, “Oh, does it?”

Now, after much time has passed, you find yourself searching for his skin every time you are close enough.

You pass him by in the kitchen and are sure to touch his hips to let him know that you’re walking behind him. You swear that it’s just so he won’t accidentally burn you with a pan or so you won’t frighten him and cause him an injury. Deep down you know it’s so you can feel his obliques underneath his tank top, thumbs buzzing off the heat of his skin, even if it’s only for a fleeting second.

And when you see him stood over the counter, going through mail or paperwork, you always make sure to slap his ass.

“Shitty woman,” he growls, looking up at you from a particularly riveting coupon page, “stay the fuck away from my ass.”

He never means it, though. In fact, after observing him for enough time, you know that he enjoys it. You know that in every kind, complimenting word, he finds some kind of ecstasy with the knowledge that you appreciate his body.

And you know this, of course you do.

When he’s fresh out of the shower is when it’s easiest to prey on his body, to litter praise like confetti down over the top of him. He’s leaned towards the mirror, the only thing barring him from the steam of the bathroom is a pair of briefs covering his lower half.

You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, hands trailing over the corded muscle of his abdomen and lower back. Your thumb dips under the band of his underwear, dangerously close to the curve of his ass. Bakugou turns to face you, face still half-covered in bubbled-up shaving cream, one hand clasped around a razor, “Can I help you?”

“You know how much I love your body, fucks sake Katsu’,” you press your mouth to his bicep, nudging your nose over the pinkened skin, still hot from his shower. “Can’t expect me to keep my hands off you when you’re all out in the open like this.”

He growls but there is no malice behind it, “Fuckin’ perv.”

You smirk, tilting your head, “And?”

Bakugou’s face burns crimson so he turns away from you, muttering under his breath as he continues shaving the remainder of his face. You take the moment of his unintentional fragility to dance your fingertips over the bumps of muscle, digging your hands in and pressing your hips to his ass. You kiss between his shoulder blades, running your nose up the column of his spine. Bakugou grunts as his body careens forward, but he catches himself by shifting his feet and leaning his waist against the countertop.

“God, you’re so fuckin’,” you nip at the tip of his shoulder as you slip out from under your robe, “fit.”

The bristling of his muscular frame only hardens further at the sound of your words, the ghost of your touch. Bakugou acts as if he’s not paying you any mind, continuously dragging the razor against the shadows on his face. And yet, as the sinew of his thighs strain against the fabric of his briefs, you know he’s feeding off of your words, using them to fuel his self-confidence.

When he bends over to run clean water over his face, you take advantage of the position to dip your hand beneath the waistband and curl his cock in your fist, swirling your thumb over the head. Your breasts push against the center of his back, mouth leaving sloppy, wet kisses over his warm skin. Bakugou’s throat bobs as a whimper bubbles up in his throat, parting his lips, “Shit.”

He rests his head against the mirror, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, babe-”

“Katsuki, I love your shoulders,” you use your free hand to ghost over the plane of flesh and bone, hovering when you find freckles and scars. You grind your hips up against his ass again, groaning when you feel the way his muscles contract. You whine, pressing kisses all over the expanse of skin, “They look so good when you move.”

“Shitty woman,” he grumbles, finally able to turn so he’s facing you, hands yanking your face unceremoniously so he can kiss you full on the mouth.

You pump his cock between your fingers, loving the way his whining vibrates your throat. His tongue slips through your mouth and starts running along your gums. You moan, finding his thigh and brushing your hips against it, using the thick muscle at the center to stimulate your hooded clit. The hand that isn’t preoccupied with his dick starts to roam over every inch of his torso – finding curves of bicep and pectoral and abdomen. You show him appreciation and reverence by drawing your fingerprints against his skin, pawing at him like an insatiable animal.

“Bakugou,” you murmur as his mouth trails from your lips to your jaw, nose nudging against your cheek, “p-please-”

He chuckles, the sound turning into a wave of warm air washing over your neck, sending a patch of goosebumps over your forearms. You fuss at him when his tongue darts to your jugular, a wet warmth pooling between your thighs at the feeling of his mouth. Your thighs clench together, knees knocking at the motion.

Bakugou nips at your earlobe, “Whaddaya want, Princess? You already got me by the cock.”

If you weren’t so enamored by the heat of his tongue on your neck, you might be able to come up with a better retort, something much more intelligent than, “You, please, just you.”

He pulls on your wrist, yanking you away from his cock so he can pull his briefs down to his ankles, stepping out of them swiftly. Bakugou grabs you by the hips, swiveling both of you so now you’re bent at the waist, hands on the countertop as he presses into you from behind. His cock is clamped between your thighs, the tip of him parting your slick folds just enough to make you cry out.

“You got me, baby,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulder, open-mouthed, wet kisses making a trail up to the curve of your jaw. He nudges his nose over the shell of your ear, “Look at us,” referring to the both of you reflected in the mirror, bodies joined together at the hip. When you look at him through the polished glass, you see your eyes half-lidded and his cheeks tinged red, a wave of slick coats his cock, your cunt fluttering around nothing.

You drop your head but Bakugou is quick to wrap a hand around your hair, pulling your attention back to the reflection, “Uh uh, Princess. You’re gonna watch me destroy that pretty little pussy of yours.”

The sound that parts your lips is nothing short of sinful, and what comes next isn’t any closer to holy.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

And then there are other times when you’re casually affectionate towards him, running your hands over his torso while being tucked into his side on the couch, a film playing in the background. Bakugou makes some offhanded comment about you distracting him, but he lifts his arm and welcomes you closer nonetheless. His hands raises the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, thumb tracing over your ribs.

Of course he’s distracted by the way your hands find every patch of skin on his upper body, even dipping beneath his waistline to marvel at his thighs. You kiss his jaw, “Katsuki,” another kiss planted on his cheek.

Bakugou grunts, “Hm?”

A smile tugs up your lips, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

His face burns crimson but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the television, unwilling to relent and allow you the satisfaction of making him distracted. Despite his reluctance, he still squeezes your side in recognition, tucking you closer to him.

You always try to tell him how much you love his body; he’s worked hard for it, years in the making, blood and sweat and tears forged the bonding of muscles to sinew to bones and you’ll always be there to remind him that it was worth it in the end.

“I just think you’re amazing,” you whisper into the skin of his neck, fingerprints memorizing the pattern of muscle on his lower abdomen.

Bakugou flexes when he hears you talk about his body; not on purpose, but more of as a reaction, as if his body is in tune with your praise and wants you to continue. When you casually grab his arm when you’re walking home, he tenses his bicep so your palm will have more difficulty wrapping around the circumference of his arm. If you’re wrapped around his torso for a piggy-back ride, his shoulder muscles are rippling beneath your body, hardening to the point you wonder if he could rival Kirishima.

You press a kiss to the base of his throat, “I’m really lucky to know you.”

And that’s when Bakugou just can’t take it anymore, when your praise becomes too much and he has to do something about it but he can’t return it. He’s never been good with words, always much better by proving to you that your sweet syllables do reach his ears and have an impact.

So he turns his face as you try to kiss his cheek, mouth colliding with yours. He uses a large palm to press against your cheek, holding you in place like an anchor so he can kiss the breath right out of you.

Bakugou does nothing in half-measures, and that includes kissing you. He’s always sure to pull a sweet sound from your throat, a gentle caress of his hand on your thigh to make your whole body shudder. You can’t help yourself when you straddle him, pulling your weight forward so you can settle into the natural dip his body creates at the waist.

“’Suki,” you murmur into his mouth, “I love you.”

He doesn’t respond at first, but you don’t expect him to. You know superfluous words are not his strong suit, so you feel his love through every tender touch, every hitched breath and starry eyed gaze. You cup his face in your hands, thumbing over the cut of his jaw, sharp edges leading to his neck.

The nipping of your lower lip makes you gasp and whine, hands drifting further down his body to make sure and appreciate his pectorals, thumbs grazing over his nipples to draw out a sound from his own set of lungs.

Bakugou grunts, sitting up so his back is against the arm of the couch, “I love you more,” he manages through strangled breathing.

The simple exchange of too to more makes your heart soar.

His hands are on your thighs when you lean forward to whisper, “I love you most,” into the shell of his ear, hot breath making his flesh pebble with goosebumps. Bakugou groans at the mix of your challenge and the stimulation of your hands and mouth. He lets his hands travel up under your shirt to palm at the base of your spine and further up your shoulders. His touch is warm, painfully obvious due to his quirk, and when his fingertips dig into your skin it’s massage-like in nature and you find yourself feeling delirious every time he graces your body with his caress.

Bakugou is growling at you, turning his hips just enough to careen you off balance, catching you easily with the way he’s already wrapped up in you. His eyes are narrowed and it’s like you’re going off to war with his stare.

“Oi, Shitty Woman,” he uses his quirk just enough to get your attention, tickling you at the center of your spine, “I love you more than most. End of discussion.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

And then, even when he has you under his thumb, you still can’t stop singing his praises.

“Tell me, Princess,” he’s knuckle deep in your cunt, dragging another wave of pleasure out of you in the form of a writhing moan parting your mouth and echoing off the walls. Bakugou knows that you’re incapacitated, but that does not deter him from begging for your affirmation.

You nod, blubbering out syllables that you pray are somewhat coherent, “Y-Yes, please, ju-just like that!”

Bakugou has memorized the tones of your voice, the way that you keen whenever he’s hitting that specific spot in your pussy, middle finger curling and stimulating while his thumb works at your clit. His mouth is sloppy on your chest, lips finding your nipple and sucking.

“F-Fuck, Katsuki,” you whine, “you feel so good.”

He parts from your nipple with a skinny string of saliva from his lip to your chest, brazen eyes glowering up at you in the best way. He cocks his head and the string breaks, cool air washing over your wet chest and your skin pebbles.

“Shit your fuckin’ arms.” You pant and attempt to open your eyes to look up at him from where he’s loitering over your, his body weighty like a comforting shadow. He kisses your mouth and you traipse your hands up and over his forearms towards his biceps, squeezing as he flexes.

The praise only encourages him further, his fingers somehow fitting further into your pussy, stretching you wide as he prepares you for his cock. Bakugou opens his mouth to swallow your moans and tongue, licking over your gums and teeth as you continue to whine kind words into the void.

“Please, Katsuki,” you peel your eyelids back so you can look him in the eyes, finding comfort in the carmine irises. “I-I need you.”

He chuckles, curling his digits harshly within you so your walls flutter around his knuckles, “You’ve got me, baby, what else do you need?”

You shake your head and kick your feet, scraping your ankles against his thighs, “Y-You know!”

“C’mon, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he nudges his nose against your collarbone, breathing slow so you writhe beneath him at the feel of his breath on your skin. Bakugou’s hand is still buried in your pussy, working you up to another orgasm, the wash of your slick coating his palm and sticking to your thighs. He kisses the curve of your neck and your hands find the dips of his shoulders, digging your fingernails harshly into the tanned skin.

“Want your cock,” you pant, “please, want you to fill me up with your perfect, thick cock, please, please, please!”

Bakugou’s laughter drifts over your throat like a shadow, hot breath and tantalizing tone curling around your neck and squeezing. You gasp, hips canting forward, “Please, I just want your cock in me, please! I-I can’t-”

The sudden loss of heat at your core makes your throat shudder in a whimper, “Katsu-oh.”

He interrupts your plaintive mewling with the tip of his cock butterflying the lips of your cunt wide open, teasing your slit with his dick. Your hands slap his arms, curling desperate fingers round his biceps. You buck your hips forward but the way his thumb is rested around the head of his cock makes it difficult for you to try and pull him further into you.

“Love it when you talk to me, Princess,” Bakugou kisses the inner part of your knee, using his free hand to cup your thigh, pushing your leg back into your chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod fervently, eyes blown to hell as you gaze up at him, “Y-Yes, Katsuki. Please.”

The heat of your touch only serves to further pinken his body, blush taking over every inch of him as he tries to resist fucking you senseless; taking your body and ravaging it with his mouth and hands and cock.

Bakugou takes your neck in his hands, slowly and teasingly dragging the length of his digits over the thin, sensitive skin of your throat. You struggle to keep your eyes open as the pressure of his palm increases, stars dancing behind your half-hooded lids, irises swallowed by your intense pupils.

Your mouth is muted by his own set of lips taking you captive, cock slipping forward slowly so the stretch of your cunt is drawn out, only growing in fervor with every centimetre of him that dives deeper into you. You try to release some of your pent up tension in the form of a cry or a moan, but Katsuki’s tongue dominates your mouth, running along the curve of your teeth and pressing your tongue down against the base of your throat. You feel tears form in the corner of your lids from the pure ecstasy of his thick cock sliding into your dripping pussy.

“Good girl,” he mumbles, “take my cock so good.”

He’s close to the base of his cock now, your legs wrapping around his waist in a flurry of limbs, attempting to pull him as far as he can go. Your cunt flutters, clamping down on his length as it throbs within you. The feel of him nipping your lip is there, but it’s dull, all of your senses focused on the thickness of his cock and how it supersedes every other capacity you have.

You manage to blurt out something akin to praise, syllables in high pitches turning your mouth into a sanctuary. You hold him in such reverence, every bit of him, and that only pushes Bakugou to fuck into you harder, better. He wants to draw out those elicit sounds from you, the ones that make his stomach stir and his chest tighten.

“So pretty,” Bakugou grunts as he starts to retract from you.

You believe that he means to leave you so you start to claw at his chest and shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep him close to you, a tear slipping down from each eye, “P-Please Katsuki, please-I want your cock so bad, please. You make me feel so good, please.”

He’s kissing over your face, “Hush, Shitty Woman. I’m gonna give you my cock, just want to feel you beg for me a little.”

You’re clamping around him, trying to trap his cock deep in your pussy, holding him there like a captive until you’ve worked yourself up using the thickness of him as friction. Bakugou kisses between your furrowed brows in an attempt to force you into a calm stupor, his gentleness in stark contrast to the inevitable frenzy you will feel between your thighs. And with the way he’s speaking to you, words delicious and teasing of what’s to come, your cunt desperately cries for him, which you suppose is close to the truth. Waves of silvery slick are already dripping from your pussy, evidence of his hard work so easily on display, shining in the light of your bedroom.

Still, somehow you force yourself to listen to him, to calm the raging sea in your body. You relax your back so you aren’t arched against him, pressed up from every joint and bone, and your chest bobs as you settle back into the mattress.

Bakugou takes advantage of your openness to latch his mouth and hands onto your chest. His fingertips tweak one of your nipples while his mouth begins to torment the other. He slips his index and thumb between his teeth and laps his tongue around the digits before returning them to your nipple not currently occupied by his teeth. You whine at the wetness, the cool current from the air conditioner only heightening your sensory overload.

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whisper with your eyes closed, cheek smushed by the pillow under your head, “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

To accent your keening, Bakugou pulls out just a few inches before ramming his cock back into you, bottoming out on this stroke. He snaps his hips into you, forcing you to stay close with his free hand dug into your hip bone, fingertips acting like an anchor.

As much as the words send a shot of adrenaline-induced pride straight to his head, Bakugou knows they are false, “Shut up, dumbass. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You allow other sentences of praise to fill the room, words echoed against the walls until you’re lightheaded as he fucks you deeper into the mattress. Bakugou is bucking into you with intent – you know he’s never satisfied until your cunt is dripping around his cock, the threat of your release making you clench every part of your body to stave it off until he’s closer.

Your words act like a drug to him – clouding his mind, turning his body into something like a receptacle, drinking in each syllable as if it were his lifeline. He thinks that he might prefer this over hero work. Being able to make you come undone in the best way, knowing that he’s the only one who has this type of meticulous control over your body. The sounds that slice open your throat until you are raw with want are for him and only him, and he knows that that’s enough.

It’s a high he chases each time he parts your pretty pussy; the reality that there are certain sounds that mean you are on a different plane of reality, experiencing the currents running up your spine in such a way that leaves your pupils blown wide and jaw hung open. Bakugou sometimes doesn’t even care if he comes, so long as he gets the privilege of hearing the beautiful sounds that rip your chest open and echo against the walls of your shared home.

The familiar moan that vibrates your throat sparks something in his stomach, his cock twitching within the tight brace of your cunt, “Katsuki, fuck, your cock-”

You can’t finish the sentence because your eyes roll back in your head and a wave of pleasure captures your body and you’re a slave to riding the high until the coil wound tight in your core unravels. Shocks of intense pleasure make your thighs slick as you come onto Bakugou’s cock, combined wetness making the sound of his hips drilling into yours much louder as he continues his motions.

There is an intensity that comes naturally with Bakugou in the bedroom – as if he’s always on a mission, another part of his life that he wants nothing more than to excel at. You are his sole focus, the one thing on his mind in these moments, and all he can think about is the best angles and pressures and words that will make your body coil until you snap, pleasure washing over you like a wave at sea. He wants to pull as many orgasms from you as he can, until you’re a writhing mess, he knows his job isn’t done.

After all, just one is never enough.

Bakugou brushes the heel of his palm against your belly, just under your navel, “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbles, eyes glazed over with thoughts of seeing your stomach bulging with his come. His mouth is rough on your shoulder and collarbone, biting kisses into your skin until you’re blooming red, “Gonna stuff you full of my come, isn’t that what you want?”

You can’t form words, but he knows this. And yet, this is the most exciting time for him. As he attempts to get you to respond with syllables instead of sounds, Bakugou teases your body even further, pushing you into the realm of overstimulation.

“C’mon, baby,” his voice is patronizing, free hand brushing knuckles against your jawline, “talk to me, isn’t that what you want?”

If you could, you’d glare at him, but your mind has entered that subservient space that makes you putty in his hands, uncaring to the tone of his voice being denigrating. Your hands reach for him, begging for patches of his skin to feel under the pads of your fingers. Bakugou leans closer, encouraging you to grope his arms as he flexes his muscles, digging fingers into the sheets to use like an anchor.

“Katsuki,” your eyes split open and your jaw quivers, “p-please, I-I…”

Even in this state of mind, you are aware that Bakugou is close to coming, his cock hardening to full length within your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongey spot hidden away. You keen when you feel him continue to wreck into you, that sensitive part of you that he knows so well beginning to enflame at the repeated stimulation. Your fingernails dig deep into his biceps, half-moon shapes cut into his tan skin.

Bakugou winces, “Baby, hey-”

Your heels bore into the base of his back, begging him to stay close to you. Your eyes struggle to find his face, but once you can focus on his eyes, you don’t waver.

“Shit,” he curses, hips stuttering at the sight of your fucked out eyes. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, “You’re so pretty, baby, so sweet when I fuck you like this.”

You nod, eyes wide and voice desperate as you beg him for more. Every syllable is not your own, your body speaking on your behalf as you careen forward to try and take more of him, to pull him closer with your hands on his shoulders. You want to feel the weight of him like a security blanket, to know that he’s yours and yours alone, and he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d just ask.

“Y-Yes, yes please,” your tone is wanton, edged on the precipice of release and words not your own, “Katsu’, c-come inside me, wanna make you come.”

The begging words that reverberate in his ears are the final straw, coaxing thick ropes of come from his cock as he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks of both of your orgasms. You don’t stop there, though, your mouth finding purchase on his collarbones and pectorals, kisses laced with kindness.

“Feels so good, Katsu,” you whine into his skin, hot breath making his chest tighten, “you feel so good in me, want more of you-”

Bakugou chuckles, rolling his hips forward again as he leans to kiss your temple, “You already got all of me, baby. I don’t have anything left to give you.”

The sentence and it’s weight pry your eyes open and you are staring up at him like he hung the moon. Bakugou sometimes finds it difficult to shoulder the weight of your gaze and what it means. He knows that you can’t control the way your irises gleam, or the little shimmering stars that light up your pupils even in the dark. It’s second nature to you, to behold him in such a way.

And at some level, it stimulates him, forcing him to be the best he can, to earn that look in your eyes. The motivation to see the pride in your irises whenever he returns home after a long day on the job, or even just a day spent doing monotonous paperwork and training, is all he needs. It fills his veins, overtaking his blood and pumping the adrenaline straight to his head.

