Bunny

“Spread her wider,” Pan orders and Vane’s grip sinks lower on my ass so he can spread me open. Pan wraps his hand around my throat and yanks my head back. “Come for us, Darling. Your king commands it.” I shift forward more and find just the right spot to grind my clit against Vane. The pressure builds slower this time. It is that slow ascent of a roller coaster. The pleasure is rising, rising. I pant out a breath, squeeze my eyes shut as Pan and Vane stretch me around their cocks. “Go on, Win,” Vane says with a rumble that reverberates through his chest. “Soak our cocks.”
― Nikki St. Crowe, Their Vicious Darling

“Keep reaching out your hand.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“In the light, I will treat you like a queen, but in the dark, you will be my whore.”
― Nikki St. Crowe, Their Vicious Darling

“Once the wrenching, gaping sounds came out of her, Nesta knew she could not stop.

She knelt on the shore of that mountain lake and let go entirely.

She allowed every horrible thought to hit her, wash through her. Let herself see Feyre's pale, devastated face as Nesta had revealed the truth, as she'd let her own anger and pain ride her.

She could never outlive it, her guilt. There was no point in trying. She sobbed into the darkness of her hands.

And then the stones clicked, and a warm, steady presence appeared beside her. He didn't touch her, but his voice was nearby as he said, 'I'm here.'

She sobbed harder at that. She couldn't stop. As if a dam had burst and only letting the water run its course, raging through her, would suffice.

'Nesta.' His fingers grazed her shoulder.

She couldn't bear that touch. The kindness in it.

'Please,' she said.

Her first word in five days.

He stilled. 'Please what?'

She leaned from him. 'Don't touch me. Don't- don't be kind to me.' The words were a sobbing, rippling jumble.

'Why?'

The list of reasons surged, fighting to get out, to voice themselves, and she let them decide. Let them flow through her, as she whispered, 'I let him die.'

He went quiet.

Through her hands on her face, she continued to whisper. 'He came to save me, and fought for me, and I let him die with hate in my heart. Hate for him. He died because I didn't stop it.' Her voice broke, and she wept harder. 'And I was so horrid to him, until the very end. I was so, so horrid to him all my life- and still he somehow loved me. I didn't deserve it, but he did. And I let him die.'

She bowed over her knees, saying into her palms, 'I can't undo it. I can't fix it. I can't fix that he is dead, I can't fix what I said to Feyre, I can't fix any of the horrible things I've done. I can't fix me.'

She sobbed so hard she thought her body would break with it. Wanted her body to come apart like a cracked egg, wanted what was left of her soul to drift away on the mountain wind.

She whispered, 'I can't bear it.'

Cassian said quietly, 'It isn't your fault.'

She shook her head, face still in her hands, as if it'd shield her from him, but he said, 'Your father's death is not your fault. I was there, Nesta. I looked for a way out of it, too. And there was nothing that could have been done.'

'I could have used my power. I could have tried-'

'Nesta.' Her name was a sigh- as if he were pained. Then his arms were around her, and she was being pulled into his lap. She didn't fight it, not as he tucked her against his chest. Into his strength and warmth.

'I could have found a way. I should have found a way.'

His hand began stroking her hair.

Her entire body, right down to her bones, trembled.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames