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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

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I’ve Yet To Taste, You’ve Yet To Indulge (Allow Me to Remedy Both)

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Summary: Before leaving England, you and Lewis enjoy the last few weeks of relative normalcy exploring each other.

Warnings: It’s pure smut, Lewis is a sex fiend with a penchant for pretty words, oral sex (f!receiving), poorly written attempts at intimacy, mentions of arachnophobia (unrelated to sexy times, fear not!)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The curls of smoke slip through her lips, the faint smell of tobacco coming from the sleek rolled cigarette in her hand. The low light of the room had grown hazy from her indulgence, and Lewis Nixon found himself studying her again.

She was sitting up against the pillows, having grabbed a white t-shirt since he had fallen asleep and had comfortably lounged against the pillows while she read.

Something about seeing her so relaxed in his bed made his chest feel tight, a sweet pain that hurt the more he thought about it.

He didn’t understand why he hadn’t seen her as beautiful before, and if he could go back in time and smack himself for his stupidity he would.

A sex-mussed and heavy eyed Y/F/N was a sight he’d remember for the rest of his life.

When his fingers first touched her ankle she startled abruptly, gasping as she dropped her small book onto her collarbone with a muffled thunk.

As soon as she discovered what was lazily drawing spirals up her leg, she huffed out a sigh of relief before shooting him a hollow glare.

“I thought it was a spider, you jerk.”

“Mmm, get a lot of spiders crawling around your bed sheets, Y/N?” he groaned quietly as he kissed his way up to her bent knee.

“I mean... no more than, what? Three, four? Definitely no more than five. Better than before, at least. This is an old barn house I’ve been billeted in, so it’s got its fair share of—”

“Wait…WHAT?!”

Instantly Nixon vaults out of the bed, the top sheet and comforter springing up like a snapping flag in a sharp wind with the sheer force of his escape.

If this had been a cartoon, he would’ve left a cloud silhouette of himself behind.

Y/N cannot keep the laugh behind her lips any longer when he starts frantically brushing himself off in a desperate attempt to rid himself of ‘spiders’. At the sound of her burst of laughter, Lewis whips his head up so fast she starts to giggle in earnest.

Realization dawns on him and she watches his body morph before her eyes.

He stands straighter, lifting his chin a bit so he appears even taller.

Lewis’s bemused smirk has a bite of fire in it, and her laughter begins to trail off into hearty chuckles.

“That’s really funny, Y/N.” he all but growls, cocking a brow as he starts to walk back to the bed.

Unable to hide his amusement any longer, he descends on her with an exaggerated growl, pinning her hands beside her head as he begins pressing kisses all over her face, she snorts a laugh at him.

“Think you’re so funny, don’t ya? I fucking hate spiders, you wicked, evil girl…”

With a self-satisfied sigh she opened her legs wide enough for him to rest between them, looking up at him with a smirk.

“I didn’t think you could move that fast, Nixy.” Her voice was teasing, and in retaliation he pressed a harsh, quick kiss to her lips in order to shut her up.

“And I didn’t peg you as a ‘smoking in bed after sex’ type, yet here we are.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into upward in a grin, shaking her head with good-natured amusement.

“Still not too late to change your mind. The door’s right there.”

He knew she was giving him an out. She was always giving him an out.

It broke Lewis’s heart to learn how easily she assumed he’d regretted any moment of what they’d done, when she was easily the most desirable woman he’d ever met.

“Do you want me to go, Ma’am?” he looked down at her, rubbing the soft skin if her wrists with his thumbs.

Her y/e/c eyes narrowed slightly beneath furrowed brows, searching his face with a look of disbelief and mild surprise.

Gently, she shook her head from side to side, looking slightly bashful.

“No... I don’t think I want that at all.”

Unable to hide the grin on his mouth, she snorted a laugh.

“Such a dork,” she mumbled before leaning up to press her own quick kiss to his lips. As she began to pull away Lewis pulled her back and kissed her with such thoroughness and sweetness she had to turn away to catch her breath.

Not that he let her go far. Threading his fingers through her hair, he held her mouth possessively against his.

When she whispered his name lifted his head away so he could look smugly down at her.

“Only for you.” he cooed, taking his hands from her hair and draggins his right hand down her chest and intentionally giving her goosebumps.

“Only for you...”

With one final loving look, he brings his mouth to hers and makes the decision to show rather than tell.

Y/N gasped attractively against his lips, the muscles in her stomach jumping at the first touch of his fingers across her ribs.

“What’re you—?”

“Shhh…”

He plucked at her lips again, knowing her face was probably drawn in confusion at his sudden sweetness. Her hands take Lewis’s face and pull him back enough to get a good look at him.

She whispers his name like a question, one that suddenly makes her feel small and vulnerable beneath him.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, please tell me…”

Lew shakes his head vehemently before she finishes speaking, bringing his hands back to hold smooth the wrinkles of confusion out of her brow.

“Sweetheart…. I want to give. I want to taste. I want you to take.”

The breathy whimper that escaped Y/N’s throat killed him. Without wasting another second, he swooped down and kissed her again, preening internally as she tangled their legs together.

“You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” Y/N muttered as she arched her back compliantly, her breath hitching as he laved at the hollow of her throat. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, OH—!”

Lewis didn’t want to hear anymore of her nervous self doubt, so he scraped his teeth on the palest skin between her breasts to refocus her.

“Won’t you let me enjoy you?” he groaned into her left breast, trickling his fingertips around her nipple and holding her through the sudden lurch that rolled through her.

When she didn’t answer with anything more than another airy whimper, Lewis decided to continue his earlier pilgrimage down her hyper-sensitized body.

“You’re the most overwhelmingly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he kissed beneath her right nipple.

“I can’t imagine being without you.” He nibbled down her sternum.

“You get me so hard I can’t breathe.” He muttered as he sucked a pretty mark over your rib.

“Do I make you feel good, sweetest girl? I need to make you feel good, darling.”

“Fuck…!” Y/N whines when he latches on to the soft of her inner thigh with hungry lips, Lewis smiling against her skin at her breathy lapse in composure.

Her hands find his hair and twist, pulling his head up so she can look down her body at him.

When she sees the lust-drunk look on his face she curses airily again.

“I, uhh, I haven’t had anyone….well, uh…. down there before…” she pants at him, the information nearly making his eyes roll back in his head as his cock throbbed painfully.

He looked at her as if she had punched him in the gut, the moan he released at her comment making her heart flutter in arousal.

Ignoring the hot twinge in her belly, she continues. “I haven’t, uh, prepped the area?”

Lewis snorts a laugh, resting his forehead against her hip and kissing the skin there in some desperate attempt to hold his amusement inside.

She finds herself chuckling too, despite the seriousness of the previous moments.

Covering her face in her hands she lays back and giggles, fueling Lewis’s own fit of laughter until both of their stomachs hurt.

Y/N had never known that intimacy could be like this

“Okay, Dr. Y/L/N,” he grinned up at her when they had finally calmed down enough to stop giggling like idiots. “The preparedness of your pussy has been noted for the record.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what to do here!” she gestures over her lower half vaguely. “None of this was covered in basic training! And if it was, I missed that day in school!”

With a sinful smile he once again crawled up to silence her nervous rambling with a deep kiss.

She only hesitated for a moment before she kissed him back, slowly sitting up so Lewis didn’t have to over exert himself.

God she liked the way he felt under her fingertips, the strands of his hair coarse as she raked her fingers through them. And, if his responding groan was anything to go off of, he didn’t seem to mind it either.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Nix mumbled against her mouth between kisses. “But I need you to shut up and trust me.”

Instantly, she stopped kissing him, pulling away and furrowing her brows. “Elaborate on that, please?” Y/N’s words are barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “ I mean- I wouldn’t do something, touch something, taste something that I didn’t absolutely and whole-heartedly want to. Believe it or not, Y/F/N, I’m not here by accident.” He pressed another quick kiss to her swollen mouth before ducking back down her body and returning to his spot between her legs, placing another set of kisses to the juts of her hip bones.

“I’m here because I can’t believe someone as stunning, as incredible as you thinks I’m worth a moment of their time. I’m here because- for some insane reason, you want to let me touch you…”

She scoffed down at him, affectionately smoothing his hair away from his face. “Ivy Leaguers” she chided, the easy smile on her face paired with her heavy lidded eyes making his chest tighten. “Did you study waxing poetry at Yale, because damn—“

“Didn’t I say something about you shutting up?”

She catches a glimmer of something darker in his eyes, something that made a flood of heat rush between her legs.

Carnal, she thought to herself. He looks like he wants to eat me alive.

“Give me something else to do, then.”

When their eyes met, she saw the question in his eyes.

Are you sure about this?

She nodded gently, reaching behind her and grabbing a pillow to prop herself up so she could get a better view.

Yes, I want this. I want you to destroy me.

With very little hesitation, Lewis Nixon descended upon her, working her thighs over his shoulders as he began to kiss at her wettest parts.

It was the strangest, sweetest tickle, the texture of his talented tongue against the smooth slide of her sex. When his eyes flicked up to meet her gaze she openly whimpered, her stomach muscles clenching as she looked down her body at him.

When he began to suckle on her clit, Y/N nearly shot straight up on the bed.

“Oh!”

As if he were waiting for that very utterance, he consumes her, one of his hands sliding up to the thudding skin between her ribs and pressing down gently, coaxing her back into a lying position.

Y/N wasn’t sure when she had last blinked, nor was she certain of the last time she properly breathed.

Drawing a shaking gasp, she felt her body roll unexpectedly at the addition of his fingers.

Like some sort of dark, sexual maestro, he locates the spot inside of her she had only just begun to explore and presses at her so perfectly that she can barely speak.

The new spike of arousal caught her off guard, a pathetic cry escaping her lips.

“Fuck, oh…god! Lew, I feel like—“

“Are you getting ready to come, good girl?”

His response caught both of them off guard, his tone something that she’d never heard him use before.

Simultaneously, her sex clenched audibly around his fingers, robbing her of any words as their eyes meet.

Apparently, she didn’t mind the pet name as much as she’d thought.

They watched each other in surprise, their mouths gaping from arousal and she couldn’t stop the moan when she saw him nearly rutting against the mattress.

He’s hard, just from this? How can he enjoy such an act, I’ve done nothing to…. help him get there.

Her confusion must show on her face, because he releases her clit and pulls away again

“We can stop—”

“No!”she shook her head vehemently, rolling her hips in some desperate search for friction. “Please, don’t stop! Please…let me cum. Show me how you make me come. Lewis, you’re so good…. you make me feel so good…”

Y/N watches as he seems to ponder something within himself, and without hesitation she curls down and takes her face in her hands.

When he refocuses, she smiles desperately at him.

“I like it, Nix. I like it all. I—shit, I want you so badly I think I may genuinely burst into flame. I liked when you called me that. Come back to me.”

He leans into her, groaning at her words.

“God, you’re perfect.”

With renewed vigor he swoops down to feast on her, fueled by her whined praise.

“oh my god Nix please don’t stop I feel it coming again shit do that again fuck that’s good. You’re amazing, making me feel so ahh good. Oh, shit. Fuck fuck fuck Lew I’m going to cum. Don’t stop. I, I just…ohhHH!”

She effectively blacked out, aware of her body writhing and Lewis holding her through it as he worked her through the aftershocks that rolled through her body.

She was floating and falling at the same time, breathless mewls bubbling up from her chest despite her willing them not to.

Distantly, Y/N heard words of praise being kissed into her skin and shivers at the feeling of Nix’s once cruel hands running over her flushed skin with care.

She keened with desire when he moved up her body and slotted his clothed hips against hers.

“Can you take more, sweet girl?” his lips are soft at her temple, a near-whine in his voice when she instantly bucked against his cotton-covered cock. “Can I give you more?”

She pathetically whines an affirmation, trying to move her phantom limbs to pull him closer.

“I, I can’t move.” She admitted pathetically, unable to muffle the chuckle at the ridiculousness of it.

He snorts a laugh with her, smiling into the damp skin of her cheek.

“I’m being serious, Lew. You’re gonna have to move me—“

“Like some sexual rag-doll?”

She fixed him with the meanest glare she could muster.

“Don’t make me do some passive-aggressive shit when I regain use of my limbs. ‘Cause you know I will.”

He rolled his eyes at her as he sat back to take off the pair of boxers around his hips, groaning aloud when he’s finally as naked as she is.

When Y/N tries to bring her hands to his cock, he shakes his head lightly and guides them up to his face instead.

“If you so much as touch it, I’m going to embarrass myself—”

She frowned. “But...I want to make you feel good, too…”

As he buries himself inside of her, Lewis makes sure his lips are at her ear so she can hear the catch in his breath as he moaned so deeply she felt it in her chest.

“Oh, honey. If you haven’t figured out how completely wrecked you make me by now, I clearly haven’t been doing my job.”

When he pulled back to look at her, she purposefully clenches around him and wiggles her hips.

He smirks wickedly, and when Y/N looks into his eyes she sees nothing but devotion.

“Now, allow me to redeem myself….”

And, because it’s his work ethic on the line, she knows that she’ll be nothing less than ruined by this man.

Y/N wouldn't have it any other way.

“As you were, Sir”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

TAG LIST: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite

IT’S NONSENSE BUT I HOPE IT WAS, in the very least, SEXY NONSENSE!

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader

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hornsandthings · 4 years

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solemn steppes

pairing: cassian (ACoTaR) x reader

summary: reader, a student of cassian’s defence training in the illyrian mountains, has a bad session. after, when he checks up on her, cassian is given an intimate reminder on how bleak and cruel illyrian life can be. angst and fluff.

note: agh, i got really stuck on this one and i think i’m a bit rusty. i tried, but decided to just get it out there hehe. i hope cass is somewhat in character... haven’t read ACoTaR in ages (something i should remedy...) // wc: 1771

+++

the illyrian mountains were certainly beautiful – misty mornings and pale sunlight. you knew, however, that this majesty was only a surface quality. what the visitor often overlooked were the frozen animal husks, the dry tundras, the abandoned hamlets. the snow was not white, not for you or any other illyrian. it was discoloured, the purity corrupted with mud, blood, piss. there was no peace here; the winds sang no lullabies.

the cacophony of the village rivalled that of the thunderstorm in the distance – the blacksmith was busy hammering away at some forged steel, a brawl was brewing, and cassian’s students were training.

you grunted as your sparring partner pushed you to the ground, limbs too weak to defend. her wings flared wide as she straddled your torso, frustration evident in her furrowed brow as her hands encircled your neck.

you clutched at them, barely keeping away the choking grip. every muscle was on fire, vision hazy with dizziness. training had only just reached its midpoint, but already a headache was pounding against your skull, making you slower, making you weaker. from the very beginning it had been a poor match; today you just couldn’t hold your ground. your blocks weren’t strong, your counters slow.

as you lay there, trapped, snow soaking through to chill your bones, you bit back tears - it shouldn’t be like this. you were older than the other students, had better control and movement. but your meat stocks had spoiled prematurely, the wind had battered the hinge of your cabin door, and screams in the night had you sleeping with one eye open.

but it wasn’t only this week. things had only gotten worse for you for some time, and cassian’s training had been the only reprieve. the opportunity to do something purely for yourself was liberating, and there was safety in the feeling of getting stronger. cauldron - you were even good at it; a rare thing. there was this, but also cassian. focused and particular - this was how he held himself during training, upholding that hard earned title of general of night’s armies. but sometimes he revealed a different side of himself, one that was funny, kind, and so very genuine. for the first time in your life you wanted to impress a male, and pushed yourself every session to do so.

but now, as you did everything wrong, you felt so useless. how could you ever believe you could be strong, if you couldn’t even feed yourself? you reached out, pawing blindly at your partner.