Reality that he will be able to see this look of reverence settle in your gaze every day for the rest of his life is so overwhelming that he can’t do anything but surge forward and kiss you directly on the mouth.

Because yes, Bakugou is prideful and arrogant, but it is all a mask to hide the utter insignificant being he’s so frightened of becoming. What day will be his reckoning, when he’s exposed as a phony, an imposter only attempting to prove themselves worthy of the public affection he’s received thus far.

And yet, when you tug him close and cover him in the shroud of your kindness, the veil of your love, Bakugou considers that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the remainder of his days sprinting towards the idea you have of him, the version you’ve pushed up onto an angelic pedestal.

Bakugou discovers that in your arms, he’s found a version of reality where he does not have to be arrogant to conceal the prideful deceptive self he’s built over the years. Instead, he can rely on you to remind him that his broken soul is every bit as beautiful as he’d like to fool himself into believing.

  ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

taglist: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @cutesuki--bakugou @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @honeytama @sleepysuneater @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @aizawamirite @lovekatsukibakugo @plusultrawritings @suckersuki​ @bnha-mha-imagines​ @heroesreverie​ @pink-imagines​ @brattyquirks​ @lookslikeleese​ @normiewrites​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @pinkjeanist​ @kingtamakimurder​

[dangerdangerhighvoltage]

Night Off (MC x Kojuro x Tsunamoto)

MC and Kojuro are trying to navigate their relationship after finally hooking up, only for Tsunamoto to crash the party with his chaotic ass. it's double daddy duty featuring one of supporting cast's finest. nsfw!

You never were one to concentrate on one thing at a time. 

As you scooped porridge into a bowl, you mentally listed all the letters that were awaiting a response from Kojuro. You carefully laid the soft doughy orb of mochi on top of the porridge while noting you needed to track down that retainer to get his report on how the crops were faring this season. As you attempted to remember the name of some Western book Lord Masamune had requested, the boiling water you meant to pour into the teapot had instead landed on your hand. 

“Ahh!” you hissed. Chastised by your own folly, you finally focused on the task at hand, assembling the tray for Kojuro’s afternoon tea break including an extra tea cup for yourself. It had been a few weeks since the incident, and you were relieved that things were starting to feel normal again, if not a little awkward.

The month before last, the clan embarked on a particularly brutal campaign. Upon their return, an abnormally shaken Kojuro promptly made love to you, after a year of working closely late into the night, nursing each others’ hangovers, confiding in each other different ways to help Lord Masamune not be so hard on himself. Kojuro fucked you on his desk on the heaps and heaps of his letters and notes and then again in his bedding, drawing from you something he had left on the battlefield. You were genuinely surprised Kojuro had made good on the attraction between you, but the next day, you could have sworn you overheard Shigezane distributing to a handful of retainers what sounded like payouts for a bet. 

You and Kojuro decided that while you both enjoyed yourselves that night and were clearly well suited, it was not the best time to pursue something real, not with the Ashina acting up as they were. The others teased Kojuro endlessly about making an honest woman out of you, and for some reason, a part of you believed he actually wanted to. But the thing about Kojuro was he would never be forced to make a decision about you so long as he had that endless pile of work on his desk to hide behind. 

It’s not as if you wanted to be an honest woman anyway.

And so it was as though you started your relationship from scratch, relearning boundaries and reacquainting yourself with some professional distance. The only acknowledgment of your intimacy—other than the fact that he ceased referring to you as his “precious girl”—was the fact that you had started to join him for his afternoon tea every day. And that’s exactly what you were looking forward to doing when you walked back into his office, tray in hand, only to find a brawny, effortlessly disheveled, scar-faced sight sitting in your spot.

“Look what the winds blew in,” Kojuro said to you mischievously.

“Lord Tsunamoto!” you exclaimed, shocked to see the handsome man before you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Whereas Kojuro was seated rather formally at his desk, Tsunamoto sat back outstretched, his chest peeking through his signature, generously loose robe. You’d always been a bit nervous around the man, his lingering eye contact, and general aversion to modesty. You dismissed him as not your type more as a form of self protection, like a chest of gunpowder dodging a spark. Despite being polar opposites, he and Kojuro were thick as thieves when reunited, Kojuro bringing a calm patience out in Tsunamoto, and Tsunamoto reviving a roguish edge in Kojuro. 

“Surprised to see me?” Tsunamoto declared more than asked. Why did everything about him seem flirtatious?

“Did you send a letter?” you asked, knowing he hadn’t. “I’d have planned a feast if I knew you were visiting!” 

“No need for the fanfare. I’m just passing through for a few days.” 

"Too late, I already have a menu in mind,” you said, picking up the teapot. Tsunamoto’s eye locked on the second cup as you poured the tea. Your face heated up as you watched him realize the second cup wasn’t meant for him, that maybe he was interrupting something. You wondered if from just one mundane piece of ceramic, he deduced everything about your and Kojuro’s past. Tsunamoto cocked his head, and directed an inquisitive smile toward Kojuro who was suddenly couldn’t seem to drink his tea fast enough.

