#then it's just me playing with colors on the cunt's head and drawing random faces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

//extra toxic fuckboy behaviors especially at the end, impreg, slutshaming, blackmail, mildly sexist But anyway instead of Childe drugging post have Childe drunk sex post Childe with a cute fem subordinate darling. The thing is, he doesn't actually drug you, per se. It's a little more deceptive than that -- you're certainly under the influence, though. Like Kaeya, he's only doing this if he's reached a point where he's desperate. You've turned him down over and over, he's tried everything he can to get you to fuck him and you won't. He's frustrated and blueballed and that's a very unfortunate combination for poor darling, because he's considerably less nice when he's frustrated. But that's what you deserve. If you were good and just let him fuck you all those times he tried before -- and believe him, he tried a LOT -- then this wouldn't have to happen. He tried so many times, and he tried everything he knows! All the lines he rehearsed in his head didn't work, and he came on pretty heavy, leaving him just feeling sad and bitter. Obviously you want him, how could you not, so he’s just doing something wrong. He's your superior, he could just, dunno, demand it? But that would feel kinda emasculating, to be honest, at least, more so than the plan he does settle on. And that's why you won't be knocked out, not all the way. He's very particular about it. He doesn't have anything against this morally, no, it's normalized to him, and it's not like he'd get in trouble. Granted, he has plenty of drugs available. It's pretty well known that the Fatui guys do this kind of thing pretty frequently, the men go in groups to taverns in Mondstadt and pick through girls and even some young guys to find the most naive and gullible to spike and lure away when they start swaying. Luckily for those, at least, it's a one time ordeal they can forget and move on from, but you aren't going to be so lucky. Nor does he need to drug you to get what he wants. He thinks you're a little stupid, really. You accept his invitation so quickly. Camped out in the wilderness with nothing but liquor and your own two selves. For a moment, it occurs to him he doesn't even need to put you under the influence, he could just force you right here and you couldn't do a thing. Still, he did have to pay a bit to get this nice stuff, so he might as well, and he can't afford you screaming and drawing attention from a potential passerby. So he watches you take the cup designated as yours, and before you can even take a moment to question or doubt, he challenges you. You can't outdrink him, he says. Bet you're a lightweight. You'd probably get sick a few shots in. Where he's from, people actually know how to hold their alcohol, unlike you weak-livered people. And of course, you scoff, you fold your arms, you insist he's wrong, just as he knew you would, just as he hoped you would. And he just smiles at you. Ok, prove it then. You glare back and say you're on. You don't question that he's pouring out of two separate flasks. You can't see the color difference between the liquids in the darkness of the night sky, nor the grimace on his face as he drinks -- maybe he should have brought water from the town rather than filling his flask out of the river, yuck. Your determined face is so cute. Your eyelids start to get heavy. You scrunch your face as your blink and try to stay alert. You drop one of your shots on the ground and he smiles and says maybe you should just accept defeat. You shake your head and keep going. Admittedly, he's actually a bit impressed, you got more than he thought you would by the time you finally drop the glass for good and slump on the ground. Whew. About time, he was starting to get sick of drinking so much water. And you do twitch a bit, open your eyes and stumble around and mutter something about not accepting defeat, you'll prove him wrong, but he just laughs and picks you up and drags you into the tent with ease. He likes it when you're not blacked out all the way. That's why drugging you would have been no fun. This way, your eyes open just a bit, heavily lidded and blinking, you mumble out incoherent words. You protest just a bit when you feel your clothes slide off -- what are you... but you don't finish the question. He's a good guy, really, he cares about you, which is why he does a quick check and feels your skin to make sure you're not actually under any alcohol poisoning or something, but your skin is warm and dry, not clammy. Good, now you can get to the good part. He thinks about how grateful you should be. His friends and subordinates even have teased him for the longest time because he won't just go out with them to try to get lucky somewhere or participate in their drugging of randoms, no, he's whipped, they snicker, obsessed with this one little bitch that just won't put out. He can't say they're wrong, and that irritates him even more that you humiliated him like that. Which is why this isn't just a one time thing, no, this is part of the plan. He talks to you while he fucks you, maybe you'll remember some of it, maybe not. Actually, hopefully not everything, since he more or less admits how desperate he is in his lust-hazed rambling, how much it's irritated him that you wouldn't just be his and let him fuck you. Why can't you just admit you like him? Why do you have to play hard to get? He rambles about how soft your body is. How good pussy really does feel, holy shit, those guys were right, it's so warm and grips his dick so nicely. Not that he'd limit himself to that, while he's got you like this he might as well put his dick in your limp mouth, but admittedly he imagines that would feel a lot better if you were awake and actually sucking on it. Your mouth moves just a bit, and in your nearly-blacked-out state your tongue runs over the intrusion and you let out the softest confused little sound, but that's all you do. But he makes sure to breed you, cumming several times, all deep deep deep inside of your tight cunt. Again, part of the plan. Just not the most important part of the plan. The most important part is the kamera. It captures moment after moment. The first round he just leaves it aside, takes time to really just live in this sweet, precious moment... and then he breaks the kamera out. Gets all the nice shots with his dick in your holes. Gets a few full body ones, makes sure it's unmistakable as you. Captures your cute drunk face, with your eyes open just a bit, it looks like you're just awake but eyes lidded from arousal. You look awake. Willing. And so, when he finally goes to sleep, he does so very very happily and confident. And when you wake up, he was so rough that there's absolutely no doubt as to what transpired. Your throat and pussy are sore as hell, you're both naked in bed and his cum is still leaking out of you. The regret and shame comes crashing down, holy shit, you slept with your boss that's been trying to fuck you for ages now and your life is over. You'll have to transfer or something. But then... you know you drank on your own choice, but something feels... wrong. He's heavily snoring away, so in morning light you spot the flasks from last night. Your head is pounding, but you make your way over to the first one, and take a swig and spit it back out, yeah, that's the stuff you had... and then take a swig from the other... and when you taste water it all clicks. Bastard. You shake him awake in fury and immediately start telling him off, cursing and snarling. He was half expecting that, to be honest. Sure, obviously you want him, but he gets that you'd be a little mad over the way you got what you wanted, and you’re just embarrassed because you were so dumb, you're just hysterical like that. And you’re just naturally ashamed after fucking, like most girls apparently are, he gets that. But he just smiles and laughs in your face. It cuts deep, it's like a knife in your stomach, because you know why. He's untouchable, even if people believed you, nothing will happen to him, and he knows that. He has nothing to fear. You grit your teeth and your eyes tear up and your lip quivers and you finally drop your head and sniffle, asking him to just take me back. You'll quit, transfer to another department, and then, you tell him bitterly, I'll never have to see you again, at least. And that's what makes his smile drop. You're not gonna do that, he says. Your eyes widen with some new horror when you see the pictures. He talks to you like a child, in that dumb oversimplified way of speech, it's degrading and dehumanizing. Explains that this is how it's gonna go. You're gonna keep being his little subordinate. You're gonna be his girlfriend, publicly. And you're gonna fuck him whenever he wants. If you decide you don't like that, the entire branch, hell, the entire organization sees these photos. You have a very easy, simple choice. It's up to you to decide what happens. Oh, and you're probably pregnant, by the way, he timed this whole thing based on that calendar you keep that he snuck a look at. Would hate for you to have to deal with that on your own, right? People do envy you, down the line. How easy your job must be, since you're nothing more than an assistant now. Everyone knows you're just fucking the boss, that's probably how you got that position in the first place, right? And it's not like he doesn't make it obvious. Whenever he gets with the group of guys at his own level, when they all start saying horrendous things about the women they work with and sharing over-embellished tales as men do, he has plenty of very detailed stories to brag about the cute girlfriend he has. How she drops to her knees at any given moment, and how good and tight she is, and how eager she is, how much she loves fucking him, worships him, he's not like the pathetic bastards that have to go drug some poor unsuspecting thing once a month or so, no, he can get all the sweet, devoted pussy he wants at any time. He has the pictures to prove it! They roll their eyes because they've seen the pictures a hundred times now, everyone has, he shows every guy he works with, and they all know not to tell her that they've seen them. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter, she'd be dumb to leave him this late into pregnancy anyway.

#yan.txt #.ch #this fuckboy i s2g

590 notes · View notes

avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

day with destiny | b. barnes

→ pairing: aristocrat!bucky barnes x aristocrat!black!reader

→ word count: 3000

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, biting kink

→ challenge: @cockslut-padalecki not my ninth

trope: aristocratic society

song prompt: crush by jennifer paige

→ square filled: @star-spangled-bingo 2021

g5: clothed sex

→ author note: i was finally able to reign myself in with these word counts, lol. i saw this gif of baby faced sebastian and couldn’t help myself. he looks like a little shit, but look at those pink lips… anyway, these are modern!aristocrats. lyrics to crush aren’t obvious (except for one line at the very end), but worked into the dialogue. i have no idea who made the gif, i got it from google. i also have no idea who made this divider, as i also got it from the google.

Blue eyes peer over at you from across the table, the gaze searing into the side of your face. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you don’t dare cut your eyes— this game is entirely too fun to give in now. Instead, you take a deep breath, pushing your chest out— your tits— shifting roughly in your seat just to make your flesh jiggle, before you release the air slowly.

Cabinet meetings are never fun. Rich, old white men going on and on about their views for the country— your family of course bringing the only sense of color into the society. Some old man yammers on at the front of the room behind the podium. Heads nod, claps ring out at random intervals, loud here here’s filling your ears as you roll your eyes. You don’t have the least bit of interest in any of it as it stands today, but your blue blood, and rank in the family— poised to take over for your dear old daddy in the coming years— requires your presence.

Bucky Barnes is quite the same. Young, bored, and too damn pretty for his own fucking good. You squeeze your legs together abruptly, the images of the last cabinet meeting playing back in your mind. Hot, sticky breath. Reddened, swollen lips— against your ear, sucking on your skin. The salt that exploded on your tongue as he shoved his thumb into your mouth.

You stand quick, clearing your throat— sending a silent message to the youngest Barnes at the long table. A hand grabs your wrist, stopping you as you start to move towards the back of the room, “Mother?”

“This is important, daughter,” she whispers harsh— a warning.

“And so is my bladder, mother.”

She sighs heavily, but releases the grip around your wrist, “Yours and the Barnes boy, apparently.”

Flicking your eyes quickly, you smirk as he pushes his chair underneath the table and starts towards the large doors at the back of the room, rubbing at his chin with his hand, the sunlight glinting off of the rings adorning his long fingers. You watch him as he moves— so easy, so confident— as he runs his hand through his dark, perfectly clipped hair, the Loubotins on his feet clicking softly.

You only drop your eyes when he slips through the door and out of view, “Ten minutes, mother.”

She knows. She knows that you know she knows, but she just sighs again and lets you saunter off without a second glance. Dress dragging behind you, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, heart and blood starting to race as each step draws you closer to your silver tongued foe, lying in wait for you in a random, deserted hallway.

He’s leaned against the wall, gazing out over the city beneath, hands drawn into his pockets. He’s a sight, but he always is, each little brown hair in place, chin and cheeks so clean shaven that a hair wouldn’t even dare sprout. Body lean in that black military jacket, gold medals and hand stitched ribbons hanging from the pockets.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you smile soft, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against the very same wall.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, that shit grin he’s such a proud owner of spreading on his face, “Then stop propositioning me.”

You laugh— it’s gentle and soft, the dissonance of your long relationship easily melting away. He finally turns and takes a few steps towards you, extending his hand, tenderly taking your fingers. Those deep, emotional eyes stay on yours as he lifts your hand, lips brushing— glancing ever so lightly over the backs of your delicate, manicured digits. Then he smiles, slow, sweet, teeth sinking into his blushed bottom lip as he blinks just as slow.

He’s a sight, this Bucky Barnes.

Keenly aware of his family’s teetering reputation, hanging on by a mere thread as of late due to his fathers extra curricular proclivities, you can’t help but take a swipe, “I’m surprised you’re family’s allowed back in the building. It got a little tense last time you all were here.”

“It did, didn’t it?” he answers quickly, placing your hand on his shoulder before he pulls you in close— a long arm wrapping your waist, pinning you to him, “I don’t remember much though, as my face was buried in your cunt for most of the meeting.”

Shivers race the length of your spine. He feels it— revels in it— savors it.

Lively brown eyes bounce back and forth between heavy, brewing blues, “You aren’t afraid that the rest of them will move to vote your family out, Lord Barnes?”

“Not in the slightest,” you’re met with a defiant shrug, “I hate this shit.”

“Oh, how original! An aristocrat that hates the god given privilege bestowed upon him.” You sigh, tilting your head towards the ceiling as he nuzzles into your neck, your hands sliding up and over his shoulders, “You’re predictable, Barnes.”

“You’re one to talk about privilege, My Lady.”

“Am I?” You retort quick, quirking an eyebrow.

A brilliant smile is cast upon you, blue irises like gems, sparkling under the light, “Your blood is the richest in the room— the bluest of blue— and you speak with such animosity of mine as if you haven’t prevailed your entire life because of it.”

“Bested by the color of our skin, which has precluded my lineage of its rightful place for years,” you scoff, leaning into him, “It was not privilege that got us here, Lord Barnes,” you whisper, “It was persistence.”

