#this is a drabble

[atlasishere]

Grief

I wrote this in like an hour and based it on my own struggles with grief. Especially grieving those who’ve hurt you. I didn’t edit this at all, if you see glaring issues feel free to lmk so i can fix them. Hope you enjoy ig

“I’m supposed to hate you

I SHOULD HATE YOU

After everything, i should despise you.”

So why is Atsushi crying at the Headmasters grave? Why is he mourning the first father like figure he can remember? Why is he mourning the person who hurt him the most? The person who practically begged him to hate him all those horrible years ago. Dazai said this was normal but it cannot be. He cannot be mourning the person who made him into the monster he is. It goes against everything in him to feel this pain yet he’s sitting there, tearing up and angry. He can feel Byakko pacing, protective and angry, she’s angry about something. She’s trying to protect him but this is one of the wounds she cannot heal. He remembers those few good moments from his childhood. On his fourth birthday, he’d gotten a gift. It was half of an orange, not as much as the other kids would get on their birthdays, but the orange was sweet and juicy.

One year at Christmas, he’d gotten to participate in the caroling with the other kids. The songs were beautiful and there was a warm feeling he got when singing with everyone.

There was one day, after a rough transformation he realized now, where he’d gotten less chores than normal, not by many but enough to not truly exhaust him. He could remember getting an extra dose of nutrients as well, not that he realized it at the time.

Things were not always cruel, they weren’t always painful. Maybe that’s why he was grieving. Maybe it was because he knew about the potential for kindness and that’s what he was mourning. Maybe it was only those shreds of kindness.

He couldn’t possibly be grieving the man who abused him. He couldn’t because that would be wrong.

People tend to cry when their father dies.

The headmaster wasn’t a father to him. No matter what anyone would say or what his heart was screaming. He would refuse it.

Atsushi stared at the gravestone. It was still fairly new yet it was crumbling. It wasn’t being taken care of. Atsushi felt his eyes well up with tears…something he hated. Why did he still want to care for the man who’d hurt him so badly?

The tears of sadness turned to ones of anger and Atsushi went to punch the gravestone. Engraved with the name, dates of life to death, and “In loving memory”, Atsushi wanted to smash it. How could anyone dare love that horrendous monster of a man? Instead of a hard punch, his strength left him at that last second, leaving him bumping the crumbling stone. It was worn, rough, and cold. It hadn’t soaked up any of the Sun’s light and heat.

Atsushi stood up and left. He wiped at his eyes and struggled with the conflict in his heart. Maybe he’d be back, maybe not. But right now, Atsushi just wanted the comfort of the known and familiar. He’d take another murder or kidnapping attempt over any of this.

[separatist-apologist]

Give Me Something Beautiful

Summary: Mating bond snapped for Cassian and Nesta at the first dinner in the human lands (this was the prompt and this is still a drabble. A casual, very laid back 10k word drabble)

Note: MANAGE YOUR EXPECTATIONS

Read on AO3

“Do not embarrass me,” Rhysand snarled, eyes bouncing between Cassian and Azriel. Azriel remained stiff backed, his face all but carved from stone. Though Cassian felt the same apprehension radiating from Azriel’s rigid body, he forced himself to grin. 

“Lighten up, Rhys,” Cassian said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth. “If Feyre’s sisters are even half as lovely and charming as she is, I suspect we’ll have a good time.”

Azriel’s frown only deepened. It was Cassian’s favorite game to play—how many times could he suggest he was interested in Feyre before Rhys snapped and finally admitted he was in love with her? At least once more it seemed, as Rhys merely ran a hand through his inky hair, a cool expression on the High Lord’s face.

Dumbass, Cassian thought loudly before slamming the mental walls of his mind up. Rhys’s upper lip curled, violet eyes flashing with irritation.

“I mean it. They’re human and we’re…” “Their worst nightmare,” Azriel intoned flatly. Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, still smiling even as his gut clenched.

“That’s the spirit,” he said cheerfully. Someone had to keep the mood light though privately, Cassian was dreading this journey. He’d seen enough of Feyre and heard the ranting stories Rhys shared in private to know he had no interest in meeting either one of the Archeron sisters. At best they were neglectful and at worst, well…maybe he’d snap his teeth a little. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys ordered, reading Cassian’s thoughts. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to shout that so loudly. Azriel’s hazel eyes slid toward Cassian, one dark brow raised in question. Cassian shook out his hands.

“She’s just…so…young,” he finally said, unsure how else to word it. Sad, too, though there was no reason to rub salt in Rhys’s wounds. Rhys clenched his jaw and nodded. 

“We need them. Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself,” he ordered, magic lacing his every word. Both siphons on Cassian and Azriel’s hands flared in response, their knees buckling as they forced themselves to remain upright. Rhys wouldn’t make them bow but he would make them yield. 

There was no further conversation. Feyre sent word silently and Rhys’s expression immediately became one of yearning. Cassian and Azriel exchanged several glances on their way out the door. How did Feyre not notice? It was almost painful to watch, their dance one Cassian hoped never to participate in. 

Sometimes, when he stood too closely to the pair of them, he swore what shimmered between his brother and Feyre was the ever elusive mating bond. And that made him nervous, too. Cassian recalled when his hand brushed the back of Feyre’s some little electric shock convinced him to put space between them as something strange raked down his senses. Something old, something that made him distinctly uncomfortable. 

Feyre had gone ahead to plead with her sisters and her face told Cassian they’d agreed but reluctantly. Even now, Cassian wondered why they couldn’t do this simple thing for her. Why everything had to be so difficult for Feyre.

Such a fight. 

He wondered the entire flight over, trying to untangle the knot that had built in his chest. The strangest feeling of excitement and dread had built until he was all but crawling in his skin. He wanted to veer toward spring, to circle overhead until he learned what Tamlin was up to. Let Rhysand play courtier—that had never been Cassian’s strong suit to begin with.

But Cassian suspected Feyre wanted her old life to converge with her new one, and for that reason alone he landed on the sprawling lawn with as much care as he could manage. Azriel had far more grace though he carelessly trampled some carefully planted tulips as he made his way toward the stone laid path. 

They could smell the fear before they ever reached the door. Cassian marveled at the sprawling estate, trying to reconcile it with the story Rhys had told him regarding Feyre’s life before the mountain, before Prythian. He’d seen less wealth in castles—in some of the palaces High Lords occupied. 

Feyre seemed ill at ease when she pulled open the door to allow them in. Tucking his wings in tight, Cassian tucked under the doorway to avoid hitting his head against the wood. None of it had been built with creatures like him in mind. 

The cloying scent of salt and fear threatened to overwhelm him as Feyre beckoned for them to follow behind her. There was something else lingering in the air. Something sweet, some call that his gut answered even as his brain scrambled to untangle. Cassian’s own anxiety slid into pure, animal excitement. He’d heard human food was inedible but perhaps that was merely a rumor. The desert-like scent in the air was certainly making promises. A ribbon of vanilla and honey—or cinnamon and clove. Something warm, something that reminded him of untarnished snow and crackling, comforting flame. 

It took Cassian a moment to realize the hint of metal sang just beneath the sweet, though he very much doubted there were those sorts of weapons in this place. Beside him Azriel didn’t seem to be concerned and Rhys was so busy studying Feyre with that familiar look of longing to notice anything else. 

Cassian wanted to extend his wings and couldn’t quite figure out why. Get it together, he ordered himself silently. They were just humans and this was one meal, one night, and then one miserable meeting with the cunty queens he didn’t expect to help. 

Cassian complemented the house, trying like he always did to ease some of the tension. It did little for the three people surrounding him. Feyre’s face was drawn and tight, which made Rhys edgy even as he tried to hide it. He’d sent his own wings away while Azriel had banished his shadows in an attempt to set Feyre’s sisters at ease. 

Cassian sized the three of them up. Even without the magic rolling off them in obvious, visual waves, there was nothing that could be done that would make humans comfortable around them. They were so obviously different it was almost funny. 

Almost. 

Cassian took a breath and stepped into the brightness of dusk filled dining room. Two women stood just beside the window, gold gilding their brown hair. Swallowing, he took in the smaller one first—wide, nervous brown eyes bounced between him and Azriel, staring not at their faces but the wings just behind. They both attempted to tuck them tighter, stomach clenching in the process. Cassian wanted to reach for the twin swords strapped along his spine and resisted, not wanting to see the trembling female faint.

The taller sister stepped ever so slightly in front of her, amethyst gown whispering some silent warning. Cassian looked to her face, expecting to find similar beauty trembling back at him.

His whole body ignited at the sight of those silvery blue eyes staring directly at him with defiance. No fear, he marveled, drinking in the face of the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his immortal existence. Her high cheekbones, her curved brows, and her full lips set in a tight line made his blood sing, made him stand just a little straighter as though she outwardly demanded it.

Look at me, look at me, look—

She stumbled backward, knocking into the sister behind her a mere second before all the air was expelled from Cassian’s lungs. A siphoned hand flew to his chest to try and steady his frantic heart. A muscle in his chest ripped open, unknown to him right until that moment when it was pulled taut. 

“My sisters,” Feyre said, her voice faraway as though she were screaming to him underwater. “Nesta and Elain Archeron.”

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. Cassian was certain he’d dreamt that name before. Rhys’s head whipped toward Cassian, eyes flashing.

What the fuck is going on? The High Lords voice rang through his mind, talons slicing his warded walls to ribbons. Cassian let him in, swallowing had as Nesta righted herself. He could hear her frantic heart, a mirror for his own. 

There was ringing silence in his head as Rhys parsed through the last ten seconds and then a heaving, heavy sigh. 

Cauldron fuck me, Rhys said. 

“Get them out of here,” Nesta Archeron’s voice said, wavering even as her iron spine did not. Feyre gaped, face paling. 

“You said—”

“I’ve changed my mind!” Nesta declared, her voice shrill. She was still looking at him, accusation lining those stunning eyes. “I want them out right now! Get them out of this house before—”

“It’s just you,” Rhys interrupted smoothly, reading Nesta’s thoughts quickly. Azriel looked over at Cassian, who’d thrown his hands up in defense. “Elain is fine.”

“What’s going on?” Elain whispered, tears brimming the bottom of her eyes. 

Nesta’s upper lip curled over her teeth and though he knew he shouldn’t, Cassian grinned as his human mate turned to face off with the High Lord. She had to be crazy to think she could withstand him and yet Cassian thought if they came to blows, Nesta might come out on top from sheer will alone. 

It didn’t stop him from daring a step toward Rhys. 

“This is still my house,” she hissed, unaware that just behind her, Elain had clutched her cobalt dress in nervous, trembling fingers. Two fat tears slid down her cheeks, unnoticed as she waited to see what would happen. “Get him out of here.”

“My name is Cassian,” Cassian told her stupidly, wanting her to look at him again. “And I’m not leaving.”

Someone had to guard her, after all. He’d already promised Rhys he’d keep an eye on the estate though back when he’d agreed, he’d figured he’d fly a few circles overhead at night and otherwise keep his distance.

Now he’d be sleeping outside Nesta Archeron’s door whether she liked it or not. And judging by the anger radiating off that perfect face, Cassian suspected it would  be the latter.

“No one is leaving,” Feyre declared, still bewildered. She stepped between Rhys and her eldest sister, looking between them both. “And no one is fighting. Whatever is going on—”

“He’s done something!” Nesta declared, crossing her arms over her chest. Cassian forced himself not to look at her breasts swelled over her neckline, eyes snapping back to her face. His mate—this was his mate. “You swore there would be no magic.”

Cassian couldn’t help his loud laugh. “I did something?” he shot back incredulously. “It was you, Nesta Archeron. You and your eyes–”

“That’s enough!” Rhys ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There was no magic. What you two feel…” he took a breath as both Azriel and Elain inched away from Cassian and Nesta instinctively, uninterested in getting caught in the crosshairs. 

“Oh, no,” Feyre whispered, her expression falling. 

“It’s a mating bond,” Rhys finally said, forcing the words out as though they pained him.

“It’s nothing,” Nesta insisted. Cassian pretended that didn’t wound him, forcing his smile to remain unchanged.

“We’ll see,” he replied.

“We should eat,” Elain said, catching the way Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel all stiffened at the suggestion. Rhys turned to Cassian, a warning in his eyes not to try anything when it came to Nesta Archeron. Cassian knew he was too confrontational without saying a word in response. If Nesta wanted to serve him, he wasn’t going to stop her. In fact, he welcomed her placing a dish in front of him even if it was the foul human food.

Anything that might make her feel the same instinctual need thrumming through him. 

It was only Feyre and her nervous eyes that kept Cassian from doing anything but dipping his head. She wanted her sisters to like them and this new, unexpected roadblock had certainly thrown a wrench in those plans. 

It was pure tragedy to see the dining table lined with silver dishes. While Nesta took the chair at the head of the table, Feyre began pulling open lids loudly, her frustration plain. She was the one who went around and served Cassian, dumping things indiscriminately onto his plate. Rhys and Azriel watched, serving themselves quietly and carefully in response to the clattering spoons. 

Cassian sat as close to Nesta as he could get given her sisters now flanked her. It was amusing to think Elain might be trying to protect Nesta. 

Feyre and Rhys tried making small talk and Nesta, who was practically burning for a fight, started with Feyre. Cassian was watching, shoveling food tastelessly into his mouth. 

Do it, do it, do it— he was practically on his knees begging for her attention. When Nesta asked Feyre if their food wasn’t good enough, Cassian saw an opportunity and took it. 

“I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

Their eyes met, her brow arched. Cassian imagined many a male at withered to dust beneath that look but oh, how he savored it. For five hundred years, Cassian had been looking for a worthy opponent. Someone as strong as he was, as capable. Someone who might best him without the use of the High Lords magic–and even Rhys couldn’t beat him in a hand to hand fight. 

“You might like my home,” Cassian told her, setting his fork back to the table. Nesta’s eyes flashed and Cassian wondered how depraved it made him to wish she’d fly across over those elegant dish ware and wrap her hands around his throat. 

At least then she’d be touching him. And oh, but how he wanted to feel those hands against his skin, even if she was pummeling him into oblivion. Especially if she was pummeling him into oblivion.

Azriel coughed politely while Rhys stared up at the chandelier and too late, Cassian realized arousal must have been rolling off him. 

“I might,” Nesta agreed with a predator's smile, “if it were burning to the ground.”

“That’s enough!” Feyre interrupted as Rhys’s fork clattered to his plate. It wasn’t, though. Nesta wasn’t finished eviscerating Cassian and Cassian was going to let her. He held her stare, head cocked.

I’m not scared of you, he thought. It was only half a lie. What happened when Feyre explained to Nesta how mating bonds worked? The female before him was likely to break it simply because she could. There was no love for his kind in those eyes. 

“And when it's your home that's burning first?” Cassian asked her. “Mine has already been thoroughly wrecked and might have been nothing but ash if your sister hadn’t come along.”

Nesta hesitated long enough for Cassian to understand some small piece of the female tied to him by fate itself. Nesta didn’t know what had happened in Prythian, then. Didn’t know what had caused Feyre’s transformation or, if she did, she didn’t wholly understand it. Cassian imagined Feyre might have downplayed the worst of things to spare her sisters. 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Nesta asked him, regaining herself with a quick blink of those mesmerizing eyes. “To keep my home safe.”

Cassian offered her a smile. “That’s exactly right.”

Azriel coughed again, his cheeks burning as he kept his eyes on his plate. Cassian’s smile slipped—he wasn’t aroused. Even Feyre couldn’t look at her sister, though she remained silent as Cassian realized this time it was Nesta’s faint arousal in the air, snuffed out like a candle when she realized herself. Cassian doubted she knew their senses had all caught it, and if anyone told her, Cassian thought he might kill them. Nesta didn’t seem like she handled embarrassment well and if she learned, Cassian was certain she’d lean hard into her anger and fear and he’d never scent it again.

Dinner passed quietly after that. Elain made awkward small talk with an equally awkward Azriel, allowing the rest of them to say nothing. And when they finished, both Nesta and Elain vanished, leaving only the latter to return later to show them to their respective rooms for the evening. 

Neither Azriel nor Cassian commented on Feyre and Rhys sharing a bed chamber and Elain was far too modest to do anything but close the door quickly, eyes wide with embarrassment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put you away from…” Elain chewed the inside of her cheek. Cassian only shrugged. It was to be expected that everyone would want him far, far away from Nesta Archeron. For all he knew, Nesta herself had ordered he be put outside. If she’d told him herself to sleep in the stables, he would have done it. She wasn’t going to speak to him and he wasn’t going to make things more difficult. 

Elain vanished the moment she’d unlocked the door at the end of the empty hall. The best was big enough to accommodate his wings though little else. Cassian sighed, ignoring it and the roaring fireplace in favor of the large, closed windows. He flung them open and angled his head to look up at the sky. Stars were blotted out by gray clouds and though his eyes were sharp, even in the distance he could see nothing of his home. 

Had he infuriated the Mother so badly she’d pair him with a human. How long would it take Cassian to convince Nesta she could trust him? And how much longer after that before time stole her from him? Cassian had an eternity ahead of him, stretching miserably as he considered that eighty years were nothing, and somehow everything all at once.

What was worse? Being allowed to love her for the span of time he’d been given, or her breaking the bond and knowing one day he’d feel it vanish from his chest like it had never been there at all. Potentially watching his brothers find mates knowing his own had rejected him, moved on, and died and he’d never have a fraction of what they did? 

He was sliding into pity when he heard feather soft footsteps in the hall. Cassian turned from the window, bracing himself for a fight when the handle to the door turned. There she was—still dressed in the amethyst gown. Her golden brown hair was braided in a crown around her head while a silver necklace adorned the delicate column of her throat. Cassian couldn’t breathe while he looked at her.

Nesta kept her hand on the golden knob of the door even as she closed it. As if he might snatch her up and lock her away.

The thought was tempting.

“Feyre says this thing between us can be broken,” she began, saying the words he dreaded the most. Cassian kept his expression flat, not daring to let her see that one sentence threatened to unmake him. 

Silence stretched endlessly, forcing him to speak. “Do it, then.”

Her eyes flashed. Cassian squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever words Rhys had told Feyre to tell Nesta—the words that would unravel the spell between them just as quickly as it had settled.

“Feyre says you plan to watch us after the queen's leave tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a question, though Cassian answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Even if I break the bond?”

“You think my help is conditional?” he challenged. 

“You’re a man aren’t you?” she shot back. Cassian dared a small step toward her. Nesta didn’t flinch nor did she shrink back. She merely watched, waiting to see what would happen.

“No, Nesta Archeron. I am not a man.” 

And because he was so very, very stupid, Cassian unfurled his wings just to illustrate his point. He was a fae male, not a human man. 

“What’s the difference?” she demanded, her heart thudding so loud it was the only thing he could hear. Cassian couldn’t make heads or tails of the scent coming off her—it wasn’t fear or arousal, but something else. Something that excited him all the same. 

“Would you like to find out?” 

Say yes, say yes, say yes— “I don’t want you to…” Nesta took a breath, exhaling it slowly through pretty, pink lips. “We’re alone here.”

Careful so not to scare her, Cassian reached for the knife sheathed along his thigh. Nesta tracked the movement with that predator's gaze. She could have been a powerful warrior if she’d wanted to be. Could have brought kings to their knees with those eyes. 

“Take it,” Cassian told her, holding the silver hilted weapon in his hands. “Put it under your pillow.”

“What will this do?”