"I suppose there’s no point in trying to stop you,” Tsunamoto relented, graciously accepting the cup you offered.

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Kojuro quipped.

“Uh huh.” Tsunamoto noted. His gaze flickered to you.

“Let me bring you some oshiruko,” you said with a firm smile and a desperate need to catch your breath. 

“No need,” Kojuro waved away. “Bring him his favorite dessert.”

You cocked your head at him in confusion. The two men looked at each other in a way that made your cheek tingle. 

“Sake,” Kojuro said slyly.

The next morning, you arrived at training, where Tsunamoto had stepped in to lead. After sparring one-on-one with every retainer, he finally approached you. 

“Solid form,” he offered as your wooden swords cracked against one another. You had been on the defense the whole time, allowing him to gain ground or at least think he was. Luckily for you, his strength made him slower, and as his body twisted to strike at you, you quickly maneuvered under his swing, striking him in his side in a full low lunge. He let out a laugh as you smiled shyly to yourself. 

“I’ve taught her well, huh?” Kojuro called out from afar, who had apparently stopped by to observe training.

“Technique was always your strength,” Tsunamoto called back to him. 

You resumed sparring, Tsunamoto hitting a bit stronger and moving much faster than before. With every step you took, he met you there, almost predicting your movements. The confidence you gained now sputtered out as you barely dodged his attacks. Running out of ideas, you tried a new gambit Kojuro taught you but as you spun around, you felt yourself caught in a vise-grip, your back to Tsunamoto’s chest as if he was simply waiting for you to fall into his trap. His arms easily restraining yours, he brought his lips to your ear and lowered his voice, looking directly at Kojuro who was watching the two of you intently.

“See, I know a few of Kojuro’s weaknesses as well,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“Besides, who do you think taught him?” He let you go and jogged back over to the rest of the retainers as if nothing happened. Straightening out your hakama, you looked over at Kojuro who hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After a full day of cooking and preparing, you tried to make yourself scarce during that night’s feast. You spent the evening running back and forth between the kitchen and main hall, hauling food and empty dishes until someone, you weren’t sure who, grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit between Kojuro and Tsunamoto. Despite your initial protests, the two of them finally convinced you to stay and enjoy your own handiwork. You relented, and jovially ate, drank, and chatted with the rest of them, until you remembered something.

“Hells, I never spoke to Shiroishi about the crops today,” you confessed with a grimace. 

“Yeah, I'm not sure Shiroishi is in any state to discuss much of anything,” Tsunamoto said. Across the room, the retainer in question was somewhere between laughing drunk and falling asleep drunk.

“What kind of master am I?” Kojuro bemoaned. “My own page sitting here thinking about work when she should be enjoying herself?”

“She learned from the best,” Tsunamoto joked under his breath. 

“Milord,” you started, “You’re a good ma—”

He turned to you, his face serious. “I want you to forget about all your work. Take the night off and just have a good time, okay?” Since you and Kojuro slept together, “good time” had become something of a loaded term. 

“But Milord,” you teased. “Who will keep your desk clear?” 

“I can keep my own desk clear for one night, thank you very much!” 

“You didn’t even clear it when we—” 

You cut yourself off abruptly and bowed your head in embarrassment, suddenly realizing how much you had drank. Tsunamoto let out a satisfied laugh, and you thought Kojuro would strike you down then and there for your slip up. But he merely smirked at you, amused. It’s not like anyone else had heard outside you three—by now all the retainers were completely intoxicated and Lord Masamune had excused himself long ago.

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time, precious girl,” Kojuro fired back with a small, unbearably winning smile. You were at once delighted and flustered by Kojuro’s familiarity and Tsunamoto's presence. You didn’t know what to make of him playing witness to this charged tête-à-tête. 

Sensing the tension, Tsunamoto spoke up. "That’s our Kojuro, always with the last word.” 

“You see what I have to work with every day?” you fussed, turning to him with a big smile.

"You poor thing,” Tsunamoto said, playing along and touching your cheek. You were surprised by the gesture, but played it off well. You happily sipped your sake, oblivious to the glance Kojuro and Tsunamoto shared, an entire unspoken conversation transpiring above your head.

It was late into the night when the last of the retainers drunkenly shuffled off to their quarters for the night, and Kojuro asked you to bring a jug of sake to his office. When you arrived you were astonished to find the two of them seated across Kojuro’s desk boisterously engaged in a heated match of arm wrestling of all things. Only Tsunamoto could convince Kojuro to engage in such nonsensical activities.

“So these are the brilliant, visionary advisors of the Date clan,” you huffed as they cheerfully welcomed you. You sat down at the edge of the desk and looked back and forth between them before pouring the sake. With great effort, Kojuro finally pressed Tsunamoto’s knuckles into the wood. 

“Damn,” Tsunamoto grumbled. They downed the sake and immediately put their elbows back on the table, ready for another bout. You poured more sake and sipped on your own. "Alright, this is the tiebreaker,” Tsunamoto said, flexing his fingers.

“And what is the prize?” you asked. 

“A kiss from the beautiful page,” Tsunamoto cracked. 

“And smart,” you added.

“Right, a kiss from the beautiful and smart page,” Tsunamoto beamed.

Kojuro looked up at you, concerned. “[Y/n], you don’t have to—”

“Okay,” you said simply. Kojuro was dumbfounded.

“What?” 

“I said okay. I will kiss whoever wins this stupid competition,” you said with a shrug. Did those words just come out of your mouth? The two men looked at each other again, and again you felt that tingle in your cheek.

“You heard her, Kojuro,” Tsunamoto said.

“I suppose I did.”

The two readied themselves on Kojuro’s desk, grasped hands and began, but this round was different. For the first time since Lord Tsunamoto arrived, the two men went silent as they strained to defeat the other. 

“Kojuro, finally putting up a fight. Desperate for a kiss, old man?” Tsunamoto jeered.

"Put as much effort into training as you do into talking shit and you’d have unified Japan yourself by now,” Kojuro taunted back.

Unable to fathom the scene playing out in front of you, you simply took another shot of sake. It was a total deadlock for minutes until suddenly with a loud crack, both men were sent to the floor. Apparently Kojuro’s poor desk gave out from the pressure of the match or perhaps it had simply lost the will to live after years of neglect and misuse. The three of you devolved into a fit of laughter as you pieced together what had occurred.

“A draw!” Kojuro howled. 

“We both lost? How pathetic!” Tsunamoto asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and trying not to laugh again, though you sensed he was relieved at the outcome. The two men sat up on either side of the broken desk, looking down in amused pity.

“Or maybe,” you said timidly. “You both won.” 

You couldn’t believe what you had just said. What you had just implied. The two men froze and looked at you, waiting for the catch, for you to burst into laughter and exclaim, “Gotcha!” and tease them endlessly for thinking twice. But you didn’t. 

“[Y/n]?” Kojuro asked softly with a nervous smile. 

With the latest shot of sake taking effect, you leaned over to him and gave him a firm kiss. His body froze before you, and you instantly cursed yourself for being so stupid and so forward. What were you thinking? You expected him to pull back, graciously reiterate the need for professionalism, and dismiss you for the night, but to your surprise, he dug his fingers in your hair and deepened the kiss. His tongue grazed your lips hungrily and bit your lip the same way he did when you first kissed just weeks ago, and you felt the same rush of sensual relief.

The two of you parted with a small, uncertain smile. You took a breath and looked deep into the torrent of Kojuro’s eyes.

“I’m going to kiss him now,” you said. “Is that alright, Milord?”

“Of course,” Kojuro said with a genuine smile. “He earned it just as much as I did.”

Kojuro watched as you leaned over to Tsunamoto. For perhaps the first time ever, Tsunamoto looked thrown off, almost nervous, which exhilarated you. You lips brushed over his. He looked over at Kojuro questioningly, and Kojuro nodded encouragingly. Satisfied with this, Tsunamoto closed his eyes and drew you closer, hungrily lapping at and biting your lips. You expected him to be an aggressive kisser compared to Kojuro, but there was also a sweetness about the way he gently swept his tongue against yours. 

Tsunamoto broke the kiss before you were ready. You hadn’t even noticed that Kojuro had moved the broken table aside and moved closer to you. The two men stood up and pulled you up between them. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Kojuro asked. You looked at the dizzyingly handsome men on either side of you. “Want us?” 

“Yes,” you panted as you kissed Kojuro again, grabbing his collar. You felt Kojuro loosen your obi as Tsunamoto stood behind you and began to kiss your neck, his hands loosening your collar. You reached to grasp at both of their hair as Tsunamoto opened up your kimono, exposing your breasts. 

Kojuro leaned back and took the sight in before leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth. From behind, Tsunamoto took your other breast into his hand and possessively turned your head to kiss you. 

“Nghgh,” you moaned as both the men worked your breasts. Kojuro finally removed your obi and your body was completely exposed. He licked his fingers and placed them between your legs, where he began stroking you. You were already wet, but you had to admit you missed his touch. Tsunamoto slid the kimono completely off your shoulders, his hands trailed down the sides of your body and he grabbed a handful of your ass. 

“Fuck,” Tsunamoto exhaled. “You have this parading around your office all day?” You caught a glimmer of pride in Kojuro’s eyes as you set to work on Kojuro’s obi, freeing him of his robes. You were pleased to find he was already hard. You grasped him, and looked behind you to find Tsunamoto removing his own robe. 

“Come here,” Tsunamoto said as he lowered himself to the floor and lied down. Kojuro guided you to Tsunamoto’s head and gently pushed you down onto your knees until they flanked Tsunamoto’s ears. You could feel the warmth of Tsunamoto’s breath on your slit. Kojuro stood in front of you, his member in hand. You grabbed it and held it to your lips, teasing his tip with your tongue as Tsunamoto ran his fingers in and out of your folds, spreading them. You finally took Kojuro fully into your mouth just as Tsunamoto pulled you down fully onto his lips and eager tongue. You immediately felt a pulse of pleasure shoot from Tsunamoto’s tongue to your extremities, and you let out a loud moan around Kojuro. 

You started to squirm, but Tsunamoto held you in place like a clamp as he lapped you up. There was clearly no escaping your own pleasure—the only thing you could do, really, was take it out on Kojuro. You furiously swirled your tongue around him. Cursing, Kojuro ran his fingers through your hair and pushed further into your mouth, which in turn, made you grind your hips harder on Tsunamoto’s face, who moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Ride him,” Kojuro growled and you looked up. “I want to see.” He was wearing the same face he was when he watched you at training earlier that day. Feeling your climax start to build up, you began to ride Tsunamoto’s face harder, thrusting your hips back and forth whimpering, his fingers clenched deep in your hips, his tongue unabating. You started to lose focus and could barely hold onto Kojuro, abandoning his pleasure in search of your own. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, captivated, as you grabbed your own breast and unraveled before him on Tsunamoto’s face with a full-throated sigh. 

You got off Tsunamoto and collapsed as he got on his knees. "God I hope she feels as good as she tastes,” Tsunamoto said, licking the corners of his mouth.

“He would know,” you said boldly staring down Kojuro.

“Find out for yourself,” Kojuro said. The two men looked at you and you nodded.

Tsunamoto pulled you to him. He sat back on his heels and guided you into his lap, wrapping your legs around him as his tip teased your opening before pushing himself in. 

“You feel incredible,” Tsunamoto uttered in amazement. He stretched you out gently.

You surveyed the scar that trailed down Tsunamoto’s brow and onto his regal cheek. Your gaze locked on his other eye and as he began thrusting in earnest, it suddenly became so clear why Tsunamoto carried himself with endless confidence. You watched him roll his hips tantalysingly slow and deep into you, hitting all the right spots.

“How does he feel, precious girl?” Kojuro asked. He was stroking himself at the sight of you. 

“He feels so—uuuunnnh!” Your response was interrupted by a particularly deep plunge Tsunamoto took. 

You looked back at Kojuro and reached for him, but he leaned back just out of reach with a mean grin. “You need to learn to focus on the task at hand,” he said lovingly. He watched as Tsunamoto drove into you harder and faster, his strong arms essentially keeping you floating as he slid in and out of you. Kojuro was completely entranced, savoring the way your eyes glazed over as his oldest friend in the world fucked the woman he loved if only he'd let himself, wondering if the most precious things weren’t meant to be shared. 

Tsunamoto slowed down in an attempt to stave off his own climax. Kojuro kneeled behind you, steadying you as Tsunamoto pulled out of you and you got your bearings.

“Are you alright, precious girl?” You nodded, catching your breath. 

“Good. All fours,” Kojuro directed. You did so, swaying your hips in an attempt to further tempt him. Kojuro sidled up behind you and caressed your back, kissing the dimples on your lower back. Your eyes met Tsunamoto’s as Kojuro positioned his cock between your folds and pressed in. You let out a long, lusty moan that bloomed more for every inch he filled you. He hadn’t taken you from behind before, and you wondered how you’d be able to work alongside him anymore after this.

You lost yourself in Kojuro’s languid thrusts and found yourself again, grinding back against him. He whisked you up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest. 

“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you,” he professed softly into your ear. “That I haven’t dreamed of feeling you like this again.” He wrapped his arm around your torso to keep you in place as he dove in and out of you. Tsunamoto crawled over to you and bent down, pressing his tongue squarely on your clit.

“Ahhnn!” You cried out as he raked his tongue up and down from your clit to your opening where Kojuro was thrusting into you. 

The sensation was too much too soon, so you grabbed Tsunamoto’s hair, pulled him to your face, and gave him a frantic, sloppy kiss as you took his cock and stroked him. You felt Kojuro lean over your shoulder, and you pulled away.

“She taste as good as she feels?” Kojuro asked as Tsunamoto approached. You watched as the two men took each other by the lips. You joined in, the three of you licking, biting, sucking each other as you pumped Tsunamoto to Kojuro’s rhythm.

Tsunamoto stood up in a frenzy and placed his cock on your lips. You knew he was close, and you took him into your mouth. “You are taking us so well,” Tsunamoto said as you devoured him. As Kojuro devoured you. You whined as you felt the electricity build up in your core. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m so close!” 

Kojuro managed to fuck you even faster and harder. He brought his hand between your legs, his fingers fluttering on your clit as Tsunamoto all but fucked your mouth. Kojuro groaned as you screamed in pleasure around Tsunamoto’s cock. 

“I’m coming,” Tsunamoto rasped as he ejected into your mouth. You did your best to take it all as you reached your own climax. You felt feverish, heat tearing through your body and cracking you open. 

“Come for me my precious girl,” Kojuro snarled in your ear. 

You let out a cry as the pleasure rushed through you, leaving you trembling. You tightened unbearably around Kojuro’s cock, and he finally released into you with a curse.

The three of you collapsed on the floor, sprawled in a heap of pleasure and exhaustion and a giggle or two. 

“If only every trip to Oshu was this fun,” Tsunamoto simpered. You sighed a chuckle in response.

Kojuro reached up for his kiseru. You caressed his back, muscular by training, worn by war. “You know, [y/n],” he panted. “You should take the night off more often.”

You and Tsunamoto shared a knowing look, both helplessly endeared by the precious, precious man.