He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations rattling through your body, right to your bones. Hot velvet slips along the curve of the junction between your shoulder and neck before teeth scrape and then sink— tenderly— right into the meat, making you gasp. Hands grip, fingers dig into his opposite shoulder as he nips and nibbles.

“You’ll lose everything,” you breathe, heavy, languid as his mouth, his tongue, his lips move to your jaw, your chin, “Your family will be ruined.”

“I’ll be okay,” Bucky hums low, a smile on his face, dark eyelashes splashed over his pink tinged cheeks. His long fingers play with your lips, prodding gently as he rests his forehead to yours, “With a face like mine baby,” he whispers, that devilish smile painting his red tinted lips, “I was born to marry rich.”

He pushes his leg between yours, spreading them, pushing the meat of his thigh right against your sex— the thin silk of your panties sticking to the balmy, wet flesh. The tips of his fingers flirting with the inside of your calf before pushing up over your knee, skirting up your own ticklish thigh.

Bucky takes pleasure in the honeyed giggle that bubbles in your chest and slips out of your mouth, knowing not just anyone can coax such a genuine reaction from you. Metal fingers push higher— sweeping softly, back and forth, over the powder pink silk panties, discovering the warm wet spot, a white hot fire filling his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

You grunt some, leaning in, putting full lips right against his ear, “Absolutely not,” the words whispered.

“You sure?” he squints, drawing your face back in front of his, thumbing at your bottom lip, pulling it open, “There’s something in those eyes.”

“Let’s not over analyze, Lord Barnes,” you tisk, slipping a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock— squeezing his heat— with care of course, “Don’t go too deep with it. It’s just—”

“What?” brisk, curt— the words cut off by a feverish, deep kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth, sweeping against the roof— heavy, hot, rushed, desperate for you as he groans, “What is it?”

You pull at his belt, at the button and zipper, hand and fingers sinking into his open pants, pushing through a rough, dark, tuft of wiry hair. He whirrs, strained and broken, body clenching up as your warm palm wraps around him. Long, slow strokes pull more tiny sounds from him— a skilled muscle memory, what he likes, what he doesn’t, what he needs— taking over.

A sweet kiss, soft and quick, is pressed against his cheek, your lips against his ear once more, “It’s just a little crush, Bucky. Just some little thing that raises my adrenaline when I need a shot.” His cock jumps in your hand, a quick hiss and stunted grunt filling your ears as you lick your lips, “Don’t make too much of it.”

Bucky grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks hard, puckering your lips before he kisses you feverishly again. The cool metal digits grab your neck, a soft pressure constricting the muscles as he pushes you back, back against the window— using his body to crush you to it.

The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours ricochets off the walls, filling the small hallway. He licks your lips, dragging his tongue from your chin right to the tip of your nose as he anchors your leg on his hip. Hot flesh fingers slip up your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, the cool air sending a shock to the wet, delicate flesh of you. He sucks that bottom lip back between his perfect teeth, tilting his head back slightly to peer at you through those long, dark eyelashes.

You mimic him. Tilt your head back on the glass, sink your teeth into your swollen lip, hand still stroking him slow, wetting the pads of your fingers with his silk. His hips rock soft into your palm as you sweep your fingers over his tip before dragging back down his length, gripping him firm. With a quick blink, you’re staring at him— angry, thick, throbbing in your hand. A bead bubbles out, spills right over, a long string hanging from his reddened tip before his cock twitches again— leaving you breathless. Knees almost buckling. Mouth going dry as your lungs struggle to fill.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky purrs, goading you as you push his cock through your folds, rolling your hips, teasing your waiting slit with his tip.

Surprise sweeps through you when frankly, it shouldn’t as you sink down on him. The muscle memory of your hands don’t translate to the muscles of your cunt— his size, how much you have to spread to accommodate him, like a revelation each and every time. Bucky almost never rushes it, and neither do you, like it’s something new every time.

But it isn’t, no no, it’s ancient for the two of you. Connecting like this in long, skinny hallways, cramped closets, old hotel rooms under the mask of darkness. The muffled sounds of your sex as you try and ultimately fail to keep quiet, filling the abandoned spaces— bringing life to them again.

Loneliness often fills your chest if you go too long without it.

Bucky is buried to the hilt in you now— rooted deep in the tightest, hottest space of your body. He takes a minute, pushing his hips, wiggling— adjusting— before he pulls out slow. All the way, cock bouncing as soon as it breaks the threshold. He doesn’t wait long though. Nope. He’s back inside of you within seconds with a slam of his hips, pushing you up the window. Pulling a squeak and a rush of air from you.

Those red lips of his part, his heavy tongue pushing out to slip along his bottom lip as his eyelids drop, covering the blue you’ve come to enjoy. You can’t help but reach out, place your warm palms and fingers on his blushed cheeks, tracing his nose before they prod at his bottom lip, the tips just sinking into that wet mouth. He draws long breaths, exhales them all over your face as he starts to move.

You let the rhythm carry you away. Up into the clouds as your head rolls to the side, hands fall to his chest and around his neck. Tits bounce with each shove, starting to spill over and fall out of the square shaped neckline of your intricate dress. Hair starts to fall out of place, heat rises in your cheeks, desperate little wet noises beseeching him.

Bucky’s a good fuck. Ever the playboy, never thinking twice of an encounter until— well, you, as he so softly put it one night in one of those dark, old hotel rooms while you both dressed. There’s a filth to it. The way he toys with you. Speeding up suddenly— skin slapping, echoing down the hall— and then, without warning or hesitation, slows down. Down to nothing almost. Soft pulses of his hips, just enough to drive you mad. To make you beg him for more.

To make you weak. To keep you coming back.

That’s how he is now. Barely moving, wanting you to squirm. Two big eyes, pupils blown stare up at you. Mouth agape, the smallest little curve on them. He wants you to beg. To tell him just how much— “Bucky,”

“Yes?” he shoves hard, pushing deep, “My Lady?”

“Please,” there it is, the beg— the want, “Please, Bucky.”

So, the filth is back. Yeah, it’s a little dirty how he grips your thigh, hard, nails digging and scratching into the meat of it. How he licks into your mouth and bites your lips before shoving that metal hand into your neckline, palming the delicate mound of flesh beneath. A brown nipple is soon exposed, tight and hard, after a quick tug of his hand yanks your dress down. It disappears again within a flash, right into his mouth, tongue circling.

An arch curves your spine when he sucks, a deep, low, stressed grunt sounding from somewhere deep in your chest. Your lips pucker, forming an o as you breathe heavy, then gasp quick before digging your teeth into your bottom lip and inhaling sharp. An already tight grip on his bicep and left shoulder constricts even more as he really picks up the pace, desperate and feverish his hips, tongue slipping into your cleavage.

There’s nothing but sounds and sensations— the squelch and squeak of his cock stuffing you, your stiletto slipping off the foot that’s hooked around his waist and thudding against the floor. The gold medals pinned to his military jacket bouncing soft against the thick material. His metal fingers tapping against the windows as he holds his weight.

Flashes of heat ripple through your body— muscles tensing and straining, cunt clenching, clamping. Fists balling. Stomach and head twirling as he gives you his best. And God, do you appreciate his effort.

The fuse proves to be short on this crisp winter day. A coil that had no chance of staying intact snaps earlier than you expect, body tightening hard, nearly freezing you in place the second before you start to come. Crying out— no shame, no sense of care if anyone hears— you just let it take over. Let him drive it home, hips snapping against yours, jutting, thrusting, pushing and pulling, sending you higher and higher.

Goosebumps on your skin. Heartbeat in your ears. A white hot flash, nearly blinding— it’s just that good. Metal fingers sink between your legs, playing with your clit, enticing it further as it spasms— wanting to feel every last bit of what your body has to offer.

Bucky hammers away, until he can’t. You’re just too sweet— too warm and wet and inviting. He’s painting your insides white within minutes, hot, quick shots of silk, filling you up, and then spilling back out. His head falls heavy to your chest as the last digs of his hips work themselves out, lips sticking to your damp, exposed skin.

You wrap him up, hands and fingers splaying out on his back, holding him tight and close as he empties and stills. Then, the two of you just breathe. Let the day, the room full of people, your families, your duties, just fade away. It’s just you and Bucky and that cool window against your overly warm skin.

It breaks— the moment. Just as it always does. Your body becomes empty as he tucks back into his pants. No longer pinned to the window, you bend to replace your shoe, pull at your dress. Bucky runs his thick fingers through his dark hair, you picking and smoothing at your own.

Stepping off after a few sobering moments without so much as a look or a smile, you're caught, a tight hand around your wrist, pulling you back. You crash into his chest, crash against his lips in one last, deep, sweeping kiss. One that once he pulls away, your eyes stay closed, lips stay puckered.

“You sure you won’t marry me?”

You know that if he asks one more time, your resolve will fizzle— and you will, “Very sure.”

A lopsided grin covers his mouth as he tilts his head, “Just a pesky little crush, huh?”

“There’s no vision of you and me quite yet, Lord Barnes,” you sigh, turning away and stepping down the hall, “You just pray that I don’t decide to join the rest of the party and vote you out.”

“Make sure you keep a copy of your vote for me. I’ll want to frame it.”

You throw him a quick glance, “And why would you do something like that?”

“So I can show our children just how mean mommy was to daddy before we got married,” he starts, buttoning up his jacket. He kisses the pads of his fingers and blows on them lightly, sending you a kiss, “I have white picket fences in my eyes.”

Without another word, he spins on his heel and takes off in the opposite direction. A hum vibrates in your throat. The sounds of your heels and his shoes slap against the walls as the two of you walk away from each other.

It doesn’t take a scientist to understand what’s going on, baby.

#notmyninth #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes x you #reader x bucky barnes #you x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black reader #you x bucky #bucky x you #bucky reader #reader x bucky #avintagekiss24

646 notes · View notes

sector-i-closed · 5 years

Text

Slip Up

Warning: Smut

Dinner at home with your significant other this evening was very enjoyable and you were happy to share the evening with the man that you loved dearly.

"The food is delicious, Seonghwa." You comment at random, cleaning your plate of everything that was on it.

"I'm glad my queen is enjoying my cooking." Seonghwa replied with an approving smile.

"I'm not a queen." You roll your eyes, feeling a tint of color bloom on your cheeks.

"You're my queen." Your significant other replied firmly, his eyes staring at you as if the weight of his stare would add credibility to his statement.

"Uh... How has your day been, babe." You change the subject, knowing that you couldn't argue with Seonghwa without losing.

"Right now is the best part of my day." He answered sincerely, staring into your eyes and leaving you dizzy from the look in them.

"How has my baby been since the last time we've been together?" Seonghwa enquired, being completely attentive as you thought for a moment.

"Well I started taking birth control recently..." You blurted out, not thinking over the consequences of voicing your thought out loud.

"Baby you started what?" His expression was almost comical, the bewildered eyes, the look of disbelief written on his face because he thought you was going to wait a long time to share intimacy with him.

"I started birth control..." Your entire face suddenly became flushed all over with color.

"Why darling?" Seonghwa pressed slightly, having a feeling that you may have been anticipating taking things to another level in your relationship with him.

"In case... You know, in case we ever... yeah......" You lowered your eyes, afraid to say what needed to be said.

"In case we ever what?" He gazed at you, his pupils dilating with desire as he studied how adorable you were whenever he questioned you.

"In case we ever had sex... I wanted to feel everything..." Tears of embarrassment streamed from your eyes as you played with your hands in your lap.

"You want me to come inside of you?" Seonghwa asked in an even tone, trying to get a handle as to what you meant by 'everything'.

The question turned you on more than you could handle and a needy moan fell from your lips, answering Seonghwa's question without saying a word.

You stared at him sheepishly, the shit eating grin that was now plastered on his face angered you and the result of it was you becoming aware of how wet you were becoming as you thought about his cum filling you and mingling with your own come.

"Is that what you want, baby?" Seonghwa growled, analyzing your face for what you truly want.

"It-it is..." You bit down hard on your lip, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing sensation that made it hard for you to think about anything except your significant other making love to you.

"Why don't we go somewhere so that I can give my little girl what she deserves." He smirked as he stood waiting for you to do the same thing but you suddenly felt too weak to stand. You attempted to stand on your own two feet but you faltered, almost sitting back down immediately.

"Allow me to carry my needy princess to bed." Seonghwa cooed, scooping you into his arms and carrying you to your bedroom. You felt anxious and excited at what Seonghwa was about to do and you were dripping even more in anticipation of his cock.

"Please put me down." You requested as he approached the bed, still carrying you like royalty.

"Can you stand on your own, baby?" Seonghwa placed your feet on the floor while keeping his arm around your waist, exciting tingles to run down your back.

"Y-yeah..." You nodded, looking up at Seonghwa's face and feeling yourself go weak again as you realized the difference in your height and his.

"Oh..." You were taken by surprise by Seonghwa pressing you in the direction of the bed, the back of your knees pressing against the edge of the mattress as he looked down at you, coaxing the sensation of butterflies to circulate through your stomach as you gazed up at him, peering into his dark eyes. His hand moved to the back of your head, drawing you closer to him until your lips met hi. in a possessive kiss.

"Mmm~" You moaned into him, feeling yourself grow dizzy from the warm contact his lips and the thought of being drowned by him beneath his height made your knees give way, prompting you to collapse onto the bed located behind your body.

"Was that all my baby wanted?" Seonghwa stared down at you in amusement as he trailed his fingers along your throat, toying with the collar of your shirt.

"N-no... I need..." Your throat instinctively closed, forcing you to stop speaking in the middle of your sentence.

"What do you need? I can't satisfy your needs if you don't tell me." Seonghwa glided his hands along your arms, encouraging goosebumps to rise up on your skin while a contradicting sense of comfort settled in your chest.

"I need y-your cock now, daddy." You struggled to speak, feeling the blood rush to your face as the humiliation of your admission arose in your mind.

"My babygirl is so specific when she states what she wants." Seonghwa chuckled darkly, moving away from you.

"Strip." He ordered, to which you complied, quickly peeling the clothes off of your frame while your significant other removed his own clothes. You gasped out when Seonghwa grasped your body, drawing you towards his body before guiding you to lie down on the bed. He hovered over your body, his already erect length pressing into your stomach and prompting an intense rush of heat to resonate in your pelvis, tightening a knot that you felt forming deep inside of you.

"Please y-your... c- FUCK AH!!!" You squealed out as Seonghwa suddenly pushed the tip of his cock into your entrance, slowly stretching your hole to conform to his girth. The burn of your heat stretching as he pushed forward was enough for your toes to curl and your hips to elevate slightly, your body being conflicted with the pleasure and pain of being filled without much foreplay.

You silently reminded yourself that you were impatient for his cock and that was why you was suffering now.

"P-please move daddy..." Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling his length rub against your wet walls, caressing the nerves that craved more contact from his sex.

"My babygirl's cunt is so tight, fits around my cock like a glove." Seonghwa's eyes were narrowed as he immediately snapped his hips forward, the head of his member pushing against your sweet spot almost immediately which caused your mouth to fall open and a sweet sound to fall from your lips in response to his action. The next strokes of his cock were purposely aimed lower, determined to not allow you to orgasm after only a few moments of stimulation.

"So beautiful..." Seonghwa released a low growled.

"My little girl is such a cumslut, isn't she?" He brought his face near yours, peering into your eyes and secretly adoring the innocent look that reflected through the lust in your pupils.

"Y-yes I want you to fill my pussy up w-with your cum..." You were almost gurgling and was moaning loudly from the rough tempo of his thrusts into your slick heat, the sloppy sounds of his length aggressively penetrating your sex was encouraged your walls to tighten while you basked in the pleasurable sensations of his cock pressing against your sweet spot again.

"Such a beautiful innocent girl speaking so filthy about what she wants." Seonghwa gave a toothy grin, showcasing the predatory look in his eyes that sent chills down your spine.

"I had no idea my little girl wanted me to taint her so much." He brought his mouth down to yours, melding his lips to yours in a kiss that made you feel as if you would fall through the mattress.

Your lips moved naturally against his kisses, moaning into him while his ownership of your mouth triggered you to spasm all around his cock. The cries of ecstasy that followed were swallowed by your significant other, which didn't deter him from pounding into you even harder.

"Gonna cum baby." Seonghwa alerted you hoarsely, bottoming out as deep as he could inside of you and releasing his seed inside of your sex.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure while you relished the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you.

"Oh~" You cooed gently as Seonghwa's sweaty body moved from off of your own body.

Slowly he pulled out of you, only for your channel to tighten for him to stay inside of you.

"Your hole is so greedy for my cock. Do you want it again?" He paused his movements and waited for a response.

"N-no..." You shook your head, watching Seonghwa as he pulled completely out of you, allowing his sticky hot cum to drip from your heat.

"Mmm~" You moaned, feeling ribbons of his seed slide down your sex and coat your anal entrance.

"I love how you're filled so full of my come that you just can't hold anymore." Seonghwa murmured with pride as he brought a warm cloth to clean his juices from your heat. You pouted at the loss of feeling his come against your skin but he erased the thought when he lied down beside you, wanting to feel your warm body next to him during the blissful moment.

"Are you okay baby?" He asked tenderly, resting your head against his bare chest.

"Mmhm I'm fantabulous." You nodded with a giggle, absentmindedly tracing your fingers around his naval.

"Huh? What's that?" Seonghwa raked his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face before grasping your hand in his own.

"It's a mixture of the words 'Fantastic' and 'Fabulous'." You giggle louder, to which Seonghwa thought was adorable.

"But you were referring to how you're feeling, not if you were okay." Seonghwa clarified with an annoying smile.

"You know I can't think when I've been fucked senseless." You snapped playfully, listening to his heartbeat thrum against your ear.

"My baby tells the truth after I've fucked her senseless." He grinned cockily, marveling at how adorable you were when you least expected it.

#I hope somebody likes it #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez yeosang #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #kpop scenarios #and gifs don't post but I won't post a gif cos some folks have limited data

324 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Worship You

Worship You: A Falcon Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1549

Warnings: PWP, Smut (M|F, d/s, BDSM, body worship, genital worship, femme-domme, bondage, praise kink, rough oral sex, hand jobs). Start of aftercare.

Synopsis: Sam Wilson worships your pussy.

Worship You

Sam sits on the edge of the bed watching you undress. He’s already taken his clothes off and his cock is beginning to harden in anticipation of what’s to come. He keeps his hands steady at his side though, resisting the urge to touch himself or come over to you. You’ve told him to sit and sit he will until instructed otherwise.

You bend over slowly pulling your panties down. They’re soaked through and you want him to see the mess he’d made teasing you earlier. How much trouble he’s gotten himself into. He makes a choked groan sound and shifts in his seat.

“You have something to say, Sammy?” You ask turning around and looking down at him.

He shakes his head and swallows hard. The way his cock stiffens and twitches gives him away. You smile and graze your teeth over your bottom lip. “You like my pussy don’t you?” You tease and run your fingers over it, dipping one finger between your folds and bringing it out glistening.

You put your finger in your mouth and suck it clean slowly as Sam looks up to you. He makes a sound that falls somewhere between a whine and a squeak. “Come on now, Sammy. When are you so quiet? Tell me. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I do,” He groans. “I love it. It’s so beautiful. I love to look at it. When you let me. The different colors. They look so good against each other. I love the frills. How it shines when it’s wet and ready for me. I love how it smells and how it tastes. I love kissing it and licking it. I love putting my fingers inside and feeling how wet and warm and tight you can make it. How good my cock feels buried in there. Like it’s home.” His voice comes out choked and needy and you shift where you stand as his words send a little shiver through you.

“Such a poet, Sam.” You tease coming over and bringing your lips to his. You kiss hungrily. Your tongue swirling around his. He keeps his hands at his side though. He knows not to touch until he’s given permission. He can wait though because waiting is full of rewards.

“Well, Sam,” You say pulling back. “You have been so good and you look like you really want it, so get down on your knees and worship me, baby.”

“Thank you.” He whispers getting to his knees. “Thank you.” He says again, as he walks on them in front of you. You spread your legs just enough to give him minimal access to your cunt and he starts just placing slow kisses on your mound. Not daring to become more intimate yet. He takes his time with these things. The need to show you how much he loves this. You. Your cunt.

His sucks on your inner thighs hard. Bruising your skin. He peppers small kisses all over making small humming sounds. Then when he feels pleased with what he’s done he looks up at you and dips his tongue between your folds. It’s a brief taste but he makes such a graphic moan of appreciation at the flavor that coats his tongue it makes your cunt flood. A reward for being so appreciative and willing for you.

You moan as he spreads your folds, and lean back against the wall hooking one leg over his shoulder. “No hands, baby. You know that.” You scold. Though you aren’t really upset. You can forgive this transgression. Perhaps another will earn punishment, but that’s not usually how you play.

“Sorry.” He whispers quickly. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and he dips his head down and places a large open-mouthed kiss on your pussy. His tongue swirls around as he tastes as much as he can and explores every fold and crevice. He moans and his cock jumps, leaking precome.

“Good, that’s good.” You purr as you tilt your hips forward. You run your fingers over his scalp and dig them into his neck pulling him harder against your pussy. He groans and his tongue slithers inside you, tasting from the source. He swirls it around and laps up, flattening his tongue and rolling it over your clit.

You moan and move against his face, holding his head in place as he focuses his tongue on your clit. Your heel digs into his back as heat coils through you. He starts drawing random shapes and letters on your clit with the tip of his tongue and his hands come up again and dig into your thighs.

You pull his head back and look down at him. “I think we’re going to need to bind those.” You growl.

“I’m sorry. Sorry.” He babbles but he nods his head in agreement. Not only because he wants to please you, but because he wants it.

“Bend over the bed.” You say letting him go.

He crawls to the bed and bends over it as you go and collect the leather cuffs from the bedside table. You walk over and give Sam a quick slap on the ass. It stings and heat blooms in his cheek, but his cock jumps and he rolls his hips against the mattress for relief smearing pre-come on the blanket. “You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself, Sam.” You purr as you take his hand and attach the cuff to it.

“I know. I’ll do better. Promise.” He whimpers.

“I know you will, Sammy.” You say and slap his other ass cheek. He squeaks but doesn’t move, so you caress your hand over his skin and start attaching the other cuff.

You pat his ass and he climbs up on the bed. You run your nails up his stomach and over his chest watching as his muscles contract under your touch. His lips shimmer with your fluids and you lean down and kiss him, licking them from his lips. You hum as the tart flavor hits your senses.

“So lucky, Sammy.” You hum as you gently pull back.

“Mmm… I know.” He rumbles as you lock each of his wrists to a corner of the bed.

You carefully check the restraints making sure they aren’t rubbing and his arms aren’t pulled in a way that will cause him any serious discomfort. “How’s that?” You ask.

He rolls his shoulders and tugs on the restraints. “Green. I’m good.” He replies giving his safeword that lets you know he’s fine to go ahead.

“Remember your signals?” You ask as you move up to his head.

He nods and demonstrates by open and closing his fists and bending one leg up and then quickly lowering it.

“Good.” You say and kiss him again. He hums against your lips and you pull away and straddle his face.

His tongue meets your cunt as you lower yourself down on his face. He sucks and licks at you as you rock against him, fucking his tongue as he swirls it around. He sucks your clit into his mouth pressing his lips against it and flicking his tongue over the top of it.

It sends a jolt pass through you and your skin tingles. You groan and lower yourself more so he’s smothered by your cunt and can’t take a breath in. He sucks and bites at your pussy. His tongue swirls around and you moan deeply as you feel the start of an orgasm building.

You raise your hips again and he takes a deep breath in and moans. “Oh fuck.” He grunts and jerks at his bonds, attacking your pussy like he’s trying to devour it.

You keep rocking against him as your orgasm builds. “Good. You’re doing so good. Feels amazing, baby.” You praise. “That’s it, just like that.”

You take his cock in your hand and begin to stroke it. His precome coating your palm and acting as a lubricant. You spit adding to it and move faster as he mewls below you and his toes curl.

He nips at your clit and sucks on your pussy. You grind against him and pump his cock. Your orgasm hits your suddenly and you cry out as your thighs tighten and tremble and you drip onto Sam’s face.

Sam’s hips snap up suddenly and he groans as he spills in waves over his stomach as his abdominal muscles clench. His come pools on his skin and you run your fingers through it and lick them clean as he laps you through your orgasm.

You sigh and climb off his face and look down at him as you run your hands over his arms. “How are you doing there, Sammy?” You ask.

He hums. “So good, baby. You know I like it when you take charge like that.”

You uncuff him and grab some wipes carefully clean him off. “Alright, honey. Let’s go grab a beer and take a long bath together, huh?”

Sam hums again and curls into you putting his head on your lap and you run your fingers along his scalp and through his beard. “I would love that. I love you, ya know?”

“I know.” You say and kiss the top of his head. “I love you too.”

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #falcon #falcon fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #worship you

89 notes · View notes

morphituu · 6 years

Text

Bell Peppers Ch. 12

“Lures”

Archive of Our Own: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

tumblr: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

“Try it with the cane,”

He shook his head, face scrunching and arms jerking upwards with every bitter step on his tender knee. Callie rolled her eyes, a single index finger rotating the cane beside her, but Nick lashed out his harshest glares everytime he laid eyes on it.

“Y’know it’s only temporary,”

“Until I rely on it,” he argued. She snorted, meeting his strained eyes as he finished another lap around the room.

“You become more stubborn everyday, chato,”

He stopped in front of her, taking half a wobbling step closer to flick her hand before snatching the cane. “Shut up,” he said halfheartedly, already gliding easier across the room with it to lean on.

“You gonna deny that’s easier?”

“Till the day I die,” he breathed, turning on his heel to start another lap. Back and forth he went, everyday building the resistance of his damaged knee back. He’d wished he could wander the halls, but as long as he was a fall risk, he was to either stay confined to his room or walk with a nurse, both of which he disliked immensely.

On his last pass, he noticed Callie’s brows furrowed in sympathy, the beginnings of a silly smirk forming.

“Don’t say it,” he snapped; now she was smiling.

“I mean it in a loving way,” she piped, scooting back against the bathroom door.

“Calling me old isn’t nice,” he glared sideways, stopping in front of her.

“You call me ‘shorty’ all the time,”

“Cause that’s cute. Viejo ain’t,” he battled, and she smiled.

“You pronounced that really well,”

He stood a little taller, cocking a brow. “Don’t try and get on my good side,” he mumbled, wobbling away.

“As long as I’m taking care of you you better keep me on your good side,” she challenged, pulling her lips in when he looked back at her.

“Someone’s feisty today,”

Her head cocked. “Says you-”

A few soft knocks on his door turned them, and in came Margaret, her wild curls twisted into a loose braid over her shoulder.

“Good to see you up and walking,” she grinned, pumping hand sanitizer onto her palms.

“Almost done with his fifteen laps,” Callie told her proudly, winking at Nick when he glanced at her.

“Good, very good. How’s the ribs?”

Nick shrugged, hobbling to his bed. “Bearable at best,”

She nodded indifferently, weighing her hands. “Keep icing, and don’t be neglecting those breathing exercises. You’ll wish you were in a coma over having pneumonia with cracked ribs,” she explained, slipping gloves on. “Okay big guy, take a seat,”

The vision in his eye was nearly restored, the gashes on his face no longer swelled tremendously, and he could at last eat normal food without the cuts in his mouth causing too much misery. The stitches across him would dissolve, as the bruises would fade, but his hand and knee were the main focus.

“I think we can move onto buddy tape for this,” she mumbled, unwrapping his hand from the old bandaging. Nick exhaled, bending his wrist and scratching the damp skin that hid driven him mad the past days. There was still a notable twinge of discomfort if he tried to make a fist, but he’d silence his complaints if it meant having most of his hand back.

“You’re looking good, so I’d say bet on going home sometime tomorrow,” she told him, and Callie grinned when his ears flicked.

“Still get that doctors note?” he asked, his eyes heavy from the euphoria of scratching all over his wrist.

“Absolutely. Do you two still have an arrangement, or should I contact nursing?” she asked, but Callie shook her head.

“Still good,” she answered.

“Alright then. Hang out another night and we’ll get you going home tomorrow, unless you do something foolish like fall again,” Margaret cleared her throat, now recognizing Nick’s low growls as all bark and no bite.

Callie pushed off the door when his doctor departed with her pager in hand, wandering over to Nick who was purposely avoiding eye contact. She pushed his foot with hers, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“We’ll go for a walk when you’re done,” she bribed, and he rotated his head back, leaving it hanging as he stood. She chuckled, pulling her jacket off her arms to leave her in her tank-top. Nick’s sweater was next, carefully pulling it up and over his head, moving slowly as he did and placing his beanie back on his head once his top was bare.

“Arms up,” she instructed, raising hers in a flexing motion as he did his. One eye pinched shut as they both rotated their bent arms back, drawing shoulder blades together as he followed her deep breathing pattern. In as they stretched back, out as they brought their elbows together. Nick grunted, sometimes twitching as the tensed muscle across his ribs protested.

At the sight of his biceps tightening, she smirked. “Tryin’ to flex on me officer?”

Nick snorted. “Says you, showing off those arms,” he snipped back, still wincing.

“It’s all show, you know I can barely lift a gallon of milk. Okay next ones,” she told him, stepping closer as his hands clasped on the top of his head.

With little pressure, she laid her palms flat over his ribs, maintaining when he drew in deep breaths that expanded his ribcage, then gradually let his breath go, relaxing the tender muscle until there was nothing left in him.

“These are worse,” he strained, his teeth bared in discomfort.

“They’re the more crucial ones though,” she mentioned, feeling the muscle spasm under her fingers as he drew in the deep breaths. “Didn’t think I’d ever see a purple Orc,” she played, pulling her shoulder in when he tugged on her earlobe.

Callie wouldn’t say it out loud, but she relished in watching the muscles of his chest and stomach as well as his ribs glide over bone when he stretched and exercised. She was always fascinated by the body he hid under his uniform, convinced that if any girl had chance at taking their own peak of him, they’d reconsider their decision to not date him.

“Okay I’m done,” he groaned, starting to lower his arms.

“Did more than last night,” she encouraged, patting his hip.

“‘Scuse me while I pass out now,” he mumbled, sitting on his bed before easing onto his back, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Tired?”

He nodded, a tense yawn following.

Callie sat beside him, her knees pulled up to rest her arms over, her fingers drumming against her wrist. “We should tell Margaret about the nightmares,”

“What nightmares?” He mumbled, flinching when she smacked his thigh. “They’re not that bad,”

“Nick,”

He looked at her, and her brows raised in knowing. “You scream,”

He opened his mouth to protest, but it would be a lie, because he could never escape the nightmares that played out before his eyes even while he was awake. The ones that had him breaking out in cold sweats, and screaming for Callie every night, fearful to fall back asleep.

“She can’t do anything about them anyways,” he sighed.

“Maybe a therapist can,”

“Therapy isn’t going to take back what happened, Cal,”

It was true, which is why she stayed quiet, her cheek rested on her arm as she looked at him.

She’d never deny holding him at night and hushing him to sleep, but over everything, she wanted him to just rest. To find that escape at night, away from the painful recovery that wakefulness brought him.

“I’m sorry,” she intoned, meeting his eyes when he turned his head against the bed.

“Don’t be,” he mumbled, unable to pull from her gaze; the balmy, swirling pool of her caramel eyes that made him warmer the longer he lingered, constantly tempted to again bring forth the shift in depth of their color when he’d kiss her. Staring at her vanquished the unrest of his heart, all the fear that now made up his spine, but how he so wished to grab her face and just feel her mouth against his again- to breathe in those soft mewls of hers.

Callie’s heart was hammering, wondering if he could smell the heat of her skin heightening the longer she watched his eyes dilate. She wanted his fangs to drag across her neck. She wanted his bruises and bites over her again.

She wanted to pull his body over hers and offer an escape when nightmares tried to pull him under.

“Still wanna go for a walk?” She asked instead, her voice soft. He nodded, his tongue lapping against the roof of his mouth when her scent blew past him as she stood.

You’re wet, is what he wanted to say.

But he remained silent, able to keep his eyes on her in unwavering fashion now that she avoided looking at him. It was damn near impossible to resist grabbing her shoulders and spinning to push her onto the narrow bed, but once he was sat in the wheelchair with the cane in his lap, the desire once again became dormant.

They always visited the garden outside to give him the chance to sunbathe, now with his Clubmasters she’d gone to pick up for him, and always they talked when they wandered or sat, often a snack in his hand.

Nick started spotting the other Orcs hanging around precariously in random places they visited, sometimes chuffing loudly as he wheeled by. Callie would smack his shoulder, not fully understanding the attitude he dished out when they were near, but to understand that would mean telling her that since his scent had finally left her, she was open game again. And since it was now known she had laid with Orc, others had become interested in the human girl.

Nick recognized it; the way some of them would puff their chests or raise their tusks proudly, showing off their length.

He had neither tusks or strength, and no grounds to declare she was his any longer, but something deep in his gut wouldn’t allow them to even try and sway her. It’s what pushed him to sometimes growl and chuff, and glare hatefully when they eyed her. If he thought on it too hard, he had to dig his nails into his own palm to resist crawling over her and burying himself inside her delicious cunt.

You’re not a fucking animal, he’d remind himself.

But everything about her he desired was animalistic.

As were the watchful gazes that followed her as she moved across the cafeteria, completely oblivious with a tray of food in hand and her debit card between her teeth.

“They had those disgusting turkey sandwiches you like,” she declared, sitting down beside him.

He only grumbled, his cheek rested in his palm as he opened the packaging with his teeth. Her brows furrowed, her hands stilling as she watched him angrily arrange his sandwich, tossing aside the wilted lettuce and squeezing mayonnaise onto the meat.

“Not feeling yourself?” she questioned, only receiving a shrug as he bit into his sandwich.

“We can go back to the room if you wanna lay down,”

“Not tired,” he answered.

She nodded, peeling a banana. “How’s the sandwich? Still disgusting?”

“This time yeah,” he sighed, looking at it distastefully after taking another bite.

Callie swallowed when he looked at her, his cheek again rested in his palm. “Then what? You seem… off,” she asked, her voice faltering.

“Jiak wanav avo fuck lat par avhe avable righav now buav jiak can’av,” he said quickly, and she rolled her eyes.

“English please,”

He grabbed the sandwich again, realizing saying it out loud didn’t help ease any of the pressure in his body. He also knew he was being childish, and hard to handle, yet couldn’t suppress the upset in himself when he felt he needed to keep her locked in his room beside him so no one-

“Those people you swear are itching to fuck with us aren’t even mildly threatening until you get in their faces and start shit, Nick.”

It stopped the rampage of his heart and mind. He looked at her; patient, and still by his side even though she’d grown tired of his shit once already.

He was doing it again. He was withdrawing, and becoming the possessive freak who didn’t give her room to breathe. But even if he explained why, would she believe him? She didn’t last time…

“I’m hangry,” he mumbled, his lip curling when she grinned at him.

You don’t have to lie to me, Nick. “Had a feeling,” she cooed, sliding him a cup of diced watermelon. “I know these aren’t as good as yours, but they’re still juicy,” she teased, giggling when he smacked her arm gently.

He couldn’t allow himself to cage her again. If it came to her falling for someone else, no matter how shattered he’d be, he couldn’t keep her locked away. She was doing this out of the kindness of her heart.

It doesn’t mean she still has anything for you either, moron.

She knew something troubled him. Possibly all the Fogteeth around, judging by his vicious snarls and cutting glares, but Nick wouldn’t lash out without good reason. Something was aggravating him.

↠

He was already curled in bed, watching the TV sleepily when she came from the bathroom, steam billowing out. He didn’t move from his side to watch her go about applying lotion to her exposed skin, skipping over her tattoos since she’d stayed in hospital with him.

They won’t fade in the days we’re here, it’s no big deal, she’d said, but Nick knew how adamant she was about keeping them vibrant.

“That was the quickest you’ve ever finished your ritual,” he muffled against his pillow, scoring a smart smile from her.

“Ha ha,” she played, pulling her sleeves down. “Already got your meds?” She asked, pulling the covers up to his hips.

“Mhm,”

“Good, scoot over,” she told him, and his eyes cracked open curiously.

“Every night I end up in bed with you anyways, so scoot,” she urged, a knee resting on his bed as he wiggled backwards, grunting softly. “Don’t you poke me again either,” she added.

Nick snorted. “I can’t help it,”

“Don’t stretch then,” she exhaled, cozying up to him, their forearms touching as she situated deeper into the bedding while he laid the blankets over her. He pulled in deep breaths of her, his skin lightening with shivers.

“You smell good,” he murmured, his ears flicking when she giggled.

“I still feel smelly,”

I wish you still smelled like me. “You’re not, trust me,”

“Yeah like you’d tell me if I stank,” He glared questioningly at her. “You used to like it when I smelled sweaty,”

He hid his face, earning another giggle. “That’s different,” Nick slurred.

When she continued to laugh, he adjusted his head closer, her face half hidden by her hand and eyes pinched shut in humor.

“What?” He couldn’t help but grin.

“Do you remember when we went to Roberto’s at like 2 am but we got too drunk to drive home?”

He snorted. “So we walked?”

“It took us 2 hours and it was so hot!” She smiled.

“N’ you kept falling everywhere,”

“And then we got home and we were all sweaty and miserable and realized I forgot my phone?”

“That night was a fucking disaster,” he groaned, shaking his head against the bedding. But they still both smirked, both of their eyes heavying the longer they gazed, transfixed by the calm around them and lulled by one another’s warmth.

“It wasn’t a complete disaster later on,” she whispered.

No, it wasn’t. Even if it took far too long to strip her that night, it had been one of his fondest to look back on. How they kept going, and going, and going all through the night, shouting each other’s name with every brilliant climax.

Nick ran the pad of his thumb over her chin. “I think we slept for 18 hours after that,” he chuckled, and she laughed also, burrowing her blushing cheeks downwards, her cold nose pressed against his hand.

There was a drawn silence between them; her soft breath brushing over his hand as their knees shifted, maneuvering closer. Eventually she looked back up, noting the visible shift in the temper of his eyes.

“Drugs kicking in?” She asked, and he nodded slowly, licking his lips. “You gonna start singing again?”

“I’s serenading you,” he corrected sleepily, readjusting his head.

“Oh really?” He nodded again, yawning, baring the points of his sharp teeth she liked to run her tongue under. “Exactly when did Skeletonwitch become songs to sing in that form?”

“Since iss your favorite band, dummy,” he grinned, grumbling a little.

“So thoughtful,”

He started humming, his face conveying utter seriousness as he tuned along her favorite song, his hand even grabbing hers to sway this way and that. Callie smiled, watching him stumble around the words and even wiggle a little bit, all the while his eyes locked with hers.

Nick slowed back down to soft humming when she held his face, on the verge of kissing him the more vibrant his eyes became, a deeper brilliance of gold.

Even in his inebriated state, he saw it. The way she parted her lips, how her cheeks flushed. Nick didn’t even need to scent her to know that she was squeezing her thighs together for one reason only.