“If you’re quick about it, and someone dares to try and sneak up on you, it’ll kill them ideally,” he told her, unwilling to admit how achy and tight he felt at the thought of her covered in blood. Furious, too, when he imagined the sort of person that might creep into her bedroom late at night.

“Buy yourself time until I arrive.”

Nesta darted forward, fingers brushing his own. “How will you know I’m in trouble?” she asked him, not moving away. She was close enough to touch, close enough to taste. Not this night, he knew. There was something lingering in her gaze, some old wound Cassian could guess well enough. 

You’re a man, aren’t you? 

Cassian would kill whoever had hurt her. Just the thought someone had been so careless with his mate made him want to roar, made him want to snap his teeth and dig his fingers into soft, breakable flesh. He wanted to bring her the head of that male for her approval. 

“I’ll know,” he said instead, fighting to keep the fury from his tone. 

“What if you’re not here?” she questioned. 

“Then you fight until I can find you,” he replied, certain she would anyway. Nesta gripped the night tighter in her hand, sharp nails digging along her palm. He was going to touch her, he decided. Carefully and slowly, Cassian reached for her face and skimmed his knuckles along her high cheekbone. She let him, though she didn’t lean into the touch or otherwise show any appreciation for it. “You fight like hell.”

“And then what?” she whispered. 

Gods, had anyone ever taken care of this woman—his female? Cassian considered asking her for a list of everyone who had ever hurt her, starting from her earliest memories and working forward. 

He stepped closer, drinking in that warm scent. “And then I’ll lay the world in ashes at your feet.”

Nesta didn’t flinch, nor did she falter. She didn’t have to speak for him to know he’d get one shot to prove himself to her. One chance to show he meant what he said and that she could depend on him. That she could trust him.

“Good night, Cassian,” she said, holding his gaze for only a moment. His knees wobbled as some invisible force pushed on his shoulder, demanding he bow. He hadn’t done so since Rhysand’s father had been alive and had always been immensely resentful of it.

But now Cassian made himself low, eyes averted before his lady.

“Good night, Nes.”

The meeting with the queens was predictably shitty but Nesta was unpredictably passionate. He’d expected his mate and her sister to side with the queens but Nesta had spoken up, arguing in favor of aligning with the fae. And though Cassian didn’t dare say so out loud, he did wonder—and hope—that some of that was his influence. 

Maybe she didn’t want to see his home burn as badly as she claimed.

Cassian returned that night, flying silently through the darkness, desperate to see her. The cord in his chest shimmered, bringing him directly to her bedroom window. He could see her brushing out waist length, golden blonde hair in front of vanity when he knocked softly on the glass. She turned, eyes narrowed.

Nesta snatched up a dressing robe, covering the silken night dress that hugged every lush curve of her body and threatened to knock him from the sky before she opened the window.

“Haven’t you heard of the front door?” she hissed while Cassian wedged his too-large body into her bedroom.

“And scare your servants?” he retorted, eyes falling on the bed in the center of the room. She’d pulled the cream colored bedding back in preparation for sleep, filling his head with lewd, inappropriate thoughts. What did she do when she was all alone? 

Nesta ran her tongue along her teeth. “I figured you’d sit on the roof like a gargoyle.”

He laughed. “It’s too cold for that. I think I’d like to warm myself in front of your fire.” Her eyes were slits as he made his way toward the marble hearth, hands outstretched. “You’re supposed to be keeping us safe!”

He flashed her a grin. “No place is safer for you now—”

“And what about Elain?” she demanded, hands on her hips. Cassian forced himself not to let his gaze slide down her body though he so desperately wanted to make his appreciation plain. Nesta was too proper to enjoy that from someone she still didn’t trust, and Cassian was in it for the long haul. He could be patient, could let her come to him when she was ready. 

“She’s two doors down, Nes. I think I can make it in time,” he replied. “No one is going to hurt you.”

She bit her bottom lip, some of that apprehension shining through. 

“I won’t let them,” he added. “If I can’t be here, I can send warriors—”

“No more fae—”

“Humans, then?” he suggested, though humans weren’t likely to be helpful if it were his own kind hunting them. No one knew about Feyre’s sisters as far as Cassian knew. Just him and his brothers…and, he supposed, Tamlin in Spring Court. And while he had no love for the High Lord of Spring, he didn’t think Tamlin was the sort of male to harm unarmed, defenseless females. If he had a problem with Rhysand, he’d bring it to their doorstep for a fair fight.

“Who are you so afraid of?” Cassian asked her. “Tell me their names.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t hide his blood lust. “You know why.”

“So, is this how the mating bond works for you, then? It makes you stupid?”

Cassian laughed again. “Sweetheart, I was born stupid. Your sister is my friend—I would come even if you were nothing more to me than that.”

“She says you’re the General of the Night Court.”

Something about hearing his title on her lips made Cassian tight again. He resisted the urge to adjust his pants in favor of taking a steadying breath. He was the master of his own cock—he wasn’t going to let her see his erection unless she wanted to. 

“Yes.”

“You’d send your own soldiers to guard us?”

“If it helped you sleep at night,” he replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Do you still have the knife?”

Nesta strode to her pillow and pulled it back so he could see she’d done exactly as he said. He had to touch her again. Cassian knew he was going to leave, that he’d go sit on the roof just like she wanted him to so she could sleep. She didn’t move as he came toward her, her spine utterly straight.

He touched her cheek again.

“Sleep well, Nes.”

“Good night, Cassian.”

Every night after, Cassian came through Nesta’s window. She showed him her knife, he touched her face, and then went to keep watch on the roof. It was taking a toll on him—during the day, Cassian helped train Feyre, too. 

“When are you sleeping?” Rhys asked him when Cassian stumbled into the town house for breakfast. 

He only shrugged. “When I can.”

They were still waiting on any word from the queens about the other half of the book.

“Feyre said Nesta agreed to some of my men to stand watch. Take a night off.”

“Why don’t you take a night off?” Cassian snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. Without Azriel as a buffer to soften Cassian’s words, all he had was the simmering irritation of Rhys at the other end of that table staring him down.

“Cassian—”

“Are you ordering me to?” he demanded, dropping his fork to the wood so he could cross his arms over his chest. “Because I made her a promise.”

“Fuck—no, I’m not ordering you to, but you’re going to get hurt if you keep this up,” Rhys retorted hotly. “Tell her to give you a bed at least. Sleep somewhere in that fucking house, I don’t care. I need you if things get bad.”

“Maybe you should train Feyre then,” Cassian said, holding Rhys’s gaze. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

Cassian had begun to suspect Rhys’s reasons for not training Feyre were the same ones that kept Cassian on Nesta’s roof each night. He’d kept his mouth shut about it and his suspicions to himself and all he was asking for similar courtesy from Rhys.

“You’re my best warrior,” Rhys replied evenly. “And she trusts you.”

Absently, Cassian wondered if Rhys would care half as much if the bond had snapped between him and Elain. He read Rhys’s dislike for Nesta plain as day on his face. Five hundred years hadn’t broken the brotherhood between them but this might. 

“Maybe you should, too,” Cassian said simply, rising from his chair. Rhys wasn’t giving him an order, which meant Cassian would continue on as he had. 

Though, that night when he slipped into Nesta’s window like he always did, she was already in bed. Blanket to her neck so he couldn’t see an inch of her, but more relaxed than she usually was. He caught a book face down in her lap and wondered what she liked to read.

“Are you okay?” she asked harshly. Too much like Rhys, he decided with some irritation.

“Fine,” he grumbled, raking both hands through his shoulder length hair.

“You look—” she stopped herself when he pinned her with his stare. “Rhys sent warriors. Did you see them?”

“I did,” he agreed. They’d been skulking about the perimeter, just out of sight from the humans. Any fae lurking, though, would clock their presence immediately. 

“You could go home tonight if you wanted?”

How did Cassian explain she was home? The thought of sleeping in his own bed while she was out here felt unbearable to him. So he shook his head and went back toward the window, well aware Rhys was going to chew him out for it in the morning.

“Or—” Nesta took a breath, leaning forward. Strands of that thick, long hair spilled over her delicate shoulders and fuck he wanted to bury his face in it so badly it hurt. “You could stay in the house tonight?”

Relief flooded through him. “That would be nice.”

“You look like you need sleep,” she said, gesturing for the robe hanging from her vanity chair. Cassian picked it up, drinking in the scent of her skin wafting off it as he handed it to her.

Turning for the fireplace, he let her dress without being watched. She was quick about it, hair tucked into the neck as she beckoned for him to follow. Cassian all but tripped over his own feet, joining her in the hall. He expected to be sent back into exile across the estate but Nesta merely pulled open a door right across from her own.

Her scent was all over it. Cassian stepped inside, drinking in that large bed and the dark sheets neatly tucked against the mattress. Looking at her, Cassian silently questioned when she’d put this together. Nesta would never answer, but the insight was helpful. Nesta was observant—knew he needed a place to rest. And she’d made him one and then, he supposed, waited to see if he’d keep coming back before she offered it.

She hesitated at the door. “Well–”

“Wait!” he said, reaching for her slim wrist. Nesta let him touch her, eyes sliding between his hand to his face. “Thank you, Nes.”

Her cheeks warmed. Gently, she pulled from his grasp, rose up on her tiptoes, and pressed a feather soft kiss to his cheek.

“Good night, Cassian.”

It was the best night's sleep he’d ever had. 

He was going to have to leave her—for several nights while they tracked Hybern’s spies down. Cassian was dreading that conversation more than any other in his entire life. He’d put off leaving as long as could, but after a while there was nothing left for him to do but take off for the house.

He found Nesta pacing her bedroom, arms wrapped around her body tightly. Her head snapped to the window when he tapped nervously and those silvery blue eyes that so often looked at him with nothing but disdain were filled with relief. 

Cassian didn’t know what to make of that. Still, he slipped in, bracing himself for her anger.

“Where have you been?” she asked, eyes scanning him. “I thought—”

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching for the tops of her arms.

“Where were you?” she demanded, hair spilling like liquid gold down her shoulders. Nesta’s bottom lip wobbled and Cassian thought he might die at the sight. “I thought—”

“I’m fine,” he promised. Nesta wrenched from his grasp, dressed in a red night dress nearly the same shade as the siphons on his hands. Had she done it on purpose or was it merely an accident? 

“You always come at the exact same time—”

“I was afraid,” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips in a rush. “This is the last night I’ll be here for a while. I need…I have to do something and I won’t be able to watch you. I don’t want to let you down.”

She was watching him. “Let me down?” she questioned, each word carefully enunciated. Cassian braced himself for her to break his heart—to tell him she didn’t care enough about him to be disappointed by him. That everything that had happened was merely his imagination and he was nothing at all to her. “How could you possibly think you could let me down, Cassian?”

He swallowed hard. “You will be alone in the house again. And I swore I’d keep you safe.”

“The soldiers will remain,” she said, coming toward him. “And I still have your knife. I’m not disappointed—I…”

Cassian waited, holding his breath. Nesta exhaled slowly, eyes closing for just a moment. When she looked back at him, he knew he was going to kiss her. He wasn’t leaving without knowing what she tasted like, if only to motivate him to finish his job quickly so he could return to her. 

“You could never disappoint me, Cassian.”

“Give me time,” he replied, reaching for her face. This time, when he cupped her cheek, Nesta leaned into the touch. He angled her face while lowering his own slow enough that if she wanted, she could pull away.

She didn’t. 

Gods, but Nesta Archeron had the power to fully undo him. Her lips were soft and warm, her heart pounding just as loudly as his own. The bond in his chest writhed with delight despite the utterly polite, impossibly chaste kiss he offered her. Nesta was a lady and Cassian wasn’t stupid. In a better world without the looming threat of war or the fear humans had of the fae, he’d have been allowed to walk up to her door, declare his intentions, and court her the way he was certain she would have preferred. 

He didn’t have those things, but he did have five centuries of restraint. And he needed all of that practice to pull himself back when her bed was right there, and his nose was burning with the sweetness of her arousal. 

“Wait,” Nesta whispered, trying to curl her fingers into the leather of his chest. 

She didn’t need to beg him. Hell, Nesta didn’t even need to ask. Cassian kissed her again, letting her feel some of his own desire that raced through him day and night. It was Nesta who wound her arms around his neck, pressing her warm, soft body against his own. Cassian let her take the lead, his mind blissfully empty of anything but the way her lips fit against his and the sweet taste of her. 

He didn’t realize he was gripping her hips until Nesta swayed, unable to keep herself upright on her tiptoes. Cassian ought to have known better—but he was stupid, just as he’d told her he was. Adjusting his grip, he hauled her up so she didn’t have to stand at all, but could brace her body weight against his arms. 

He half expected her to slap him for it. Instead, Nesta sighed, gripped his face, and kissed him again. She didn’t wrap her legs around him which was for the best—if he’d felt the heat of her cunt against his body he probably would have gotten on his knees and begged her to let him fuck her. Cassian was positive she’d never been touched before. The first few kisses had been sweet but clumsy, though Nesta was a perfectionist and by the time he dared to trace her bottom lip with his tongue, she kissed him with the expert precision of a female who knew exactly what males liked.

She opened for him, drawing a ragged, desperate moan from his throat. She tasted better than she smelled, her tongue soft when it met his own. 

“Nesta,” he said, the words both prayer and plea as he spoke them directly into her mouth. She swallowed it greedily, kissing him again and again with the same fevered want he felt. This was his mate, in his arms, kissing him. Cassian understood why people were wary of mated males now. He would have gone to war for her. She could have pointed him in any direction and he’d have withdrawn his sword and done as she demanded.

He supposed the world ought to be grateful all Nesta wanted was peace. 

Raging hard by the time Nesta slid from his grasp, Cassian could do little more than breathe through his mouth. “I um,” she began, wrapping her arms around her body. “I don’t…”

“I know,” he said. She had no experience with this and Cassian wasn’t going to push her. Not now, not when he knew the kind of heat racing through her. “I’m going to bed. You should, too.” She nodded her head, watching him walk to her bedroom door.

“Cassian?”

He turned back to look at her. Beautiful. She was so damn beautiful.

“Be safe.”

He smiled. 

I love you too.

“What happened to you?” Nesta demanded. He’d promised to come back after that last meeting with the queens—the one where she’d begged for help and was rebuffed—and had found himself battling Hybern. In the aftermath, Cassian hadn’t meant to fall asleep in a chair, but by the time he’d woke it had been morning and Rhys wanted to plan their trip to Hybern. 

Cassian shook his head, reading the fear on her face. “I’m sorry. Nes, I’m so sorry—” “

You’re hurt,” she said. Cassian, who’d been covered in cuts and bruises since he’d been a boy, had forgotten he might still bear some of those wounds on his skin. He waved it off but she was coming to him in that red night dress and who was he to deny his mate the chance to fuss? 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ve had worse.”

The fear etched over her expression threatened to undo him completely. Holding her face, Cassian repeated, “I’m fine, Nes.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, so softly only his fae hearing caught it. He swallowed hard.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Stay with me?” she asked, fingers curling over his wrist. There was an unspoken please in her gaze, one he knew she didn’t dare speak aloud, if only to preserve some of her pride. Was she unaware he’d have done anything she asked him to. 

“In here?” his eyes drifted to the bed. Nesta nodded her head, her mouth set in a determined line. 

“Yes,” she said, looking him over with open disapproval. “And not in that.”

Cassian was still in his fighting leathers. He blinked. “I…I don’t have anything else to wear.”

It took Cassian too long to understand what Nesta wanted. Even after she sauntered into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, staring openly at him. Was he supposed to undress in front of her? Surely…surely she’d murder him for that? 

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked him.

“Yes?”

Cassian decided he’d just…start taking off his armor and stop whenever she told him to. He started with his weapons, setting them all gently against the same vanity she kept her jewelry. Nesta watched, knees drawn up, her eyes wide and hungry. That, he decided, must be a good sign. 

He removed his boots next, unlacing them slowly just to test that this was all read and actually happening. Nesta never took her eyes off him, even when he reached for the straps of his clothes. “Have you ever seen a naked male before?” he dared to ask, his words so obviously nervous it almost made him laugh. Had he ever been naked in front of a female before? It didn't feel like it—not with the way his fingers were stumbling over the clasps of his clothes.

“No,” she breathed. Cassian cleared his throat. He’d be the first, then. 

Nodding, he didn’t dare look at her again until he was wholly unclothed. Erect, too, which certainly didn’t help things. He could feel her eyes on him and when he dared to look, was relieved to see nothing but pure, undiluted arousal gracing that beautiful face.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, grateful he sounded sensual rather than desperate. Nesta cocked her head, gaze wholly on his cock. It twitched beneath her scrutiny, too optimistic given the company in which they stood. For all Cassian knew, she merely wanted to look at him before she sent him on his way.

“Promise you won’t hurt me,” she said instead, her voice crisp and careful. Cassian reached out for the bedpost to keep himself upright.

“I swear,” he said. “Nesta, surely you must know…you must know I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“And if I told you to throw yourself from the roof?” she asked. Cassian held her gaze.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I know,” she replied before curving a finger, beckoning him forward. Cassian tripped over his own feet, flopping to the bed. Nesta laughed—actually laughed—which propelled him toward her.

That smile turned her already stunning face into something ethereal. Cassian crawled to her, blanketing them both beneath his wings when he reached her face.

Holding it in his hands, he murmured, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

“Cass,” she murmured, her smile softening. That was enough. He didn’t need her to say anything else and didn’t think Nesta was able to. Maybe she never would be. Maybe it would be her lifetime of knowing she felt the same without ever hearing the words spoken.

It was enough. Ghosting his lips over her own and ignoring the way his cock was throbbing, Cassian murmured, “There will be nobody else. For either of us.” He wanted her to know that it had already been decades upon decades of no one already. That for as long as she’d been alive, there’d been only one person, for a quick, brief moment that had left him feeling less satisfied than before. And he wondered if somehow he hadn’t known his mate was out there waiting for him, tempering his hot blood. 

And Cassian knew when Nesta left the world, he was likely to go with her. Once they’d finished with Hybern, he resolved himself to see Helion Spell-Cleaver’s libraries and ask if there wasn’t some spell that might bind them, might strip him of his immortality so he could live one last lifetime with her.

Just the thought eased the tension weighing him down. Surely he wasn’t the first fae to love a human. Cassian kissed her and Nesta kissed back, pouring all her unspoken emotion into the act. It made him want to cry, made him want to be the sort of male who wrote sonnets and expressed himself with eloquence and ease. 

He had his hands and his mouth, though. And Nesta would know, by the time they finished, the depth of his devotion when it came to her. There would be no question of it, nor would she ever doubt him. It was selfish, but in his mind, Cassian was hoping he’d convince her to leave the mortal lands and live with him in Velaris where they’d be safe—and together. 

And if they succeeded in Hybern and prevented a war, Cassian could see no reason why she couldn’t, though he could imagine a million reasons why she wouldn’t. Elain, primarily, who was still engaged. Perhaps once Nesta saw her married, he rationalized.

Focus, he ordered himself. He was too distracted by too many possibilities when Nesta Archeron was warm and pliant beneath him. Willing, too, given the arousal perfuming the air around them. He was nervous, reaching for her shoulder—at any moment Cassian expected Nesta to hit him hard, to scream at him, to demand he get far, far away from her. 

Nesta’s teeth nipped his bottom lip, pulling a soft moan of pleasure from his throat. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her delicate arm. It convinced him to keep moving, his hands skimming the sides of her body until he found the hem of her night dress. 