“elbows by your ribs,” cassian was saying, voice nearing as he knelt closeby. you tried, oh how you tried, but your mind had become so muddled with exertion that you couldn’t comprehend the meaning.

and finally her hands grabbed your throat, thumbs pressing down and soon you were choking, the little breath you had snatched so swiftly—

stop – the word was on your tongue, but all that came out was a wheeze. you clawed at her shoulder, the other clutching her wrist – but sweat made it slip, and then she was clenching her jaw, and then everything was burning—

“enough. enough! she’s trying to tap out—”

the weight lifted and the looming shadow vanished, but still you felt you were drowning. hoarse coughs wracked your body, and soon cassian hauled you up. “hey, look at me. are you alright?”

you squeezed your eyes shut. his big hands rested on your shoulders, and you used that to try to ground yourself, to focus on anything besides your seizing lungs or roiling stomach. cassian said your name once again, soft and intimate, like those few times where he could find you outside training sessions. you shook your head, giving him a weak shove before vomiting onto the ground. you spluttered, a bitter taste left in your mouth.

“for cauldron’s sake,” one of the students muttered, her sentiments echoed by others. you squinted up at the onlookers that had assembled, looks of scorn on their faces. honestly, you could understand why, and didn’t even care when tears escaped.

cassian sighed, grumbling a reply under his breath. you looked away, thinking he was annoyed, perhaps even embarrassed, but his touch was gentle as he reached for you again.

“can you stand?”

you swallowed, finally looking at him. you should’ve been intimidated, knowing that the night court’s general was seeing you so exposed; it always was hard to separate him from his role. but now, with his hazel eyes in such clear contrast to the monochromatics of the steppes, you reminded yourself that he had indeed become a friend.

lingering nausea turned your stomach once more, making you wince. cassian took it as answer, and gathered you up in his arms. “i’m taking you to the healers.”

curled up, you focused your gaze on nothing in particular as he carried you across the camp, trying not to think of what onlookers would think. this only reinforced the helplessness, the frailty that you so foolishly tried to overcome. cassian’s leathers were rough and cold against your skin, but his scent was comforting.

he set you down on a damp bedroll, hand briefly cupping your cheek. your heart pulsed violently; so unfamiliar you were with such gentle touches. “i’ll be back for you, alright?”

cassian then nodded to the healer just beyond, leaving you rather reluctantly.

the healer - an old woman, wings deformed by force - readied some herbs in the dark corner of this meagre tent. you looked around, barely keeping in the scoff. no viable blankets, no food… there wasn’t anything here that would help.

+++

cassian found you again later, when everything was graying. you hadn’t been at the healer’s tent when he finished the girls’ training session; she had told him that you left before she could even administer anything. he’d had some trouble, but eventually one of the girls pointed out the derelict shack.

you were sitting in a wooden tub - a glorified basket, really - listless in the cold water. cassian gritted his teeth, hesitating in the doorway. his relationship with you was undefined; you two saw each other only for a few hours a week at a time, and much of it was only in an official capacity. you were a quick and keen student, starting out strong. at first it had been an acknowledgement of your potential, then the liking of your smile, and eventually he found excuses to talk to you outside training. you were unyielding to the challenges of the steppes, and he admired that. being a good judge of character, cassian also found it so very easy to read you - something that had perhaps saved your life today. he knew you were interested in him, but kept yourself at a distance.

sometimes he wished you didn’t, and right now was one of those times.

he looked around at the splintered walls, the ragged bedding. he was familiar with illyrian poverty, but hadn’t experienced it so intimately for some time. you hid it well before - perhaps it was the clothing. but here in the twilight, your form looked so weak.

he quietly called your name, but you didn’t move. steeling himself, he made his way to you and crouched next to the tub. your knees were clutched to your chest.

“i’m sorry,” you croaked.

“what happened today can happen to anyone,” he said, choosing his words carefully. he didn’t blame you for a thing - didn’t think any less of you because of today’s overexhertion - but illyrian pride was a thing he had to keep in mind. you finally looked over, and your forlorn expression clutched at cassian’s heart.

“i was pathetic. the other girls are better - some of them can even fly! with my wings… what’s the point?”

he couldn’t help but glance at your curved wings, bent to fit inside. they were marked with scars and pockmarks, cruel memories of illyrian practices. he shook his head, swallowing the anger. “don’t say that. you worked hard today, as you always do.”

he sighed, thinking back on today’s overexertion and the way you had been steadily disengaging over the last few weeks. at first he thought it was an enhanced effort and trying to ignore your feelings, but he shouldn’t have been so arrogant.

“what’s going on, sweetheart?”

and your face crumpled, tears quickly welling and rolling. you shook your head, covering your face with your hands before your shoulders shook with a sob. cassian shifted involuntarily, a knee-jerk reaction.

“those… those gifts you gave me? i’ve had to sell them… trade them away… i’m so sorry, cassian. i don’t even have anything to show for it now. i— i—”

“hey.” he reached over, cupping your face, but you couldn’t stop.

“if i can’t join the legions, what am i going to do? i don’t have anything, cassian,” you implored, trying to make him understand. you didn’t need to, because cassian already knew what that felt like. “no skills, no prospects… i don’t—i don’t want to sell myself—”

he gripped you tighter, forcing you to look into his eyes. “hey, hey! just breathe, alright?” you were really crying now, sobs heavy as you gripped his arms. there was desperation there, a kind of hopelessness that he immediately wanted to change for you. the breathy sobs continued, and he quickly found a towel. “come here,” he said, helping you out of the tub and into his arms, your wet hair cold against his neck. he hugged you close, pressing what he hoped to be a reassuring kiss to your head.

when he felt your palm press over his heart, he intertwined his fingers with yours, calluses as rough as his. your hitching breaths evened out as cassian held you. he was hesitant to disturb the tentative calm, but he had to know. “how long has it been like this?” he asked, gently lifting your chin. thumb caressing your jaw, he regretted that this intimacy - both physical and emotional - had taken your humiliation to come to pass.

the reply was a mere shake of your head, full of shame and regret. your gaze lowered, but cassian pressed his forehead against yours, trying to comfort you in a way when words simply couldn’t. but he tried anyway. “i’m going to help you, alright, sweetheart? i promise. i’m sorry.” he tasted salt on his lips, and gathered you closer. “we’re going to be alright.”

he wasn’t quite sure how yet, but he was going to deliver on his promise. he cared for you, whether you believed it to be foolish or not, and cassian would endeavour to show it from now on.

#acotar x reader #acotar cassian x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #cassian acotar x reader

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curiousherbal · 4 years

Text

Growing P̶e̶r̶i̶o̶d̶ Pains

Mystic Messenger

*Also read Growing P̶e̶r̶i̶o̶d̶ Pains on ao3*

707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x Reader ; 707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x MC

Fluff & Angst (borderline crack; also dash of h/c)

5.9 k

Rated: T ; TW: Blood

Summary: In all fairness, you had meant to clean up the blood before Seven got home.

*reposting this story in case ppl on tumblr would rather read it here :) ; be wary of Seven route spoilers*

In all fairness, you had meant to clean up the blood before Seven got home.

But it had been a rather tiring day; a tiring, exhausting, not-so-very-comfortable, bloody day. Oh, how the day had been bloody.

It was also only 2 pm.

But you were on your period, so you were allowed to announce the day as ended before it had even begun. Right?

Usually your monthly flows were relatively well-contained, provided you were provided for of course – that is with “all-night” pads (false – they lasted 3-5 hours max on your heaviest days) and supersized tampons (you rolled your eyes at the arbitrary naming of tampon sizes – I mean what’s so “super” about recreating The Shining every day for a week once a month anyway?).

The silver lining in the sea of red was that, as an adult, you were now fairly adept with dealing with Mother Nature’s gifts, a feat that only took many soiled pants, innumerable ruined bedsheets, and the adolescent trauma of tied sweaters around your hips – to accomplish.

You made a mental note to talk about that last one with your therapist next week…

“Ugh,” you let out a groan as you blearily blinked your eyes open. The sunlight streamed through the window blinds in the bedroom that you and Saeyoung shared.

Well, if he were here.

“Disgusting.” You muttered as you yawned and started to disentangle your sticky legs from the sheets.

Your hacker boyfriend had gotten called away late last night, err – more like early morning. Very early morning, you mentally amended with a displeased grunt. He left in a hurry, promising a quick return as he lobbed this and that into a scuffed duffle bag.

“I’ll be back for dinner, my sweetie!” He ruffled your hair and kissed the corner of your upturned mouth, bouncing on the balls of his feet like it wasn’t 1:46 AM. And like he wasn’t about to leave his sleepy girlfriend alone for the night.

“Really?”

“Why – would the Great 707 ever lie to his darling kitty?” Seven grasped at his chest, a look of mock hurt exaggerated across his naturally goofy features.

Resisting a grin at his silly antics, you made him promise to return safely. And by dinnertime, nonetheless. “I’m going to want ice cream tomorrow evening.” You stated drily with a slight twitch of your eyebrow.

“Ice cream?” Seven had a subtly puzzled expression, which he rapidly exchanged for his charming grin, “Of course! My princess requests!” And with that – a kiss on your hand, and a pat on the head to the robotic cat standing guard at the flat’s entrance – the secret agent had disappeared into the night, the last sign of his leave being that of the revved engine from one of his prized sports cars.

In retrospect, maybe you should have been more explicit when hinting that you were going to be on your period.

But you were on your period, and he was a 20 something year old man, and once again, you were allowed to be however you damn pleased, and he should know that you were about to have that time of the month again. Right? Right.

“FUCK.” You dropped your forearm dramatically across your forehead. “Really? Are we really doing this right now?” You picked up the habit of talking to yourself when Seven was away.

“Fine – guess so…” With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for the physical exertion required of one to get out of bed.

Your insides churned a bit; it was the tell-tale feeling that only accompanied that of your body prepared to spew blood the second gravity went against your favour. You felt it. You knew it was going to happen; you just didn’t expect for your period to get so heavy so fast, and only overnight too.

“Well there’s nothing for it, Meowy – we’re just gonna have to make a run for it…” You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at the feline robot that was now preventing the unassuming Roomba from dutifully trying to gain entrance to your bedroom. “On second thought – maybe I should attempt the Tooty-Ta instead.” You laughed grimly to yourself. I’ll have to show Seven that ridiculous dance when he gets home. Lord knows he’d love it.

Gritting your teeth, you peeled back the sheets and carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your knees knocked as you clenched your thighs together. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple. “Great, heat flashes too? I’m not that old yet, damn.”

“Mrrrrr?” Meowy rolled over to your side, stiffly upturning her neck to regard you curiously, her programming having sensed that you were in distress.

Taking a deep breath, you braced your clammy palms on either side of your hips and gradually began to rise.

Gravity is an incredible thing. An incredibly, predictable, annoying, but necessary force of nature – much to the chagrin of the uterine force of nature you delicately clutched between your legs at present.

One wobbly step. Two. You rounded the bed post and began to reach for the door frame. So far, so good. Encouraged, you picked up the pace. Maybe I overestimated the amount of blood? You smirked confidently and entered the hallway. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, adjacent to the kitchen. Alright – let’s get this bread. You began your penguin-shuffle down the hardwood hall, leaning against the smooth, eggshell finished walls as you attempted to maintain the delicate balance required of your makeshift dance. Ten steps. Eleven. You reached out for the bathroom door, expecting to latch onto the glass doorknob when –

“Agh!!” You tripped over the Roomba.

The blood gurgled and began to plummet (as liquids, and pretty much anything and everything else, are wont to do) now freed from the desperate clenching of your thighs.

With a cry of despair, you clutched at your abdomen as you felt the large swash of bodily fluids exit your aching genitals, seep through your thoroughly ruined panties – Nooo, these are the cute ones with cats on them that Seven got me! – and splat quite dramatically onto the floor.

If it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – you would have been rather impressed at the size of the splatter that now decorated your floor in a lovely, concentric pattern.

“This…. Has never happened before.”

And it hadn’t. Usually, your periods started in the evening, not the morning. Usually, they were the heaviest on the second day, not the first. And usually, they weren’t of such a viscous consistency and atrocious metric volume that they glitched right out of your body, through your clothes, and landed in a terrific mess on the floor.

“It’s the Honey Buddha Chips; it must be!” You let out a wail of disgust, blaming the sweet and salty junk food as the reason behind your abnormal flow. “Saeyoung Choi, you WILL be paying for my ice cream tonight!”

You failed to realize that ice cream was also categorized as junk food too.

With nothing left to lose, blood still dribbling down your legs, you pivoted on your feet and marched back to your bedroom. Fine. It’s gonna be that kinda day, huh? You angrily snatched a clean change of clothes from your dresser – this time with your designated Period Panties™ – and made your way back down the hall towards the bathroom. A nice, cold shower will do just fine. You tried to convince yourself it was to counteract the annoying heat flashes you had seemingly picked up as a symptom of your menstrual distress, and not to cool the hot, balmy tears of frustration that now streaked your flushed face.

And if it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – then maybe you would have noticed how your toes and heels squelched as they made contact with the glob of period blood still lying inanimately on your floor.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Meowy was stressed.

Well, as stressed as her CPU could be, the mini gears and sensors running vapidly in her plastic and metal cat-shaped vessel.

Her auditory sensors reached warning threshold when her master’s precious one made loud noises of displeasure. Her visual sensors were already busy fighting off that dratted antagonist-of-a-cleaning-robot from earlier. And now her thermal sensors picked up the trace of something biological splatted on the ground. Something biological… and warm. Meowy saw red. But unfortunately, the cat robot couldn’t appreciate the literal nor figurative accuracy of that statement. She just knew she was stressed, even if her insentience didn’t quite allow her to know why, and even if that stress was purely mechanical, rather than emotional.

Master could purrrrobably add that feature in a future update, she surmised. Well, if robots could surmise, that is.

You were being quite a bother. And by bother, well, you were the source of your boyfriend’s cat robot’s overstimulation.

Upon showering, you exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam and clean clothes, fit with a cushy pad to catch the rest of your ebbing flow. Your bloody night clothes littered the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, and the goopy glob of period blood still sat, just as liquids are wont to do, inanimately in the same place as before (albeit, perhaps sporting a rustier hue as oxidation took effect).

It’s nice to be clean, you had thought, though the here-and-there prick of abdominal cramps and sporadic dizzy spells are nothing to long for. You had figured that some food and a glass of water would at least help the latter ailment, so you had proceeded to attempt to make yourself a late, light lunch.

Meowy frantically circled the small kitchen, letting out her programmed mews of concern every 2.35 seconds. During her 3rd or 4th worried lap, she ran right into your left foot, which you were precariously balancing on by habit.

For the second time that day, you yelped out an elegant “agh!” and dropped the knife you had been using to spread your favourite strawberry jam on the toast that you were planning to eat. The red-rimmed knife fell to the floor with a cacophonous clatter. Forgotten.

“Meowy!” You snarled as you towered over the cowering robocat.

Instantly, your rage dissipated to remorse as you felt empathy for the poor creature. Unpleasant images of Seven smashing the cat in a fit of similar rage accosted your brain, and with it, the tremulous and turbulent emotions from that past event too.

“I’m so sorry!” Your despondence flared suddenly and tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Mortified at how you treated your emotional support robot cat, you fled the kitchen in a teary haste. You tore down the hallway, intending to crash back into bed until Saeyoung came back home to make amends with Meowy and yourself –

Only to trip over the Roomba again.