He swallowed, his eyes coming back up.

“You should sleep,” she whispered, her heart kicking up.

Nick’s ambers dragged down, following the curve of her collarbones to her cleavage between the unbuttoned seems of her black thermal. “I’ll have nightmares,” he unconsciously admitted, apprehension nowhere to be seen on him as he dragged a fingertip lightly over her chest.

Her eyes fluttered, exhaling. “You won’t have any while I’m here,” she breathed, her body close to vibrating. It ached so deeply in her bones, to every tip of her fingers and toes. Her hands slid flat downwards to his chest, fingertips pressing into the solid muscle.

“I still won’t sleep,” He slurred, pushing open her shirt with his finger, barely grazing beside her nipple.

She whimpered, her mouth falling open as he craned his neck; he could feel her breath against his mouth.

The door behind them opened, and they both stiffened when footsteps approached.

“I really thought I was gonna come in and catch you two doin’ it or something. His heart rate is all over the place out there- don’t get him too worked up,” his night nurse, Rosalyn, barked, peeking cautiously over them.

“We’re fully clothed,” Callie rolled her eyes, more disappointed than anything.

“Mhm,” she pursed her lips. “I’ve seen some people get creative ‘round here. You good Officer?” She asked.

Callie withheld rolling her eyes again; it was obvious to her when he was faking sleeping, but guessed it was enough to fool others. “I was making him laugh,” Callie defended, eyeing Rosalyn.

“Mhm,” she only mumbled, cocking a brow as she left the room.

Callie pulled a hand down her face, laying back down. “She’s gone now,”

Nicks eye cracked open before he peeked behind himself, then looking back to Callie. It was simmering again; the desire that so often raged like a wildfire and threatened to burn them alive in close moments like that. But it was still on her- coated like a wet sheet. He wanted to taste it pooling between her thighs.

“Lets sleep, yeah?” Callie rolled on her other side, holding his arm when it curled around her waist. “And don’t poke me in the morning.”

“Don’t stick your ass out when you stretch then.” He grinned, his face masked against her hair. He flinched when she pinched his arm.

She did her best to even her breathing and calm the unrest in her limbs, but all over she burned for him.

It only became harder to resist it. They were both crawling towards a brilliant lure; one that promised release, and comfort, at least in the moment. They both knew it would end with more conflict and questions than before, but the closer they became again, the harder it was to keep composed.

Every night proved more difficult than the last. It had started with holding hands, and crawling into bed with him when he’d wake from night terrors, but never ended at that. They’d both wake up periodically, sometimes just gazing at one another and touching the others face. Knees would overlap and sometimes his wide palm would rest over her hip, his thumb moving under her shirt to caress her warm skin. He’d watch her; eyes closing and breath heavying, her fingers curling into the bedding, waiting for him to move farther, but he never did.

How could they approach this clear desire when so much was still untold?

Do you still love me? Nicks’ thumb stroked her stomach, his eyes not yet shut as a strange sensation churned in his gut. It was almost sad having her pressed against him, so close, yet unable to worship her how he wished. I love you so much, Callie. He burrowed his face down, exhaling slowly.

Just touch me so we can go back to how it used to be. Callie grinned at herself. That won’t solve anything, stupid.

She pulled his hand up, fisting it under her chin, sighing when he situated tighter against her back. Like a shield of warmth, cradling her from the thoughts that threatened to send her into blind panics. Tell me you want it to be like it was again. Tell me you love me so I can tell you.

“Tomorrow I’ll sing Gorgoroth.” He mumbled, both of them laughing at the thought.

I love you, Cal.

I love you, Nick.

“Keys?”

She pulled them from her bag, shaking them. “Keys,”

“Work excuse?”

She waved the papers, also sliding her sunglasses on.

“By the time you’re done I should be ready to go,” he yawned, rubbing his head.

“Take a nap before we leave too,”

He shook his head. “I can manage picking the rest up,”

Callie nodded, ready to head out. “I’ll be back soon then,” she poked his arm. “Don’t wander around.”

He lifted his hands in defeat, grinning when she winked at him before departing. She pulled her jacket on as she made her way down the hall, nodding at an Orc that was sat in the waiting corner of the neuro wing.

The elevator was empty for once, but before the doors could close, a patterned hand stopped them.

“Morning,” she grinned at Matuk, who found his place beside her with his hands in his pockets.

“Calista,” he nodded politely.

“Callie,” she corrected, slipping her bag over her shoulder after curling a scarf around her neck. “Guess you won’t be stuck in a hospital anymore,”

He shrugged. “Don’t mind it. Better than being out in the cold,”

“Can’t imagine it being any less boring though,”

“You’d be surprised how dull people watching can be. Something is always going on in a hospital, though,” he explained.

She nodded, both of them looking at the doors when the elevator dinged.

“Where are you off to?” He asked, walking beside her. She thought that was a bit… odd. He’d normally trail at a distance.

“Police station to drop off his work excuse. You coming with?” She pulled her jacket tighter around her when the harsh whip of cold wind flew in from the front entrance.

“I’ll be around,” Even he pulled his beanie down, farther than his ears.

“Stick around close enough and I’ll buy you lunch again,” she smirked.

He adjusted his Fogteeth sweater, his lips pursing between his impressive tusks as they made their way through the parking structure. He always managed to park beside Nicks truck, even if she’d find parking between two other cars.

“That sub place again?” He asked as she rounded the bed of the truck.

“For sure.” She grinned, both of them climbing into their cars.

She cranked the heater and connected her phone as she waited for the engine to warm up, her foot tapping the gas every so often to rev it. She’d gotten over the sense of feeling rushed after the second day of being tailed by Matuk. He never harassed or hurried her, but she’d made sure to recognize that she appreciated his protection, whether it was buying him food when she was out doing errands or something warm to drink at night when he sat in the hospitals hallways.

The drive across town was pleasant. Her mood was chipper that morning; Nick finally got to go home, which meant no more buying hospital food or dealing with nurses checking in every hour.

That also meant no interruptions.

That thought hung heavy over her. Sure they wouldn’t be in as close proximity, but the way they’d been leaning towards those past days…

She exhaled slowly, loosening the scarf around her neck. She had to calm down before she exited the car; she could handle knowing Nick knew when she was aroused, but not Matuk. She didn’t want it getting back to other Fogteeth.

The prescient was dull per the usual, the parking lot particularly empty that morning after she’d parked.

“Not gonna come with?” She smiled at Matuk, who glared flatly.

The same old holiday decorations that had collected dust were still hung sparsely in corners, but at least there wasn’t another huddle of men behind counter she’d have to face. Only a lone woman today, her hair pulled back into a sleek bun. Callie tried not to judge too harshly just by her critical expression, because she had resting bitch face too, but everyone here that worked alongside Nick made her apprehensive.

“I’m here to drop off a work excuse slip for Nick Jakoby,” Callie explained, pulling it from her bag.

The woman- Ruiz, looked it over, her brow arched critically.

“Six weeks?” She asked. Callie’s posture stiffened, ready to lash out in defense of Nick if she commented any further. Her barely concealed smirk alone had her itching to grab her by the hair and smash her face into the counter.

“Wait here,” Ruiz told her, walking to the office behind the counter.

Callie rolled her shoulders; this place made her fidgety. There was too much hatred, and far too little diversity. Where was the welcoming environment police stations were supposed to exude?

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, and she groaned, ready to face another paragraph from her sisters; it was Nick.

How’s it going?

Almost done, be back soon

“That’s her, isn’t it?” She heard someone say lowly. Her eyes rose, but her head remained down, listening.

“Nah, different hair,”

“That’s fucking her, bro!”

“Think if she fucks orcs I can get her to suck my cock?”

She bit her inner cheek, her nails digging into her palm after putting her phone away. Stay calm, don’t say shit. She couldn’t put Nicks reputation on the line just cause of a few dickheads talking shit. No way in hell she’d make it harder for him-

“I guess if she’s here that means he lived. Too bad.”

She snapped in their direction, her eyes wild with fury. They pretended to be occupied, covering their shit smiles, but she was already stomping towards them, shoving the one closest to her.

“Don’t you ever talk about him that way again you sorry son of a bitch,” she spat, inclining to get right in his face.

“Step back or I’ll-“

“What’d he ever do to you, huh? You guys are such thin skinned fucking racists you gotta take everything out on him!”

She came rubber-banding back when one shoved her away, her limbs tingling to swing.

“He stick a baby in you? That why you’re hanging around? Escorts don’t have health insurance?” He laughed, causing a stir in the other ones.

Callie rocked back onto her heel as her elbow swung back, but before she could swing her fist into his sharp jaw, strong arms had her around her waist, pulling her back.

“Callie stop!” Ward yelled, struggling to keep her still as she squirmed in his hold, screaming at the top of her lungs in Spanish.

The three men were equally yelling, either in insults or egging her on, their taunting smiles throwing her into a rage she’d never felt before. Ruiz reappeared, yelling over the commotion, trying to shut everyone up.

“Callie stop!” He finally got her down, stepping in front of her when she moved side to side, heaving breaths slurring her speech. “Go back to Nick,”

“Yeah go back to your animal-“

She lurched forward to attack again, but bigger arms caught her this time. Ones that were attached to a lumbering figure, silencing the taunting and turning Ward and Ruiz’s attention.

“Not here,” Matuk said lowly, effortlessly pulling her back even though she kept moving in his hold. “Calista let’s go,”

Ward looked between Callie and Matuk. He knew Nick was Fogteeth, but that didn’t explain why one of their towering members was there, and knew her by name.

He only let her down once she’d stopped fighting, yanking from his hold, but she still lingered, her killer gaze set on the men who’d since gone quiet as they stared at the Orc beside her.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Ward jerked his chin outwards, eyeing the Orc once again, his brilliant eyes jumping from face to face.

“C’mon,” Matuk motioned, pushing Callie towards the door, keeping his body between them until they were outside.

“Man why the fuck you defending that pigskin-“

“Cause she’s fucking right. Why can’t y’all pull your heads out of your asses? What’d he ever do to you?” Ward fired back, spinning on his heel.

“Ward-“ Ruiz tried.

“He coulda snitched on all of you. When you, and you- motherfucker, all of you fucked with his shit and tore his locker up, even the shit with the cruiser, but he didn’t. He’s a fuckin’ partner. Don’t matter if he’s a goddamn Orc. Remember that the next time he’s covering your asses with a loaded gun.” Daryl snapped, giving each their own share of his hateful glare before walking away, leaving them looking at one another.

It had never been so glaringly obvious before that just how much Nick put up with. Looking at it day to day, he always thought ah, he’ll be okay. But collectively, now targeting Callie- it wasn’t about rivalries. It was about racism.

“Are you okay?” Matuk asked, walking behind her.

“I’m fine,”

“You don’t-“

“I’m fucking fine,” she snapped, digging in her bag for the keys. He didn’t ask after that, and instead rounded the front of his own car. Callie finally managed to find them at the bottom of her bag, simultaneously fighting the burn behind her eyes where tears threatened to spill over.

But a folded scrap of paper wedged beside the drivers side window stopped her. Her eyes scanned, her body remaining still as she hesitantly opened it.

Lat nexav

“Matuk?” She called, turning to hand him the paper when he rushed to her side. His hairless brow furrowed, his head then snapping up to swivel in all directions.

“What’s it say?”

“You’re next,” He mumbled, sniffing the paper. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on ends, her eyes now jumping in every direction.

“Get in the car, stay put a sec.” He instructed, ushering her inside and motioning to lock the doors. She waited, watching, her hands fisted tightly in her lap as he spoke to someone over his phone. His eyes moved to her a few times, but whatever he was speaking of, he must’ve deemed it private enough even from her when he moved to the back of his SUV.

Callie stopped watching him through the rear view mirror. Her leg was bouncing erratically; she wanted to be inside somewhere, not in front of the fucking police station. Somehow she felt it was the least safest place to be.

‘I guess he lived. Too bad.’

Her face scrunched, an onslaught of raw hatred rushing her. The heels of her palms dig into her eyes.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-

But it fell from her in a succession of choked sobs and hiccups. She grabbed the steering wheel and screamed, shaking herself back and forth, her palms ringing with pain when she struck it over and over again. Harsh breaths fought past her clenched teeth, hot tears running down her cheeks. With her forehead against the wheel and her hands gripping it, the last of the tantrum faded, now a low rumble in her heart.

Sniffles and steadying sighs filled the quiet space of the car, her short curls stuck to her damp cheeks as she collected her spilled emotions.

Soft knocks on windows didn’t startle her, but she didn’t look up either. “Yeah?” She rasped.

“Can I help?” Matuk asked through the glass. She shook her head, pinching her eyes tighter.

“Can we leave now?” She asked.

He stepped around nervously. Should he... hug her or something? “Yeah- stay on the main roads.” He told her, moving back to his car.

With a final exhale, she sat up, pushing her hair back into the hood of her jacket. Her face was wiped with the back of her hands, but there was nothing she could do about her red eyes already swelled or puffy lips.

Nick would know. Even if she hadn’t of cried, he’d still know.

“Okay.” She breathed, shaking her head. Go back to Nick.