“Arch your back,” he whispered against her mouth and Gods, but she did it without complaint. Nesta blinked open those big eyes, her lashes dark and thick and then, like every fantasy he’d ever had, did exactly as he asked. Cassian groaned without meaning to, swallowing hard as he raised the silken material over her head and then tossed it to the floor. 

Naked. 

Cassian could only stare at the unblemished body of his mate, unhidden by any blanket, though if someone were to fly by all they’d see would be his massive wings obscuring her from view.

And then they’d see the Mother, because he was pretty sure he’d kill someone for even trying. 

“Nes,” he whispered, certain it was sacrilegious to even touch her. Nesta trembled, waiting for him to say something but words were failing Cassian. In five hundred years, he had nothing that compared to her, to how beautiful he found her, how much she meant to him.

Shaking his head, certain he’d say the wrong thing, Cassian returned to kissing her. That was safer, and an easier way to express himself besides. Nesta seemed relieved, returning the gesture with the sort of gusto that made him half wild with need. Cassian touched her with less hesitation, cupping the breasts he’d spent the last few weeks trying so hard not to look at. It seemed worth it to him, not. She was so fucking soft, so warm and willing that his hips jerked in response.

Nesta did, too. She moaned softly, her tongue clashing with his own. He wanted to feel that tongue against his chest, his stomach, his cock. He’d teach her when he came back. He’d show Nesta exactly what he liked, how to get him off in as few touches as possibly—and how to prolong things for as long as she wished.

Cassian was so wrapped up in the fantasy, he didn’t notice her reach for his wings until she ran her finger along the edge. His hips jerked again and Cassian came without warming, grunting roughly. Nesta laughed again, her eyes wide with delight.

“Did you just—”

“Yes,” he said, catching her by the wrist and pinning it over her head. “An Illyrian’s wings are very sensitive.”

“They’re soft,” she said without an ounce of repentance. Privately, Cassian thought it was better this way—now, when he entered her, he wouldn’t be so fucking close. He wanted to see Nesta Archeron come all over his cock. He wanted to see his proper, well-bred lady unspool around him until she was just as wanton as he’d always imagined. 

Before she could come on his cock, though, she needed to come on his tongue. That he knew with absolute certainty. And since he’d come twice, she needed to, too. Besides, Nesta Archeron was untouched and had asked him not to hurt her, which meant he needed to work her into what was twitching between his legs. 

“Yes,” he agreed, kissing the corner of her mouth. “The only part of me that is, too.”

“Male pride is something else,” she crooned as Cassian licked a path down her neck. He hummed his agreement before drawing one of those rosy nipples into his mouth. She tasted so fucking good it made his chest ache. It also silenced Nesta, who raked her nails into his hair. She undid the messy half knot he’d thrown in right before leaving, tossing the leather strap somewhere in the room. He’d never find it again, a small price to pay if it meant pleasing her. 

“If I do something you don’t like, I need you to tell me,” he said, looking up at her flushed face. Nesta was uncharacteristically speechless, nodding her head while Cassian continued his path between her legs. He dared to spread them wide, to look at her flushed, gleaming sex. 

“Promise me, Nes. I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise,” she whispered, arching when his thumb slicked through the wet. Cassian circled her clit, watching the way her hips bucked without warning.

“Do you ever touch yourself like this?” he asked. It was something he’d wondered many times while sitting on her roof. More than once he’d been tempted to fly down just to see and knew he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself if he’d found her with her hand beneath the sheets. 

“Yes,” she whispered. He groaned at the thought.

“What do you imagine?” 

“You,” she rasped, reaching for his head as he replaced his thumb with his tongue. “Cassian—oh, gods—”

Oh, gods, indeed. She was sweet like that first scent of her, a reminder of walking through her house all those weeks before. Cassian had intended to go exceptionally slow, to draw the night out. He was running out of time and he knew it—a claw raked against his senses as Rhysand demanded to know where he was. Cassian shoved him out. 

Bother someone else he thought viciously. He’d return before dawn, but for now this time was his. Rhysand wasn’t allowed everything. Certainly not when Nesta’s legs were spread wide and she was gripping his hair so roughly there was real danger she might rip it from his head.

Cassian licked again, and again, and again, until he too was fucking the sheets and his cocking was practically weeping precome. 

Focus, he ordered himself again. It was too easy to get lost in instinct, to chase what felt good and forget that his mate was more than just new to being touched, but human, too. Whether Nesta agreed with him or not, she was fragile—breakable even. Bruises wouldn’t heal in minutes and he’d be damned if he was the one who was the cause of that guarded, suspicious look in her eyes. 

Cassian slid a finger into her body and nearly came again. She was so tight, so wet and warm clenched around his one finger that he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped him. He needed to work her up to taking him but more importantly, he needed to be inside her. Forcing himself to breathe, Cassian continued to lick as he worked a second, and finally a third finger into her.

Nesta was panting, writhing her hips on the sheets until the corner peeled from the mattress and bunched around her shoulder. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he rasped, though his words were half for himself. 

“Don’t stop,” she said. It wasn’t a plea so much as an order and the soldier that had been trained in him practically since birth straightened to obey. He couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and Cassian supposed it was lucky all she wanted was for him to keep going. He focused, trying to treat what he was doing clinically though he was failing miserably. His cock throbbed between his legs, wedged against his body and each time he moved his hands, his wings brushed over her shoulders. 

“Cassian,” she panted. His name on her lips was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. He was unraveling just as quickly as she was. Nothing had ever filled him with more relief than when she broke apart, her hand covering her mouth so the whole house wouldn’t hear her. He’d bring her to Illyria just as soon as he could, if only to hear her scream.

Even if it meant he had to bring her back when he finished. Maybe she’d enjoy flying. Cassian hoped so. 

“Cassian—” Nesta gasped when his mouth covered her own, forcing her to taste her release still branded on his tongue. Nesta moaned, legs still wide as he positioned himself between them.

Forcing himself to remain still, he let her watch through half lidded eyes while he licked the taste of her from his fingers.

“Tell me to stop if I hurt you,” he whispered, notching the head of his cock against her still throbbing entrance. Nesta nodded, swallowing audibly. She was wet, she was aroused, and he’d used his fingers to try and ease her into the thickness of him. There was nothing else he could do other than go slow and let her adjust inch by inch.

Even if it was torture to do so. 

“Breathe,” he said again, once again speaking more to himself than to her. “Just breathe.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, poking him in the ribs. 

“It’s not supposed to,” he replied, sliding himself further into her body. It was heaven and hell, her cunt so tight he couldn’t think straight. The bond in his chest writhed desperately, begging him to take more, to do it all much quicker. 

It was worth it once he was seated wholly inside her, gazing down at her lovely, flushed form to find her looking right back at him. Nesta squeezed, punching the air from his lungs. 

“I’m not breakable, Cassian,” she told him. Cassian didn’t know if he agreed, though he did gather up her wrists to hold them over her head. Nesta arched, testing his grip which was ironclad and unmovable.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, lowering his head and rolling his hips at the same time. Nesta’s breath caught. “Do you want me to fuck you, Nes?”

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes fluttering shut. Cassian thrust into her, testing to see what she could take. 

“How about this?” he asked, pumping harder. Nesta whined softly, her breasts bouncing when he did it again and again. She was so responsive and so wet. Cassian had once prided himself on his ability to last. What a joke. He wasn’t going to make it another five minutes. Cassian reached between her legs and began to rub at her clit again, focusing on a steady rhythm rather than winding her up. There would be time once they were out of Hybern. He’d explain how to accept the bond and he’d have that time with her. 

He wondered if she knew the writhing need she felt was a result of their shared bond. Cassian might have told her if he’d had the capacity for speech. All he had was her beneath him, dragging her nails down his shoulders now that her hands were free. As she built back up, tightening around him with each new wave of pleasure, Nesta’s back left the bed until he was practically holding her in his lap with a shaking arm.

“Nesta,” he whispered into her hair. He was praying and he knew it and when Nesta’s teeth sank into his shoulder, biting to keep her from screaming again, Cassian could only plead, “Nesta.”

He was asking for mercy, for forgiveness, for absolution.

His orgasm shot through him like a storm, swallowing him entirely with violent, incandescent pleasure. More, more, more, something begged. He couldn’t, though. Not tonight, not yet. Working to catch his breath, Cassian merely held her until there was nothing left inside him. He could feel his release sliding between the space of their bodies, joining his original mess on the sheets. 

Nesta wound her arms around his neck, face buried in his skin. “You’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I’ll be back,” he swore. “And nothing will keep us apart again.”

He could all but smell her doubt, but Nesta nodded her head. “We’ll…we’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll have this time, Nes. I promise.”

Somewhere in the darkness, Cassian could hear screaming. Her screaming. Wake up, wake up, wake up— he groaned, lifting his head to try and get to her. A million knives cut into his back pulled him back under, but not before he saw Nesta Archeron fighting like hell. Screaming her lungs out, trying to get away. 

You promised! You promised! Cassian could hear Nesta screaming it in his head. You promised to keep me safe! 

He reached for her, fingers gripping the cool, smooth floors. Groaning, he tried to drag himself forward.

Darkness swept over him again.

You failed. 

You promised.

Cassian woke with a start, bucking in bed. “Nesta,” he breathed, ignoring both Rhysand and Mor sitting in his bedroom. “Where is Nesta?” Mor’s pretty face paled, confirming all his worst fears. Dead—Nesta was dead. Scrambling, Cassian reached into his chest but nothing was there—only empty space where a bond had once been. 

“Cassian,” Rhys said, rising to his feet, palms outstretched.

“Don’t,” Cassian warned, ignoring the pain radiating in his back. His wings. He’d forgotten his wings, shredded to nothing by Hybern. Twisting, he found them intact, bound carefully in gauze. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Nesta is alive,” Rhys said, his face carefully neutral. “She’s upstairs with Elain.”