“Oof!” Your knees crashed to the floor abruptly, your palms quickly reaching out to catch yourself from falling face first –

Only for them to slide out from under you after making contact with the slick pool of blood and period gunk that you neglected to clean up earlier.

And for the third time that day, you let out a final “AGH!”

SMACK!

Your face rammed into the ground, the bridge of your nose catching the pool of blood on your way down. Resigned, you didn’t move a muscle for five minutes, wallowing in your despair for yelling at Meowy, a lovely hybrid of self-loathing and disgust for not cleaning up the blood, and lonesomeness that ached every time Seven left on an indeterminable, clandestine trip.

Utterly wretched and still just as exhausted as when you had woken up approximately… you glanced at the clock at the end of the hall… 5 PM already??? … three hours ago, you cautiously raised yourself back to your knees. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sighed dejectedly and stood the rest of the way up.

Trudging solemnly back to your bedroom, you froze as you looked at the state of your sheets.

“Are you kidding me?!”

The sheets were rumpled from your hasty wake-up from earlier in the day, yet that wasn’t what caught your eye. No – your eyes lamentably traced the spotting and pools of long-dried blood that stained the center spread of sheets in the dip where you had slept. I must have leaked before I woke up, and I didn’t even notice.

Dehydrated, fatigued, and entirely resigned to end the day, you turned around and walked the short distance across the hall into the guest bedroom that Saeyoung most often used as an office space for work. (Less often, his twin Saeran would camp out in the small room, though recently he refrained from spending the night, too afraid that he’d become further traumatized by the excitable noises that tended to emit from his brother’s room late at night.)

You didn’t care that there was still blood trekked all over your apartment. You didn’t care that you were now just as soiled as before you had showered. You didn’t care that Meowy was short-circuiting in worry. You didn’t care that Seven had yet to return. You didn’t care. All you wanted to do was crash and wake up from this nightmare of a day.

Just a quick power nap, and then I’ll clean it up before Saeyoung gets home.

So, you curled up on the couch beside Seven’s work desk and cocooned yourself in a large comforter. With your back to the room, you entered fetal position and drifted off to sleep almost instantly, the crown of your head just barely visible from between the cushions.

And if Meowy was yowling as if possessed, well, you were too exhausted to notice.

Not that robot cats could be possessed, of course.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Fresh-faced and lively – Saeyoung was ecstatic.

The agency work turned out to be nothing more than a casual revenge-driven hacking: a harmless ploy orchestrated by a disgruntled employee trying to find some scrap of solace by antagonizing their rich, snobby boss’ computer system. Yes, it had been unfortunate that the job was sudden and required on-location skills, and yes, Saeyoung was rather reluctant to leave his adorably cute girlfriend alone for the night… but the goodhearted jokester couldn’t help but crack a smile as fond memories from just hours earlier accosted his mind…

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

“Mrr?” Elizabeth the 3rd let out a perplexed mew as the penthouse front door opened silently.

Seven creeped in, a finger brought to his lips as his eyes widened upon seeing Jumin’s cat. “Elly!” He immediately clasped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed that he let his excitement upon seeing the pure white Persian cat be audible.

“My darling! Uncle Luciel has come for you~~” He playfully whispered as he set his bag down and crouched beside the spoiled feline.

Elizabeth sauntered up to the intruder, presenting her lushly furred back for caresses.

“Don’t tell Mr. CEO, but I’m working here tonight. I need to access his Wi-Fi network directly.” Seven ran his fingers up and down the cat’s back, encouraged by her accelerated purring. “Don’t worry, ‘tis nothing nasty my friend – he’ll just be forced to do all of his work by hand tomorrow. I think his computer deserves a bit of break, no?” With a conniving twinkle in his eye, Seven began unpacking his equipment, settling cross-legged with his computer on his lap and Elizabeth sprawled out at his side, butting her head against his thighs periodically as his hands flew rapidly over his keyboard.

A large snore startled the mischievous hacker.

“Pshhsh!” Agent 707 brought up a hand to conceal his mirth, desperately trying to muffle the delirious laughter that threatened to escape his throat. Elizabeth glared at him, displeased that the large hand had ceased massaging her backside.

“I’m sorry, my kitty-love, I just didn’t expect Jumin to sleep so soundly!” Seven cooed lovingly.

Within the next few hours, Saeyoung finished up his early-morning hacking endeavors as instructed and deftly returned his equipment back to his bag without making a sound. He stood up and adorned a wistful expression, sad to be leaving his Elly all too soon.

“Meow~”

“Oh, my dear – we mustn’t!” Seven scooped up the cat and swung her around, crushing her flat face against his sharp nose. “You know not the extent that this sweet parting brings me pain, but alas, our love is forbidden!”

“Mrrrrr…”

Seven gently placed the cat back down. She immediately began grooming her mused fur, unimpressed with Seven’s soliloquy.

“Always the lady.” Saeyoung bowed reverently, a hand on the door to leave. “Wait!” Digging excitedly in his duffle, the young man pulled out a thin, red, satin ribbon. A small pawprint locket charm clinked on the ribbon.

Gently fondling the jewelry, Seven clicked open the locket and gazed adoringly at the image within. “Ah, it’s perfect. A representation of our love, my Elly!” With one final glance, Seven clicked the locket shut and bent down to tie the ribbon loosely around Elizabeth’s neck, covering up the collar Jumin had gifted to her prior.

Elizabeth, none the wiser, mewled an unbothered farewell as Saeyoung patted her once more affectionately and made his departure with a cheeky air-blown kiss.

The hacker disappeared from the CEO’s penthouse, slipped past the guards once more, and vanished into the early morning – having one or two more things left to accomplish for the agency before he could return home.

What those tasks were? Well, perhaps it’s best that only special Agent 707 would ever know for sure.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

This will pay the bills all for next month! Saeyoung thought with a grin, drawn back to the present as he lovingly slid his palm over the curve of the leather steering wheel. Plus, maybe this will teach Jumin not to overwork his minions. The young hacker smirked. He could already sense Jaehee’s displeasure when she would find out that RFA’s very own security hacked her boss for entertainment. And a bit of cash.

Seven wound his way through the hilly countryside, enjoying the dip and curve of the roads. He glanced at the car’s clock: 5:36 PM.

It was approaching dusk, and he was eager to return home. He moved his free hand over to his baby car’s console and pressed down on the window switch.

“Yahoo!” Seven stuck his head out of the window and let the wind ruffle his untamable ginger hair. His striped glasses pushed comfortingly against the bridge of his nose, as the golden hues of the setting sun reflected in his mutually golden irises.

A sudden pang of yearning overtook the young man, thinking about his princess at home. Though it happened without fault every evening, Saeyoung couldn’t help but feel anxious about missing the sunset. He wanted to watch every sunset with you; this would be the first one that you both had missed since you started living together.

A reversed flick of the window toggle and a harder stomp on the gas pedal later, Saeyoung sped back home with renewed urgency. We can catch the tail end of the evening together if I hurry.

Unbeknownst to him, the red, rosy fingers of sunlight that stretched linearly across the horizon were complementary towards the organic drops of red that currently decorated your shared home.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It was a quarter past 6 when the door to your shared apartment finally received its missing tenant. The last of the sundry locks popped open, the metal restraints finally allowing the port of entrance to swing on its hinges.

“Honeyyyyyyy~ I’m hooOOOMMMEEE!” Saeyoung sang loudly as he shouldered his way through the frame. Closing the door behind him, the totally-averagely-paranoid hacker wasted no time in redoing all of the locks. Turning around with a relieved exhale, Seven carelessly dropped his duffle on the floor and toed off his shoes impatiently.

No less than two steps deeper into the flat, Saeyoung was just starting to acquire a sense of strange foreboding when a white blur came barreling around the corner of the hallway –

“Master! Master! Your precious one!” Meowy, hysterically wheeling herself towards her creator, belted as loudly as her speakers permitted.

“What the hell?” Startled, Seven eyed his rambunctious robot, unable to fathom what in the world could trigger his creation to act so frenzied.

“Master! Your precious one! Blood! Bleeding! Help!” Meowy shrieked, her pitch increasing steadily and becoming disconcertingly garbled, her processors unable to cope with the sensory overload.

Saeyoung froze.

Time stopped.

Her… blood?

…

BLEEDING?!

“What?! Where? Meowy what happened?!” Seven pushed past the yowling cat, crying your name as he further entered the apartment.

Seven frantically rounded the corner, his panic only increasing with every second that you neglected to greet him at the door. You always greet me when I come home! Where are you!?! He shouted your name a second time, his heart hammering in his chest, muscles constricting painfully as his mind began to whirr with confusion and pain. You can’t be taken… not again… We just got this together... us.

“Honey?? This isn’t funny!” Saeyoung quickly glanced to his left as he passed the kitchen.

He froze.

There. On the ground.

A knife.

It’s red.

Clumps of something that was equally red and sticky looking surrounded the knife. The knife that should not be laying carelessly on the floor. The knife that very obviously fell on the ground in a struggle and was currently tainted red.

His airway felt constricted. His sense of hearing muffled, despite Meowy still shrieking incoherently at his feet.

As if in his own personal horror movie, Saeyoung pivoted his head to his right, now looking in to the bathroom. Terrified eyes locked onto small, red footprints that graced the floor. They traveled from the hallway onto the cold tiles. He assessed the criminal scene with widening eyes: blood stained clothes were thrown haphazardly before the shower. Your nightclothes. Your nightclothes that you had definitely been wearing. His own t-shirt that you so adorably asked to wear at night, citing that it smelled just like him. The large shirt that he gave you in mock exasperation, secretly fawning over your cuteness when you slid it on.

Look Seven, it’s like a dress on me!

With another frantic gasp, Saeyoung wailed your name brokenly. Once again compelled to action, he tore his gaze from the bathroom and began to sprint anxiously down the adjacent hallway. He needed to find you. Now. It was dark. The air was stale. His nose twitched in distaste as he sensed the twinge of iron that faintly permeated the hall before him. It felt like there had been little movement in your apartment today. He fumbled for the light switch on the wall. His trembling fingers just missed it. His body was already surging forward, so he continued his aching search into the hall blindly, his feet shuffling against each other lamely –

Why is there blood why why why this can’t be happening

Saeran and I… we got rid of Mint Eye, we survived, we did we DID!

but what if they came back

Why did they take her clothes off??

unless…

Seven’s stomach sank nauseously.

what if they took her what if – no no no nononono NO!

There was a sign of a struggle; she’s bleeding, she’s hurt!

She’s …. Dying.

…

NO please God no–!

Saeyoung suddenly tripped over something heavy. He crashed to the ground, blinking away the tears in his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the dark.

His scuffed palms instinctively reached out to catch him. Angry at his own clumsiness, he fumbled for his phone in his back pocket, swiping up to access his flashlight.

“AGH!” He sprang back in a shocked stupor.

A worryingly large pool of dried blood stood out conspicuously where he had just fell. Darker red, nearly black, glossy clumps of something sat atop the dried blood, having congealed to the consistency of rancid jelly.

Without turning back to see what he had tripped on, Seven screamed your name in utter despair, propelling himself upwards as he desperately searched the last two places you could be. Not wanting to confront the bedroom just yet, he yanked open the door to his office space, quickly glancing around in a fretful daze. Not being able to locate you immediately, he finally turned to your shared bedroom. His phone’s flashlight zeroed in on the bed. The empty bed. The empty bed that was speckled with the same blood that stippled the hallway. And the bathroom. And the kitchen.

You weren’t here.

You were taken.

You were injured.

You were gone–

“No!” Saeyoung collapsed to his knees, struggling to dial the keypad on his phone. He wasn’t even sure whom he was calling when a meek voice sounded out behind him.

“… Seven?”

Dropping his phone in alarm, Saeyoung spun around, ignoring how the carpet burned his knees as he pivoted.

You. You were there.

You were clutching at the bedroom door frame, highlighted only by the last surviving streaks of sunlight creeping through the blinds. You looked… fine. Maybe tired at worst.

Saeyoung choked out your name, his eyes instantly filling with tears. Both of you were frozen for several moments, him out of complete bewilderment, and you, cranky but concerned, having finally been woken from your deep sleep by wails of despair. And then –

Seven rushed to his feet and crushed you against his chest. You could hear and feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. His breath came out hot and moist as he pressed his lips to the top of your messy hair. His lanky arms wrapped tightly around your startled frame, his fingers finding their desperate purchase around your waist and the small of your back. His taller frame shook, and you soon felt something wet streak down your temple. “I thought I lost you.”

Still utterly confused as to what exactly was happening, you just returned his terrified embrace, perplexed as to why your eyes suddenly filled with tears too.

“Seven… Saeyoung…”

He clutched you even tighter, the symptoms of a full-blown panic attack likely to ensue.

“Luciel.”

Alarmed, you leaned your face back and looked deeply into his blown eyes. You placed shaking yet comforting palms against either side of his sharp cheeks. Fighting past the cotton in your throat, you sought answers for his critical state.

“What do you think happened?”

He let out a wobbly sniffle and returned your intense gaze, gathering the courage needed to answer you coherently.

“Your… your blood. Why is it all over the apartment?” He croaked painfully. As if spooked again, his eyes widened almost comically once more: “You’re not hurt, are you?? Oh God, I didn’t even think to check first. Of course you’re hurt; your BLOOD is all over the place. Oh fuck, it’s on your face too. oh my god. Don’t move, I’m taking you to the hospital oh God…” Saeyoung began to stoop as if to pick you up but you hurriedly made to halt him.

“What – no Saeyoung, stop. I’m fine. See? Why ever would you think that… oh.” You gulped nervously, the hot flush from earlier now creeping up your neck and overtaking your face in shame. Well… fuck.

“Please don’t be mad… um,” you nervously averted your gaze, your hands dropping to pull his wrists out from your sides. You laced your fingers together. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” You guided the shaken man to the end of the bed and then turned away.

Thin fingers suddenly encircled your wrist.

“My sweet, I’m just turning on the lamp. It’s dark now.”

“Oh… right. Of course.”

You padded over to the wall, flicking the switch so that the yellow overhead fluorescent bathed everything in a sad hue.

“Okay so…” You took a shallow breath and eased yourself down onto your boyfriend’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist once more. You began to card your fingers through his hair. It was a position that brought you both immense comfort and security. “Don’t laugh, but… uh, and I’m really sorry for causing you so much distress, but ahh I guess maybe my body was just so surprised that you got called away real early this morning, remember? Oh of course you remember, you just got back... And so – oh Seven, it must have been the chips! I’m so sorry! I’m a terrible person; I yelled at Meowy and – the underwear! With cats! Saeyoung dear, please understand I didn’t mean to! We can get another pair. But I really blame that stupid Roomba for all of it.” You trailed off pitifully, averting your embarrassed eyes in favour of studying the corner of the bedroom instead.

Silence settled in wake of your rambling statement.

“You… what?” Seven loosened his grip and stared up at your fretful eyes with utter confusion. “Babe,” he took a shaky breath alike to yours, “you know I love you, always, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but – what the fuck are you talking about?”

Unable to hold back your torrent of hormone-induced emotions, you blurted, “I’m on my period!”

“You…”

“It happens every month, Saeyoung.”

“Yes, but… it’s not supposed to get all over the floors! And the walls! And the bed – Babe! The knife! There are clumps of FLESH in the hall!” Seven held your arms in a tight grip, forcing you to look right at him.

“I know! I… it was a heavy flow.” Your eyes cast downwards pathetically. Oh man, do I wanna curl up in a ball and die…

Abruptly, a chuckle resounded off the walls. The chuckle grew into giggling, which then grew into bellowing laughter. You joined in with your boyfriend’s mirth, both of you laughing to expel any of the remaining insecurity and fear you both felt. For every laugh, a tear was shed, and for every hysterical giggle, your interlocked hands squeezed the other.

Growing pains and period pains, your relationship had both.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

You didn’t get to watch the rest of the dwindling sunset together.

After calmly and patiently explaining your abnormal and premature flow, accompanied by the resulting afternoon fiasco via Meowy’s unfortunate presence, you had gotten Seven back to a stable mental state. He blushed furiously, embarrassed that he reacted so dramatically to something as old-hat as your menstrual cycle. But you shushed him, gave him gentle, chaste kisses, and assured him that his reaction wasn’t unfounded. It had been… upsetting for you too, even if your feelings were rooted in annoyance and crankiness more so than fear.

Still shaken by the sight of your blood, Saeyoung insisted that you both cleaned up the flat together. He didn’t want to leave your side, after all. With a light smile, he suggested maybe a game to make the task less grisly. An unassuming pair of handcuffs (which were actually the tipping point for Saeran moving out the day he saw them), a large sponge, and some soapy water later, you and Saeyoung were racing down the hallways nearly on all fours, jointed at the wrists, challenging yourselves to stay upright as you both pushed the same waterlogged sponge across the hardwood floors.

You were both giggling loudly, which only became amplified when you realized that you both still hadn’t up-righted the miserable Roomba.

“Left! Left!” Saeyoung shouldered your direction leftwards, and you both were able to – finally – avoid a third collision with the sad robot.

When you both released yourselves from your metal confines and entered the bathroom, you sadly presented your soiled cat panties to Seven. He wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his grimace. The little cats sure do look hellish with all the blood splatters… You cringed in agreement. The footprints were scrubbed off the tile, and you gathered your discarded clothes to put in the hamper.

“See, my lovey, it’s just the underwear that are bloody.” You held up his t-shirt that you had taken to sleeping in. Seven blushed harder and stammered an apology. “Don’t apologize, everything else was pretty much covered in blood… it’s natural to think that the shirt was too.” You offered an easy, albeit still concerned, smile. He gratefully returned it.

Saeyoung stammered the most upon seeing the knife in the kitchen. “I uh –, “ he cupped the back of his neck, “I didn’t really inspect it earlier. I just saw… hehe… red.” His face turned the colour of his hair. Meowy let out a mewl of approval.

Cracking a grin to yourself, you shook your head. “I know.”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It wasn’t until an hour or two later that you both had finally cleaned your flat of the remaining incriminating evidence. Both tired, you were entirely resigned to spending the rest of this nightmarish day cuddled with your boyfriend in bed. It seemed this was Seven’s train of thought too, until his eyes suddenly lit up with excitement.

“Babe!” He twirled you around the kitchen, picking you up and settling you down on the counter. He wedged himself between your legs as you were winding your arms around his neck. “I didn’t forget.”

“Hmm?” You offered him a dazed expression.

“You scream~” He began to improvise one of his many cutesy melodies, “I scream~~”

Your eyes brightened with sudden realization: “We all scream for ice cream!”

“Yes! My princess requests! And so, I shall deliver!” He kissed both of your cheeks, helped you down, and then shucked off his coat. Wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, he tilted your chin up, “Cute.” Wink.

“Allons-y!”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Jumin had had a terribly frustrating, annoying, absolutely baffling day.

Upon arriving at work, he was met with a flustered Jaehee.

“Sir, something’s wrong with the network,” she glanced down at her clipboard, “And, ahem, well your technologies, sir.”

An arched brow. “My technologies?”

“It appears everything fed through your devices ends up not going through. I’m afraid we’ll have to complete all documents the old-fashioned way today.”

The other arched brow. “The old-fashioned way?”

“Handwritten, Mr. Han. Everything will have to be done by hand.”

Assistant Kang’s words sealed Han Jumin’s fate. His hands cramped. He had ink smears over his pinstriped dress shirt. And his hair now sported commoner cowlicks.

Jumin returned home around 9 PM, exhausted and bleary beyond belief. “Elizabeth, my love – come and comfort your father.” Jumin stumbled into his penthouse, intent on cuddling his cat since she somehow eluded him earlier that morning.

“Meow~” The stunning Persian vocalized lazily as she sauntered up to her master.

“Ah, what a fine lady you are.” Jumin scooped her up and nosed her long fur. Something round and cool brushed against his skin. Curious, Jumin fondled the delicate metal lock attached to an imposter satin ribbon looped around Elizabeth’s neck.

“What is this?” He scoffed, irritated that one of the guards must have thought to play dress up with his cat.

Jumin set Elizabeth down and removed the ribbon. He clicked the locket open. Inside, there was a photoshopped photo of Saeyoung and his Elizabeth recreating American Gothic, but with childish doodled hearts and horrendous text in Comic Sans font:

707 x Elly forever!!!

“Luciel… I expected no less.” Jumin rolled his eyes. “Well done I suppose, though I’ll have next draw, of course.” The tall man smirked enigmatically to himself and went to bed.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

But for now, somewhere in Seoul, you shared an ice cream sundae with Seven.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Notes:

Several notes ~ hello! I am relatively new to the mysme fandom (quarantine really said hey, why don't you go ahead and fall in love with the RFA boys, and I woefully agreed) This story is actually sort of based on something that happened to me, believe it or not. I mean, beside the having Seven as my bf part T_T I had a really heavy flow one month, like my body decided to just do the period all at once on one day instead of drawing it out for a week or so like normal. So yes - I woke up, felt impending doom as one does, and then stood up to make it to the bathroom. Well, gravity check - like all this blood and ya know the squishy period stuff fell out instead and I was like??? ok???? This was also at like 4am, so I cleaned myself up, and went back to sleep. Sadly, I had to clean up the massive splatter on my floor when I actually got up several hours later. That was probably tmi, but hey, periods are a natural part of life so~~ I'm fine, dw. Periods just be weird sometimes. ANYWAY - you can leave me prompt ideas or send them to me on tumblr via the same username (curiousherbal). The end of this fic sorta alludes to another fic I have in mind ;) EDIT: Which I have now posted, it may be found here Thank you so much for reading! This was a mammoth. I only ever wanted it to be around 1k, but here we are nearly 6k words later.... I just love seven ;_; ok bye bye

107 notes · View notes

eris223 · 4 years

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@kokkoro tis I, your Secret Santa!

It’s been a pleasure chatting with you these past few weeks. I hope you have a wonderful New Year’s Eve full of relaxation after the craziness of the holidays. I wrote something for you. Just a fun little fic inspired by some of our chats:

Charming Bites & Lady Knights

The parking lot was packed. Lexa’s shoulders slumped, and she pulled into the final available spot, steeling her mind, body, and soul for the inevitable irritation that came with being in a crowd of holiday treat shoppers.

As she slugged through the snow-dusted lot, Lexa reminded herself that this quest came only once a year. Only during the holidays did her mother, who never asked anything of her daughter, request a few charming bites, as she called them. And dammit, Lexa was a noble and true daughter.

So here she stood, calming herself before the local dairy farm and bakery.

The tintinnabulation as she pushed open the heavy door was nearly lost to the constant chatter of bakery employees and frantic customers. Lexa weaved in and out of bustling shoppers, coming to a halt at the end of a ten-person line.

The bakery counter line crawled forward, and every time Lexa dipped her head to the side to gain insight on why the line was moving so slowly, all she saw was a flash of blonde hair attached to a blur of a frenzied yet striking young woman.

“It’s moving slowly, isn’t it, dear?”

Lexa smiled at the old woman who just hopped in line behind her.

“It’s always a mess during the holidays.” Her words were direct and easily interpreted as annoyed, yet the elder’s smile was anything but.

While Lexa was no deipnosophist, she could manage a bit of chit-chat with a kindly old lady who reminded her of her best friend’s doting grandmother. “I think that employee is the only one working the counter. It can’t be easy with this many people,” Lexa motioned towards the counter just as the blonde woman heaved a sigh and greeted the next customer.

“That poor dear,” the old woman clicked her tongue. “We’ll be sure to leave her a nice tip, won’t we?”

Lexa nodded, her cheeks aching with the smile she sported. It wasn’t every day she met someone genuinely kind.

The line still moved at a glacial pace, but with the light and easy conversation with her line partner, the time passed quickly. Soon enough, Lexa stood only two people from the front.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not ready’? I called it in three days ago!”

A hoarse voice crashed into Lexa’s ears, and she whipped her head towards the front of the line. A burly man leaned forward, hands on the counter, shoulders tense, as he continued to berate the pretty employee.

“I left a message on the machine. I said it needed to be ready today!”

“Sir,” the woman’s voice was calm yet peppered with exhaustion, and it was so much more luscious than Lexa anticipated. “Did someone from the bakery call to confirm or give you an order number?”

“Can’t you just give me one of those?” He motioned towards the stack of cakes on the back counter, and Lexa’s skin bristled.

A bout of pure protective nature coursed through her veins as she watched the young woman set her lips in a firm yet polite line.

“I’m sorry, sir, but those are reserved for other custo-”

“This is ridiculous,” he spat at the employee, and Lexa’s muscles tensed. “I can’t believe how far this place has fallen. Hiring fools instead of employees. I want a cake. There are cakes right there…”

Lexa wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her leather gauntlet stretching as she flexed her fingers. She drew the blade slow and with purpose, holding it at the ready.

She tapped the tip of her sword to the rude man’s shoulder. “Thou must apologize to the fair maiden. She art naught but a kind woman caught in a difficult situation.”

He turned with malice laced throughout his gaze. “And who do you think you are? Her knight in shining armor?”

Lexa stood tall, her heavy hauberk shifting and jingling, filling her with pride and confidence. “If she would permit me to be, aye.”

She spared a glance to the maiden in question, and the small nod Lexa received bolstered her further. “Apologize, or I will be duty-bound to defend her honor.”

The man gave Lexa an acute once over, sizing up his competition. With a low growl, he reached behind him, pulling a longsword from the scabbard on his back.

The metal blade scraped loud and dull against his sheath, and Lexa smirked. An expert swordsman could draw silently. This oaf was just a rude buffoon who needed to be taught a lesson in humility.

He swung without warning, his four-foot blade slicing through the air. Lexa, much quicker with her arming sword, ducked beneath the clumsy attempt.

With a flash of steel, Lexa whipped her lighter and swifter sword low, confident her foe would be unable to block such a blow. As her blade clanged hard against his battle-battered greaves, he stumbled backwards.

Lexa leapt into action, assaulting the retreating man with a succession of sudden attacks.

He grunted, his breath drawing in quick bursts with the peripeteia of combat. Emboldened by her enemy’s perpetually slower parries, Lexa ducked under a final graceless swing and landed a devastating blow to the center of his cuirass.

The large man stumbled, and this time, fell to his knees. Chest heaving with exertion, Lexa held the tip of her sword to the soft underside of his throat. “Thou hast lost. Apologize.”

“Dear? It’s your turn.”

Lexa shook her head, ridding her overactive mind of knights and chivalry. She cleared her throat and stepped up to the counter.

“Hi.”

The blonde employee was overwhelmingly gorgeous, with bonhomie dripping from her eyes down to the soft smile adorning her lips. Despite the heat in her cheeks and the fluttering in the pit of her stomach, a halcyon wave crashed around Lexa. After what seemed like an eternity, she muttered back a simple greeting.

“What can I do for you today?” The woman rested her hands gently on the counter in front of her, and Lexa, the suddenly smitten woman she was, completely forgot the reason she was actually there. She thought of nothing but the rude man who insulted this beauteous creature before her.

“I would like to formally apologize on behalf of that man from earlier.” Lexa locked eyes with brilliant blue. “He was out of line, and you were nothing but professional and courteous towards him-” Lexa leaned forward to get a better view of the simple name tag pinned to the woman’s white shirt. “Clarke,” she added with a smile.

“That’s sweet of you to say. Thank you,” Clarke bit back her smile. She dropped her voice low, and with a little twinkle in her eye, nodded behind Lexa. “But if you don’t order something in the next ten seconds, you’re going to be witness to a whole lot more rude customers.”

“Right, sorry,” Lexa mumbled as she tried desperately to contain her blushing cheeks. “Half a dozen cannolis, half a dozen peanut butter cookies, and one cream puff, please.”

“Just one cream puff?” Clarke paused, the pastry box half-popped open in her hand.

“I get one for myself every year. A little treat,” Lexa shrugged as she watched Clarke expertly pluck two fluffy pastry cream-filled treats into the box. “Oh, just one.”

Clarke looked up from the display case with a smile so big and bright she could have lit the night sky. “Try meat.” Her full cheeks ignited into an impressive array of pinks and reds as she manically shook her head. “My treat,” Clarke corrected, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the fluster-induced spoonerism.

“For being my knight in shining armor,” Clarke finished with a wink that transferred that impressive blush from her cheeks straight to Lexa’s. Her heart triple-timed, desperate to catch up to her racing brain. It wasn’t every day she met a beautiful woman who perhaps, just maybe, shared her slight obsession with lady knights.

“Can you please stop flirting and get on with your job?”

Lexa whipped around, shooting a death glare to the middle-aged woman standing three customers back. “Some of us have better things to do than watch this-” she waved her hand dismissively towards Lexa and Clarke. “Whatever this is.”

“Yeah, flirt on your own time!” Another snappy customer shouted, starting a low rumble of assertion that quickly grew to a cacophonous roar.

Lexa’s jaw hardened. In the minute she’d been standing there, Clarke had never stopped moving. The entire time they were talking, Clarke had been expertly plucking treats from the display case and packaging them neatly. These chthonian people should just crawl back under the filthy rock they came from.

“A little patience goes a long way,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the woman who started it all.

She was met with a sneer that stoked the fire of anger deep within her belly. Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword once again. “I wish you all no harm, but if provoked, I will respond with force.”

The corybantic crowd drew their weapons: long swords, daggers, maces, axes, all glistened under the fluorescent lights.

Lexa waited atiptoe for some fool to make the first mistake. But her patience soon wore thin, and unwilling to be caught unprepared, she pulled her own knightly sword from her hip.

A jumble of footsteps echoed behind her, and Lexa gasped as Clarke, donned in a black Gambeson cinched around her waist with a golden belt and sheath, leapt over the bakery counter. Her boot-clad feet landed with a graceful thump, and she drew her own arming sword.

Lexa wanted to exclaim, to ask a million questions, but the crowd around inched forward. The gleam of polished steel glinted in her eyes. The stuttered adrenaline-infused breaths prickled her ears.

Lexa tightened her grip around the leather-clad hilt, her muscles coiled and ready. Clarke’s back pressed against hers as they both took cautious steps, painting an unseen circle on the old hardwood floors, surveying their numerous enemies.

The ephemeral dance ended in a flick of a wrist. The crowd fell in on them, a mess of steel and wood. Clang after clang, Lexa deflected the attacks, all the while keeping an alert ear to the sound of Clarke fighting.

Her fair maiden was no amateur.

The whistle of a well-made blade cut through the air behind her like a song of combat. Clarke’s back bumped against hers as a particularly devious blow caught Lexa’s sword.

A steady hand grasped her free one, and with a knowing squeeze, they twirled on their heels, exchanging foes in a deadly dance that couldn’t have been better choreographed if they tried.

They fought, side by side, deflecting here, helping there, until their foes we’re nothing more but a groaning mess of plate armor and chainmail amongst the floorboards.

Lexa wiped the sweat from her brow, sheathing her sword with a satisfied smirk. “My lady,” Lexa assessed the destruction around them. “You wield a sword to rival me.”

With a satisfied twirl of her blade, Clarke slipped the weapon securely into her sheath. “I expect not a savior, but a partner, my good dame.”

She smirked at Lexa, all satisfied and battle lust-filled. The kilig was unbearable, so Lexa took a bold step forward, wrapped her hand around Clarke’s neck, and leaned in.

“I’ll be right with the next customer,” Clarke smiled politely to the back of the crowd. She caught Lexa’s gaze, her face a little more flushed. “Thirty-seven dollars even.”

Lexa signed the electronic pad and accepted the pastry box from Clarke. With nothing more than a shy smile, she sulked towards the door, mindful to give that middle-aged love-hater an intimidating glare as she passed.

“Dear, this is unacceptable.”

Lexa turned around just in time to be leveled with a heartbreaking disappoint glare that grandmothers executed with perfection. Her line partner heaved a heavy sigh, her plastic shopping bag crinkling against her long coat in the process.

“What do you mean?” Lexa swallowed down the urge to cower.

“This shilly-shally-” she waved frantically at Lexa. “Just ask that young lady out. There isn’t a nobler cause in the world than matters of the heart, dear.”

The woman was right.

Lexa squared her shoulders and marched straight to the front of the line, ignoring several annoyed glares in the process. But when she reached the display case, Clarke was nowhere to be found. A chipper brunette stood in her place, tending to customers with a smile too big to be considered normal.

A few more frantic minutes were spent scouring the shop, and when she finally caved and asked an employee, she was informed that Clarke had been sent home for the day.

Lexa sulked out of the bakery, slipping the pastry box carefully into the passenger seat of her car. Her fingers gripped the keys, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde.

Keys forgotten, Lexa hopped out of the car.

Clarke whirled around the parking lot, her unbuttoned coat fluttering in the freezing wind, searching for something. She turned down Lexa’s row. Her frantic movements halted.

Lexa offered a gentle wave, and Clarke began the slow walk towards her. The closer she came, the more manic Lexa’s heart. Clarke, rid of her bakery uniform, strode towards her with a gleam in her eyes. Her jeans, the midnight blue scarf tied haphazardly around her neck, the little gray beanie perched atop her blonde waves, it all added to the gawsy appeal.

“Hi.”

A glorious gallimaufry of emotions washed over Lexa with that one word. Her stomach fluttered, her brain fuzzed, and her fingers tingled with the need to touch. But Lexa stamped it all down and smiled a simple, “Hello.”

Clarke shoved her hands in her pockets, suddenly insecure, the vicissitudes of her emotions written plainly on her face. “My replacement finally showed up,” she mumbled into the frigid air.

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Clarke shifted from foot to foot, and the wind caught the lapels of her winter coat. A flash of a familiar symbol burned into Lexa’s eyes. A logo.

Not just any logo. The logo to the state renaissance faire. A faire Lexa regularly frequented during its season, soaking in the swordplay and artisans, the weaponry and the atmosphere. And here her new love was, standing before her, broadcasting to the world her interest in medieval merriment.

If Lexa wasn’t already a mess from a simple conversation in the bakery, she certainly was a catastrophe now.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?” Clarke’s voice held none of the worries her body showed.

Lexa stepped forward, grasped Clarke’s hand, and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. With gentle flourish, because what kind of noble knight would she be if she denied a lady such as Clarke a swoon-worthy acceptance, Lexa nodded, “It would be my honor.”

#clexa secret santa 2019 #hi #clexa fanfic #clexa

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parkbearum · 5 years

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Ignite

Part 1 | Part 2 | Friends with benefits!Exo

“....none of what they were doing was fair but nevertheless,she still craved his touch on her skin...”

The day remained quiet while her gaze traveled on his books,the setting sun’s color becoming darker with the passing seconds.A sigh filled the room,mixed and tangled emotions that seemed to be chasing her figure finally found the soul,all of them rummaging on her mind.

It had been a few weeks since she let herself go in the relationship,unlike what she was like before,she became carefree.Calling in the desperate hours of the night,not only because she was needy but also she needed have him next to her became a normal occurrence.He slowly adjusted to this new girl who was ready to take all he offered,a girl who was so far away from the person he first met.

His affection was now being received rather than being rejected.She leaned against his touch in kisses now,let him have the time to take a shower with her or simply,feel her body against his when killing time.The relationship became something else than a beneficial two way exchange for the both of them,it was filled with sweet mornings and smiles,very different things they both agreed on.

Although he didn’t mind this new side of her,a side that was just ready to all of him,he wasn’t sure where it was gonna end up.They were supposed to be just friends,not anything else and now that what they had seemed like a couple relationship,he was worried about the end.

There were no promises,no expectations which forced them into a new road.This wasn’t a usual relationship two would have.Sure,it was filled with sweet love making as well as their laughs against one another but she didn’t see him as her boyfriend,he was well aware of that.He was a person of pleasure still,someone to look forward to but not someone to share her late nights with.

It was complicated for her as well,it was all new to her:this whole thing with having someone.She was known to have very few connections,a person of small talk she usually was and having someone next to her,offering an overwhelming amount of affection and pure care was all too much to handle at once,she needed a moment and some time to figure out what she thought of it but meanwhile,decided to make the best out of it.

She saw her come inside his study,a few buttons undone while a tired grin appeared on his face.It was rare that he got to see her like this,laying down on the sofa while waiting for him,simply vulnerable in every way possible.Tossing his jacket to the side of the room,he hovered above her on the leather sofa,a few pecks on her lips and moved on to sitting down and letting a sigh out.

She watched him gulp while staring,observing every behavior he exerted to truly get to know him.The sun kissed his skin under the sunset that took over the room,different shades of yellow and orange filling the walls.The changing colors of the sky shaped the way his face looked,ever so changing with time.

Her legs rested on top of his while they stayed seated on the sofa,eyes locked while they tried to figure something out,something that would get them out of this mess they created.She wanted to stay,to be with him and have his soul around but her mind said no,the tiny possibility of him leaving and her heart being filled with sorrow didn’t seem appealing at all.

She also wanted to walk out,it would be much easier anyway.Yes,she would miss him at nights while the moon talked to her,she would want his body next to hers and also miss his smell,his laugh and even his habits but separating herself from him seemed to be the easy option for quick recovery,or so she thought.

A kiss under the sunset,with their hands on each others’ hair and her mind was made.

Laying down on the bed while staying still,different thought traces crossed your mind.It was about anything and everything:work,social life,him.You had a free week,far away from any responsibilities you decided to ignore until the very last minute,because you had things to enjoy.You looked outside to the blue sky,saw the clouds moving slowly while the body next to you breathes steadily.

Worries rummaged through your mind,there was so much to think about while he laid there,right next to you during the morning.You could stay:have a few couple months you would enjoy your time with him,a good time where you would hold onto each other like you would never let go,only to erase all of the memories altogether just after a few months.Or you could go:walk away with a huge bag of emotions you would drink away right after being alone,you could avoid him at all costs and act like he was just a breeze,even though your emotions would create a thunderstorm inside you.

He rolled over slowly,his arms wrapping around you and you could see that he was half-awake by the way he held onto you.He saw it all,your turmoil of emotions that seemed to make their way up to your eyes,still peeking through even though you did your best to avoid them.

And he was okay with all of that.

He was alright with all of your doubts you seemed to have.You thought he didn’t know you as you only shared a bed and nothing else,but he was good at getting to know someone by their acts.He knew the faces you would make when you were sad,when you felt vulnerable and when you felt the need to be alone.He was aware of all the habits you had,whether it was playing with your nails when you were nervous or how would play with your hair when you felt a little bit good about yourself.

He was fine with however you chose to come to him,doubtful or full of confidence,he was happy to be with you let alone any doubts you had.He knew it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this,he knew that you would fool around with him for a few months and got into a small argument,an excuse to leave and you wouldn’t see each other again but that argument never happened because he was soft with you,he took it easy and you didn’t leave,you didn’t let go,at least not yet.

You felt his presence all around you,his smell overwhelmed you with his hands around yours.You let out a sigh,goosebumps on his skin while you kept looking at the ceiling this time,deciding to stay at his place today.The white sheets made their sound,filling your morning with utter and complete tiredness.You looked at him,seeing his eyes being shadowed by his hair,it was too long and he had to cut it sometime.

Soon,you were filled with the breakfast he had made you,sitting on the couch in his living room while he switched channels every now and then while still watching your figure with the corner of his eye.It felt comfortable for the first time in a long period,it felt like things were normal and you weren’t out of space.A smile formed on your lips,the content feeling in your head still warming your whole body.

After a few hours,you found yourself lining up his hair while he sat on a chair,paper towels on the floor to keep it clean while you slowly chopped his hair off.His hair was getting too long and eve though he was aware of it,he chose to do nothing.Somehow,it brought him to this moment where you were staring at him intensely,trying to make sure his hair was all lined up.

“Do you want me to do the back of your head as well or you’ll just grow it out?”you breathed out while the afternoon slowly passed away.He looked at you and shook his head before breaking out into a smile.

“I don’t know,really.”he blinked at you,your senses slowly melting under his gaze.“What do you think?”he breathed out this time,making sure to keep eye contact.

You sat on the floor after his words finished,looking up at his smiley face while a million thoughts crossed your mind.His hair looked good and you didn’t know what you were doing in his apartment at this hour,cutting his hair and taking care of him.It wasn’t usual that you spent time with him,at least not this way but it felt warm,it felt like the heavy burden in your chest was gone and that you were finally able to breathe,able to take a step back and say,this isn’t that bad.

He understood your thoughts from the way you looked,a little sad but content.Somehow,he was aware that it had caught you off-guard,you didn’t expect to feel this comfortable around him without sleeping around.He was okay with that,with his heart on his sleeve,he looked at you and just took it all on.He didn’t know how many days like this would be possible for the both of you,how many precious moments that would be stuck forever in his mind.

You giggled a little,finding it amusing how serious he seemed about his haircut but also how indecisive he was about a lot of things.He looked down at the floor to see your face light up,see it sparkle and glow while his heart screamed at him to confess once again,even though he had already done so countless times.

So he let go.

His efforts of trying to make you stay slowly faded away,you received the affection from his part nevertheless but they way he delivered was different.Soon,you grew to understand that this was his way of saying,you can stay or you can go but either way,I’ll be happy for you.His selfless acts didn’t change neither did his contagious smile and the more he let go of you,the more you felt the need to stay.

Ramadan Mubarak everyone!!!

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bi-outta-cordonia · 5 years

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Turnabout: Liam x MC (The Royal Romance)

First fic I ever do for this fandom, so we’ll see how this works out. There was a Wilkinson razor ad that came out a few years ago that inspired this mess, but I’m gonna put it up anyway. This is a purely fictional work so please don’t actually like, attempt any of the things you see in this.

The Royal Romance. King Liam x MC (Riley Harrington). NS*W, 18+. Tags include; swordplay in ways that a trained professional would definitely not encourage, light hand job, a bossy wife, heavy petting, and maybe a bit of jealousy.

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Liam attempts to blow off some steam and fails to do exactly that.

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A steady quiet grips the palace halls, such an old building occasionally cutting the silence with its creaky foundation and slight chills—little breaths to ease the weight of its ever-growing legacy. He carries each new burden from the pristine marble through the glittering golden halls, hundreds of eyes look to him for everything—guidance, assurances, admonition, and all that fall in between. To save the bounty of this year, will he risk the ire of demanding more in taxes? To ease the tensions between council members, will he declare favor for one or take a chance by presenting an olive branch?

Beads of sweat slip down his brow and dangle precariously at the tip of his nose. The wooden dummy sits tall in front of him, fresh cuts and deep slashes criss-crossing all along the chipped surface. Liam takes a quick step to the right, sword whisking through the air as he slices a careful pattern into the dummy.

Some thousands of generations of Rys monarchs had it much more difficult than he. Her Majesty, Queen Kenna Rys had the backing of five kingdoms and the reputation of the Light Taker but her ability to wage war did nothing to gain her allies. Her allies were people first, desperate and in need of one thing or the other—to save a kingdom already on fire, she bites her tongue and answers that call for help first. To bring it all together under one crown and to have the decision be a unanimous one at that?

How many acres of Stormholt did she lose for every day she spent taking care of other people’s problems? It’s a responsibility he understands, but gods help him, he doesn’t envy the work his ancestors had to endure.

Splinters of wood split and scatter upon the mat. He raises his sword with a grunt, cutting at what would be an arm if he faced a live opponent.

All that weight Kenna Rys carried—all the weight he must carry as King. Not many places to work out the stress he faces these days.

“I was wondering where you ran off to.”

A smile spreads across his face and he offers a brief bow to his inanimate partner. When Liam turns, he’s graced with the sight of Riley, her long dark hair pulled into a loose bun, a leather jacket hugging her shoulders, and a long black dress adorning her. She leans against the doorway of the training room, eyes appreciatively roaming the entire length of him.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he says, breathless and dabbing at his brow with the towel hanging on his shoulder. Liam approaches her slowly, sword still in hand and face settling into a gentle expression. “How was your meeting?”

She smiles.

“I had to have a sincere conversation with Madeleine and Maxwell at the same time.” Riley brushes past Liam, sweeping into the room and his eyes follow her. He catches the sway of her hips as her dress flutters around her ankles. “They’re definitely on the same page with the relief efforts. It’s just that Madeleine knows more practical ways to handle our solutions and Maxwell just wants to do everything that he can at once.” She sighs. “But I’d be lesser without both of them. We get more done as a team, even if we have completely different ideas.”

“Ah. The perils of leadership,” he chuckles.

He watches her approach the weapons rack, her impeccable manicure glimmering under the soft light as she trails a hand across the metal guards of each sword securely held in place. His breath hitches when she stops in front of one.

“I was hoping we could take some time to ourselves for the rest of the day,” she says, hand curving around to stroke the hilt—he swallows hard. She draws the sword from its stand, metal glinting as she turns it in her hand and examines the fine craftsmanship. “It won’t be long before this place is flooded with nobles from every which part of the country. I’ve been looking forward to the Light Bringer Festival. Sounds lovely.”

“In the days of old, Queen Kenna faced in single combat the illustrious Empress Azura, She Who Shines Brightest, and, before the throne, in front of witnesses numbering in the hundreds, slew the Queen of the Bright and thus secured the Five Kingdoms, their borders, and their independence,” he recites, hand blindly reaching back and grasping at the door knob. “It marked the beginning of the Five Kingdoms—a fight to end all fights, or so the history books say.”

Riley gives a few good swipes with her sword, eventually ending with a powerful thrust forward. Her eyes find his across the room, arm slowly lowering to her side and she gives the blade a careful twirl. She stalks forward and he pulls the door shut—again and he sets the lock. At the third step, his feet glide across the floor as he joins her and twirls the blade in his hand.

“I’ve been doing some reading of my own,” she says, eyes flashing dangerously. “Diavolos Nevrakis—King of Abanthus. He was made Queen Kenna’s husband after the war against the Iron Empire ended?”

“Yes, he was,” Liam answers. “His father intended betrayal as soon as the dust settled and Diavolos chose to defend Kenna instead. They developed quite an alliance during the conflict.”

Riley laughs. “The stories are a bit more…suggestive in terms of what their relationship was like.”

It occurs to him that they’ve made a full circuit by now. He made a promise to her after their marriage—his burdens would be hers and hers would belong to him. It’s a union forged in understanding and bound by Cordonian tradition, the beloved King and his outsider Queen. So many candidates and so many ways this could’ve turned out. He would kiss the gods themselves if they ever came to him—once for their blessing and a second time for granting him the chance to marry the love of his life.

“Diavolos Nevrakis was a man born and bred for war,” Liam says, voice dropping low. Riley’s head tilts and he nearly has her. “The first time he ever met Kenna was on the battlefield. Theirs was a love forged by blood, brimstone, and steel.”

“They were warriors,” she says, raising her blade and pointing it at him.

He raises his arm to a ready position, smile tugging at his lips. “Lovers.”

“I wonder how hard they pushed each other,” Riley says, quirking a brow.

All the preamble he gets before she lunges forward, blade swinging at him and forcing him back despite the steady block. She’s relentless in her pursuit, careful strikes swishing past him and her steel clanging against his. Nimble feet compared to his steady stance and he can tell she’s been getting in extra practice with Mara. Not as refined as a fencer but she’s unpredictable enough that it makes a difference. The loose strands of her hair whip around her face but he keeps his eyes trained on her body and her sword.

He rushes to the side, both of them grunting with effort as their blades cross and she pushes him back with a grunt. His arm raises and her cut is true—one clean slice across the shirt loosely adorning him, buttons scattering across the ground and his pale skin peeking out between the neatly parted flaps.

Liam briefly touches the ruined pieces of his shirt until his eyes dart up and lock with Riley’s. Oh, the smug glee in those brown eyes. She holds her blade out still pointing it towards him and he can’t stop the wicked smile that spreads across his face.

He tears the pieces with his free hand and pulls the tatters out of his pants, shedding and tossing his ruined shirt to the ground.

“My darling Queen,” he purrs, boldly gliding across the plane of their battle. Riley follows him, blade still precariously keeping him at length. “I’m afraid you may have started something here…”

“I certainly hope you plan to finish—”

Two quick strides, wrist flicking carefully as his blade crosses hers and she steps—

Back, favoring the right, and earns a clean split down her dress.

One gleaming brown thigh greets him, the entire length of her leg now exposed by a cut stemming from the hip and parting all the way down. Riley brings her arms down and stares at the cut, cheek apples glowing as she laughs despite the fiery look in her eyes. The black dress flutters around her leg now as she moves, eyes lifting and finding his. Her tongue darts out as she wets her lips.

They meet each other in the middle, her blade screaming and sliding along his as he lifts his arm overhead. Chest to chest, the powerful muscles in his body ripple as they give a half twirl around each other, swords shifting down at the ready and he jumps back when she slashes at him.

The clash of steel,

Beads of sweat flying off flushed skin,

Grunts that could easily be mistaken for sounds of something far more carnal,

The exertion no different and the aim relatively similar. He can see their dance—one step around the other, blades singing with each clash, his eyes trained on her and her determination trained on him. One more step towards the middle as they meet halfway and he jerks his hand down, tearing a rip across her chest.

Liam licks his lips tasting the salt of his sweat and the budding temptation hanging heavy in the air.

Beneath the split of the folds, he’s blessed with the sight of her breasts begging for the scrape of his teeth. What he could do to her—oh, the things he’s done to her with just a raspy sound and a few string of words.

He would move mountains.

Stop the world on its axis.

Wait on her, hand over foot.

Riley tilts her head and watches him circle her—both their chests heaving.

“Seems I’ve the advantage, Your Grace,” Liam says, voice hoarse from exertion. Her arms hang loose by her side, blade gleaming in the light, and the wild look in her eyes stirring primal feelings deep within him. His eyes roam over every inch—needs it like a man dying of thirst needs water. He could do so much if she’d let him.

Liam twirls the blade in his hand and she strides towards him. A woman on a mission with her shoulders hunched forward and she clashes with him—both hands gripping the hilt as they meet and he fights the voice in his head telling him to toss the blades so he can take her to the ground. The hollow of her throat is where he fixes his eyes, dark brown spots peppered along the expanse and Liam groans.

A gift of a few nights ago when the palace halls fell silent to the night, nothing but the footsteps of the nightwatch trailing past their bedroom and he refused to grant her respite. He refused to hold back, refused to let her sounds go unheard. He didn’t give a damn who heard, at least they’d know.

His fingers squeeze the grip and it’s a torture of a kind feeling the warm metal beneath his fingertips rather than her skin. He presses forward and she begrudgingly jolts back so as to keep her balance. Again and his body ripples with a deep seated hunger that claws at him. Another and he pushes her back with all his might, pivoting on his foot and forcing her to spin.

His wrist flicks out and he cuts at her skirt along the front. She gasps and falters back, spinning on her heel to force some distance and he strikes again, cutting the back of the skirt and exposing both her legs completely. Her head tilts back for a boisterous laugh and he suppresses a moan when he stares fully at the smooth black fabric clinging to her ass.

“I’m not done yet!” she exclaims, slowly turning towards him. Dangerous—tempting the decency and years of etiquette he’s been trained to maintain. A king must always been in control but why? Why would he deny the feelings bubbling just beneath the surface making his throat dry and his skin tingle? “Now, now—what’s that look in your eye, my King?”

He can’t even bother hiding the way his eyes roam across her exposed thighs. His free hand flexes, a muscle memory coming to mind—of warm legs cradling his head, his fingertips dug into soft brown flesh, and the heady scent of her core invading his senses.

“A deep-seeded yearning,” he answers honestly, eyes taking in her wild appearance. He takes a ready stance and watches her smirk. She tugs her bun completely loose, raven locks falling over her shoulders, and he can remember the last time he had a fistful of that, gently tilting her head back so he could leave those marks all over her neck. She circles him with her blade out. “Gods help me, if I wasn’t committed to finishing this…”

“Ah ah, patience, love,” she teases, eyes drinking him in. “Oh, but look at you, all breathless and pretty for me.”

He inhales sharply—it’s a familiar phrasing.

A familiar tone of voice.

Liam’s eyes dart to her gleaming thighs.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “All voracious and tempting…” He raises his blade in front of him in a defensive position, her steady paces putting him on edge. “The key to all the control I have left in me.”

“And I’m not giving it back,” she challenges, winking.

He smirks. “Oh, beloved. I would hope not.”

It’s an onslaught that follows, sparks nearly flying between them. Her grunts and his grunts that put him in so many different places at once—the unabashed sounds of the opera behind them and her nails raking down his back—

The cool air of the Applewood manor and her heels pressing into his back—

Hot breath puffing into his ear and her body squeezing all around him as their boat rocks—

Everywhere and nowhere at once, too many times over. So many times over, so many memories and all he can think about is the heat in his belly and the contrast of his hands on her skin, holding her wrists down down as their slick bodies slide against each other. She’s everywhere—perfume on her neck, quivering thighs, slick heat spread all around him—and nowhere—home with him, home in their bed, screaming for him, begging for him.

Trails of sweat slither down his body, arms up and wrists nearly crossing (like the time she looped red ribbons around his). She spins, slashing with purpose and ferocity (like the time when she shoved him with both hands into a private room at an exclusive event, witnesses be damned), and he meets her at every turn (like when she rolls her hips just like he likes, her breathless voice caught between a haughty laugh and a throaty moan, her open lips hovering over his as his eyes roll to the back of his head).

Liam thrusts his blade forward and her back slams against the wall, sharp edge digging into the reinforced wood and her jacket pinned against it. She lets out a loud sound that can’t be anything other than a sensual grunt. Gods, the amount of times he’s heard that sound, has imagined hearing that sound when they’re chauffeured in the limousine, his hands flexing uncontrollably as he grips the seats and she sits proudly beside him, a coy hand roaming freely in his lap.

His eyes lock with hers—one moment, she’s impeccable with every strand of hair carefully slicked back as her crown sits heavy upon her head.

The next, she’s looking back at him with wild eyes promising him all the world and then some if only he’d fall even further into ruin for her.

He blinks, head shaking and hands trembling—her voice is so clear, everything is so clear.

Another memory—

Spread across his desk, missives, folders, all the trinkets that should be there scattered across the floor and she’s got one hand gripping the edge, eyes lidded and mouth wide open as moans pour from her throat, dress open in the front where her breasts are covered in his bites, blackeyes of her nipples staring at him pebbled and glistening from his earlier attentions, her skirt pulled high up around her waist and panties lying somewhere in tatters. He grips her thighs with the strength of a man afraid to let go, desperate to have all of her at once. Their bodies slick, wet heat dripping from them every which way—his shirt hangs wide open and his pants hastily bunch around his thighs because it’s all he could manage before it became too much.

Buried in her, buried until he can go no further. Her hand on his stomach so she can feel the muscles tremble and ripple with every thrust.

Liam’s throat goes dry and his mouth opens.

Riley slips out of the jacket and brings her blade up, clashing with his as she pushes him back and slashes at his pants. The belt and the pieces fall around him as her eyes gleefully land on the black boxers clinging to him. He glances down at the expert cut and slowly lifts his head.

When their gazes meet, he knows he’s lost control already.

“And now…” she purrs, twirling the blade in hand, her other hand reaching out and tracing a path from the elastic band of his boxers through the dark hairs trailing up his belly button, “for my other question.”

He swallows, curls his free hand into a tight fist so he won’t even consider palming the heavy erection straining in his boxers, and turns his head so he can follow her path around him. Fingertips glide across his skin—stomach arching up so she can rake her fingers along his chest, circle around his powerful arms, and dance along his shoulders.

“Riley,” he whimpers, pleading.

“Did he ever bend for her?”

Tantalizing touch and it scrapes along his skin, a blade of finer craftsmanship than he could’ve ever imagined. Cuts deeper and drives harder into his very soul.

“Diavolos—” He shudders as her fingers dip down low in the curve of his back. “He was not a king that could be so easily tamed. Battle was his—his second nature and not much could, hah…” Black polished nails glide around to his belly, dips beneath the elastic band and just barely touches him at the base of his cock. His entire body seizes up, dark eyes now completely fixed on the smug expression on her face. He takes a breath, shifting on his feet and rising to his full height above her. “Not much could be withheld should he desire it.”

Riley tilts her head. “And if his Queen wanted him to bend a knee for her?”

“He’d do it,” he responds quickly, voice rumbling in his chest and surprising her. “Anything she wanted—the world, the universe, all the damn stars in the sky and the galaxies in between.” He’s moving forward, backing her up towards the wall and her eyes never stray from him. “He withheld nothing. Wore his passion for his people—for his Queen—on his sleeves and fought with the weight of both bearing down on him. It was everything he should’ve been, everything she deserved.”

“And me?” Riley whispers. “What do I deserve, my love?”

His nostrils flare and his hand shoots out, grasps her at the back of her neck and pulls her towards him.

“You deserve…” She keens as he tips her back further, spies the way the light dances in her eyes and exposes her blown pupils to him despite the already dark depths of her eyes. “All the heat and the fervor built up in me…” He dips his head, lips hovering over hers and eyes darting over every part of her face—the face that greets him in the morning and puts him at ease when he goes to sleep. “Gods, Riley. I could do so much to you right now.” Just the barest brush of their lips and all the heat bubbles within him, burns him from the inside out. “Command me and I would move you however you want me to. Would have you whatever way you deemed worthy.”

“Oh, Liam…”

Her eyes squeeze shut and he closes the gap, seals his lips to hers with a guttural sound. Claims her, marks her, throws the last thread of his control right up in to the wind without a care. Backs her up against the wall with the tatters of his pants limply clinging to his ankles and his cock rubbing all over her dress. It’ll be an awful mess, precome leaking from the tip and spreading all over his boxers. All the things he could let her do—that he could do.

He presses her hard up against the wall and she moves her mouth in tandem with his, swallows every moan and releases a few trembling ones of her own. One hand smooths over his heated skin, rakes down the pinkish flush spreading down his body and catches on a nipple, making him shudder. Air barely matters but he parts long enough to let her suck in a breath before he greedily consumes more. More kisses, more heat, everything and nothing, all of her and twice more of himself.

Liam presses a knee up against her already soaking core, rolls it between her legs as he swallows more kisses and sucks down more of her pleading noises. Her free hand scrabbles until she settles it on his neck and pulls him to her. As close to her as their physical bodies will allow and it’s still not enough. He wants further in, deeper in, all the way down to her soul.

More, more, more, it will never be enough—can’t ever be enough.

Her hand comes back around and shoves at his chest. He can’t even register his own body anymore, just lets it do whatever it pleases as his blade arcs up and splits her dress completely down the middle. The tatters fall down her arms as soon as she lowers them.

Black lingerie and her hair sticking up in places, chest heaving, and body slick with sweat. Riley whips around slowly and his blade meets hers above their heads, chest to chest and gods help him, he would absolutely end it now if she asked.

He would do anything for her to just end it now.

Eyes locked, pupils blown wide. His growls and her gasps—they circle each other in a dance far more intimate than they’ve ever shared before. Eyes darting to lips, darting to skin, the temptation rising between them and she slips away, bare feet quickly padding towards the locker room and he dashes after her with a breathless laugh.

She throws the curtains in his face, laughing and twirling around in circles. The sword slips from her fingertips, clattering unceremoniously to the ground and he tosses his down without a thought. No need to run from anything anymore as she lets him sweep her up in his arms, the muted light of the baths bleeding out onto the floor, and his lips find hers. Hot, hungry—begging and pleading for sweet release.

Liam lifts her and she wraps her legs around him, bodies slick and sliding together as if they were made for one another. He sets her down after a few steps, just outside the baths proper and onto the plush white carpet just outside the entrance.

Hands fumble and grope, tear off her panties, unhook her bra, and slide his boxers down the entire length of his body. Heated gazes lock, her tongue wetting her lips, and her brows rising.

“Give me what I deserve, my love,” she demands, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. He groans as she shifts her hand up to grip his hair tight. “Mold yourself for me, give me all that I want and more.”

“I’ll give you—” he manages before her lips crash hard against his, devouring every sweet sound from his throat and the little puffs of air in between. They break with a gasp, the wind stolen from their lungs and burning something fierce with every intake of breath. “Riley, please.”

She tugs on his hair and he cries out.

“Oh, Liam. I hear you, darling. I hear you loud and clear.” Their bodies shift and he finds his back against the warm carpet, chest heaving as nails rake down his skin, tweak his nipples and dip lower until her hand firmly grips his cock. “But I already told you: give me what I deserve.”

“Fuck!” he shouts, legs splaying wider and eyes glancing down to watch her pump him.

Slow.

Steady.

Hand twisting on every upstroke, squeezing just right to draw the breath from his body. Leave him at her mercy. Bend to her will and mold his body into the perfect pliant mess she craves. Precome beads at the tip, spilling down his cock and she pays it no mind. Slides her hand through the slick and spreads it all over him. Drives him further and plucks at the remaining threads of his sanity. Snips each with a feverish kiss—to his neck (snap), and further down along his collarbone (snap snap). Little kisses down his chest and over his fluttering stomach.

He swallows hard when she lets go of him, grabs his shoulders to steady herself and swings a leg over his body. Her wet core presses hot against him, her heat nearly engulfing him but not quite yet. Liam reaches up and brings her down to him with both hands cradling her face. Their foreheads press together as their heavy breaths fill the room.

“Riley, please. Gods, please. Anything you want.” He’s fully aware of the desperate crack of his voice, his body trembling in anticipation of everything—heated kisses, heated core, fiery passion and endless possibility nestled deep within him. “I’ll give you anything you want, just…just…please!”

Riley kisses him hard, lets him scrabble at her and stroke shaky fingers through her hair as her body sinks down on his cock, one hand holding him steady while the other loosely grasps his neck. Guttural sounds rumble in his chest, mouth still moving in tandem with Riley’s, capturing them even as her lips part and let out a desperate gasp. Her hips remain still until she shifts, body clenching around him and a few quick movements have him pinning her to the ground.

His move—his play. He could have her any way but he’ll wait.

He’ll let the heat consume him as he consumes her kisses, hands pinning her wrists and body shifting ever so slightly—reminding her that there’s a fight she’s yet to finish.

He plants smaller kisses down her jaw, each as powerful and hungry as the last, leaving a trail of wet heat down her neck. Choked gasps flood the pristine room, her wrists give pull but he won’t let her move any further. Riley’s hips cant up and he growls, lavishing her throat with more bites, more marks that she’ll need to cover in front of the Court.

Fuck them, he thinks.

“Oh, Liam!”

Fuck them, he thinks, gently rocking his hips forward.

“Riley—Riley—tell me what you want!” he hisses, face pressing into her neck.

Her chest heaves and she struggles against his grip at her wrists, pushes forward like she wants to touch him. His teeth scrape along her neck once again, hips rocking in one thrust—

A second and she wrenches her hands free,

A third and he plants his hands next to her head, body rolling up and, finally—

Finally,

Gods help him,

She opens her mouth—

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Liam, god, I want it all!”

He’s a merciful king.

He could never cut his teeth on the ruthless power plays his father was capable of—compassion is the weapon of Liam’s choice.

Oh, but there are those moments. These moments, when the savagery and the passion overflow within him. When the niceties and the control slip completely from his grasp in favor of something more carnal than hunger.

He could never hide his love for Riley, never ever again. His hips rock steady into her at first, drag every moan from her throat as her legs wrap tight around his waist and her lips press to his ear letting him hear every little thing he does to her. She wraps her arms around his neck, sanity giving way to desperation and he pounds his hips against hers.

“Yes! Yes, hah, Riley!” he grunts hot and rough in her ear, wet heat slamming into wet heat. His lips descend unto every bit of hot flesh he can find—her face, her neck, her shoulders, her soft lips. Whatever he can capture, he’ll take. Whatever she offers, he’ll cling to for now.

“God, Liam!”

Her heels press deep into his lower back and she squeezes around him, the wet sounds of their coupling setting a steady rhythm. To the drum of her pulse under his tongue laving along the flesh, and then to the thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage. Deep inside her and deeper still, Liam carries them both as far as they can go, as loud as they can be as they claw their way to their destination.

Her fingers scrape and pull at his hair, pleasure tingling down his spine like a strike of razor thin lightning, and her moans drive him harder. All that he could do for her and more, all that he’s ever wanted to do for her and more—all possible as his fingertips graze along her sides, circle her breasts, thumb the peaks of her hardened nipples, and gently close around her throat.

Lips scrape against lips, leave wet trails from cheek to jaw to neck. Teeth sink into flesh and mouth closes around skin—dark brown marks left in his wake, reminders she won’t hide and he can hear the gossip now.

“Oh, how bold!”

“My, how atrocious to leave such…such evidence!”

“Have they no shame? No tact?”

No ability to maintain all that—

Tight—

Awful control.

That part of him that tries to hold it together in her presence when all he wants is a fistful of those black tresses, yanking and pulling, molding her the way she’ll let him and the way he wants. One hand slips from her neck to push at her thigh—up and to the side so there’s nothing left to hide from him. Liam leans over her, lips barely touching hers as hot puffs of air spill from her lips to the rhythm he sets with his hips. He takes in every detail, refuses to close his eyes because he wants to see everything—

The way her brows draw tight when he thrusts just right,

Teeth and jaw clenching as he shifts his hips and pins her down,

The hand trailing on her thigh now dancing between her legs, rubbing careful and sure circles around her pearl.

Her head snaps back, mouth wide open as his hovers waiting to swallow her every noise. Nails rake painfully down his back and he knows there will be marks in the morning. The thought alone sends chills down his spine.

“Look at me,” he breathes, voice nearly shot. She thrashes underneath, thighs opening wider. His hips snap mercilessly into hers, fingers still teasing the wet warmth between her legs as he pulls and pulls her closer to the edge. He’ll bring her there, teeter her just off the edge—

But first—

“Liam…oh god, Liam, please!” she begs.

But first.

“Riley, look at me, right now.”

It’s a struggle for her to open her eyes, the depths of deep brown staring back at him with tears pricking at the corners, threatening to streak down her face. One hand still around her throat and he shifts his entire body, gets her hips near parallel to the floor as he rises on his knees and closes his hand tighter around her neck, pulls her forward so their foreheads touch.

He’ll stay in the depths as long as she’ll let him. As long as it takes. His lips part, press against hers for a fleeting moment as her eyes dart all over his face.

“I love you,” he breathes. A heady moan tears from her throat as he grinds his hips into hers. No thrusting, just heated flesh pressed up against heated flesh. Their bodies slotted perfectly, her breathless gasps stirring feelings already burning hot in his belly. Liam squeezes the hand around her neck and presses his body further, fingers still mercilessly teasing her pearl. “Every day it’s a battle when you’re near—a struggle not to throw you down and mark you up.”

Her hands shift and grip his shoulders tight, nails biting into his flesh and he can’t bring himself to care. His hips start a slow rhythm at first, dragging more of those sweet sounds from her.

“I—fuck! I’m not…not apologizing,” she manages. Her eyes never stray from his, all the fervor and passion within driving him harder. Driving him deeper. Riley opens her mouth, words just on the cusp of her tongue but he gives her a moment—watches her head tilt back as far as his grip allows her and those beautiful brown eyes roll to the back of her head. “All of this…I want it all, baby…” Her hands smooth down his bare chest and his jaw clenches. “I demand it. I don’t want you to stop until…”

“I’ll give you what you deserve,” he says between clenched teeth. “All the things you, hah…all the things you…want and more.” More than this—more than flesh on flesh, chasing heat and highs beyond their wildest dreams. Liam drags her forward crushing his mouth against hers. One kiss, just the one break in all the fantasies fueling him. When they part, their eyes lock, breaths ragged and heavy as fire burns in their veins. He swallows around dry air. “Anything you want. Everything you want, my love, please. Oh god, Riley, I’ll give you everything just…please…”

Her hands weave through his hair pulling him close. She tilts forward kissing him sloppily.

“Give me your love,” she demands and he groans, deep and low. Lets the sound settle in his chest as one of her hands smooths down his back to grip his ass and loosely guide him. Her lips press against his ear and he shudders at the breath puffing into the cartilage. “Give me your fears. Your worries. Give me what’s been eating at you, clawing at you, shaking you down to the core.”

The hand trapped between them shifts up so he can wrap her up in his arms. It’s all lost to him now—sanity, tact, control, and everything in between. His hips chase a feeling now, no rhythm or rhyme. Just the heat surrounding him on all sides, the fire threatening to burst from within him. He presses his face in the crook of her neck as the heat coils tight in his belly, mouth open and lungs burning. He groans deep, inhales sharply and takes in the scent of her perfume mingling with the sweat clinging to her neck. Her ankles lock behind his back and it’s only a matter of time.

Five…

“Let it wash through you, baby,” comes her sultry voice in his ear. Encouraging him still. Coaxing him regardless of the subtle ache that must be quaking in her thighs by now. “Let it flow through me.”

Four…

Squeezing tight around him and he can barely take it anymore. Barely stand the fire choking him up in the chest and the desperate heave of his lungs swallowing dry air. Her hand on his ass keeps guiding him—pinching him when he grinds his hips into hers and squeezing when her name tumbles off the edge of his lips. He can’t take this anymore.

Three…

“Riley, please! Gods, please, I can’t! I can’t stand it—”

Two…

“Give me all of it. Give me, give me, give me! I demand it. I want it. I want it! I want you! I want you so fucking much, Liam! Oh!”

Oh…oh…

One.

One love, one body, one soul—for a few minutes, maybe even less than that. Maybe more than he’d ever be able to understand. Just those few seconds in between the powerful jerk of his hips, the desperate pleas spilling rapidly from Riley’s lips. It’s a feeling that flows out of him with a snap—the very last thread of his control gone completely as he spills deep inside her. Thrusts hard until there’s nothing left of him to give. He holds her as tight as he can without hurting her, presses his mouth to her ear and lets the hoarse groans bubbling in his chest pour out of him.

He keeps going until his knees scream with pain, until her choked sobs die down and morph into gentle praises that she plants upon him with even gentler kisses. On his face, across his cheeks, and down his jaw—each whisper of breath dancing along his skin carrying a promise of love and adoration.

“So good. So so good, Liam, I love you so much,” she says like it’s an oath, sure and brimming with passion. Her shaky hands cradle his face, pull him from the warmth of the crook of her neck so she can look him in the eye properly. His heart swells large and fast in his chest at the pure joy in the depths of her brown eyes. Riley brushes the sweat from his brow and kisses every bit of skin her fingertips touch. “I love you, Liam. You did so well.”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly, stealing a few kisses from her lips. There’s a beat of laughter that comes from her in between them. A ray of warmth in all this cooling heat—the one sound he cherishes more than raspy pleas and hoarse begging. He presses his forehead to hers and shares a laugh with her. “Riley Harrington, I love you so damn much. I love you, I love you…”

And for a moment, there’s no titles and no need to think about the world outside the doors. There’s just them, their bodies bare with sweat clinging to their skin, and whispers of their devotion filling the silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course they pick him. Why wouldn’t they pick him?

He’s the Professional Best Friend—the one person that knows Liam--inside and out--that could track him to the ends of the earth and back.

Drake sighs—and shouldn’t be complaining either. It isn’t as if Madeleine’s concerns are unfounded. These days, whenever Liam disappears, it tends to cause a bit of panic amongst the King’s Guard. Anton may be gone but the threat is still fresh in people’s minds. That won’t change any time soon.

So when Madeleine levels him with a pointed look and a raised brow, as if to say, “fetch, boy,” he has no choice but to go track Liam down, or else a national scandal break out on account of the King of Cordonia just wanting a few minutes to breathe.

When he tosses the doors to the training room open, he freezes.

Scraps of clothing lay in tatters all over the mats, clean cuts from what he can see, and not a trace of any person who could’ve worn them nearby. He steps further into the room and picks up some of the pieces so he can closely examine them. Little black scraps here, white fabric there—no blood on either, but the black scraps…

He brings a strip of black cloth to his nose and sniffs.

“Harrington’s perfume…” he whispers and turns his head.

A small leather jacket lays crumpled on the floor by the wall. Panic wells in him when he picks it up and notes the cut across the back of it. A sword or knife—he looks closer and—

“No blood?”

His head snaps towards the locker rooms, a noise drawing him closer to the doors. Through the threshold, he can hear two voices—one unmistakably Liam’s and the other…

He inches further into the room, noting the steam rolling out of the shower and the two swords lying haphazardly across the floor. There’s a grunt, deep and guttural—he swallows.

“—hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Clearly.”

Harrington.

He creeps closer, footsteps silent as he inches closer.

Liam sighs wistfully. “The one time I wish Bastien had actually kept close tabs on me…”

Someone’s wet footsteps pad across the tiles. “No phone either?”

“Left it with Drake.” A pause. “What? Wait, no. I—I didn’t plan—”

“Oh, I know. This was my plan but I just—wow, so that’s a tidbit I’m definitely gonna abuse later.”

“Riley!” There’s a lilt in Liam’s voice as his laughter cuts through the quiet.

It eats at him in ways he doesn’t expect a lot of times, the jealousy and the silent heartbreak that gnaws at him. Drake sighs and presses flush against the lockers—he hasn’t thought about either of them like that in a while but it creeps up sometimes. He remembers the social season, hating Harrington and wishing she would figure out that court is the last place she needed to be. He remembers the contempt that spread through him when Liam spoke on and on about how right it felt to be near her whenever he could.

The shower cuts off and the two of them giggle again. Drake straightens up when Liam’s head pokes out from behind the curtain.

“Oh, Drake! Thank goodness,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m afraid I might need your help for a moment.”

“Are you two okay?” Drake asks, pushing off the lockers. He stops when Liam glances back and pulls the curtain tighter to him. He’s seen Harrington before—he never told Liam, not that he ever would. “Madeleine said she hadn’t seen either of you for a while and I found your clothes...”

A deep blush tinges Liam’s cheeks and his eyes dart around the room.

“Ah…well…” Liam jerks and looks back, a small smile creeping on his face and Drake can practically see Harrington’s glib expression as she pokes her husband in his sides. “Riley’s…Duchess Riley is with me. We may have…been a bit overzealous with our training. Which brings me to our current problem—”

“You need me to bring you spare clothes,” Drake finishes with a sigh.

“And if possible, try not to get caught doing it,” Liam adds, unhelpfully.

Drake rolls his eyes. “Alright just…hang on. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Thank you—”

“Thanks Drake!” Riley exclaims.

He turns on his heel and gives a half-hearted wave.

“You both owe me!” he tosses back, marching off.

His thoughts are quiet at the very least, no whispers of the jealousy from before poking and prodding at him.

#playchoices #choices #the royal romance #king liam #king liam x mc #choices: stories you play #choices: the royal romance #n*fw #ns*w

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rhysismydaddy · 6 years

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Nessian <3 Pt2/2

Chapter 2

Nesta walked into the training area, scowling, right at sunrise.

When she saw Cassian, she thought rising before the sun might be worth getting to see the smile he gave her. She shook away the thought.

Cassian sauntered over to her and slung an arm around her thin shoulders.

“I’m so happy you decided to wake up on time today, Nesta, because you have such a fun session ahead of you.”

Nesta groaned, causing Cassian to tip his head back and laugh.

Her shoulders and back were so sore, Nesta had to wear a loose shirt because she couldn’t pull the tight leather over her head.

Cassian, the damned ogar, moved his hands to her shoulder and pressed his thumbs in. Nesta groaned, the sound reverberating against her throat.

His hands paused and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

Suddenly he was leaning over her shoulder, his lips at her ear, whispering, “I love that sound.”

His hands slid down her back, caressing, and Nesta was so caught up in the sensation that she didn’t realize he’d smacked her butt until after it happened.

“But we have work to do,” Cassian said, lightly pushing her forward into the ring.

She whirled, hands raised in fists. “Don’t,” she growled, “touch me like that.”

He looked genuinely nervous until she added with a grin, “Unless I ask you to.”

The gleam in Cassian’s deep eyes turned to fresh hunger.

He opened his mouth, but Nesta spoke first.

“But, like you said, we have work to do. How disappointing.”

Cassian muttered something that sounded like “gods-damned confusing females” while walking to wrap his hands. Nesta followed suit, smiling to herself.

Cassian and her constantly flirted and teased, but whenever Nesta thought something more might lurk in the shadows, she remembered who he was.

A gorgeous five-hundred-year-old army Commander. He wouldn’t waste his time on a twenty-year-old. No matter if she had been Made and might be considered a formidable mate now.

Nesta wrapped her hands in silence, then walked to where Cassian waited in the middle of the ring, protector pads secured on his hands.

“Today,” he announced, “we’re working on elbows. Since you’re smaller than the average male, getting in close where you’re stronger is necessary.”

When he was telling her how to fight was the only time Cassian ever seemed to be serious.

He continued, “Try a combination that ends with an elbow like this.”

Nesta watched him slowly demonstrate a combination in the air, his form perfect.

He held up the targets expectantly, and Nesta positioned herself in the fighting stance Cassian had taught her two days before. She slowly went through the movements to familiarize herself with them then started to pick up pace.

She had to concentrate on moving her hips and adjusting with the little criticisms Cassian pointed out periodically.

“Nesta,” he said after she finished a set, “you’re going to pass out if you don’t breathe.”

Nesta grunted, starting her next set. “I am,” she retorted.

Faster than she could possibly track, even with her new body, Cassian reached out and struck her in the abdomen. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough of a hit to make her have to catch her breath.

“If you don’t breathe, one hit and you’re done. Exhale with every punch.”

Nesta nodded, his point effectively proven.

After Nesta had done enough combinations to make her knuckles burn, Cassian told her to get some water and come back when she was ready.

“Okay, now you’re going on the defensive,” he stated confidently.

When he sank into a fighting stance and raised his hands, his broad shoulders hunching in and tightening the powerful muscle, Nesta almost ran out of the ring.

“I am not fighting you on my second real day of training! Despite what you apparently think, I don’t have a death wish, Cassian!” she shouted.

“Nesta,” he said between laughs, “I’m not going to try and kill you. I’ll go half speed.”

Based on what she’d seen earlier, half speed would be plenty fast, but she nodded and sank back into her stance.

Plenty fast, indeed, she decided five seconds later when he came at her.

They’d gone over basic blocks her first day of training, and Nesta barely had time to process and throw one up before the next strike was coming.

If she wasn’t so busy trying not to die, Nesta might take the time to appreciate how fast and precise and clean his movements were.

When Cassian had cornered her in the edge of the ring, he paused and smiled.

“Not bad,” he commented, barely out of breath.

Nesta, panting, replied, “Don’t insult me, Cassian.”

“A little out of shape, are we?”

She held up her pointer finger and thumb, separating them by an inch.

“Well then, welcome to the next part of your training,” Cassian said, smiling in the sunlight. “We’re going on a run.”

Nesta wanted to die.

Actually, she was pretty sure she had already died and gone to hell.

Running with Cassian was pure, undilated hell.

His legs were probably ten inches longer than hers, and trying to keep up with a full grown Illyrian warrior who had had centuries to train and tone his body to perfection was undoubtedly the hardest thing Nesta had ever done in her life.

“Cassian,” she gasped.

“Nesta,” he stated, breathing evenly.

“I’m going to throw up,” she whined.

Cassian didn’t slow down.

“I’ll make you a deal. Whoever reaches the top of that hill over there first,” he said, pointing to some terribly far away speck of land in the distance, “Can dictate what we do for training and tell the other what to do all day tomorrow.”

Nesta considered. “Okay. But you can’t fly there. All other tools are fair.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and nodded. About three seconds later, Cassian started running.

Nesta thought he’d been running before, but she’d been miserably wrong. His stride got impossibly longer and he took off.

Nesta knew she couldn’t keep up with a competitive Illyrian, but she also remembered Feyre complaining because Rhys had to spend all day in the artisan’s quarter on official business. She also knew “official business” meant that Rhys was getting Feyre a present she didn’t know about. She raced toward Feyre’s favorite paint store and almost sobbed with relief when she saw Rhys examining paintbrushes through the store window.

“Rhys!” she cried, smiling brightly enough that the High Lord looked thoroughly shocked.

“I need you to fly me to the top of that mountain right now. I have to beat Cassian there.”

Rhys laughed soundly. “I’m not getting in the middle of whatever’s going on between you two.”

“But don’t you want to see the look on his face when I beat him?” Nesta asked, desperate.

Rhys considered for a painfully long time.

“I do love it when he loses,” he said with a grin.

Seconds later, he grabbed Nesta and they shot into the air, fast enough for Nesta to yelp. Rhys might’ve used some of his power to fly even faster, because they got to the top of the mountain in less than a minute. There was no way Cassian would be there yet.

Rhys set Nesta down near a bench at the very apex of the hill, telling her not to tell Cassian he’d been involved.

Nesta promised not to and he shot back off into the sky.

She considered how she was going to play this.

Combing her fingers through her hair and wiping the sweat from her brow, Nesta fixed her appearance. She straightened her shirt, drenched with sweat from the heat, and sat on the bench with her legs crossed.

She heard him before she saw him.

His breathing was deep but steady and his footfalls were uncharacteristically heavy. Nesta chuckled to herself; he’d really exerted himself trying to win.

Her smile fell off her face, though, when he came over the crest of the hill and sprinted toward the bench. He was too concentrated to look up and see her.

Something about the way he ran, now shirtless, wings tucked in tight behind him, made blood pool in her core. His tan skin was ripped with muscle and it constricted and twisted as he ran. He’d stopped to pull his unruly hair into a bun, but a few hairs had escaped the leather and now stuck to his face and neck.

He was covered in sweat and the shean made his skin glow in the midday sun. Her eyes were pulled toward where his pants hung dangerously low on his hips. Nesta could see the beginning of a downward V. She crossed her legs tighter.

He slowed to a walk, breathing heavily, when he saw her sitting on the bench.

“How the hell,” he panted, “did you beat me?”

Cassian fell onto the bench, which groaned under his considerable weight. She couldn’t think about anything besides Cassian, who was sitting dangerously close to her. She could smell him he was so close; like honey and ginger and snow.

Nesta pretended to consider. “I don’t know… it really wasn’t that difficult. Did you stop for a snack?”

Cassian took in her clean skin and unrumpled shirt. He narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking about other method Nessian could’ve taken to get to the top of the hill without extreme physical activity.

“Azriel and Mor are in the Day Court for another week. Feyre is with Elain at the House of Wind. And Rhys…” Cassian thought out loud.

His eyes narrowed as Nesta’s widened. “Rhys! That Cauldron-boiled bastard! He’s in the artisans quarter! He’s a dead man.”

“And you,” he snarled, twisting his face towards hers. He was suddenly all she could see; he was close enough they shared breath. Cassian seemed to lose his train of thought as his eyes darted to her lips.

“You,” he finished, shaking his head as if to clear it from fog, “are a clever little thing.”

“And you have to do whatever I say.”

“I’ll start tonight if you wish,” Cassian said, his voice considerably lower and his eyes again zeroing in on her lips.

She felt her entire body thrum with electricity as he leaned further in, still not giving her the touch she suddenly craved.

His eyes bored into her and he curved his lips into a smirk.

Nesta narrowed hers eyes in response, but he moved too fast for her to object as he slid one hand under her shoulders and one under her knees and shot into the sky.

“Cassian,” she screamed. “What are you doing?!”

“I think,” he responded, too calm for the situation, “you need to apologize for cheating.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, trying to discern if he was truly upset or not. When his lips formed a small smile, she knew it was all for show, but it didn’t make it any less scary as Cassian suddenly flew straight up as fast as he could.

Her arms shot around his neck and gripped tight. He chuckled darkly in her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

“Apologize, sweetness.”

She glared at him. “No.”

He flashed her a wolfish grin. The flapping of his wings stopped completely and he tucked the large things in tight as they completely free fell from the sky.

Nesta wasn’t proud of the scream she unleashed, or the way she threw her entire body around Cassian’s and held on for dear life.

The realistic part of her brain told her that he wouldn’t let her or himself crash into the ever-approaching ground, but the self-preserving part eventually won until she was all but chanting “I’m sorry” into his ear.

He laughed loudly and snapped his wings out, suspending their fall.

“You can come out now,” Cassian whispered in her ear. She’d thrown her arms around his neck and burrowed her face in his shoulder to protect herself.

Nesta pulled back and surveyed his face, his playful eyes.

Surprising them both, Nesta laughed. She smiled brightly as she punched his shoulder and said, “You’re such an ass, Cassian.”

His face was struck with reverence as he watched her smile, the light making her face glow.

“You’re beautiful, Nesta.” He stated, reaching the hand that had supported her shoulders to cup her cheek. His callouses scraped against her cheek lightly, reminding Nesta of who this male was, what he’d done.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, looking down.

His large hand pulled on her chin until her eyes met his. “Yes I do. I’ve always thought that. I know you don’t want anything from me, and I want you to know I respect you. But I also think you should know that I find you to be the most amazing female I’ve ever met.”

Nesta hadn’t realize a tear had escaped her eye until Cassian brushed it away with his thumb.

“Cassian, you can’t possibly want from me what I want from you. And I can’t only take you into my bed and pretend I don’t have feelings for you otherwise; I won’t do that to myself or you, it just wouldn’t be fai-”

Her lips stopped moving as soon as his touched them.

He pulled back, breathless. “I want everything you’re willing to give me, Nesta.”

Nesta could feel her pulse in her ears as loud as a drum as Cassian’s soft lips pressed into hers again. She couldn’t believe it was like this, suspended hundreds of feet in the air, that Nesta slid her hands into his hair which had come free during flight. The strands were surprisingly soft as she ran her fingers against his scalp slowly.

One of his hands still supported her weight by her legs, and the other came up to fist in her hair. His tongue pressed against the seal of her lips, and Nesta marveled at how natural it felt to open her lips and let him deepen the kiss.

His tongue smoothly slid into her mouth, caressing her own and exploring. It was slow and sensual and perfect. And she wanted more.

“Cassian,” she said, pulling back and panting for an entirely different reason now. She reached behind him and cautiously stroked a finger down the inside curve of his wing, reveling in the shiver he unleashed. She leaned against him, pressing her chest flush to his, and whispered in his ear, “Take me home.”

Since she knew to expect the sudden drop out of the sky, Nesta was calm on their descent. The entire way down, she stroked his wing slowly, up and down. Occasionally she’d press her lips against the hollow of his neck.

Cassian flew as fast as he could until he’d landed them on the roof of the townhouse in Velaris. She knew no one was home, but at this point she wouldn’t particularly care if someone was sitting right outside the door. He quickly walked them into the house and to the room Nesta was staying in. He kicked the door closed with his heel before letting her down. She turned to face him.

The male concentration on his face made heat pound into her. Cassian slowly, so damn slowly, prowled toward her. Nesta took a step back for his every forward until her shoulders were pressed against the door and he was right in front of her. His eyes bore into hers as he drew even closer.

He stopped when he was close enough that his nose would brush against hers with the slightest movement. She whispered, calling him to her, “Undress me, Cassian.”

He swallowed audibly. His hands went to her waist and she lifted her arms as they worked their way up, taking her linen shirt with them, then tossing it behind him. Cassian slowly undid the wrapping around her chest. He was breathing harder now, she thought, than when he was running. She knew she was.

He paused when it fell to the floor between them.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to her, his lips close to hers.

It was her undoing.

Nesta threw her arms around his neck and pushed her lips to his. The kiss was heavier than before. His tongue immediately slipped into her mouth and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, anything but Cassian. He lifted her by her hips and she wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him close.

He pressed into Nesta, her back pushed into the wall. Both their chests were bare, and Nesta thought she might die from the contact.

Her hands were in Cassian’s hair, and he moaned into her mouth as she lightly pulled on the dark strands. His hands were roaming over her back, exploring, dipping lower. He turned them around and walked forward until his shins hit Nesta’s bed.

Cassian slowly leaned forward, his wings flared wide to support their combined weight, until he laid Nesta on the bed. He braced a hair by her head and deepened the kiss even further.

Nesta’s legs were still wrapped around his waist, and she pushed her heels into his back, drawing him closer. Her need for him was a physical, aching thing. When he ground his hips down into hers, Nesta felt her eyes roll back and heard herself moan, the sound absorbed greedily by his mouth.

Her hands roamed his shoulders, back, and chiseled stomach. Nesta could feel the skin rise with chill bumps as her hands moved.

Cassian broke the kiss and moved his mouth to her jawline, then her neck. He kissed gently, then roughly enough to leave a mark, then gently until Nesta’s mind was a jumbled mess of unraveling thoughts. His tongue scraped softly, soothing any hurt. He made his way up to her ear and Nesta moaned when he softly bit down on the shell.

The sound seemed to snap whatever leash Cassian had on himself, because he suddenly pulled back long enough to rid Nesta of her remaining clothes. Once she was completely naked before him, Cassian did the same for himself. Nesta’s mouth dried and every thought vanished from her head as every part of Cassian was bared before her.

She didn’t get long to think before he was on top of her again, his lips on hers once again. He moved to her neck, then between her breasts as one of his hands slowly drew up her side.

When he put his mouth on one of her breasts, his hand working the other, Nesta lost her mind. His tongue flicked over her nipple, his teeth grazing slightly, and Nesta groaned loudly, her hands fisted in his hair. His other hand rolled her nipple between two of his fingers. She couldn’t breathe. She needed him. Now.

Cassian’s hand drifted down below her waist before she could voice that need. He slipped a finger inside her and switched his mouth to the other breast. Nesta was squirming beneath him, overflowing with need.

Her breathing hitched as he pressed his finger down, then added another.

“Cassian,” she gasped.

He worked her bundle of nerves with his hand as his mouth kissed and licked its way back to her neck, then up to her ear. Cassian pressed against her inner wall right as his teeth scraped against the curve of her ear, and Nesta went over the edge.

His hands didn’t stop their movements until she’d ridden her climax out fully.

He pulled back to survey her, a purely male smile filling his face. She still wanted him, and she squirmed, knowing her needs were written all over her face.

“Desire something else, Nesta?” He asked with a smirk.

Slowly, so gods-damned slowly, he sunk back over her, settling between her thighs and bracing himself on his elbows.

Nesta was worked up enough to growl, “I swear to the gods above, Cassian, if you don’t just fu-”

He sheathed himself inside her in one strong stroke, and Nesta stopped talking.

Cassian let her adjust to the feeling of being so full, so deliciously full. When she nodded to him to continue, he started to move. He started slowly rising then sinking into her and curving his hips. Nesta rose hers to meet them.

He began to pick up speed and Nesta could feel herself get closer and closer to the edge again. His mouth was on hers, the sweep of his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips. She panted and called out his name, her nails dragging down his back. She was losing her mind, her inner walls clenching deliciously.

Cassian wasn’t done with her, though.

He flipped them over, not even breaking their rhythm. She could hardly sit up, so his hands came to brace her by her hips.

Cassian lifted his hips and Nesta moaned, putting her hands on his chest. She thought that might be a new tattoo, but Cassian chose that moment to move his hands to her chest, taking in her breasts and rolling her nipples in between his fingers. Any thoughts of tattoos were gone.

She swirled her hips, moving them in time with his as he picked up pace. Nesta scraped her nails down his chest and Cassian groaned, throwing his head back against the bed.

Nesta leaned forward and dragged a fingernail down the curve of his wing, which was curved around them like a protective bubble. She felt rather than saw his reaction.

Pressure was building in her core to the point she knew she was close, so she leaned forward and slowly dragged her tongue up his wing along the path her finger had just blazed.

Release tore through them both, Cassian’s roar rattling the room around them and mixing with Nesta’s moan.

She fell forward into his chest and pulled herself off of him, settling into his side.

They laid there for a few moments trying to catch their breath.

Cassian rolled his head toward her, his lips swollen and his hair rumpled from her hands. He gave her a sedated smile as he took in her appearance.

“You, Nesta Archeon, are amazing.”

She rolled back on top of him, legs straddling his bare waist. “And you’re a sore loser.”

His laugh sounded loudly before he grinned wolfishly and flipped them over, settling in between her parted thighs. .

“You might want to wait till tomorrow before comparing soreness,” he said, drawing closer. “Because I’m not done with you just quite yet.”

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nessian #nessian fanfiction #acomaf #acotar #acowar

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