She drove without music; she wanted her thoughts to be her company. Deeply she needed the time to herself, to come to terms with the danger now posed at her, and how to keep it masked in front of Nick. If he knew about the threat, he’d send her away, and either of them alone would surely be an end for both. So she’d keep this between herself and Matuk, assuming he hadn’t told Nick.

Even though the busiest streets were littered with people and potholes, she navigated them calmly. Any backroad or silent neighborhood she’d usually take as a shortcut looked menacing now. What car or person was around a corner waiting for her?

Matuk waited by her door when she slid down the drivers seat, taking a passing glance at her reflection in the window.

Wow, you look like shit that’s been dragged through more shit.

“Can we not tell Nick about this?” Callie asked him, hoping the cold breeze rolling by would calm some of the red in her cheeks.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s already uncooperative. Telling him will make it a nightmare to work with him,” she fibbed, chewing her bottom lip. Matuk nodded, and she could see his hard jaw clenching in thought.

“If you insist, don’t go outside without one of us nearby. Even if it’s just to the car. Someone slipped by fast enough while we were both inside, so they must’ve been following since we left,” he explained lowly, nodding at another member by the front doors.

“They could still be around?” She asked, and he sighed, nodding.

He walked her all the way to Nick's room, patting her shoulder before he left. Another breath to compose herself, and she walked in.

“Ready to bounce?” She asked, a forced smile curling her mouth.

“Yeah I just… need,” Nick faltered, his arm dropping from pointing at something across the room when he noticed her swollen eyes and overall uneasy demeanor. “Callie?” He called, but she was already zipping his duffel up and puling the go bags beside one another.

“Did they discharge you or do you have to wait?” She asked, glancing at him.

His stomach churned. “No,” he whined, grabbing her hand before she could move away. “What did they do?” He held her arms, desperately searching her sad eyes for the truth.

Her head dropped, face tightening. Don’t fall apart, you weak thing. “Nothing,” she chose.

“Calista- look at me,” he said firmly. Her eyes jumped to his, already glossy. “Tell me,”

“They’re just… mean. I don’t know how you stand working there,” she chose, wanting to stay as far away from specifics as possible.

“Mean to who?”

“Me, but it’s not a big deal. I’m not sad, I’m angry,” she exhaled, wiping her eyes again.

“Who- what’d they say? Who said what?” he pressed, following her movements when she tried to look away.

“Shit they’ve always said before but they were like… making a joke out of it. I just got mad,” she rushed.

“Then why do you smell like Ward and another orc?”

Fuck. Nick’s sense of smell was sharp as ever.

Her head dropped, a tear dropping from her pinched eyes when her hand covered her face.

“Callie,” His tone was forlorn, but he wouldn’t release her arms until she told him. He knew sending her off alone into a wolf's den like that meant risking abuse aimed at her, but he’d figured she’d come back unscathed like always. So what had happened this time?

With a grunt, he stood, ignoring the soreness of his knee. Nick’s wide hands cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away the thin tears under her eyes. “Tell me,”

Her chin puckered and lip trembled. “They said stuff about you,” she wavered, holding his arms.

His eyes softened. “That’s all?”

“What d’you mean- they’re fucking ruthless! The things they say how do you stand working there?”

“Oh Cal,” he exhaled, resting his forehead against hers. He was relieved; he thought she was going to reveal that she’d been assaulted, or an advance had been made at her. Either of which would’ve resulted in him surely going to prison; there would’ve been one or several deaths at the precinct. “Why do you smell like them?”

“I got mad and tried to hit another cop,”

His snort was involuntary, but not kissing her forehead. “Troublemaker,”

Thank fucking christ he bought it. “Are you ready to go?” she asked, not entirely ready to leave his warm hands, but plenty prepared to spend time in an actual house again. He’d already been given his discharge instructions and packed both of their belongings, so Callie piled the bags on him once he was sat in his wheelchair again, meeting Matuk outside.

Nick tensed, frowning.

“Nick, this is Matuk. He’s been kind enough to keep me safe so keep your mouth shut,” she whispered the last part, and rolled her eyes when Nick resorted to a low growl instead of any real friendly gesture. She mouthed an apology as they passed; he understood. It was a tense elevator ride down, somewhat lessened when they walked through the lobby, but she could see Nick fidgeting, his hands gripping the armrests when Matuk walked too closely.

Nick didn’t seem to notice the familiar SUV trailing behind them as she drove, but it was probably because he was dozing off by the time they were halfway home. Callie watched Matuk’s car drive down the street when she pulled into the driveway; he’d probably circle around and park close by.

“Baby?” she called softly, moving his arm. He snored sharply, his head jolting up as his eyes slowly opened. “We’re home,”

It was inevitable that his eyes would land on the backyard, but part of her had hoped, somehow, that he’d blocked that part away. He didn’t outwardly look riled, but he did seem bothered.

He chose to walk around the back of the truck instead, not even looking in the gates direction again as he hobbled by with his cane.

Top of the list: clean up the blood.

His house was stuffy, and chilled, yet he didn’t bother moving anything or looking around before he walked straight towards his room. The cane dropped against the floor, and he struggled greatly to pull his shirt up and over his head, but once it was discarded, he carefully sashayed his way to the middle of his mattress, plopping down on his good side into the blankets and cold sheets. He whined happily, pulling the covers around his arms and burrowing his face against a pillow, his nostrils flared as he chuffed.

Callie placed his bag on the floor beside his bed, plugging in his dying phone on the nightstand, all the while he watched her.

“I’m sorry I’m useless,” he mumbled.

“Hush. Get some sleep, I’ll check in on you soon.” she cooed, patting his leg. He wanted to protest; to get up and fix his house he sure was disorganized, but sleep was overtaking him faster than he’d ever experienced.

The windows were opened and curtains pulled aside, letting in crisp breezes that would air out the confined house. Shivers cascaded down her arms when she pulled her jacket off, but there were chores to be done. Dishes, straightening up around; the junkmail on his table was tossed, the blankets on his couch flung of the fine layer of dust over them. There was also washing his bloody clothes, and taking the time to scrub the stains that might remain forever.

She recalled having seen little to nothing in his cupboards the last time she was there, but would finish unpacking his belongings before she headed out again.

Silently she moved around him, organizing clothing, pulling the blankets back over his body when he kicked them off with a grunt. Before she left, she texted his phone so he’d know where she’d gone, and carefully kneeled beside him on the bed to kiss his head. As she walked from his room though, she paused, looking back at his nightstand. She assured herself she wasn’t being paranoid when she pulled his glock from the back of the drawer to the front, leaving it cracked, just in case.

Back into the cold she went, but wouldn’t leave until she’d made certain someone would stay with Nick.

By the time she finished picking up more clothes and belongings from her house, picking up groceries than his prescriptions back at the hospital she’d gotten and filled his tank, plus the sub she’d forgotten to buy Matuk, dinnertime was coming up. The day had flown by in what seemed like just a couple hours; had she been so drowned in her thoughts? Not once had her eyes stopped moving, always aware of her surroundings and the people nearby, and Matuk always within earshot.

The warmest part of the day had passed, and her teeth were chattering as she hauled the various bags from the truck into the house, dancing in circles a little to warm her bones. “Fuckin’ hell.” she exasperated, reluctant to remove her scarf and boots.

Dinner was started; fideo con pollo, something she knew would make him lazy and not wanna move, which meant he couldn’t be tempted to get up and wander around or do something useless around the house.

With the sopa simmering, and the TV playing softly behind her, she pulled a worn notebook and glasses from her backpack, sitting at the bar before his kitchen. Years of thoughts, plans, scribbles and numbers filled most of the old book. Sometimes she’d reopen it and look back on old grievances she chose to lash out across paper, and even in the sad words written everywhere, she’d smile, recalling the older times. Now, she drew new charts. This would keep track of her savings; everything she spent until she could find another job. Thankfully her accounts were still plush from careful budgeting and occasional shifts at the strip club she once frequented, so staying at Nick’s for the remainder weeks would be doable.

“Hey Cal,”

She spun, closing the book behind her to find Nick wobbling out, steadying himself against the walls.

The alluring aroma of that red soup she made had woken him, and driven him onto his feet, following it out into his living room where the cold was now gone, and a low warmth hovered.

“Hey,” she pushed the book aside, under mail she’d piled. “How’re you feeling?”

He groaned, his head hung in his hands as soon as he sat at his table.

“Headache?”

He nodded, and looked up sleepily when the shaking of a pill bottle moved towards him. A couple horse pills and water bottle later, he was still groaning, his head thumping uncomfortably as he rested forward onto the table.

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” she told him, rubbing his arm and tilting her head so she could see him eye to eye.

“Hungry,” he mumbled, bringing his face up from the crook of his elbow.

“Dinner than back to bed,”

“I smell,”

She giggled. “Dinner, bath, then go back to bed. Be kind to your body.” she grinned, her thumb poking his nose when he rested his lips against her fingers.

Soon after, she wrapped a small blanket around his shoulders as he watched TV from his table, still bent over, but at least the headache was subsiding quickly, although his stomach started rumbling loudly the longer he waited for food. Still, he enjoyed watching her move around, in his house again, no less. It was like she’d never left; he always felt she fit in so well to his surroundings. Clearly she remembered where everything was, even how to work the remote when she skipped back a couple seconds to replay a scene she liked, apologizing sheepishly to him.

And when they ate, they still talked. She still sat beside him, pushing her glasses up to hold her fringe back and served his favorite garnishes; she remembered those, too. He was so sleepy, but he didn’t want to stop talking when their bowls had emptied. Nick wanted to keep gazing at her enchanting smile, losing himself in her balmy eyes.

He wanted to lean over and touch her skin. He wanted to pull her plump bottom lip down under his thumb before he kissed her, and tasted her. He needed to feel her throb around him again.

“‘Bout to pass out?” she simpered. He sighed, nodding, lying.

He still required help during sponge baths. His side was constantly sore as his bandaged hand was tender, but it would only be a few more days before the stitches would finish dissolving. Her cool hands running over his skin was a plus, so he might as well try and enjoy it.

“How’mi gonna sleep without dilaudid?” he slurred, his cheeks pressed between her hands as she scrubbed his face.

“You’re already drifting off as we speak,” she teased, earning a low rumble from him.

“What about the nightmares?” he asked.

“I’ll come runnin’.”

He slithered around his bed again once he was clothed, but had refused to wear a shirt now that he was home. He rolled again, facing her with the blankets around his head and his legs sticking out. She was still moving around, stuffing belongings here and there. Slowly, stiffly he sat up, leaned onto one elbow with a hand flat against the twitching muscles at his side.

“Wanna lay down?” he asked. She looked back at him, puzzled.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna lay down with me?” he asked again, trying to fight the nervous flight of his eyes.

Her hands stilled from rolling a dirty shirt, seriously contemplating the offer even though she pretended to look stoic. It would be like accepting the invitation; at last giving into the soft touches they’d dared all the past days.

But instead she asked, “Why?”

Nick shrugged. “Figured you’re tired too,”

“I’m- I’m okay,” she nodded, frowning, tossing the shirt aside. He discreetly pulled in a long breath when she moved past him, suppressing a long growl.

“You look sleepy,”

She scoffed. “Cause I was crying earlier,” she cleared her throat. You’re still broken up. “Besides I got a couple things to do, ‘n I can sleep on the couch,”

Her back bumped against the door frame as she edged out, swallowing when his eyes dragged up her body.

Don’t fucking do that. He undressed her where she stood; she could basically feel his hand running up her inner thigh if she decided to saunter over, and stand over his knees.

“Okay,” he mumbled, admittedly disappointed, but sorely moved back onto his side to lie down again.

She almost thought about reconsidering, and taking him up on his offer. So what if it lead to more?

She pinched her own arm. Don’t be fucking stupid- you know exactly what kind of mess that would make. Don’t let your lonely pussy do your thinking.

Callie moved back to the living room, observing the empty space around her, and then the black windows that were still open. Unease swarmed her, and she fought running back to Nick’s bed in fear as she hurried through closing and locking the windows and drawing the curtains closed.

Someone could be watching and you wanna fuck- real smart.

The longer she took to clean up the dinner mess, the more the desire drained, leaving her a slow moving husk with only a small residue of what once consumed her like a high from morphine. Often she glanced out the window over the sink, out onto the street that was quiet, looking for anything that might’ve been out of the ordinary, but Matuk’s SUV always silenced her nervous heart.

Nothing could happen as long as he was there.

With Nick (assumed to be) sleeping, she found a few spare minutes to scribble in her notebook again, planning future payments and laying out a budget to follow. Somewhere in the weeks to come she’d have to sneak in a few job interviews, or late night gigs at Two Hands if she couldn’t secure one. The thought of throwing her ass in a circle at grizzly older men made her groan, but bills would keep coming in.

With the last warm load of laundry folded on the table, Callie rubbed her tired eyes, dropping her glasses onto a stack of shirts before standing to stretch.

Even his couch is better than stiff hospital beds she thought, flipping lights and pulling her socks off as she made her way in the dark over to the couch. With a look over her shoulder, she pushed her jeans down her legs, leaving them pooled on the floor before stretching across the cushions in her panties and long sleeve shirt. So plush, and soft, as was the blanket she pulled down from the backrest.

Her bare thighs rubbed against the fabric, her ankles crossing as she settled on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow. Smells like him.

Her eyes wandered over to his open door, into the darker room where he laid. It was so quiet, and it felt wrong being so far away again. Sure, she could’ve simply denied her body the urge to slide down on him, but that doesn’t mean she’d be able to. Once it started, it always ran out of her control- of both of their control.

You’re still. Broken. Up.

She buried her face again, hiding from her own cruel thoughts.

Ahh, more mysteries to unravel, emotions are resurfacing, callie is in danger SO STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT UPDATE!!

translations! -"chato": like pug nose. kind of an insult, but she uses it in a loving way for him -"viejo": old man (in case anyone forgot) -"Jiak wanav avo fuck lat par avhe avable righav now buav jiak can’av,": "i wanna fuck you on the table right now but i can't"

22 notes · View notes

kirawritesaboutevanstan · 6 years

Text

Get to know me? 200 follower celebration thingy.

SORRY FOR SPAMMING TODAY.

Already did a thank you but then I saw this fun one, and I thought why not make one?? So yeah. Get to know me I guess? I don’t even know if anyone will see this or even read it hahah. But whatever, here it is. A ton of random questions that I’ve answered.

What is your name? My actual real name is Amalie, but I tend to use Kira online for reasons.

Are you named after anyone? No, I don't think so.

When was the last time you cried? A few days ago

Do you have kids? If no, how many do you want? No kids and I don't know whether I want any.

If you were another person, would you be a friend of yourself? Yeah I’m cool.

What position do you normally sleep in? My stomach hugging a worm made of my blankets, one arm stretched out over my head. Just to really mess up my neck and spine you know.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Way too much.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Their eyes?

What is your eye color? Green

Scary movie or happy endings? Happy endings for sure.

Favorite smells? Lavender, flowers, and citrus.

What’s the furthest you’ve ever been from home? Egypt.

Do you have any special talents? I can sound like a seal dying?

Where were you born? Denmark near Copenhagen

What’s your zodiac sign? Do you believe in it? Scorpion and no not at all

What are your hobbies? Drawing, writing and watching Netflix.

Do you have any pets? Yes, two Giant African land snails.

Do you have any siblings? A big brother, he is cool.

What do you want to be when you grow up? I have no idea??

How long have you known your best friend? About 3 years I think, she's great.

How did you meet your best friend and why did you become friends? We moved in together alongside some others, very hard to explain, but she kind of forced me to friends with her ( a good way) And now I love her.

Who was your first best friend? A girl called Kimbely, we aren't friends anymore though.

How tall are you? Around 5,3

Things about someone that you find attractive? I have a thing for hands. I like beards, long hair, broad shoulders and big chests I think. Not that picky but I kind of have found a theme in my crushes.

Would you like to meet any of your Tumblr friends in person? Yeah, sure one day.

What is the least favorite thing about yourself? I’m very insecure and tend to panic a lot, also I don’t stand up for myself.

Funniest moment throughout School? We once tied our teacher to a chair and pushed her out in the hallway. She was laughing with us.

How many countries have you visited? 8-9

What was your favorite/worst subject in High School? Loved English and Danish. Hated Math.

What is your Favorite drink? Animal? Perfume? Soda, Pepsi Max. Alcohol, cider. Animal, Owls or tigers. Perfume, I don't know.

What would you (or have you) name your children? I like Noah, Liam, Valter, Emma, Alma, and Mathilde.

What Sports do you play/Have you played? I have tried a ton but never stuck with any of them.

Who are some of your favorite YouTubers? The yogscast, Game Grumps, Cody Ko, Dodie and Jenna Marbles.

How many Girlfriends/Boyfriends have you had? Zero.

Why did one of your friendships end? Because she was a lying cunt.

Favorite memory from childhood? I have no idea.

A random memory from your childhood: Uh, I once broke a tooth because I faceplanted a log. I fell a lot as a kid.

What was the last dream you remember having? I dreamt that I was in Sweden with my family and Chris Evans for some reason and he kept asking me out, insisting that my eyes would be pretty on a Sunday or Monday, those were the only days he had time to take me out. We never got around to it before I woke up, but he was very interested so that was nice. And I got really annoyed because my internet wouldn't work and I wanted to text my friend to tell her that Evans asked me out.

How would you describe your fashion sense? Black and floral.

Name 5 facts about your appearance: Uh, plus size, short, tends to wear black, usually wears a bandana in a messy bun and I have glasses.

What phone do you have? (iOS v Android?) Android, Samsung.

Tell us one of your bad habits! I sometimes pick my nose? gross I know.

3 things that upset you? Not being understood, being ignored and being lied too.

3 things that make you happy? Being listened to properly, writing and spending time with animals.

How is your relationship with parents? Very close to my mom but not that close to my dad.

What’s on your mind? Way too many things.

What’s your talent? Do I have one? probably not.

What’s a band you’ve been obsessed with lately? Twenty one pilots, I love them and have for a few years.

One word that describes you? Awkward.

What're your favorite quotes? This too shall pass.

Any pets? I’ve got two Giant African land snails. Hence the blog name.

What is the farthest you’ve been from home? Egypt.

How do you start a conversation? I have no idea. I'm an awkward anxious bean.

Who do you miss right now? Sebastian Stan?? No, I don't know. Does my cat count? He was cute.

Are you an extrovert or an introvert? Introvert definitely.

Are you left or right handed? Right-handed

Do you consider yourself a good cook? I’m decent.

Does your name have a special meaning? Hardworking

If money were no object what would you get for your next birthday? Probably new bed sheets and clothing, maybe things for my apartment.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? London maybe.

Have you ever been admitted to a hospital? Why? Does a psychiatric ward count? I took an overdose. Tmi sorry.

What’s your favorite thing to have for breakfast? I like freshly baked bread.

What’s your favorite gadget? My laptop? It’s sick.

What’s your longest relationship so far? Haven’t been in one.

Post two selfies. Wow, rude. Uh okay.

Here is my face with one of my snails?

And just my face?

0 notes

3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 874

Social Enrichment

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“I’m never going anywhere in this country with the three of you again. One of you is bad enough. Three is impossible.”

“You’re just mad no one wants selfies with you.”

“No I’m mad that every time I pick up my fork, someone asks me to move so they can sit next to you for a picture.”

“The price you pay to sit next to Marco Reus.”

“You’re an insufferable cunt.”

“Whoa! Hey! You don’t talk like that! I’m actually insulted now, because you don’t use that word.”

André tried to explain to Marco that Game of Thrones had a serious effect on Christina’s cursing, and Christina tried to stuff too many pieces of penne in her mouth at one time. It was as if every other person in the Italian restaurant took turns asking her to either take a picture of them with the three Borussia Dortmund players or give up her seat to make taking a selfie with them easier ever since the bowl of pasta was placed in front of her. It was really good pasta too, so it was torture.

“I could have been home watching it right now. I’m supposed to be home watching it right now. You people infringed on my plans.”

“For clarification, when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with you two tonight, her response was- Hang on, I’ll read it to you right from the phone,” André told his friends. He picked up his iPhone and found the text conversation with his wife. She scowled disapprovingly while she chewed penne, pancetta, arugula, and tomato in creamy vodka sauce. “”Yes, yes, O-M-G yes!” And the second yes was all caps. Many exclamation points. And she picked the restaurant.”

“I did wonder why you would want to have Italian the night before you go to Italy,” Mario chimed in across the table from Marco. They were sharing a pizza. Christina wanted to tell him she wondered why he was eating pizza instead of some specialized diet for his mystery condition no one would tell her about, but she wasn’t that petty or crass.

“Italian food in Rome is not like Italian food outside of Italy,” she sighed. “And I thought it would be quick, and easy.”

“It is,” Marco nodded. “You’re complaining more than eating.” Christina threw a wadded up paper napkin at him. It bounced off the side of his face and hit hers. André laughed at her but he rubbed his ankle on her leg under the table too, to try to be consoling. He knew she wasn’t having a good time at dinner, and that she didn’t need to be there. He could see a true temper tantrum brewing and didn’t want to let it explode if he could do something to quash it. His girl was just plain cranky, and the PMS didn’t help, and the fans really were annoying, and Marco and Mario didn’t include her in the conversations or talk about things that would naturally draw her in. He thought they’d have a better time when his friends suggested grabbing a bite and hanging out. It was slightly relieving to see her take steps to calm her own impending tantrum after she glared at Marco for having the nerve to have a face that deflected balled up napkins. Rather than continuing the childish exchange of insults and gripes, she picked up her phone and her fork and focused on eating and social media browsing or texting. The guys went back to talking about who would and wouldn’t be fit for the Bundesliga match at the weekend. None of the three of them could play in the one on Wednesday. Marco was just beginning rehab, Mario was recovering from being smashed in the head by a rival defender and still had staples in his face, and André had only just returned to team training that day. Mario expected to be in the team at the weekend. André did not. Christina knew that already. They talked about other teammates battling fitness situations too, and she was interested in that, but didn’t bother trying to ask questions.

“Hi hello are you at the match or watching from home?” she asked Juan instead, who was not in the Chelsea team for the Blues’ league cup clash happening during her dinner. They talked that morning while she was changing for the barn, and he told her he wasn’t playing, which was one of the reasons she was eager to make the dinner plans with the more local players. After that, Christina was too busy for Juan. That was why she didn’t know if she went to the game or not. Every other day, she knew what his evening plans were. She knew what his everything plans were, more or less. They weren’t talking less, as André thought. They were talking less in front of him, and not for any particular reason. His improving fitness meant he was at Brackel longer each day, and the rider was back to full-time training with all of her horses except Dirk, so she was at the barn longer each day. She preserved her time with him as time with him, not time with him and her phone and her friends on it.

“At SB. It’s a nice game :)” the Spaniard told her. She knew from Twitter that his team was demolishing their lower league opponents.

“Can I post your baby blue bikini pic on IG?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn a baby blue bikini.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

She wanted to post the photo he took of her on the boat, looking tan, and sexy, with green juice to drink and ice wrapped to her ankle and a book for entertainment, in juxtaposition to a picture of her pasta and Coke. Her caption would be “Horse show week before Olympics vs. horse show week after Olympics”. Christina was an expert at social media posts that looked self-deprecating on their face but were actually kind of braggy. Making fun of the not-so-good difference in preparation for competition before the Games and after was also a chance to show off how amazing she looked in that bikini, and how cool she must be to have someone around who could take such a stunning photo of her. Her skin was inhumanly metallic, and the lighting looked like a professional setup. The composition was just really appealing. It wasn’t like just anybody walked up behind her and snapped a photo with their iPhone. Even the juice looked amazing, and the whole thing told a story about who she was. She really liked the story.

“Have you ever worn a bikini in another color?” she asked the photographer after making her post.

“No. 1 piece is more flattering for my figure.”

“I think you could pull it off. How did you look that time you accidentally wore my underwear?”

“Gay porn star.”

“How would you know?”

“Shhhhhhhhh cariña.”

“What are you laughing at?” André asked.

“Juan.”

“He’s not playing?”

“Rested. Can I have a piece of your bread since you’re not gonna eat it?” Christina put her phone down and flashed a pleasant smile across to her partner. She wanted his garlic bread, first and foremost, and to make sure she was nice to him so that she could have her way later. She wanted that bath with him.

“When are you and me hanging out?” Marco asked her while André passed his uneaten bread.

“What do you mean?” The rider took a big bite and then furrowed her brows at the ginger haired forward beside her, who was looking at his pizza and not her brows, or the crumbs on her face for that matter.

“Schü says you want to hang out.”

“You’re not supposed to tell her I said that,” his friend chided. “She’s supposed to think you want to hang out with her.”

“I do want to hang out with her...” Marco held one hand out questioningly and mirrored the gesture with the slice of pizza in the other, which resulted in prosciutto and melon sliding off said slice of pizza onto the table.

“You guys know I’m sitting right here, right?” They always talk like I can’t hear them!

“He thinks you’re desperate for some Marco and Chris time but for some reason you’re too chicken to say so. I think he’s dumb,” Marco explained. He used a fork to rescue the food, and André just frowned at him.

“What happens during Marco and Chris time?” Mario interjected. “That’s not like Juan Mata and Chris time is it?” Everyone at the table turned toward him to glare at some level on the scale from questioning judgement to furiousness. “Don’t hit me. I already have staples in my face.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Marco remarked more than asked, head shaking ruefully.

“I meant...he’s like her bitch. He follows her around at the horse events, and goes as her date to annoying parties, and takes pictures for her- all that shit- and then he doesn’t get anything for it. I wasn’t talking about that summer...”

“Wait, what pictures?” Christina’s glare, at the furious end of the scale, slowly morphed more into perturbed curiosity. Mario picked up his mobile.

“You just posted one on Insta, didn’t you?”

“How do you know he took it?”

“Neither of you posted anything from your holiday.” He gestured back and forth between her and her husband. Oh. Well...I mean...That’s true. It’s weird that he noticed though, isn’t it?

“You spend too much time on social media,” Marco commented for all of them. André reached for his own device to see what they were talking about. “Every minute you aren’t training, you’re doing something on that phone.”

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say about me and Juan, but no, I don’t think “Marco and Chris time” would be like that. I don’t even know what “Marco and Chris time” is.” The rider took a long sip from her straw and let her eyes move from player to player. They all looked uncomfortable and confused. Marco was the first to take command of the awkwardness. He turned to frown at her like he was really disappointed.

“Woman, please,” he scoffed dramatically. “You know full well. Marco and Chris time is when we avoid being seen together and I make you eat food you don’t like while we talk about other people.”

“Okay...?” Christina pretended she was still clueless, but what he was saying did ring some bells. She knew by “other people” he meant they talked about Jill, mostly. She also remembered Marco and Chris time occasionally including a lot of brown liquor, or friendly cuddling and napping. What she didn’t know was how her husband evidently knew she missed hanging with his friend one-on-one, and thinking about that helped her realize why they were having that dinner. She also missed hanging out with all of them together. It was their first summer without a shared holiday in a long time. It was their first summer without sharing a bed to watch TV and be bums, without going shopping with them and picking out goofy clothes for them to try or rejecting their terrible selections, without partying and dancing, without playing in a pool or the ocean, and without feeling like Mario and Marco were her friend-family too, not just André’s. Husband and wife discussed how hanging with them wasn’t the same when they went to dinner with a bunch of guys from the team, and their partners, as part of conversations about Christina’s lack of local friends in Dortmund. Husband was discreetly trying to rectify that situation. Wife looked at him across their pasta bowls and smiled a little as she put it all together. Marco certainly blew his cover, but she still really appreciated that he listened to her say she was going to be home a lot and then tried to stimulate some friendships that might help her enjoy that time in Dortmund.

“So when you get back from Italy we’re gonna hang out. You let me drive the Ferrari, I take you to sushi, and then we can do something you like. Like, letting me pick out stilettos for you that you otherwise wouldn’t consider.”

“That just sounds like me doing a bunch of stuff I don’t want to do,” she chuckled at the midfielder to her right. “No way are you driving the Ferrari.”

“Fine, but we’re getting sushi and you’re getting primo shoes.”

“I like sushi. I like shoes.” Mario looked at his teammate like he was mildly offended at being left out.

“I’ll take you out for sushi and shoes another time, babe,” Marco winked.

“I don’t want to go with you. I want to go with her.”

“You and I should get mani/pedi’s together and have a coffee date,” Christina offered the other player, fully aware that they were both just pretending to vie for her company because André’ had a rough time lately with his injuries and his relationship and they’d be doing him a solid by making her feel like a valued member of the clique. They made tentative plans for their separate “dates”, and when it was all settled and the guys went back to talking about dressing room things, she mouthed a thank you at her regular date. He winked back, and his beautiful deep blues squinted a bit because they were filling with pride and satisfaction with himself for doing a good thing without even having to be guided or prodded to it, and that made him want to grin. He could stop his mouth from doing it, but not his eyes. Getting credit for the friend-dates was nice, but he didn’t want it, and he apologized later on for Marco being so obvious.

“He wasn’t supposed to make it all awkward,” he explained in the bathtub, Christina in his lap and lavender and sandalwood in his nose. She put a blue robot in the water that turned into cappuccino-like foam. The robot, she promised, was full of “good stuff for sleepy time”. It smelled nice, and she felt nice in his lap too, so the blue bath was okay by him.

“I appreciate it either way,” she shrugged against his chest.

“Are we in the tub because your ovaries and breasts hurt and you didn’t want to be bored by yourself, or-“

“I just wanted to soak with you. We haven’t in a while.”

“I was going to say, or because you want an excuse not to have sex after. “We just got clean!” or-“

“Has it never occurred to you that I might want to get clean expressly for the purpose of having sex?”

“No. Not unless you’re gonna ask me to lick your ass-“

“I’m not. But we are making love after this.”

“Making love, ay?”

“Mhm. Get your finger out of my belly button.”

André left her belly button alone and picked up the sponge floating on the foamy surface instead. He wrung it out a bit and then slowly moved it around his girl’s chest- across her sternum, between her breasts, under each one, and in lazy circles around her nipples while he gently roamed around her stomach with his palm cupped as if he were going to scratch at her. He liked the feel of her tummy, and the view of her wet chest. The water only made it a few inches shy of her armpits because she was sitting on the elevated bump designed specifically for their current position. His moving the sponge around made waves spill up higher and leave glistening wetness on her breasts on the retreat. Christina insisted on candles instead of any of the overhead lights, and their little flames emphasized the gleam of the water. She was kneading his thighs a little with her hands, and rubbing one of his ankles with her big toe. It took a really long time to fill the excessively wide tub, but the comfort of the many different soaking positions it afforded was entirely worth the wait.

“I’m kind of nervous about the horse show.”

“You’re joking,” the player laughed at the little voice from the little girl relaxing on him.

“I’m serious. What if everyone is weird to you after you don’t win a medal you should have won, or weird to you for securing a team medal over some people who probably should have won? What if everyone is fake and adoring?”

“Don’t be silly,” he told her, abandoning the sponge to put his arm around her head and comb her hair back. He knew she didn’t want the blue foam in her hair but it was wet anyway because she washed it in the shower while the tub was filling. “Some people- not the riders or trainers, I’m sure- will probably want to be your friend now, or use you however they can. No one else is going to be any different. They all respect you. If anything, they’ll respect you more now for the 5 clear rounds. I still think the rules are stupid,” André grumbled. “You jumped clear. The other guy had faults!”

“That’s not how it works,” Christina reminded needlessly, with a small smile.

“Whatever. You’ll be fine.” She’s just looking for drama. It’s like she’s incapable of going into an event without any. One day she’s going to have to learn to just chill again, her bath buddy sighed to himself. Of all the times to be nervous about a competition, how could she possibly choose now? It’s just a Tour thing, she’s already qualified for the final, and she’s sworn a million times that she doesn’t care to defend her title. She just won two Olympic medals. One of them was a gold! How could she possibly be nervous?

“I’m not worried that I won’t be fine. I’m nervous about how people will react to me. It’s different,” she sighed aloud. “I don’t want people to be weird.”

“I think you’re manufacturing the prospect of a problem, Prinzessin. You’re not going to have time to be around the horse people anyway. You’re going with a toddler and a baby, some new parents, some grandparents, dogs, a student and a boyfriend...”

“Okay.”

“I love it when you give up and say “okay” like that,” André growl-whispered in her ear. The gesture produced uncontrollable cackling, and numerous declarations about how lame and cheesy he could be. He didn’t care. “I do! I love when you have an issue and you tell me about it, first of all, and then I love when you let me actually talk you out of it, and accept what I say about it. It’s rare!”

“You’re rare.”

“Shine bright like a diamond.”

“Stop it,” his girl snorted. “And are diamonds even rare anymore?”

“I suppose not. But to be real- I do love when you let me help you with something,” he told her very sincerely. He used that hand around the top of her head to bring it closer for a smooch on her temple with the side of his mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Christina mumbled back as she wriggled around some to give her butt a break from sitting on hard porcelain. Her partner offered his thighs as an alternative, and then lifted her by the armpits when she accepted. It made her giggle, and brought her face much closer to his when he set her down. He kissed her cheek until she turned her head to get one on the lips instead. “Love you,” she repeated as those lips curled up in a small grin. André’s hands were already back on more comforting parts of her body, and she did some more wriggling and wiggling to get at least a little lower again. It was warmer in the water and she didn’t want so much of herself sticking up out of it- plus André’s chest was a good pillow for the back of her head and the tub wasn’t.

“You’re lucky you’re so small, pretty girl,” he yawned. “Whenever Mausi climbs around on me I start to feel anxious that he’ll be too big for it one day.”

“And then you remember his mom is a midget.”

“I still don’t get how he fit in here.” The BVB man spread both palms flat on his girl’s belly for a second, as if to assess the dimensions of it. They split to travel to the widest part of her hips, squeezed, and then followed the tops of her thighs downward, between her legs. Her right foot was flat on his calf, so that knee was bent and flopped over to the side to rest on the tub. There was plenty of room to feel around in the place he was interested in. He felt something wonderful. “Ugh, wet pussy lips are so amazing. It’s like...I can’t even describe. Like dumpling noodles, but better.”

“Ew. Boyfriend.” Christina cringed and pulled a disbelieving face he couldn’t see even if his eyes hadn’t been shut to help enjoy the sensation around his fingertips. So soft, and delicate, and pliable. Being underwater makes the outside part feel like the inside does after she cums. I could pet and play with her like this all night, he sighed happily inside while fingertip-deep inside her. His middle finger enjoyed in there while his pointer and ring fingers touched outside, which was equally soft and pleasant, and hairless. Christina used her new blade sharpening knowledge to revitalize her own electric razor too.

“Have I ever licked your pussy underwater?”

“No. And stop saying the P-word. I hate that word.”

“I kind of want to. But I’m not sure how it would work,” André thought aloud. “I would get a mouth full of water, obviously.”

“You are so special sometimes.”

“How much of your bath time when I’m not here is touching yourself? If I had your vagina, I would submerge it in water and touch it for an hour a day, minimum. God...baby. I want...” His thought went unfinished, but he tilted his head to kiss-suck at her jaw, and cupped his left hand around her right breast to lift and squeeze it a little. His totally unfiltered expressions of desire made his wife smirk. She found it cute, not sexy. But his touch was closer to sexy.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying very hard not to sound as knowing as she felt. The footballer used an arm across her waist to heave her whole body abruptly upward, where he could kiss her neck.

“I want my baby.” He held her tight to his chest and pulled as much of her skin between his lips as he could. His then favorite of her features remained just underwater, and his fingers remained just inside and outside there. The whole thing made for a strange dichotomy for Christina, who didn’t really like being held up by her chest and awkwardly squished, but did like her partner’s thin lips devouring her neck. Half of her was very cold being forced up out of the nice warm water, and half of her was still getting hotter.

“You may have her if you stop crushing her ribcage,” she giggled, much to his delight. He loved her giggles. He loved her happiness when it was authentic, spontaneous, and unburdened. He loved being the catalyst for it most of all. It made him want her even more. He continued holding her up with his arm right under her chest, and used the other one and all of his core strength to lift them both out of the water. André managed to get to his feet without dropping her or slipping in the tub. He stepped out of it very carefully, set Christina down just long enough for her to turn around, picked her up again with one arm at her back and a firm hold at the back of her thigh, and promptly laid her right down on the big black bathmat between the glass shower and the long vanity. It wasn’t much more comfortable than just being on the tile floor, and his knees told him so when he set himself down on top of her, but comfort was not a priority. Kissing the goosebump-covered, wet, warm, giggling girl was the most urgent concern.

He started it almost carefully because he was distracted by her face. His lips lowered toward hers and then his eyes found hers. They were so happy- delighted even. The darkness of the bathroom made her pupils swell to compensate, leaving thin grayish-blue rings to express her energy. Christina didn’t say anything, but her eyes said “my favorite thing”. Her partner recognized it. It was almost like looking at Lukas when he successfully built a block tower larger than his last one. Both looks were pure joy. He knew she wasn’t turned on the way he was. She was thrilled because of how turned on he was. His attraction and thirst did that to her. Her expression also told him there was truly nothing she’d rather be doing, and that was a rarity of late. It almost always seemed as if even when she was having a good time and enjoying something, some part of her wished she could be elsewhere, doing a different thing, with someone else. So it took a few seconds for his enthusiasm for kissing to catch back up to his lips, and it came with a sloppy exhale through his nose, and a hand in Christina’s hair.

“You make me so happy, baby,” he muttered after making sure he covered every bit of her lips with both of his, twice. It was her silk pussy that got me, but her reaction is so much more important, he thought to himself while she lifted her head just off the carpet to push little kisses on his closed lips. I don’t make anybody in the world happy the way I make her happy. She’s the only one. I’m here just for her and she’s here just for me. I know it. I know it.

“Make love to me,” the rider whispered in her most deliberately seductive but submissive voice. She didn’t want to be demanding. She knew he liked to hear her ask for what she wanted but still maintain some semblance of her usual prudish innocence. She knew it made him hard, and hungry, to know that she wanted or needed something from him enough to ask for it instead of suggest it with behavior or wait for it, and for her to be serious about it instead of casual. Christina was pretty good at conjuring that tone even when she didn’t necessarily feel entirely in line with its connotation. Sometimes she employed it to make him happy, and sometimes it just came out naturally. It was the former situation on the bathroom floor, but she wanted it to be natural, and she was eager to see if the bathroom floor was going to be the place where they finally had that meaningful kind of sex she longed for- the kind she believed she only had with Juan then.

“What else did you think I was going to do?” André whispered back, smiling. He smooched her on the mouth again instead of giving her a chance to respond, and he dropped his lower body down to push against her. His hips moved up and down over hers a few times- slowly, and a touch labored, as if he were doing pull ups and just happened to be dragging himself against her the whole time. It was just too difficult to remain still while he cradled her head and kept kissing. Eventually it was Christina who clamped her hands on his butt cheeks and forced him to stop. She wanted the player to move just like that, actually, but with part of him inside of her instead of caught between their bodies. André was aware of that, and he lifted up enough and reached down between them to fix that, and she readied herself to find out if they could still have the “I just want to love you” sex she was both having and fantasizing about regularly with her best friend.

0 notes