“I need to see her,” Cassian said, ignoring that he was only in a pair of shorts and couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. He remembered nothing of coming back, of whatever had been done to repair his body. All he remembered were flashes of Nesta, a gag in her mouth and her wrists bound. Of the Cauldron, of— “Right now.”

“Cass—”

“Right! Now!” he roared, pushing past two of his oldest friends. Neither of them tried to stop him, nor did they follow him. If Nesta was alive, why couldn’t he feel her? Why was the bond silent in his chest—a gaping wound that said she’d died? He didn’t believe Rhys or Mor, though rationally he knew they wouldn’t lie to him.  

Cassian forced himself up a winding set of stairs where the scent of Nesta was stronger. Heart pounding, he braced himself for something horrible. Maybe, he thought wildly, she’d broken the bond while he’d been unconscious and that was why he couldn’t feel her. Surely the magic would still obey her?

“Nes?” he called carefully, his palms clammy. Swallowing, Cassian made his way toward the study. “Nesta?”

He pushed open the door just as she stood, smoothing out the same amethyst dress she’d worn when they met. Cassian gripped the door frame, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. It was Nesta—and it wasn’t. Her beautiful face, her lithe form but magnified in the glow of immortality. Her eyes, lined silver with concern as she came toward him. And her ears…delicately arched through her neatly braided hair.

“You’re awake,” she said, stopping close enough to touch. Cassian forgot about the pain of his back in favor of his fractured heart. He took a breath as the bond returned, snapping as it once had all those weeks before. He caught her eyes flutter shut, saw the flickering relief grace her features.

“You died.” 

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move as she nodded her head. “Yes.”

The noise that escaped him drew her attention. Cassian didn’t care, reaching for her even as his legs gave out. The two of them fell to the floor in a heap of limbs, smooshed together as he tried to piece it all together. She’d gone in that Cauldron and he…he’d let it happen. 

“I’m sorry.”

Nesta twisted, mindful of his bound wings, so she could hold his face. “For what?”

“I promised to keep you safe—”

“I fought,” she whispered, interrupting him before he could fall apart. Tears pricked the back of Cassian’s eyes. “Just like you said. I took something, Cassian, I…”

Nesta swallowed, eyes darting toward the hall as though she expected someone to come bursting through.

“I think I came back wrong.”

Cassian shook his head. “No—no, you’re perfect. We’ll figure everything else out together. You…are…you’re living here?”

Nesta looked over his shoulder again, lowering her voice. “We can’t go back.”

We. Elain. “You’ll stay with me. I won’t leave you. Not again. Never again.”

Nesta pressed her forehead to his. “Okay.”

Raking his fingers through her hair, Cassian repeated himself. “I’m sorry, Nes. I’m so fucking sorry.”

But it was Nesta—sweet, too forgiving Nesta, even if no one but he knew it—who said, “I love you Cassian. There is nothing you could do I wouldn’t forgive.”

He didn’t plan to test that theory, though. “I love you, Nes. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

She took a breath. “Together.”

[svgvru]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄...𝐈𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

it's dec 24th in japan; therefore, angsty and fluffy fic. major manga spoilers! sukuna v gojo mentioned, megumi mentioned. this isn't x reader, but i can make one if wanted! satosugu!!

“𝗝ujutsu sorcerers always die with regrets and always are close to death while having to tear apart the flesh of a curse." satoru had to admit, his teacher was right. he couldn't think of one sorcerer who died without regrets; it simply comes with the job. he himself has regrets; the more he thinks, the more they come. but his biggest, is his failure to protect his students.

he wonders, no, he knows...if suguru geto, his one and only, had been there─perhaps things would've turned out differently? maybe he would've had the motivation?

no.

satoru would've still lost. because even if he refuses to admit it, his humanity is his greatest weakness.

he deliberately refrained from doing an thing that would completely destroy megumi sukuna. perhaps if he had no humanity in him, he wouldn't have this regret? "the strongest," wouldn't have lost.

there would'nt be any pain in his stomach, nor blood spilling from his lips. he would'nt have caused shoko so much pain, yet there would be no megumi. he would'nt have died, but he would've left his student's soul from the depths of his possesed body.

satoru gojo's biggest regret? his ultimate failure in saving those who he desperately wanted to.

not even his one and only.

on the day of december 24th, suguru geto was executed, although his body was never presented to the higher-ups. that day, satoru was forced to sepreate himself from suguru. and as if some trick of fate, he happened to he united with suguru, just a year later.

satoru's eyes fluttered open; the scenery was much different than the crumbling buildings and megumi's face.

it was an airport.

and next to him was his one and only, smiling back at him. "took you long enough," suguru bumped his shoulder lightly. "yeah yeah," satoru beamed at the sights of those he missed. nanami, haibara, yaga, and suguru.

satoru's body slouched as he burried his head in suguru's neck. "i missed you..."

he felt a hand card through his silver hair delicately; he could feel suguru's smile against his forehead. "well, maybe i should give you a kiss, hm? think of it as a welcome─" suguru's words were interrupted by satoru's eager lips pressing against his own. suguru chuckled, kissing him back with all the love he could muster.

"would you two get a room?" they heard nanami irritated voice speak.

satoru chuckled, leaning back, "sorry."

"someone's happy to see me," suguru teases; his finger poking satoru's side. it was a teenage dream come true, literally. perhaps it was fate that they'd all meet at the moment they were last happy. "told ya...missed you."

it was quite funny to satoru as he closed it eyes and relished in the happiness he felt.

on the most romantic day of the year, he was reunited with his soulmate. even if it was in the afterlife. perhaps he'd stay in the south?

this was stupid. but idk if anyone wants to be tagged in this considering this isn't 'x reader.' but, satosugu!

[freaktoru]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . nanami kento doesn’t argue… except this time he does. and he fucks you while he does it.

18+ MDNI, nanami is kind of a meanie :(

nanami kento is a man of undeniable patience and unwavering calm. a think-first, speak-later kind of man—never quick to argue, and always one to listen attentively before offering his own thoughts.

but when you “accidentally” forget to tell him that you’re going out with your friends after work, and spend hours worrying him sick and not answering your phone? now that really pisses him off.

clearly, you had forgotten to follow one of the most important, fundamental rules the two of you had set for each other—always let the other know of your whereabouts. 

seems like nanami had to remind you somehow. and today, his method of choice was fucking it into you. 

“you just can’t” thrust. “do” thrust. “what” thrust. “i tell you” thrust. “huh?” he drives each word into you, his thick cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside—making sure you feel exactly how much he means it.

your face is buried in the sheets of your shared bed, tears staining the pristine white bedsheets. nanami has been at this for hours now, pounding into you—every thrust harder and more punishing than the last.

“ ‘m sorry k-kento please” you sob pathetically into the wet sheets, voice barely audible in your helpless position. a strong hand fists a handful of your hair, pulling your head up closer to his. 

kento leans over, his warm, ragged breath brushing the tip of your ear, staying buried deep in your quivering, tight walls. 

“what was that?” he whispers, keeping a strong—almost painful grip on your hair. 

“i’m s-sorryyy kento i forgot” 

“mmm sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky, whisper “that just won’t do.” he finishes, deliberately moving his other hand from your waist up to your sensitive, hardened nipples. you let out a mewl of pleasure as he rolls one between his fingers—the sound quickly turning into a breathy whine when he pinches down.

“please” you barely choke out the plea between sharp sobs. 

“please what? use your words baby” he mutters, hands now kneading the soft flesh of your tits.

“i’m s-sorry” is the only thing you can manage to say—pathetic and ruined in your fucked out state.

kento frees you from his grasp, letting your head fall back down into the mattress. his bruising grip on your waist returns, and he slowly starts moving his hips again. 

“i don’t think you are” is all he says, before quickening his already harsh pace. kento fucks you like this—like he’s trying to make you understand—for the rest of the night.

and you do understand. you understand that you’ll never make nanami mad again.

[tojbnuy]

roommate!sukuna who is having a really hard time with you his new roommate. he thinks he should be offended at this rate. did you think he was gay? what other reasoning could there be for the way you act and dress infront of him. he knew for a fact that when you left the house this morning you had on a cardigan buttoned right to the top. and yet you walked into his room on your way in to show him your new nails and all that covered you was a tiny pair of shorts and a thin tank top with the lace of your bra peeking through.

“kuna looooook i got polka dots and a new shape, do you like them?”

how was he supposed to focus on your nails when your tits were practically in his face, pushed together due to the way you were positioned.

‘yeah brat they’re nice, and it’s cold put some clothes on.’

‘i’m not colddd’ you sing songed on your way out.

and this may not sound so bad, but there was also the time you had gotten your shirt mixed up with his in the wash. and when he had asked you if that was his shirt you were wearing you simply said Oops! and proceeded to take it off then and there infront of him. and only when he saw the bottom of your breasts did he realize you weren’t wearing a bra. he had managed to turn around in time and was perplexed at why you would strip infront of him with the biggest smile on your face. you weren’t even trying to be seductive you were just you. and he was beginning to be offended. why weren’t you attracted to him. he was insanely attracted to you. everytime you plopped down next to him on the couch for your movie nights in your tiny shorts or just plain underwear he’d have to cover his lap with a cushion at the immediate semi. everytime you mouthed off to him he had to convince himself not to put you over his knee. and when you napped in his bed instead of yours and sprawled your legs out as if you owned the place with one of your stupid plushies brought along with you and his pillow shoved between your thighs. that, he wasn’t so mad about however, sometimes it still smelt like you when he was touching himself at night with the thought of your soft body fresh in his mind.

you were frankly becoming a pain in the ass and he was ready to sort it out.

a/n: not proofread sorry. also starting my jjk men as roommates drabbles, feel free to send in suggestions! :) PART TWO OUT HERE

[v1x3n]

thinking about trueform sukuna who loves overstimulating you to the max. you're riding him - well, not really. your sat up on his cock but two of his hands are gripping your hips, bouncing you up and down furiously.

one of his cocks, the bigger one, stretching out your poor pussy. reaching so deep, your stomach bulges out, showing the shape of his mighty cock. his other cock wasn't as bulky or tall as the other one, but it was still bigger than any other mans. that one was stuffed tight into your puckered hole, filling you up nicely. you couldn't get away from the pleasure as sukuna forces you to swallow his length over and over again. taking him whole was a hard thing but with a bit of force, you could do it.

the tongue that slides out from his stomachs mouth, licks a wet glob of spit on your clit, lapping at the small bud.

you whine loudly, tears brought to your eyes. you squirm, trying to get away as your legs shake angrily. "what's the matter?" his soothing words would have been nice despite his mocking grin that plasters his sweaty face.

you mumble out slurred words, while his two free hands are attached to your boobs. grabbing, grasping and pinching the skin. your nipples already swollen from the clamps he had clasped to them earlier. slight red glows at your sensitive nipples. you mewl loudly, tears dripping down your chin as you moan repetitively. your legs shake with a violent pace.

cum lashing out from your pussy, dripping down his cock as you squirt all over him. the mouth on his stomach seems to groan at the taste, lapping it up. his hands bounce you angrier, desperate the take every drip from in you.

your messy hair wafts around, sticking to your skin slightly. sweat covers you as your body is worn out from the past hour. "su-hah!" you moan out loudly. eyebrows pinching together.

"take it." he groans out, head falling back in laughter and pleasure. a hand that grips your hip harshly moves up to your stomach, pressing down hard. you whine as spurt out more liquid. "fucken messy girl."

[classyrbf]

cheerleader!reader riding nerd!toji in the locker room afterschool. You’d basically be shunned by your team if they ever found out you were fucking a nerd, but you just couldn’t resist him. He wasn’t an ordinary, stereotypical type of nerd. He was the type who kept to himself, very nonchalant, and only conversed with a few people, but he also was very smart, not to mention muscular (he must hit the gym in his free time). It’d be a shame if he didn’t put those muscles to use. You’re a bit of a slut, practically slept with the entire football team and none of them had you whipped like Toji. His big hands, his thick cock, his muscular arms, they all just fit so perfectly in or on you.

Your skirt is hiked up, panties pushed to the side as you ride him on the bench, the loud sound of skin clapping echoing through the locker room. “Nnngh—fuck! Your cock feels so good!” You pant, slamming your hips down on his, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “I swear—ah! Don’t tell anyone about this! I’ll make your life hell!” You threaten through your moans, biting down on your lip.

“I…I won’t.” He shakes his head, running his hands over your inner thighs, eyes glued to the way your pussy sinks down onto his glistening cock. “Fuck…your pussy feels too good,” he rasps, his hands reaching up to grip your waist.

“Don’t you dare cum in me! Mmmph, I can feel you throbbing!” Your mouth is saying one thing but your mind is saying another. You’d absolutely love to see his cum dripping from your pussy, but you can’t take any chances. But your hips keep on moving and your pussy keeps on clenching down on him like a vice, milking his cock.

“Shit, shit! S-slow down!” He tries to halt your movements, but you slap his hand out the way. “Stop! You’re gonna make me fucking cum! Ah! Nnngh!” His eyes squeezed shut as you went faster, bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat.

“I…I can’t…stop.” Your eyes glaze over, like your in a trance, your sloppy pussy squelching with each movement and before you know it toji dumps his hot load inside of you, the sheer feeling making you cum with him. “Oh my god! Yes!” You rock your hips back and forth, his cock massaging against your g-spot. Your body twitches above his for few moments, both of you catching your breath. “Keep your mouth shut about this.” You warn, slowly lifting your hips, his cum oozing out slowly. A soft whimper leaves your lips as you stand to your shaky feet, fixing your skirt. “Ugh now I need to get a plan b.”

“I told you to get off,” he plainly said. “Not my fault.”

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Perhaps they ought not to have eaten the dragon. There had been people objecting to it at the time. Surely such meat was poisonous. Perhaps it was even an affront, an insult to some intangible order of nature they ought to honour.

But the city was starving, the siege had gone on too long, and the king's troops were still a week's march away. The scorched earth would be fertile again in time, but right now it was barren. Right now there were mouths to feed. So they changed their crossbows for butcher knives and got to work.

None of the royal commanders asked any questions that could not be answered. After all, their aid had come shamefully late. The dragon's horned skull made a noble gift, a fitting tribute from a triumphant city to its humbled king. Who would have thought to question them?

And none of the townsfolk spoke up, when the first golden-eyed babes were born. Children who grew up barefoot and fearless, clambering over the city's patched and rebuilt roofs like they had no notion of falling, with a strange glitter to their skin when the sunlight hit it just so. No one breathed a word about dragons.

Because soon enough there were deft, young hands taking loaves straight out of the oven, heedlessly lifting iron from the forge, plunging into boiling laundry water. And some of them more wondrous still, wild, warm-skinned youths, with inexplicable knowledge and peculiar remedies.

A blessing, their families said proudly. A blessing after so much hardship. Which it was, in its way. This city would never fear dragon fire again.

[gojosluut]

Turning around on your other side facing Satoru, you poke his muscular back with your index finger. Making his back arch a bit, as he turns his head around to look at you with a confused sleepy face.

“what was that for?” he rasps, sleep still lacing in his voice.

“can you lay on top of me..? like on my back..?” you whisper, your eyes peering up at his tired blue ones.

“…”

“…”

“…you want me to do what?” he asks sitting up more to get a better look at you. His face now outright confused.

“..I want you to lay on top of me!! like crush me with your body!” You whine, your hand now laced around his muscular bicep, gently shaking him from side to side.

Satoru sighs a small smirk on his lips. “fine, fine.. lay down on your stomach.” He says softly. You smile up at him before flipping onto your stomach, your face going into your soft pillow. laying in a pencil like position.

He turns over more lifting the covers up as he goes to his knees, before laying ontop of you. Laying his entire weight on your back, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

You sigh softly with content, feeling his entire weight on you. Turning your face slightly to the side having a lazily smile on your lips. “mm now i’m comfortable..” you mumble sleepily, all Satoru can do is chuckle lightly into the crook of your neck.

“why am I crushing you again?” He murmurs into your soft skin.

“becauseeee you’re like my personal heating pad for my period cramps,” you mumble out. As your eyes droop shut. Satoru sighs smiling, shaking his head lightly.

“weirdo..” he mumbles before drifting off back to sleep. with his body quite literally covering yours completely, your period cramps dissolving as his warmth and the pressure of his body soothing the pain entirely.

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

[cumironi]

ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

[reignpage]

❀ In which your milk ducts are clogged and husband!Nanami is more than willing to help 

It’s just to help feed the baby, he says. It’s his duty, he says. He can't stand seeing you wince, struggling to feed, grappling with this side of parenthood all by yourself.  

And that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t really explain why his glossy eyes are rolling back as he suckles on one of your leaking breasts. Glasses carelessly thrown on the bedside table, hair all mussed up, and shirt wrinkled, the Kento cradled on your chest is one you rarely see. He seems driven by some kind of madness and simultaneously, the most in-control he's ever been.

Firm hands grope and squeeze mercilessly, applying circular motions that steal your breath. His calloused fingers tickle the sensitive skin, eliciting shivers, shudders and whimpers out of you.

“Ken,” you whine, “you’re suckling too -hah- hard.”

A growl rips through the air when you attempt to squirm out of his hold. “The baby, h-honey. Think about the baby. She needs her mommy ready to go, doesn’t she?”

“But she’s already sleeping.”

He lets out a proud sigh. “She’s such a well-behaved little thing, isn’t she? She got it from you. My girls, so good to me, always so good.”

Pinned to the bed by his firm, muscular body, you can do nothing against the onslaught of sloppy smooches slobbering all over your tits. Sticky milk dribbles out but doesn’t drip too far before his greedy lips slurrrrps! up your sweet essence. 

“You taste so d-delicious, sweetheart, God, I can’t get enough of you.”

Rutting in between your quivering legs, his clothed cock, hard and throbbing, rubs just right against your pussy. Kento doesn’t even realise he’s grinding into you, that your pussy has long grown sloppy and messy under your panties, and that you’ve already orgasmed three times since he’s made it his personal mission to ease your aches.

“Ken! It’s too much, my nipples are too -ngh!- sensitive.”

Shushing you, he presses your breasts together so he can wrap his glossy lips around both nipples at the same time. “It’s alright, my love. You can take it. Just a little more, okay? Just a little more for Kento.”

“You have to s-stop soon.” It's been hours, the clog's long gone, but your husband shows no sign of stopping. You're not even sure he remembers why you're in this position to begin with. 

Obscene sounds reverberate around the room, dizzying you beyond sanity. Wet, sticky, and delirious, you’re helpless against the lapping of his gluttonous tongue on both of your breasts, flicking the oversensitive nipples, baring them to the steam of the air between you. “Five more minutes. P-please. I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

You nod, feverish and crazed by his ravenous appetite. 

“Oh, thank you, honey. Thank you. You’re too good to me.” 

He has earned it — your husband is so patient, so caring, and diligent. You can put up with five more minutes. That’s what you thought, at least. But when time's up, he shakes off your weak pushes and latches himself onto a poor, abused breast and begs with a mouthful.

“Five m-more minutes, sweetheart, please? Just five more. I’ll fill you up and you -hah- can milk my cock too. Kento’s being fair, isn’t he? Kento’s never let you down, right? Of course not. So, be a good girl and tend to your husband, alright? He's positively starved.”

[sacred-treasure]

smut, 18+, mdni

nasty!toji who spits on your pussy while eating you out just to watch it slide down your puffy folds until it dips to your entrance. shoving his tongue inside your hole and fucking his saliva deeper inside, chuckling against you when he feels you clench around his hot tongue. “you like that, sweetheart?” words hot and thick against your sticky cunt.

toji gets impatient with not having an answer and pulls away just to spank your pussy. “asked you a question,” he barks in a sharp tone, catching your attention. you immediately squeal, voice breaking with a “y-yes! oh god, i love it, toji!” you can barely make out a muffled, “good girl” before he’s spreading your folds open wide, watching as you blossom pink and flushed for him before licking up your slit and sucking your clit directly into his mouth.

nasty!toji who lets his tongue wander when he’s going down on you, slipping inside your ass and feeling your pussy clench around his fingers that are still stuffing your cunt full. “quit squirmin’, mama,” he pulls his fingers out, coated in your slick, just to meanly slap your pussy twice before spreading your thighs further.

his tongue licking around your puckered hole, the one no one’s touched, “gonna let me be your first doll? want me to fill you up the way no man ever has?” his voice deep and rough, eyes flaring with something possessive, getting off on corrupting you.

nasty!toji who fucks you hard just to see you squirt on his chest. his thrusts are nothing short of cruel, swollen tip pushing against your abused g spot over and over again. you feel the pressure building, your thighs threatening to close from the intense feeling but toji won’t have it.

no, his calloused palms are shoving your legs apart and driving his hips even harder into the same spot. you try to warn him, voice wavering with each rough crash of his pelvis against your ass, but he only presses his hand down on your lower stomach, amplifying the sensation until you finally spray.

his chest is glistening from your gushing pussy and you feel a wave of embarrassment knowing you’re the direct cause for the sheen on his abs. before you can think too much about it, toji’s pulling out and diving face first into your cunt.

he licks at your folds, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit as your juices continue to flood his face despite you trying your hardest to make it stop. he runs his face back and forth across your silky skin and groans hoarsely, basking in your taste as he shoves his tongue inside your pussy.

“toji!! s’ too much—fuck!” you cry out, muscles giving out as you try to push his head away. he pulls his head back only to spit on your pussy, giving her two more rushed licks before sitting up on his knees once more, stroking his cock and fucking you right back in the same rhythm, a dirty combination of slick and squirt decorating the lower half of his face, coating his lips and that damn scar you love so much.

nasty!toji who fucks you in missionary just to watch you cry. the way he rams his cock into you is nothing short of mean, his eyes half lidded in lust and his fingers intertwined with your own as he holds them above your head. you’re rendered helpless, forced to take every rough thrust of his hips even when it’s too much. your cunt begins clenching around him too tight, the slight pain that the stretch of his fat cock gives you growing more intense with each relentless thrust.

you can’t even help the big tears welling up in your lash line or your bottom lip quivering as you begin to pout at him. “t-toji, it’s too deep. fuck, you’re too deep!” you begin to whine out, head turning back and forth against the plush pillow, body being run for all its worth and feeling the twitches throughout your frame in an unfamiliar pattern—you’re at your limit. and he’s still not through.

“just gotta make sure i get all of it, you know this, ma,” his nose is dragging along the column of your throat, his balls slapping wetly against your ass as he ensures every inch of his cock is snug inside your overstimulated pussy. your eyes shut and the tears begin to fall, your heels digging into the dip of his spine to pull him even deeper, body conflicting itself and somehow still begging for more.

“there she is, that’s—shit—that’s my good girl,” he praises once he feels you pulling him in even closer, head pulling back to look you in the eyes before flattening his tongue against your jaw, licking all the way up your cheek and savoring the salty taste of your tears.

“taste so sweet when you’re cryin’ for it. this poor little pussy can’t get enough even with all your whinin’,” his words are punctuated with a rumbly chuckle before he begins lapping at the opposite side of your face. his wet tongue moves slowly across your skin, the humiliation causing soft sobs to fall from your swollen lips but his hips never stop moving. his leaky tip rams against your cervix with each thrust while he presses a wet kiss to the corner of your eye. “so pretty when you cry, just makes me wanna fuck a baby into ‘ya.”

nasty!toji who can’t help himself from eating his own cum out of your pussy. he’d long since lost count of how many times he felt your cunt flutter around him, coming over and over from his insatiable desire to fuck you for all he’s worth. he didn’t give you time to recover after an orgasm, and if you’re honest, you can’t be sure you can tell the difference between one ending and the next one washing over your overstimulated body.

toji had inhumane stamina and sex happened to be one of the places it showcases the best. he can go for hours, never getting bored of your broken moans ringing through his ears or that frothy ring of your cum that coats the base of his dick. but when he does finally come, it doesn’t mean he’s anywhere close to being done with you.

nasty!toji fills you with so much of his cum that it can’t possibly all fit inside of your poor, abused pussy. it spills out even with him still driving his hips forward to push it deeper, making a mess of your thighs and his heavy balls as it overflows. toji simply doesn’t care and groans out in a raspy tone as he feels his orgasm last longer than normal, his cock somehow still filling you with more of his hot, sticky load.

when he eventually pulls out, he’s immediately dropping to his stomach and pushing the backs of your thighs towards your chest. you’ve never looked so messy before, he’s sure of it, as he licks up the thick stream of white pouring out of your sloppy folds. his eyes shut as he revels in the taste of your combined cum, bumping your clit with his nose while his tongue laps at your quivering entrance as he cleans up the mess he made of you.

[softaestluv]

more! | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Just thinking about Ghost having a shy, quiet wife. The glaring opposite of Ghost, painted in black and blood while you’re adorned in lace and frills. Smooth skin and delicate flesh, warm eyes and a bashful smile. Soft-spoken and so fucking sweet.

No one else knows about you, or that he’s married, not from lack of wanting people to know he has such a pretty dove waiting for him at home, but because he knows all the men on base would eat you alive.

But one day, he forgets the lunch you made him. It takes everything in you to refrain yourself from driving to base to make sure he has something to eat— you know he doesn’t have the healthiest eating habits.

You choose to message him, something he usually responds fairly quickly to. Always at your beck and call just in case his sweet girl needs him, but he doesn’t answer. Your lips are pinched raw with worry by the time you decide to get in your car.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when a sergeant interrupts the meeting Ghost’s in— ‘Lieutenant, um, Mrs. Riley is waiting outside for you.’

Ghost is on his feet in an instant, it must be some emergency if you’re there. He rushes to the hallway, everyone else in the room stumbling behind to snoop through the thin crack of the door, see who their big bad Lieutenant is married to.

And there you are, Tupperware container in your manicured hands, white dress covering your frame with matching ribbons and bows in your hair. The look on your face is anxious, right up until you see Ghost, your eyes softening as he approaches you with wide strides despite the fact that he’s twice your size, hulking and threatening.

“Sweet’art, everything okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, brows furrowing as he does a once over your figure, checking for injury.

You exhale a quiet laugh, “No, baby. You just forgot your lunch, and you didn’t answer your phone so I got worried you would go the whole day without eating.”

He cups your jaw, a smile breaking out on his face. His sergeants are baffled for several reasons— they did not expect their Lieutenant to be married to such a sweet thing, nor had they ever heard their Lieutenant speak in such a soft, hushed tone, never seen him touch something with such care, like you were so fragile in the palms of his hands.

They would’ve thought it was all a joke if it wasn’t for the massive diamond ring on your finger, or the way you pushed deeper into his touch.

“Sorry, dove, just been in a meetin’ all day.”

He stamps a kiss against your lips, lets himself linger just a little longer than he should because he knows the whole room is watching from behind the door.

“Sweetest little wife, aren’t you?”

[freaktoru]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . satoru gojo is needy and rlly likes to cum inside!!

18+ MDNI

satoru gojo is one needy, pussy drunk, fuck. he’s quite literally the ceo of not being able to shut the fuck up—especially during sex.

“babyyyyy” he whines into the glistening skin of your neck, prodding your swollen, fucked out pussy with his cock. 

this is the fourth time satoru’s pushing into you tonight, whining and muttering in your ear about how it’s just not enough. for you, one round with satoru is all it takes to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your breathing to quicken into shallow, shaky gasps. but for him? four times? baby, this is just the start.

“s-satoru—” you gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling him fully slide in his lengthy cock. “fuck baby—s-so tight” he stutters against your skin, placing soft, wet kisses along the stretch of your neck. he’s got you trapped in his favorite position—missionary—legs pushed back, hips locked in place with nowhere to escape.

“ ‘toru please s’ too much, n-no more” you whimper pathetically—nails desperately digging into his back, as he starts moving his hips, pushing himself in n out. 

“hah baby— feel s’good—gonna fuck you s-stupid on my cock” there he goes again, drunkenly slurring his words in your ear, ignoring your stupid pleas while he mercilessly overstimulates you with his cock.

“mmm ‘toru” the moan escapes your parted lips, your shaky breath ghosting over the now red, scratched up skin of his back.

“shh—shhh baby, take it, c’mon, take it for me” he groans, pairing each word with a deep, pleading thrust. and of course you will. how could you be so heartless and deny him like that?

“g-gonna let me cum in you baby?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a warm tingle of pleasure down your spine. 

“d-didn’t you already—”

“please baby cmon—fuck you feel s-so fucking good, let me just one m-more time” he cuts you off, mumbling against your skin and fucking you at the most deliciously agonizing pace. 

too fucked out to reply, you close your eyes, giving him a light, approving nod. no matter how much you deny it, in reality, you’d do anything satoru asks.

“mm yeahhh— good girl” he replies, coating your tight wet walls in his cum, ‘just one more time’.

[kkusuka]

pt. 2

your roommate was a strange man.

can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.

he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.

he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.

and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.

so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.

you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.

you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.

"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."

"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.

the room doesn’t take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."

and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.

"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"

"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.

"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."

you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.

"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"

"she's fine, garrick." 

'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.

"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.

"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"

they didn’t seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.

"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"

" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"

yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.

idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea