#That is fine... it at least expresses the idea I have.
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illbegottenfaith · 14 hours ago
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kiss me better, love
as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)
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a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK
tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc
word count - 1.5k
taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns
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The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.
"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”
“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.
“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”
Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.
“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"
"Hair."
You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.
"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."
"Mhm."
You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.
“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"
“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?
You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”
Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"
“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"
"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.
"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."
Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.
You pause.
“…what was that?”
Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”
You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.
“Theo.”
“I’m fine.”
Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.
“…no.”
Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”
“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”
“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”
“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”
“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”
Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”
“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"
Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”
“You don’t think before you do things.”
Theo groans. “I think plenty.”
“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”
“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”
“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”
Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”
“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”
"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "
"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”
“And you are reckless.”
“I don't need you to lecture me.”
“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”
A brief struggle ensues.
You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.
“For fuck’s sake -”
“Stop being so difficult.”
“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”
“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”
“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."
“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”
“Enough with the rushing!”
“I can't help it if you never learn - ”
“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.
There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.
“Oi - ”
“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”
“You stop grabbing- ”
“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”
“I am n- ”
“Then give me your hand.”
A long, heavy pause. Then -
“No.”
You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”
“And you are relentless - ”
But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.
“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”
Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”
“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”
He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”
“I told you to be careful - ”
“And I was - ”
“Clearly not enough!”
Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”
You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”
He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.
He stills.
The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.
You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.
His eyes flick to yours.
And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.
“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.
Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.
Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.
Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.
“You like this,” you tease.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.
You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.
Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.
You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”
Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."
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iamquiantrelle · 1 day ago
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THURAM'S NO. 1 ANGEL (chapter 1) ────iamquaintrelle
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# pairing: marcus thuram x black oc (☔️✨💕)
# wc: 4.5k
# tags: @irishmanwhore @sucredreamer @coffeevacation @hopefulromantic1 @jessnotwiththemess
# summary: shanice carter-ricci didn't expect to become part-owner of inter milan at forty, but here she is - fresh off a divorce from her italian ex and ready to shake up serie a. she's got plans to bring some much-needed diversity and fresh energy to those stuffy executive boxes. what she doesn't plan on? getting tangled up with marcus thuram, the team's star striker who's fourteen years younger and infamous for his rotation of gorgeous girlfriends known as "thuram's angels." soon shanice is finding out that age ain't nothing but a number… and maybe it's time for this angel investor to shake up thuram's roster. masterlist.
# a/n: this will be a mini fic series with thirteen parts unless there's no engagement.
Shanice pulled her Hermes scarf tighter as she walked through the VIP entrance of San Siro. Even after six months, it still felt weird being part owner of Inter Milan. Like, how did her ex-husband's obsession become her fresh start at forty? The divorce from Alessandro had at least given her this, along with keeping her sanity intact.
The players' tunnel was empty and quiet since practice ended hours ago. As the new VP of Community Relations, she told herself she needed to know every inch of her investment. But honestly? She just loved how the place felt when no one was around.
That's when she heard it - deep laughter and rapid French echoing off the walls. Before she could place where it was coming from, she literally walked right into what felt like a wall of muscle in Inter training gear.
"Shit, I'm sorry!" Marcus Thuram's face broke into that infamous grin of his as his hands steadied her shoulders. Behind him, three gorgeous women watched the scene unfold, all gorgeous in that Instagram-ready way. So these were the famous "Angels" everyone gossiped about.
"Mrs. Ricci," he said, recognition lighting his eyes. "I didn't expect to meet our new owner like this." His English was good, touched with just enough French to be straight up dangerous.
"Just Shanice now," she corrected him. "The divorce was finalized in June." Why the hell did she share that? There was just something about his open, playful expression that made you want to spill your whole life story.
"Ah, fresh starts," he nodded sagely, though his eyes danced with mischief. "I'm somewhat of an expert in those. New club, new city…" He gestured at the women behind him. "New friends."
One of the Angels - this tall drink of water with honey-blonde weave - cleared her throat like she was tired of waiting.
"Speaking of friends," Marcus said with an apologetic grin, "we have dinner reservations. But maybe we could discuss community outreach programs sometime? I have some ideas."
Shanice found herself nodding before she could stop herself. This man's charm should be illegal for real. "My office is always open to players."
"Good!" He was already backing away, the Angels falling into formation around him like they'd rehearsed it. "Though fair warning - I might try to convince you to sponsor a sneaker design competition for local kids."
She watched him disappear down the corridor, her daughters' voices already playing in her head. Thirteen-year-old Dream would absolutely lose it if she knew mom had just met her favorite player. And nine-year-old Heaven would've been all over his shoes, trying to figure out if they were some limited drop.
Pulling out her phone, Shanice added "look into sneaker comps?" to her notes. She tried to ignore how her skin was still buzzing where his hands had been.
She had way too much on her plate to be thinking about a fine as hell 27-year-old footballer with a rotating cast of girlfriends. Even if his smile could probably power all of Milan.
Shaking her head, Shanice continued down the tunnel, her heels clicking against the concrete. Football had always been Alessandro's thing, not hers. Every weekend for years, he'd take Dream and Heaven to the matches while she built her empire hosting events and securing those luxury brand deals. Not that she minded - somebody had to be the practical one, the hustler making things happen while he played football owner with his rich friends.
But now? Now she owned a piece of one of the biggest clubs in Europe. The irony wasn't lost on her. She might not know every player's stats like Dream did, or care about formation tactics like Alessandro had, but she knew business. She knew how to make things grow. And honestly? Serie A could use some diversity in the owner's boxes - not just on the pitch.
"Time to make some noise," she muttered to herself, running her hand along the tunnel wall. Dream had screamed for ten minutes straight when Shanice told her about the divorce settlement. Not because of the divorce - they'd all seen that coming - but because her mom now owned part of her favorite team. Heaven had just rolled her eyes in that way only a nine-year-old could and asked if this meant she could players’ shoe collections.
Back in her modeling days, Shanice never imagined she'd end up here. But that hustle had never left her blood, even after she'd transitioned from walking runways to running events. Her network was crazy - fashion houses, celebrities, influencers, business moguls - all on speed dial because they knew she could make magic happen. Alessandro might've laughed at her "little parties" at first, but he shut up real quick when her connections started bringing serious money and clout to his business ventures.
She pulled out her phone again, scrolling through her contacts. Maybe it was time to bring that same energy to Inter. These stuffy old Italian football clubs needed to wake up and realize the game was changing. Social media, fashion collabs, global branding - that's where the real money was. And with her connections? She could open doors these men in their expensive suits hadn't even thought to look for.
The image of Marcus Thuram's smile flashed through her mind again. She had to admit - at least the view at work was going to be nice. Real nice. Even if he was young enough to make her feel like a whole cougar for even thinking about it.
Her phone lit up with a message from Dream: "MOMMM did you see any players today? 👀"
Shanice grinned, deciding to torture her daughter a little. "Maybe. Just walked around the tunnel a bit."
"OMG WHO???"
"Nobody special. Just some tall guy. French, I think? Had a few girlfriends with him..."
"MARCUS?!?! YOU MET MARCUS THURAM AND YOU'RE JUST NOW TELLING ME?! I'm literally dying. Did he do the smile? You know the one. Heaven says you better have checked his shoes!"
Shanice laughed out loud in the empty tunnel. Trust her kids to have their priorities straight - Dream thirsting over that smile and Heaven focused on the sneaker game. Like mother, like daughters - she hadn't missed those Jordan 1s he was wearing either.
"You're supposed to be doing homework," she texted back. "And yes, he smiled. No, I didn't catalog his shoe collection. I was kind of busy being professional."
The string of crying emojis that followed made her shake her head. She'd created a monster when she agreed to let Alessandro take Dream to that Inter Milan match three years ago. Now her daughter's room looked like a shrine to them - posters, jerseys, the works. Heaven wasn't much better, except her wall was covered in pictures of players' rare sneaker collections that she'd printed out.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was her assistant reminding her about tomorrow's marketing meeting. Right. Back to reality. She had actual work to do, strategies to plan, a whole department to run. She couldn't be out here acting like her teenage daughter, getting flustered over a pretty smile and some designer kicks.
Even if that smile did make her forget she was supposed to be a whole grown woman with responsibilities.
"At least tell me if the Angels were as pretty in person as they look on Instagram!" Dream's next text popped up.
Shanice rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Dream. Do your homework."
But as she headed toward her office, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how one got an invitation to join Thuram's Angels. Not that she was interested. At all.
She was way too old for that drama.
Probably.
*********************************************
Shanice's office was her sanctuary in the chaos of training days. Up here in the executive level, she could see the players running drills on the practice field below. Not that watching was doing her any good right now - she'd been staring at the same sponsorship proposal for twenty minutes straight.
Her phone buzzed. Dream again, probably spamming her with more TikToks of Marcus's training highlights. Her teenager had been insufferable since finding out mom was technically her idol's boss. Heaven was slightly more chill about it, but only because she was more interested in his sneaker collection than his football skills.
But it wasn't Dream. It was an Inter Milan internal number.
Marcus? Why is he calling her?
"Shouldn't you be training right now?" Shanice answered, trying to keep her voice professional despite the smile tugging at her lips.
"Water break," Marcus's voice was warm through the speaker. "And I hear you have an excellent coffee machine in your office. Much better than the one in players' lounge."
"Are you really trying to schmooze the boss for better coffee when you should be hydrating?"
"I would never," he gasped in mock offense. "I'm trying to schmooze the boss for both better coffee AND funding for my sneaker competition. I'm an excellent multitasker."
She shouldn't find that as funny as she did. "Fine. After training tomorrow? And yes, the coffee is excellent."
"Perfect. I'll bring my presentation. You bring your coffee machine's A-game."
"Get back to practice," she said, but she was grinning like a fool.
"Yes, boss," he chuckled before hanging up.
Shanice leaned back in her chair, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. This was business. Just business. Even if his voice did things to her that should be classified as a cardiac event.
Her phone buzzed again - Dream for real this time. "Mom mom mom did you see Marcus's new training pics? His fit is actually insane!"
Shanice glanced down at the practice field, where she could just make out number 9 jogging back to rejoin his teammates.
Just. Business.
The rest of her day was a blur of meetings and calls - sponsorship negotiations, community program reviews, endless emails about jersey designs. She was good at this part. Numbers, strategies, making shit happen - that's what got her here, not knowing the difference between a free kick and a corner kick.
On her way out, she nearly ran into Simone Inzaghi, Inter's manager. He'd been trying to get her to actually watch a match from the owner's box instead of just handling the business side.
"Shanice! This Saturday, yes? You'll come?" His English was getting better, but his hopeful expression did most of the talking.
She adjusted her Birkin on her shoulder. "Still not a football fan, coach."
"I will change this," he declared, shaking his head with a laugh. "I will beg if needed."
"We'll see," she smiled, already knowing she wouldn't. She had enough football talk from her daughters - she didn't need to add live matches to the mix.
The drive home to her Lake Como villa was usually her decompression time. Twenty minutes of pure luxury car silence, winding along the lakeside, watching the sun set behind the mountains. But today, that peace was shattered by the sight of a familiar Maserati in her driveway.
"What the fuck, Alex?" she muttered, pulling her Porsche in beside it. They had a custody arrangement for a reason. Wednesday wasn't his day.
Sure enough, when she walked in, Alessandro was in her kitchen like he still owned the place, stirring something that smelled suspiciously good while Heaven played sous chef. Dream was sprawled on the kitchen island bench, scrolling through her phone like this was just another regular Wednesday night.
"Ooh! Mama's home!" Heaven squealed, abandoning her post to launch herself at Shanice.
She caught her baby girl, hugging and kissing her while pinning her ex with a look that could freeze the whole lake. "Alex, a moment please."
Alessandro had the nerve to look completely unbothered as he handed Heaven the wooden spoon. "Keep stirring the sauce, tesoro."
Shanice led him to her home office, shutting the door with maybe a little more force than necessary. The room was her space - all clean lines and modern art, not a single piece of football memorabilia in sight. Unlike the rest of the house, which had slowly been taken over by Dream's Inter Milan shrine.
"What are you doing here, Alex? It's not your day."
He leaned against her desk like he used to do when this was their house, not just hers. Still fine as hell in that tailored suit, still wearing that Rolex she'd given him for their tenth anniversary. Still irritating as fuck.
"The girls called. Said they missed my cooking." His accent got thicker when he was trying to charm his way out of trouble. "You know how Heaven loves my pasta alla vodka."
"They have phones. You have a phone. A heads up would've been nice."
"Ah, but then you might have said no." He flashed that smile that used to make her weak in the knees. Now it just made her want to throw something at him. "Besides, I heard through the grapevine that you met our new striker today. Thought you might want to... compare notes."
Shanice's eyes narrowed. "You're here because of Marcus Thuram?"
"I'm here because of pasta," he corrected, but his eyes were laughing at her. "But since you brought him up..."
"Don't start, Alex." She moved behind her desk, putting some space between them. "I had one conversation with him about community programs. That's it."
"Mhmm. And tomorrow you have coffee." He examined his nails like this was casual conversation. "In your office. Alone."
"How do you even-" She stopped herself. Of course he knew. Half the board was probably still loyal to him. "It's a business meeting."
"With the guy Dream has plastered all over her walls?" His smile turned knowing. "The one with the harem of models?"
"The Angels," she corrected automatically, then wanted to kick herself.
"Ah, so you know about that." He pushed off the desk, moving closer. "Listen, tesoro-"
"Don't 'tesoro' me. We're not married anymore."
"Fine. Listen, Shanice." He held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes were still dancing with amusement. "I just want you to be careful. Marcus is... how do you Americans say it? A player. On and off the field."
She felt her temper rising. "Are you seriously in my house, uninvited, trying to warn me about a man like I'm some teenage girl? I'm forty, Alex. I own half your shares in Inter. I think I can handle a meeting with a footballer."
"Of course you can," he said smoothly. "You can handle everything. Always could. Just..." He paused at the door. "Maybe wear something less..." He gestured vaguely at her outfit.
"Get the fuck out of my office."
"Mama!" Heaven's voice saved Alex from whatever Shanice was about to throw at him. "The sauce is bubbling!"
"We're not done," Shanice warned him as she brushed past.
His low chuckle followed her down the hall. "We never are, bella. We never are."
In the kitchen, Dream had finally looked up from her phone. "Did you really talk to Marcus again today?" Of course, that's what got her attention.
"She did," Alex answered before Shanice could, stirring the sauce Heaven had abandoned. "And she's having coffee with him tomorrow."
The shriek Dream let out could probably be heard all the way in Milan. "OH MY GOD MOM! You have to tell me everything! What was he wearing? Did you see his sneakers? Was he nice? Were the Angels there? Is he even hotter in person? Can you get me his autograph? Or better yet, can you–"
"Dream." Shanice cut off the stream of questions. "Homework. Now."
"But Mom-"
"Now."
Heaven giggled at her sister's dramatic sigh. "I just want to know if his shoes were limited edition."
"Both of you, homework. Alex-" She turned to her ex, who was now plating pasta like he belonged there. "Next time, call first."
"Of course," he said with that infuriating smile. "I wouldn't want to interrupt any... business meetings."
Shanice decided right then that she was absolutely wearing her tightest dress tomorrow. And those Louboutins that made her legs look like they went on for days.
Purely for business reasons, of course.
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Shanice stood in front of her closet the next morning, eyeing her options like she was planning a battle strategy. And maybe she was. That Roland Mouret dress had been collecting dust since Milan Fashion Week - the black one that hugged every curve like it was painted on, with that strategic slit that made her legs look endless. Perfect for making a point to her ex-husband about exactly what she could and couldn't handle.
"That's the one," she muttered, pulling it out. The fabric alone probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, but that's what you got for twenty years of fashion industry connections. She paired it with those red-bottom stilettos that had their own insurance policy - six inches of "fuck you" to anyone who thought forty meant invisible.
Her reflection in the full-length mirror had her feeling satisfied. The dress did everything it was supposed to do - snatched her waist, highlighted those gym sessions she'd been religious about since the divorce, and made her ass look like it was advertising something exclusive. Her hair were swept up in a French roll showing off the diamond earrings Alex had gotten her for their fifteenth anniversary. Petty? Maybe. But she wore divorce well.
"Damn, Mom!" Dream's voice made her turn. Her daughter was standing in the doorway, already in her school uniform. "Is this what you're wearing to meet Marcus?"
"This is what I'm wearing to work," Shanice corrected, but she couldn't help smiling at Dream's knowing look. "Don't you have a bus to catch?"
"Can't you just admit you're trying to get his attention? I mean, I've seen the Angels, but they don't have anything on you in that dress."
"Everything’s packed?"
Dream rolled her eyes. "Yes, but-"
"Bus. Now."
But as she walked into Inter's offices two hours later, the click of her Louboutins echoing off marble floors, Shanice had to admit her daughter might have had a point. This wasn't just a work outfit. This was a statement.
She just wasn't sure who she was making it to.
Maria's eyes went wide when she walked in. "Ms. Carter, the coffee machine is ready and-" she paused, taking in the outfit "-Mr. Thuram called to confirm he'll be here after morning training."
"Perfect." Shanice tried to ignore the little flutter in her stomach at his name. "Any other messages?"
"Mr. Ricci called." Maria's expression was carefully neutral. "Twice."
Of course he did. "Any actual emergencies?"
"He said something about wanting to make sure you got his advice about appropriate business attire."
Shanice's laugh was sharp. "I bet he did." She strode into her office, the dress moving exactly like it was designed to. "Hold my calls unless it's about the sponsorship deal. Or Mr. Thuram," she added, because Maria would assume anyway.
Her office was ready - coffee machine prepped with those specialty beans, a view of the practice field below (not that she was looking), and enough actual work on her desk to remind herself why she was really here.
But when she caught her reflection in the window, all dangerous curves and boss energy, she had to smile. Alex always did hate it when she dressed like this for business meetings. Said it was distracting.
That was kind of the point.
The sound of cleats on marble made her pause in reviewing contracts. He was early. She could hear Maria's professional greeting, followed by that deep laugh that somehow managed to sound like trouble even through walls.
Shanice stood, smoothing down her dress.
Game time.
Marcus didn't even try to hide how his eyes traveled up from those Louboutins when Maria showed him in. She caught his muttered "good damn" before he switched to that media-ready smile.
"What was that?" She arched an eyebrow.
"Nothing," he recovered smoothly, but his eyes were still taking in the dress like he was memorizing it. "Thanks for making time for me."
"Coffee?" She gestured to the machine, using the moment of turning away to hide her smile. That reaction had been worth every euro of this dress.
"Please." He settled into one of her visitor chairs like he owned it, all long legs and easy confidence.
"Should we be expecting any other visitors today?"
The question was casual, but he caught the underlying meaning. She'd seen the Angels in their usual spot during morning training.
"Just us," he replied, grabbing the cup from her.
"Your... friends are otherwise occupied?"
His chuckle was low and knowing. "They're... back at home." The way he said it made it clear 'home' was a loose concept.
Shanice pushed away thoughts about how weird it must be to just be cool with being one of many in a rotation. Not her business. Not her place to judge anybody's sex life, especially not when she had actual business to discuss.
"So," she sat behind her desk, crossing those Louboutin-clad legs deliberately. "Tell me about this sneaker competition for local kids."
Marcus set down his coffee and pulled out an iPad. But instead of launching into some formal presentation, he leaned forward with that infectious enthusiasm she was starting to realize wasn't just for show.
"Look, these kids in the local neighborhoods, they've got crazy talent. Not just for football - for design, for art. But nobody's giving them a platform." His French accent got thicker when he was excited, she noticed. "I want to do something that combines both. Get them designing custom football boots, have them pitch their ideas like it's Shark Tank or something."
"And the winners?"
"We produce their design. Limited edition. Split the profits with them and their schools." He grinned. "Plus they get to see a professional wear their creation in a match."
She had to admit, it was good. Combine Inter's community outreach with actual entrepreneurship opportunities, get some good PR, maybe even discover the next big thing in design...
"My daughter Heaven would lose her mind over this," she said without thinking.
His eyes lit up. "The sneakerhead? Dream mentioned her yesterday."
Shanice blinked. "When did you talk to Dream?"
"Instagram. She slid in my DMs like 'my mom's gonna be your boss now so we're basically family.'" He laughed at Shanice's mortified expression. "Don't worry, I kept it professional. Told her to focus on school and that her mom seems cool."
"Seems?"
"Well," he stood, and somehow the office felt smaller with him up. "That was before I saw you in this dress. Now I'm thinking 'cool' might be an understatement."
He was at the door before she could process that. "Think about the proposal? The kids would really appreciate it."
Shanice managed a nod, proud that her voice stayed steady. "I'll review the numbers."
"Looking forward to your decision." That smile again, the one that probably got him everything he wanted. "Boss."
The door clicked shut behind him. Shanice let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
So much for keeping it professional.
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Saturday came too fast. Shanice had successfully avoided matches for months, but Dream and Heaven had formed an unholy alliance. Their combined powers of teenage begging and nine-year-old puppy eyes were apparently her kryptonite.
"You're an owner, Mom," Dream had argued. "You have to at least pretend to care about the actual games."
So here she was, in the owner's box, wearing weekend casual. Heaven was pressed against the glass, documenting every player's footwear choices in her little notebook. Dream was... well.
"OH MY GOD HE WAVED AT ME!"
Marcus had paused his warm-up routine to wave at Dream, who was now literally squealing and clutching Shanice's arm. Her daughter - usually so cool, so above it all - reduced to a giggling teenager. Which, fair enough, she was.
Shanice's eyes scanned the stands automatically. No Angels in sight. Interesting, since the gossip blogs always said they never missed a match, always in their usual section, always dressed like they were at fashion week instead of a football game-
Nope. She wasn't going to go there. That was the least of her worries. Besides, she wasn't about to become some cougar chasing after a 27-year-old footballer. What could he possibly do for her? He probably couldn't even satisfy a woman properly, especially not a woman like her who knew what she wanted and-
Marcus dropped into a stretch on the field below, and Shanice's brain short-circuited. Those thighs. That ass. The way his kit stretched across-
Well. Maybe he could do a little somethin' somethin'.
"Mom!" Heaven's voice snapped her out of it. "Are those the new Nike Zoom Mercurial Superfly 9 Elites he's wearing?"
"I have no idea what any of those words mean, baby."
But she knew exactly what those thighs meant, and it was trouble. Pure trouble.
The match kicked off, and Shanice tried to look interested in whatever was happening on the field. Heaven was still cataloging shoes, but now she was comparing them to some spreadsheet on her tablet. Dream was providing commentary that might as well have been in Chinese for all Shanice understood.
"Did you see that run? The way he just- Mom, are you even watching?"
She was watching something alright. Just maybe not the same thing Dream was excited about. Marcus moved like water on the field, all power and grace. The way his muscles flexed when he sprinted, the focus in his expression when he had the ball...
"Signora Ricci." A smooth voice interrupted her definitely-not-thirsting. One of the other board members - some old money type whose name she should probably remember. "So nice to finally see you at a match."
"Couldn't disappoint my girls," she smiled diplomatically. These men still weren't used to her being here, being part owner. Still called her Ricci even though she'd gone back to her maiden name.
"You've met our new striker, yes? Quite the acquisition."
Oh, she'd met him alright. Met those chocolate eyes and that devastating smile and that ass that should be illegal in those shorts-
"We had a meeting about his community outreach proposals," she said smoothly. "Very impressive."
"His proposals or his-" Dream's comment was cut off by Shanice's warning look.
The crowd suddenly roared. Shanice turned just in time to see Marcus breaking free, the ball at his feet. The defender didn't stand a chance. One move, two, and then-
GOAL.
The stadium erupted. Dream was screaming. Heaven had abandoned her shoe documentation to jump up and down. And Marcus... Marcus was running toward their end of the field, sliding on his knees in celebration.
He looked up at the owner's box. Straight at her.
And winked.
"Did you see that?" Dream squealed. "He winked at us!"
Sure, baby. At "us."
Shanice took a long sip of her champagne. She was going to need something stronger than this to survive the rest of this match.
Shanice was on her second glass of champagne when Marcus scored again. This time his celebration was all swagger - that signature dance that had Dream and her friends making TikToks for weeks. The stadium was going crazy, and even Heaven had abandoned her sneaker documentation to cheer.
"He's so good," Dream sighed dreamily. "Like, is there anything he can't do?"
Keep his shirt on, apparently. The heat had several players stripping down to their undershirts, and Marcus's clung to him like it was painted on. Those training sessions were clearly paying off because what the actual f-
"Mamma mia, he's really showing off today."
Shanice didn't need to turn around to know that voice. "Don't you have your own box, Alex?"
"Can't a father watch with his daughters?" Alessandro dropped into the seat next to her, looking irritatingly handsome in his weekend casual Brunello Cucinelli. "Though I see you're watching... something else."
"The match," she said firmly. "I'm watching the match."
"Of course." His knowing smile made her want to dump her champagne on his designer sweater. "That's why you haven't blinked since Thuram took his shirt off."
Before she could respond, the final whistle blew. Inter 3, Juventus 1.
"Can we go down?" Dream was already gathering her things. "Please? Dad always takes us to meet the players after home games."
"I don't think-" Shanice started.
"Excellent idea," Alex cut in smoothly. "The owner should congratulate the team on their victory. Especially the man of the match."
Heaven's eyes lit up. "We can see the boots up close!"
Shanice was outnumbered. Again. "Fine. But ten minutes max."
The tunnel to the locker room was crowded with families and staff, the air thick with victory excitement and expensive perfume. Dream was practically vibrating with anticipation. Heaven had her notebook ready.
And then Marcus emerged, still glowing from the win, that undershirt still clinging to every muscle like it was doing the Lord's work. His eyes found their group immediately.
"The Carter-Ricci family!" His smile could power half of Milan. "Did you enjoy the show?"
"You were amazing!" Dream gushed. "Those goals were insane!"
"Can I see your boots?" Heaven was already crouching down with her notebook.
Alessandro's hand found the small of Shanice's back - a move that used to be possessive but now just felt like him marking his territory. "Incredible performance today. You must have been... inspired."
Marcus's eyes flicked to Alex's hand, then to Shanice's face. Something flashed in them - too quick to read. "Very inspired," he said, but he was looking straight at her. "Sometimes you just want to impress the right people, you know?"
Heaven was rattling off questions about his cleats. Dream was trying to casually get a selfie. Alex was doing that alpha male thing Italian men loved.
And Shanice?
Shanice was thinking about exactly what else those thighs could do.
"Yo! Big bro!"
A younger version of Marcus strode up, already changed into Juventus casual wear. The family resemblance was strong - same height, same build, same dangerous smile but instead of a cropped fade, he wore his hair in dreads.
"Little bro!" Marcus pulled him into one of those complicated handshakes that looked rehearsed. "Tough luck today."
"Whatever, you were showing off." Khephren's eyes landed on Shanice. "Who's this?"
"My new boss," Marcus said, and something in his tone made Shanice's skin tingle. "Shanice Carter, meet my brother Khephren."
"Damn, if I knew Inter's management looked like this, I might've signed with them instead." Khephren's grin earned him a solid smack to the chest from Marcus.
"My apologies," Marcus said to Shanice, but his eyes were laughing. "My little brother hasn't learned manners yet."
Alex cleared his throat loudly. "Girls, come on. Time to go."
Dream and Heaven reluctantly said their goodbyes, leaving Shanice standing there like an idiot, trying not to stare at Marcus's abs through that sweat-soaked shirt that was doing entirely too much.
"I should go too," she said, snapping out of it. This wasn't right. She needed to put up a wall between them right now. She was his boss, for fuck's sake.
She pivoted on her heel, but his hand caught her wrist. Warm. Strong. Trouble.
"The proposal - did you read it?"
"Yes."
"Great. Can we talk about it more? Go over the plan of action?"
"Sure, schedule with Maria for an appointment."
His face changed, eyebrows furrowing. "I don't want too many ears in this situation." He tilted his head toward where the board members and her ex were speaking in low voices. "Maybe dinner?"
"That's not–"
"My treat."
"Marcus. That would be inappropriate."
"Then a business lunch," he countered, "still my treat."
Shanice pulled her wrist from his grasp, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't miss how his eyes followed the movement, lingering just a beat too long.
"Do you think I'm dumb or something?"
"Far from that, Shanice." He straightened up, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. The move was sexy as hell but she kept her face neutral. "You're one of the smartest women I know."
"You don't know me."
"Yet," he added, and they stared at each other for what felt like forever.
"Whatever you think you're playing at, I'm not one of your little friends... or Angels for that matter. Like I said, schedule an appointment with Maria." She turned to leave again.
"So make a call?" His voice was low, just for her ears. Thank goodness no one else heard that.
She paused, glancing back. That smug look on his handsome ass face should've been illegal.
"I'll call you then. To set up the lunch," he said with absolute confidence.
Shanice just scoffed and continued down the tunnel, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.
That man was going to be the death of her career. Or just the death of her, period.
"Mom! Wait up!" Dream's voice echoed down the tunnel. "Why'd you leave so fast?"
Because your favorite player was looking at me like I was dessert, baby girl.
"Time to go home," Shanice said instead, fishing her car keys from her Bottega purse. "Where's your sister?"
"Still with Dad. He's taking us for gelato." Dream studied her face. "You should come."
"Pass." The last thing she needed was to sit across from Alex while he made smug comments about her "meeting" with Marcus.
"Is it because of Marcus?" Dream's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because I saw how he was looking at you. And how you were looking at his-"
"Dream. Don't."
"I'm just saying, Mom. The Angels are pretty and all, but you're like... you're you. And he definitely noticed."
Shanice stopped walking. "Listen to me carefully. There is nothing between me and Marcus Thuram except a business relationship. He's your age, for God's sake."
"He's twenty-seven, Mom. That's not my age." Dream rolled her eyes. "And anyway, age is just a-"
"If you finish that sentence, you're grounded."
Dream threw up her hands. "Fine! But for the record? I wouldn't mind. It'd be kind of cool actually. Like, my mom and my favorite player? That's some Wattpad level plot twist."
"Go get your gelato," Shanice laughed, pulling her daughter in for a hug. "Love you."
"Love you too. Even if you're in denial."
Shanice watched Dream skip back to where Alex and Heaven were waiting, then headed for her car. Her phone buzzed before she even reached it.
Unknown number: Lunch tomorrow? For the proposal.
Her heart definitely didn't skip. Nope. Not at all.
Another buzz: This is Marcus, by the way. Your daughter gave me your number.
She was going to kill Dream.
Third buzz: For business purposes only, of course. 😏
That damn smirking emoji. She could see his face when he typed it, all cocky confidence and knowing looks.
Shanice: Schedule it with Maria.
Marcus: Come on, boss. Let me take you to lunch. Professional lunch. Very proper. Very appropriate.
Those three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Marcus: Unless you're scared...
Oh, this little boy thought he could play with her?
Shanice: Fine. One lunch. Professional. And you're not getting my coffee ever again.
Marcus: We'll see 😈
She dropped her phone in her bag like it was burning her fingers. What the hell was she doing? This was beyond stupid. Beyond reckless.
But as she slid into her Porsche, all she could think about was that damn smirk and those abs and the way he'd said "yet."
She was so screwed.
........................tbd
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hy6erion · 2 days ago
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could you write something about omar finding out you’re pregnant and then he’s all protective and giving off daddy vibes?? i would literally melt 🥹
𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐎𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
⇢𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞
𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡?? ⋆ටᆼට⋆ 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!!
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You had been sitting on the news for a few days now, trying to find the perfect moment to tell him. Omar was already naturally protective, always making sure you were comfortable, well-fed, and happy. But this? This was going to flip his world upside down.
And you had no idea how he’d react.
So you kept it to yourself, letting the thought settle, waiting for the right time. That moment arrived when he found you curled up on the couch one evening, looking far too suspicious for his liking.
��Alright,” Omar said, standing in front of you with arms crossed, eyebrows raised in accusation. “What’s going on with you?”
You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he took a seat beside you, shifting your legs over his lap, “you’ve been acting weird. You get quiet, then you smile to yourself like you have some secret, and whenever I ask if you’re okay, you say ‘I’m fine’ in the least convincing way possible.”
Damn. You should’ve known he’d pick up on it.
He tilted his head. “Are you sick? Are you stressed? Did I do something?” His expression shifted slightly, a crease forming between his brows. “Is someone bothering you? Because if someone—”
You exhaled a laugh, reaching for his hand. “Omar.”
“Hmm?” His fingers laced with yours instantly, grip firm.
You hesitated for a moment, heart hammering, before finally blurting out, “I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
His expression didn’t change immediately. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, mouth slightly open as if his brain was still processing the words.
Then—“Wait. Say that again.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Still nothing. Just a stunned blink.
You squeezed his hand. “Omar?”
And then, suddenly, everything snapped into motion. He shifted, straightening up, his other hand coming to cup your face. “You’re serious?” His voice dropped, softer now, almost disbelieving.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
His breath left him in a rush, and then—he laughed. This breathless, joyous sound as he shook his head in disbelief. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yes, Omar.”
“A baby?” He said it again, as if saying it more times would make it sink in faster.
“Yes.”
“A little—” He broke off, looking down at your stomach as if he could already see the tiny life growing there. His hand hesitated before gently pressing over your abdomen. He was still grinning, but his eyes were shining now, something raw and overwhelming behind them.
“Ya Allah,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I can’t believe this.”
You let out a soft laugh, watching him with warmth in your chest. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”
His head snapped up. “What? Why? You thought I wouldn’t be happy?”
“Not unhappy,” you clarified. “Just… surprised.”
“Surprised?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course I’m surprised! But habibti, this is—this is the best surprise. Ever.” His hands framed your face again, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he stared at you like you’d just given him the entire world. “I’m going to be a father.”
“You are.”
His lips crashed onto yours then, not just in excitement but in something deeper, something reverent. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing each other in.
Then, just as you were melting into the sweetness of it all, Omar pulled back, his eyes narrowing.
“Wait. Have you been feeling okay? Have you been nauseous? Are you eating enough? Drinking enough water? Do we need to go to the doctor? We should go to the doctor.”
You laughed. “I already made an appointment, don’t worry.”
“Good,” he nodded firmly. “But still, you need to rest more. And eat. What do you want? I’ll make you something.”
“Omar, I just ate—”
“You need more,” he said, already standing up. “Protein. Vitamins. Fruits. What do we have in the kitchen? Do we need to go grocery shopping? Do you want soup? I’ll make soup.”
You groaned, grabbing his wrist before he could go into full panic mode. “Omar, relax.”
“Relax?” He looked at you, incredulous. “You are growing a whole human inside you, and you want me to relax?”
“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Because you’re about two seconds away from bubble-wrapping me.”
He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”
A pause. Then: “No.”
You sighed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I knew it.”
Omar grinned, dropping back down beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I can’t help it. You’re carrying my baby. I have to take care of you both.” His hand slipped down to your stomach again, rubbing small, absentminded circles there.
You softened. “I know.”
His fingers flexed slightly. “I’m going to be the best dad,” he murmured, voice almost like a promise.
“You will,” you said without hesitation.
He kissed your temple, lingering there. “And you’re going to be the best mama.”
Your heart clenched. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the safety of him.
Omar was right—this was the best surprise ever.
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sunnynwanda · 2 days ago
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Hello again! I hope you’re doing well!
If you’d like to, could you maybe do a story where a supervillain befriends an oblivious civilian who doesn’t know who he is. And supervillain really cares about civilian, because everyone else is so terrified of him, that he has no genuine friends.
Then, supervillian has to rescue his civilian buddy from something, and this causes civilian to find out his best friend is a supervillian! :)
A Friend
Warnings: language? I guess that's it.
"What the hell?!"
Civilian all but yells, their expression incredulous. Supervillain does not respond, mostly because they have no idea how to. They check Civilian's head, then grab their hands, turning them around to check for any damage, but Civilian is too busy freaking out to pay them any mind.
"How is this... w-what the absolute hell is going on?" Civilian continues, stumbling over their words, unable to comprehend the revelation. How is this possible? Their best friend, the only person they could trust after the atrocity that was their life, is Supervillain. A criminal. The person who could obliterate the entire country if they put their mind to it.
"Does anything hurt?" Supervillain asks, their voice shaking as the rush of adrenaline subsides in their blood, giving way to unadulterated fear of losing their best - and only - friend. "Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?"
"I'm fine," Civilian sighs, taking hold of Supervillain's wrist and stopping their hand from feeling over their ribs. "I'm unharmed... uh, Supervillain?"
The way they say it causes Supervillain to freeze on the spot, eyes wide and full of terror. They know.
They know.
That could mean one thing and one thing only. Goodbye.
Supervillain nods, swallowing before they are able to form any words. “Y-yes, that’s me.” They mutter, not looking up.
Supervillain wasn’t one to be ashamed of their past or their impressive underground career – on the contrary, they were proud. They rose from dirt to criminal royalty on their own. All the while maintaining their honour. Was it moral? Perhaps not. But it sure as hell wasn’t as corrupt as the government. They kept the city safe and fair; they made sure no kid ever had to go through the hell they went through, and they protected everyone who turned to them for help. Even if their methods were unorthodox, they only demanded payment for sanctuary in the form of respect and loyalty. Or else they made it rain fire. Quite literally.
“But how?” Civilian questions, gaping at Supervillain, noting their guilty demeanour. They need to make sense of this. “Why? Just why?”
“Why… what?” Supervillain’s voice is barely audible as they dare to look up, meeting Civilian’s gaze with trepidation.
Civilian pauses, thinking for a moment to formulate a decent sentence but failing to do so. “I don’t know.” They let out a short laugh, earning a hesitant smile from Supervillain. A part of them wants to ask why the heartless criminal boss cared enough to walk into a collapsing building to save someone as plain as Civilian.
“I’ll leave after I deliver you to the hospital,” Supervillain sighs, shrinking back into their thoughts, misinterpreting Civilian’s silence for disappointment and anger. “I never meant to deceive you, for what it’s worth.”
“Then why not tell me?” Civilian questions, opening the door on the passenger side and plopping down on the soft seat. Supervillain, as flabbergasted as they are, gets in on their side and starts the engine, stalling. “You don’t trust me,” Civilian concludes.
“You’re the only person I trust,” Supervillain argues. It’s true, too. They went so far as to fall asleep in Civilian’s presence – something they only did in the safety of solitude.
“What was this for?” Civilian asks, surprised at their own calmness. They should be angry, distressed or at the very least disturbed. Yet they felt nothing of sorts. Just curiosity and a pang of something heavy in their chest. “What did you have to gain?”
“Nothing.” Supervillain cuts them off, glaring at the road like it was to blame for their predicament. “Nothing to gain, just to lose.”
“Lose what?” Civilian asks, staring at Supervillain’s perfect profile, struggling to decipher the pained look on their face.
“You.” The response comes short, simple and breathless. Supervillain feels like they are suffocating, their throat closing in on itself. Vulnerability meant susceptibility. Susceptibility meant weakness. And weakness meant losing. The agony they promised they wouldn’t face again. “And now I have.”
“Hm? I’m still alive,” Civilian shrugs, nonchalant as they place their hand on Supervillain’s, steering the wheel to the right – the road that led to their place. “Thanks to you.”
“But now I have to leave,” Supervillain states with a shadow of a sigh. It was ironic, really – they held the world in the palm of their hand, yet couldn't keep a friend.
Civilian quirks an eyebrow at that, their hand still resting over Supervillain’s. “Says who?”
The car screeches to a stop in the middle of the road. Civilian’s house is just around the corner, but Supervillain’s confusion is too far gone to use their brain. “You?” They try, finally turning to face Civilian.
“I never said that,” Civilian shrugs again, the corner of their mouth twitching up in amusement at Supervillain’s obvious panic.
“I-” They take Civilian’s expression in and it finally dawns on them, their eyes turning hopeful. “Really?”
Civilian lets out a low chuckle, shaking their head at the awkwardness of their friend. Criminal boss or not, this idiot was entirely too cute for their own good.
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A/N: Hello, love!
Thank you for this request. This one took me ages to actually get to. I'm sorry for that, my inspiration gets moody sometimes xD I hope you'll still enjoy this. I sure enjoyed writing it.
Love ya :)
xo Sunny
Masterlist
Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444 @m4iloblu3
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blackwaxidol · 5 months ago
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A strange statue in the Leprosarium. It seems like you can place something inside of its chest cavity.
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alterouslyinlove · 7 months ago
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me: “i think men should kiss more often”
him: “i agree.”
him: “i think i should do that more often”
💥💥💥⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ i volunteer hello hi 👋
(ps rambling in the tags don’t. don’t even look at me)
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moe-broey · 17 days ago
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Sometimes I worry I get too self-indulgent w how I portray Alfonse w Sharena, ESP keeping that one FEH comic in mind (which shows Alfonse and Sharena's differing boundaries, and how Alfonse in general "isn't much of a hugger") BUT. In my heart............. I like to imagine....... there are moments where he'll happily allow it. But the Problem Here, is if he gives Sharena an inch, she's taking a mile. She's going to completely smother him. She's dangling off his shoulders and squishing herself against him in ways previously thought impossible. Which may or may not be a contributing factor as to why he's a little apprehensive by default. And it's a feedback loop. Him being standoffish, her trying sooooo hard to respect that when she's STARVING for that physical affection, him allowing it, her squeezing him so hard that if he wasn't in armor he might break a rib. Endless loop. Unique hell. But they do love each other, completely.
#i also like to play w the idea that like. maybe their boundaries aren't so good. actually.#i also think A Lot. about the way alfonse locks up during rosado's fbs. when sharena expresses her feelings to him#IT ALWAYS FUCKING. REALLY ALWAYS FUCKING STUCK OUT TO ME. NAGGED AT ME.#when i say playing w boundaries i mean what if there was an over reliance on one another?#that really should have and would have been avoided if they weren't raised in seclusion presumably even from each other#LIKE. at times??? i have to imagine there were Times. or at v least the way each of them were raised differently#created this sense of absence/distance from each other. also not even gonna get INTO sharena's whole ordeal.#but i'm getting rambly. we really do not have the details. but what i'm getting at is the idea that#bruno was the first person each had like. a normal relationship with. and i think a lot of self-correcting took place over the course of it#'a normal relationship' like. mileage may vary. but. i think he did set an example in a way.#like. something something emotional enmeshment/entanglement and this sort of hot/cold#distance vs being too close/relying too much on each other exclusively. which would have been remedied#if they had like. any stable/heathy bonds w anyone but each other. espppp growing up.#and currently they just kinda do this back and forth. correcting and falling back and TRYING. to strike Some sort of balance.#but ALSO in a very sweep it under the rug way. we don't talk about it way. which. may only make things Worse#but sharena was raised like 'everything is Fine 😊' and alfonse was raised like Burden Of The Entire World. Yours Alone. Forever.#idk idk just. i heart familial drama. ect.#fe alfonse#sharena
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eschynite · 1 year ago
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idk. i find people who are very repulsed by magical thinking to be, like. i guess i find it ignorant. i think of my ex, who actually despised schizophrenic people because their hallucinations and delusions were, to him, a sign of irrationality that rendered them inferior. he also hated anything superstitious, obviously. i doubt most people who hate astrology go so far as to extend their distaste for superstition to people who've been diagnosed with psychotic disorders, but i actually have to wonder why. i mean, it's bc most people don't think about the fact that psychiatric disorders aren't necessarily things you either have or don't—traits of them are present in the general population, and "disorders" just enter the equation when those traits impede daily functioning, basically. i'm not necessarily saying that people who believe in the so-called supernatural are just experiencing subclinical psychosis, but you can't say their beliefs aren't derived from visceral experiences, just like those of psychotic people. so why do you draw the line of disrespect at psychiatric disorder?
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago
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#looking at the notes ppl in the lab let me on my birthday card. it seems ppl think i should chill the fuck out lmao#a lot were like RELAX!!! and ya kno objectively theyre right but i refuse to listen bc theres something wrong in my head#sigh. i survived the day at least. the timed measurements r done on this experiment. thank christ. and my birthday gathering as so#i dont kno. it was kinda funny and kinda sad i guess. bc i knew it was gonna happen and i didnt want it to but i was like fine. ill meet#at 4. and i expected it to b in the conference room but they set up outside the lab around the corner. so they did kinda surprise me#location wise i guess. i cant imagine what expression i was making. it felt like a pained smile but idk. i had to go back to take#measurements every 4min so i was standing there with a plate full of ice creame cake. kinda away from everyone while they talked. staring#at my phone timer as it ticked down and abruptly leaving when i had to log a measurement. i was basically a non entity while there. which#was kinda idea bc i have too much hurt inside to talk to ppl right now. as evidence by my phone call with my parents when i got home. im#just kinda a bummer to exist around rn. idk maybe i should apologize to my boss bc i kno im not an easy person to do things for#and i really do appreciate the effort. its just hard when i kno how much stress its going to cause me for someone to attempt to do#something they think will b nice. so idk i just feel bad. but its over. and idk what ill do tomorrow. i should do stuff for when i move#like my dad was like: u should prioritize ur future stuff. and hes objectively right. they think i should get a studio apartment which#would b expensive as fuck but i will destroy myself if i have roommates. idk. theres lots still to do bc i have to get a ton of data#processed by the end of the week bc i have 8 days of measurement on another project that needs to get done by may 14th when i leave for#vacation. which my mom was like did u buy ur tickets for next month and i was like. hm how do i ask where im supposed to buy tickets to#without giving away that i dont kno what ur talking abt? bc apparently im going to a wedding? wtf do i wear to a wedding?#idk. i guess im just kinda sad bc this month has been really hard. i made it hard for no reason bc theres something wrong in my head and#that hurt has nowhere to go bc i cant even give anyone an honest account of how awful it was bc its like what r they gonna do abt it?#anything i say is just worrying bc i cant seem to stop myself who whats the point in talking abt it. but idk humans r social creatures so#when im in pain at least part of me wants someone to brush my hair and acknowledge my pain and tell me itll b ok#but idk. the idea of that happening is different from the reality where i seem to opperate at a different frequency to other people. we#just dont seem to properly connect. idk. idk what ill do tomorrow. im afraid to loosen my grip on my schedule bc i might fall to piece#pieces without the pressure. well see. lets home my 26th year is better than my 25th was. bc last year sucked#hope* lets hope that was my low point. bc that was not a fun time and im worry to take account of thr damage done#unrelated
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numberone-wifeguy · 9 months ago
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05/07/24
#joy of joys!!!!#we're back to sleeping under five hours from the anxiety!!!!#fanTAStic.#my stomach feels like pure boiling acid.#maybe i should talk to her again.#tell her I'm trying and i appreciate her apology#but I'm too deeply hurt to just move past it so quickly.#not only is that honest [which is Good and Correct behavior that will get me Doing Relationship Right points]#but it'll also help me determine where we stand.#will she be able to respect that? if so for how long?#will she be able to give me time and space? how long will she be able to maintain restraint regarding new/temporary boundaries?#a test of sorts#[admittedly less Good Relationship Behavior. but can you blame me?]#ugh. at least i have therapy on Thursday. R will know what to do.#And I'm getting high again on Wednesday night.#Which will be the third week in a row. I'm actually following the general consensus pretty strictly but angel is...#shall we say a bit squirrelly. I'm so sure she's eventually going to express concern or anxiety about it.#that will also be a good opportunity for a test of my safety level rn.#how will she respond to me disagreeing with her outright?#''a considerably low dose of a very low-risk drug once a week is not some crazy out of control behavior.#i'm well researched and well within the parameters of safest practices. i think I'm fine.''#genuinely though i want to keep going i think mayyyybe two more times after this weekend#to get a feel for my personal reactions and metabolism.#i want to try a higher dose at a later date. i was going to skip this weekend to do it next week but!!#I don't think that's a good idea yet. i think I need to keep taking it slow.#not that dex is PHYSICALLY addictive but. given my track record.#i make finding ways to turn literally anything into an unhealthy dependency an Olympic sport.#so i think forcing myself to gain experience and to think carefully and pay attention#is a good move here if i want to escalate for soul-searching self-medicating internal-exploration etc purposes.#entry//
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endursent · 3 months ago
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My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)
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【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】
【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】
【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】
【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】
【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】
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Alhaitham ;
Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 
  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.
  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 
  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 
  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 
  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 
  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.
  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.
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Arataki Itto ;
It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.
  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!
  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.
  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”
  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 
  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.
  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 
  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 
  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.
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Baizhu ;
You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.
  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.
  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.
  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 
  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.
 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 
  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 
  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.
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Cyno ;
You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 
  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.
  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…
  But very well, he wins this round. 
  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 
  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.
  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 
  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.
  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!
  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.
  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.
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Dainsleif ;
He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.
  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.
  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.
  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.
  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 
  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.
  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.
  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.
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Diluc ;
Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!
  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”
  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—
  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…
  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 
  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 
  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 
  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.
  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.
  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.
  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.
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Kaedehara Kazuha ;
Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.
  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).
  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.
  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 
  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…
  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.
  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.
  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 
On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?
  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.
  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.
  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.
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Kaeya ;
Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 
  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 
  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 
  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 
  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 
  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 
  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.
  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 
  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.
  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?
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Kamisato Ayato ;
Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 
  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.
  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 
  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.
  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 
  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.
  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!
  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.
  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 
  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 
  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 
  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 
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Kaveh ;
Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.
  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?
  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.
  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.
  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.
  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”
  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 
  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.
  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”
  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 
  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.
  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.
  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.
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Neuvillette ;
You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?
  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?
  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.
  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.
  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.
  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.
  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.
  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.
  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.
  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 
  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.
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Tartaglia ;
You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.
  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.
  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 
  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.
  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”
  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 
  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”
  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!
  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.
  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.
  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 
  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 
  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 
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Thoma ;
He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.
  But he also has a problem…
  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 
  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 
  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 
  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 
  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 
  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 
  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 
  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.
  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 
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Venti  ;
You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.
  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 
  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 
  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.
  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 
  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.
  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 
  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”
  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 
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Wanderer ;
He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.
  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.
  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.
  At least, that was the plan. 
  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.
  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 
  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 
  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 
  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 
  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 
  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!
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Wriothesley ;
At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 
  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”
  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 
  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!
  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.
  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!
  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.
  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…
  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.
  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 
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Xiao ;
He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 
  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 
  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 
  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.
  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…
  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 
  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.
  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.
  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 
  But he does. Not. Meow. 
  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…
  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.
  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.
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Zhongli ;
At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.
  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.
  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.
  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 
  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 
  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 
  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 
  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 
  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 
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* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.
* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.
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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago
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Happy 3K Nana 🥳🥳🥳 I hope your celebration has been going well and, your actual vacation is even better.
Noone perceive me. So, because I have no sense of self-preservation, could I please request a drabble featuring ChanCheol. As long as it's smut related in some way, I leave the rest up to you. I'm excited and terrified to see what your brain comes up with.
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Pairing: bf!Seungcheol x fem!reader x chan
Genre: smut, slight humor
Word count: 2.8k
tags: mention of infidelity, mentions of fem oral, banter, exhibitionism, vouyerism, body worship, choking, spitting, spanking, fingering, brief biting, blowjob, degradation, praise kink, brief hair pulling, unprotected sex, double penetration, oral fixation, plot twist
Summary: Being caught doing something you shouldn’t do is a big no-no, especially when it causes Chan to come across a 5’10 unit with muscular stature by the name of Seungcheol, your apparent boyfriend.
author note: how fun. my return i bring you a chancheol fic, pls enjoy as much as i enjoyed writing.
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun
“You taste like candy.”
His tongue traced your skin as if your sweat was pure concentrated nectar. Your giggles left your lips in a perfect melody, trickling as he made his way down your chest and wrapped them perfectly around the bulb of your nipple.
His moans vibrated off your body. Voice shaking to the point it could’ve been mistaken for weakness, but rather it was the radical opposite. When he replaced the plush felt of his lips to twist you between the pads of his fingers, he splayed effortlessly an intoxicating smile as the words he made left you begging for breath.
“Wanna worship every inch of skin. Fill your pretty pussy to the brim with cum. Make you mine.”
You’d drink every syllable, just as you planned to drink him up.
His bare skin was blistering, burning against yours as your legs hugged his sides. Your digits ran through his hair in fatigued confidence, thumbing over his smooth and flushed cheek. “Promise?” You asked in a sickly sweet voice.
“I’m a very bad liar, but I’m good at a lot of other things.”
You let out a light chuckle before you gripped his hair to meet his needy lips. His body enveloped yours in an overwhelming heat, muzzling your mind with incoherent thoughts. Together you were a symphony of lust, attraction, and animalistic instinct. 
That was then a deep voice made itself known at the bedroom door. It boomed like a loud drum, startling your intimate partner and causing him to jump away from you. He covered his naked body with the blanket kicked off to the corner of the bed, tugging you to his side to keep yourselves hidden beneath it.
Now the shake in his voice resembled fear, pupils trembling back at the intruder. “W-who are you?”
“Ask my question first before I answer yours. Having. Fun?”
Chan’s eyes rapidly blinked for Seungcheol’s, barely meeting the other man’s eyes, clutching the fabric as if letting go would mean letting go of his life. He swallowed with effort, giving a prompt nod of his head, hoping desperately it was a good enough response.
“Now, to answer your question. I’m the boyfriend of the girl you’re fucking.”
You could feel the other body stumble behind you, physically processing the information he had just been told. “B-Boyfriend? Boyfriend?!”
“Yeah.” Seungcheol's steel stiff body took one heavy step over the other until towered over your bodies, eyes piercing back at them in a cold, intimidating gaze. “Boyfriend.”
“Look m-man. I’m sorry. For real. There’s no way I could’ve known.”
Your boyfriend snickered. “You think that’s a fucking excuse to be fucking my goddamn girlfriend?”
“No! No. I mean—“
“What’s your name, kid?”
Chan held the blanket closer, tighter, against him. If he was sweating already from the foreplay, he was shooting bullets of nerves down his forehead from fear. “Please, man. I’ll leave.”
“You think you’re better at fucking her than me? You think your cock can do worse damage?” With every word, there was seething venom on the man’s tongue, burning tension in the already charged air.
Chan violently shook his head. “N-no sir, please I didn’t know. I’ll get out of your way.”
“You think I’ll just let you fuck my girlfriend and not want to know who it is she’s fucking?”
“At this point, I just want to go home. I’m not—“ he gulped, “a home wrecker. Not intentionally anyway—“
“Fuck her in front of me.”
 Chan blinked, “What?”
Seungcheol slyly grinned. “You heard me. Fuck her like I’m not here. Fuck her like she’s yours.” Your boyfriend veered his eyes on you. “That’s just what you want. Isn’t that right, you little succubus?”
You giggled a cheeky grin on your face, clinging to Chan’s arm as you locked eyes with the other man. “Yes, baby. I want him to bury his cock deep inside me until I’m crying.”
Chan shivered, cock tensing underneath the blanket much closer to its initially aroused state as heat crept the back of his neck and across his cheeks.
“Of course you do,” Seungcheol snickered, “my little slut is always so hungry for attention.” He picked up your chin between his fingers before smoothing his thumb over your jaw. “Ask him. I’m sure he’ll do what you say.”
You turned to Chan with the guide of Seungcheol’s friendly hands cascading over your body like silk drapes, they smoothed over your neck and shoulders delicate but with the weight of a ship anchor cupping a single breast. Chan’s face was overwritten with shock, unsure what part of you to look at. “Chan…” you moaned, like a siren calling to a sailor at sea, the weak helpless sailor being Chan.  “Fuck me, please. Fill me to the brim with your cum like you said you would.”
The devil himself let out a shallow breath, the carrot dangling right in front of him. He drew closer to you, hand reaching up to your neck before a digit descended down your neck, “Can I really do that?”
“Of course, you can,” Seungcheol interjected, “Just fuck her like you mean it.” Seungcheol rolled your buds between his finger, eliciting a whimper from within you and your body jerked toward him behind you. “She likes it rough. ‘Enough to leave her sore’ rough. Can you provide? Chan?” He asked him solemnly, the name sounded foreign the way he enunciated it.
“I can,” Chan answered confidently for once, fueled by a festering competitive spirit. “Like I told gorgeous here, I’m a bad liar. I’ll fuck her just how she wants me to.”
“Prove you’re not all talk then.” 
A switch was flipped. The hungry gazes on you had doubled and your heart pounding sound enough to be heard through a vast sea. Chan pushed you against the mattress, caressing the shape of your body as if ingraining the image through touch before the pads of his fingers dug into your plush flesh. 
You felt the unremorseful spat against your already wet pussy, Chan's fingers running sloppily over your slit as his other hand clashed with your ass. His fingers entered you fast and deep, giving you a taste of what was about to come. 
Chan licked his lips at the sight of you, letting his digits push in and out of you as you made those sweet, delectable sounds, looking just as–if not more–delectable yourself. Just like that, his throat was as dry as a drought in a desert, inching closer to your honey-coated folds and  panting to your beckoning until he’s atoms away. He held his gaze to you, a hopeful wish in his heart that the image of your pretty cunt never vanishes or fades from memory. 
It was then Chan was yanked by his blonde hair. Tugged at the root ,wincing out in annoyed pain, he now sneered back at the man who halted Chan's steps towards the gates of his personal heaven. 
Seungcheol slyly grinned back at the bitter-looking individual before forcing his face parallel to his. The elder clicked his tongue as if scolding him, wrapping his fingers tighter around the boy's hair when he felt protest. “You may get to have her, but you don’t get to taste her like I do. Have her anyway but that. She’s still mine.”
Chan muttered some not-so-nice things under his breath before agreeing. He let out a sigh of relief as he was let go,  annoyed now more than scared. “Fine, I’ll have no choice but to show no mercy then.”
Chan dragged you by your thighs and pushed himself against the cushion of your ass. You let out a rich moan as you felt him twitch against you. The head of his cock rubbed against the curve of your posterior before it slid through the divide, teasing you until you practically begged him to put it inside you. 
His responses to your pleas are anything but generous, only kind enough to sting your bottom cheeks with the flat palms of his hand. “So needy…”
He’s surprised to not hear fits of pain, but rather hearty moans of pleasure, urging more harsher strikes to your body that left you in a raw lust. “You like that? You’ll like this even more.”
Even with the warning, nothing prepares you for fullness from Chan making his presence known. His cock filled you with strain, stretching you to your wits. “Chan…”
“Whining already? I barely put it in.”
The smug in his voice only made you want him more, making you claw at your sheets like an undomesticated pet. 
“Excuse her,” Seungcheol entered, “She can act out at times.”
“Then I’ll put her in her place.”
Seungcheol chuckled, counting character points Chan has just gained from his response. “I like the way you think.”
Every thrust had the power of every fully winded stroke of his hand, slamming both your cheeks against the heat of his lap. Your face once buried in your face rose up to the surface by Chan’s vice grip on the column of your neck. The moment he made contact, you could feel the closing of your airways as he compressed around the girth, not once faltering as you swallowed every inch of cock.
Your cheek to his face, he could listen to every choked breath hardly escaping. “Take it. You said you like it rough, didn’t you? Until you cry, right?”
“Y-yes…m-more…”
“He’s fucking you that good?” The glint in your boyfriend's eyes excited you, as well as the permanent grin on his face as he moved dangerously close. “Needy little slut taking a stranger’s dick while I watch? You like that?”
“Yes, baby. He’s fucking me so good. His dick makes me so full.”
“Such a cute thing you are. Just you want until I get my hands on you too. Chan, stretch her mouth open. Warm her up for me.”
You felt another hand creep against your face, tugging you at the corner of your mouth. Through your gags, Chan managed to gradually insert each digit until there none were left. He could feel every finger coat in your thick salvia, plunge deeper as his cock rocked in you faster, heartier. 
Meanwhile, your front watched Seungcheol take apart his clothes. Every muscle, every pec, every ab in place and none the other wise. Your voice broke out in anguish as he exposed himself from his trousers, his lengthy cock making an appearance like the star of the show. Your eyes trailed his hand through every stroke, every squeeze, watching as he edged himself in a controlled manner. You wanted to relieve him of that burden, make it so it choked around your throat instead, but you knew you’d get the pleasure soon enough.
“Stay as pretty as you are, little succubus.”
Your boyfriend replaced Chan’s fingers, filling a space that fit what he offered rather cohesively like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. You blinked back your tears, hot moisture running down your face furiously as his cock massaged the inside your mouth and eventually down your throat, hitting you head first.
“That’s it,” he winced, “pretty little mouth taking cock like it’s what you’re made to do.”
He took the back of your head to make you bob on him, the squelching sounds music to his ears. 
“That’s so hot,” Chan commented in a breathy speech, “take him deeper.”
You were shaking, being used past your limits, and filled to the brim with cock on both ends. At this point, your eyes could only make out shapes and colors, blurred by your tears and loss of oxygen. The only coherent thought of holding cum inside you running through your mind. Their grunts were your background music, and the praises, and degradation was the melody. You begged through choked sounds as if you were on your last leg, not caring how much in pain you’d be in the aftermath. 
“Came twice already and you are begging for more?” 
“She’s very greedy. You want us to cum in you, little whore? Can you take being that full?”
Physically speaking, you were sure if you had a straight answer, but mentally, the thought made your stomach churn incredulously. You nodded, echoing every yes you had within you until Seungcheol pulled out of your mouth to hear you more clearly, “What was that? Let me hear that again.”
“C-cum in me,” you said through your heavy, hot sobs, “let me feel every inch of me full of cum, please…”
“I think she really wants it,” Chan teased.
Seungcheol grinned, parting your hair from your face. “Let’s not waste any time then.”
Planted on your side, both men were on either your front or back, taking residency in your walls at uneven paces. Chan pushed himself against your backside, allowing you to imagine the sculpt of his body through touch. He forced you to arch, guiding your body so he could plummet inside the very depth of you, while Seungcheol held up your front.
The heat of your boyfriend's tongue steals your breath along with the energy in his hips. He glued your thigh to his side, gripping you against him as the other man’s leg follows after you, overlapping you. You couldn’t help but feel so wanted, so spoiled, every grateful word in the dictionary. But no one was more grateful than the newcomer who was any second from exploding inside you. “Pussy feels so f-fucking heavenly. Your boyfriend’s so lucky.”
“Yes, I fucking am,” Seungcheol growled, “maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to find pussy almost as precious as my pretty baby here.”
“If I’m only so lucky,” Chan chuckled against your skin, “maybe I need to learn a thing or two from you?”
“Handsome thing like you,” the out of the blue, a hand is on Chan’s ass, “with an ass like this.”
“Likewise,” Chan revealed a toothy grin, “one nice ass to another.”
You could feel Seungcheol’s smile against your lips and a second later, you hear the boisterous sound of skin colliding, urging an abrupt slam of Chan’s hips against your backside. “I like you, kid, maybe I’ll keep you.”
Utter shock ran through the younger man, followed by arousal and a string of cusses. Chan clung to your side, trembling, teeth digging into your shoulder. “Fuck, fuck.”
Eventually, the rhythms find a mutual harmony. Your toes curled helplessly as thick threads of silky white released inside you, the legs of men clamping you down on the bed. You clutched your boyfriend, determined to not spill a drop, but relaxed as the fatigue hit you. They splayed you out once you were finished, joining your side in rest. You looked of bliss, taking in a gust of breath as you relieved yourself.  “Wow. Great job, guys. That turned out better than I expected.”
“Yeah, Chan those acting classes really are coming in handy,”
The blonde rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Do you guys always take role-playing this seriously? I’m pretty sure Cheol bruised my ass cheek.”
“And I’ll do it again. You have a nice ass.”
You missed the banter. It was a little foreign to not have it almost the entire time. “And we’re back to reality.”
“I guess I don’t have much to complain about. You both did open the relationship for me. Thank you,” Chan hummed with glee. “Though it really would’ve been nice to have gotten to eat you out. Maybe once some time has passed—“
“In your dreams, twerp,” Seungcheol quickly retorted.
“Oh, I’ll be dreaming of it alright.” Chan nudged your face his way, “I’ll be dreaming of a lot of things I want to do with you.”
“Why dream if I’m here,” you grinned back, “I’m yours too now.”
His fingers ran through your hair adoringly, a cartoonish sparkle in his eye. “You are now, huh?”
Seungcheol thought he’d be jealous but it turned out better than he thought it would. It seemed that everyone was happy, even him, the guy that got the worst end of the deal but what more could he want than the smile on your face looking at him or Chan? 
Seungcheol nuzzled closer to you both collectively, his chin hooking in the crook of your neck. “We’re each other’s now. It's new, but I think I like it. I’m glad to hear you both do too.”
Chan looked over at his now boyfriend(?) in gratitude and joined in, sandwiching you in between. “I’m grateful for my first poly relationship if it’s with you both. I think it’d only work if it’s with you two.”
You smiled the hardest you ever had tonight, making an effort to embrace them both, and feel the warmth that radiated off their body keep you warm. “I think we’re gonna work out just fine.”
To be continued…
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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago
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kiss it better
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in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you
18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D
“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”
Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 
“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”
You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 
“This is pretty good.”
“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 
When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…
He’s just so alarmed?
“Honey, your knee.”
“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”
The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 
“What did you do?”
You snort. 
“What did you do, Spencer?”
It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 
“What do you mean? I did something?”
“Babe.”
The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 
“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”
Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 
“Oh.”
God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 
“What’s wrong?”
The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 
“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”
His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 
“No. My iron levels are optimal.”
Naturally. 
“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”
“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”
Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”
“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”
“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”
At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 
“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 
“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”
You laugh. 
“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”
“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”
“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”
He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 
“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”
“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 
“Never.”
You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 
“You could kiss them better.”
Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 
“I might just do that.”
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ohmybueckers · 1 month ago
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𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴: 𝘱.𝘣 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
summary: you and paige make a bet to see who can go the longest without initiating sex. much to both of your displeasure, neither one of you are willing to go down without a fight themes/warnings: smut with very little plot, fingering (r receiving), oral (p receiving), strap-on use, exhibitionism if your squint (not really though just adding it to be safe), sexting, breeding kink (sort of) word count: 5.6k note: yes i wrote and proofread this in less than 24 hours. no, the timeline of this story does not make much sense with actual UCONN schedules. please suspend ur disbelief there, this is basically just filth xoxoxo enjoy
It all started on a Friday night in Paige’s apartment. The two of you laid on top of her comforter browsing places for a potential upcoming weekend trip. Dating one of the most prominent players in women’s college basketball was not for the weak, with the two of you often having to piece your busy schedules together like a puzzle to find enough time for a simple dinner or even time to coexist together. But occasionally, the universe (or Geno) granted you a gift in the form of time off for Paige. This meant you were able to disappear off to a romantic getaway with your girl for a bit. If you two could pick a place, that is.
“We could go to Miami?” You suggested, reading off a list on your phone. Paige leaned in to look, lightly tapping the side of your head with hers. Her arm rested around your shoulders, her hand drawing circles on your arm every once in a while. Her limb had fallen asleep about 10 minutes prior, but she would never tell you that.
“Don’t we wanna go somewhere a little more romantic?” Paige questioned, a point you failed to consider. “Plus you know I’m gonna get sunburnt on the first day.”
“But you’re so cute when you’re sunburnt.” You giggled in response, remembering the various vacation photos you’ve received over the years with Paige’s skin in ranging shades of red. Apparently, she didn’t seem to think so, as she looked at you pointedly with an eyebrow raised. You huffed, “Fine, what are your ideas.”
As Paige moves to unlock her phone, the two of you are interrupted by a sharp soundcoming from outside of her room. Paige’s face shifted to confusion at the same time as yours, the two of you sitting up on the bed as if that would help you detect the sound faster. Just as you were about to ask if Allie or Jana had decided to rearrange the furniture, you heard a clearer sound: high pitched moans, followed by a series of bang, bang, bang. You watched your girlfriend realize at the same time that these sounds were most certainly coming from the apartment above hers, sending you both into a fit of roaring laughter.
“Oh my God.” Paige chokes, throwing her head back and grabbing your arm to stabilize herself.
“I really hope we’re not that loud.” You cracked a joke, not expecting anything of it. That is until Paige looks at you in a way that screams “you can’t be serious” and you can feel your heart drop. “Paige, why are you looking at me like that?”
Paige bit her lip, nodding a few times for courage before saying, “Jana said she’s definitely heard us a few times.”
You groan loudly, flopping on the bed once more. “Kill me,” you plead, voice muffled by the pillows.
“I like the noises you make.” Your girlfriend comforts you between her laughs, rubbing your back. You stand, feeling as though pacing in her room will help work off some of the complete and utter embarrassment you were feeling right now. Sure, you knew you and Paige weren’t exactly the quietest. But receiving confirmation that others had heard you in your most vulnerable state was humbling to say the least.
“It’s not my fault I’m dating the horniest girl on the planet,” you quipped in an effort to make yourself feel better. You watch as your girlfriends jaw drops, her head cocking to the side.
“Woah,” she all but yells, her head shaking. “I’m the horny one?”
Her expression is so comical, with her eyes practically bulging out of her head, you can’t hep but crack a smile as you defend your position. “You initiate constantly.”
“You initiate just as much as I do! Plus all those photos you send me on away games.”
You blush, remembering all the nights alone where the bed seems just a little too cold without your tall blonde girlfriend by your side. Nights where you open the drawer of various lingerie you and/or Paige had picked out throughout the years. It was a winning move all around: you got to feel sexy with every snap you sent to Paige, both of you got off to it, and it usually meant that your sex after she returned was even better. “Yeah, because I know you like them.”
“There’s no way I’m hornier than you, bro.” She throws her hands up. To be fair, as you watch her sit on her bed legs spread apart, donning a grey Nike hoodie and black sweats, you think she may have a point. This doesn’t stop an idea from popping in your head.
You sauntered over to her, legs straddling one of hers as she looked at you curiously. You sat yourself down, hands reaching under the hoodie and lightly tracing at bare skin. “Okay, prove it.”
“Huh?” She asked, her voice gravelly. I got the advantage already, you think to yourself mischievously.
“First person to initiate sex loses.” You propose, expecting an absolutely not from her. To your surprise, she seems even more intrigued.
“Ok, what does the winner get?”
You think for a moment. “Bragging rights,” you decide, adding. “and the choice of movie on movie night for the next month.” Though you both cherish your movie nights when you’re able to sneak them into the week, trying to agree on a movie is a battle.
“Deal,” Paige sticks her hand out, acting like some sort of businessman. You play along, accepting her firm grip, which she used to pull you in closer, her gaze still roaming your body. “and Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
Her head moved closer and closer. You could feel her breath on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. She peppered a few light kisses on the back of your ear before whispering, “I think we both know who’s going to win this, baby.”
Two days after the bet
This may be the worst idea you’ve ever had.
In the hours after you first proposed this little competition, the rules as to what counted as initiating became more explicit. Kissing, grinding, and the like were all okay as long as third base was not crossed. Should be easy enough, you thought, recognizing that you could do a majority of your favorite acts of intimacy without forfeiting.
What you failed to consider is just how much more appealing sex was when you knew you couldn’t have it. Little things from seeing a sliver of Paige’s toned torso as her shirt rode up reaching for the top shelf to how her hair got wavy after she had taken a post-practice shower got a reaction out of you these days . You were going insane, and yet your girlfriend appeared to be cool and collected. You truly should have expected this. There was no universe where Paige Bueckers wouldn’t be competitive, even over some dumb shit like this.
So when you woke up in her bed, approximately 30 minutes before her alarm to get ready for the bus taking her to a game in New York, you planned to change that. Gently loosening the grip she had around you, you reach you head up to pepper kisses on her cheeks, watching her stir before blinking her eyes open. Once they are able to somewhat focus on you, she offers a tired smile. “Mmmm, good morning to you too.”
Her hand cups your face, connecting you in a sweet kiss. You got her exactly where you want her. You let yourself melt into the kiss for just a moment before swinging a leg around to straddle her. Though the blonde was never much of a morning person, she suddenly seemed a lot more awake. Reaching for the bottom of Paige’s crewneck that you borrowed (stole), you pulled it over your head before throwing it to the ground with the rest of Paige’s clothes. This action sent Paige’s line of vision straight to your breasts, which you kneaded in your hands as you lightly ground down on her pajama covered crotch.
“Shit, Y/N,” She was seemingly mesmerized, unable to resist and you lean down and capture her lips once more, both of you a lot needier than before. Her tongue slips in, and it takes everything in you to pull away long enough to nibble at her ear.
“We got time before you have to make your bus.”
Her hands reach around to feel your waist, before coming back around to cup your tits. “Oh really?”
You nod, humming as you feel your victory is imminent. “You gonna give in, Bueckers?”
“Oh hell no,” her eyes widen, her movement in her hands stopping abruptly before removing contact entirely, a move you were less than pleased by. Still on top of her, you raise your eyebrows, an action which she returns. “What, you seriously thought I was gonna lose from that?”
Damn, she really didn’t have to be that harsh. “Ouch.”
Her laughter comes to a halt, her expression softening as she brushes your hair out of your face. “You were so sexy, you always are.” She gushes. “But I told you; if anyone here is losing this challenge, it’s you.”
You whip your leg back around, moving to a standing position and grabbing the discarded crewneck before throwing it back on. “Whatever,” you sulk.
“It’s a shame, too.” Paige follows your lead, moving to a standing position and grabbing your waist, making it abundantly clear just how much taller she is. She puts a finger under your chin, lifting so you’re forced to make eye contact. “I was getting real excited about being inside you.”
You have to physically hold yourself back from shivering at the comment, not wanting to show Paige just how much pressure was between your legs. “Go pack,” you crack a small smile, gesturing to her almost empty duffle.
Six days after the bet
Paige was off at an away game, this time much farther than just a state away. This required her to spend two nights away from Storrs, making the challenge just a little bit easier. Sure, you missed your girlfriend. But considering the circumstances it was nice to not have such a close reminder of how much you wanted to jump her bones.
You kept yourself busy the days she was gone with classes, extracurriculars, and time spent with friends at the student union. By the time you got back to your apartment the second night she was gone, you were completely wiped out, midterm week beginning to take a toll on you. Upon checking your notifications waiting for you while your phone was on do not disturb, you spot a snapchat notification from Paige. Sitting on your bed, you open it.
She’s sat in what appears to be her hotel room, snapback hat covering the top of her head. Her tongue is all the way out, paired with the caption “Miss you my sweet girl. Can’t wait for munch madness.”
While on any other day you would only be hyper focused on the pure absurdity of the photo, her tongue and the implications in the message had a downright embarrassing effect on you. Preparing to send back a more normal photo, your eyes make contact with the top drawer of your dresser, reserved for very specific articles of clothing. Two could play at that game.
Your red set had always been her favorite. You bought it at a smaller boutique towards the beginning of your relationship. Paige went so feral over how it hugged and accentuated every curve of yours the first night you wore it. You brought this set out on rare occasions, but figured this was enough of a reason to dust it off.
You knew exactly what angles she liked, showing off your body while disguising your face just enough to feel comfortable sending it. So when Paige sent back a chat which read "You’re gonna be the death of me,” you relished in the small victory you reached over her.
What are you thinking about? You send back, which Paige reads immediately.
How good you’d look sucking my cock in that, pretty girl.
The message nearly makes you choke on your own spit. It wasn’t every day that Paige brought out the strap. Many days, the two of you preferred intimacy just before bed, with Paige trailing her fingers under your pajama pants and you eating her out under the covers. But in some occasions, whether it be moments after a win or other times Paige was feeling particularly cocky, best believe she was ready to have you bent over seven different ways.
Want it so bad. You almost cringe at just how desperate you sound, but who could blame you?
Paige’s bitmoji popped up and down a few times, pondering before sending; Going to bed soon. See you tomorrow ;)
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you groan as your head hits your pillow. If you couldn’t have the real thing right now, you would at least settle for Paige talking (texting?) you through an orgasm. More frustrated than when you started, you reach a hand into your lace underwear, seemingly gone to waste.
And when Paige returns the next day and is able to stray from touching you outside of a quick makeout session, you wonder whether or not this bet was even worth it - you would be perfectly fine sitting through Disney movies for the next month if it meant your girlfriend could at least fuck you afterwards. But more than anything, you were still playing for your pride. After all, you knew this was the kind of shit that Paige would never let you forget.
Two weeks after the bet
After your failed seduction via Snapchat, you ruled it wasn’t worth it to try to get Paige to fold, and that your energy was much better used in not getting yourself to give in. Thankfully, your girlfriend had been booked and busy with two more games, one of which was a home game you attended. When it got to the point where Paige’s arguments with the refs were beginning to turn you on instead of simply make you laugh, you knew you were in deep, deep shit.
There were very, very few times you were forced to resort to masturbation typically, Not that there was any shame in it, its just that you always had Paige to help you out. Even if her schedule forced you to wait a few extra hours or even a day to get your release, it was a negotiation you were willing to take. Even though you knew your own body and what you liked, Paige seemed to have your body memorized, knowing just how much pressure to put on your clit and the precise second to speed up. Masturbation was essentially reserved for when Paige was physically not in the same state, and even then she helped where she could (as was to your detriment last week).
However with Paige gone at a practice on a Friday night and your friends all refusing to go out in the pouring rain, you were left alone in your one bedroom apartment and bored. That combined with the arousal that had been pooling inside you for weeks now was a lethal combination.
You tried to starve it off, you really did. You left the door unlocked for Paige later, just in case practice got off on time (it nearly never did) and she had time to swing by your place. A little part of you hoped she would break tonight, give you exactly what you needed. But at this point, the chances of that happening were sounding less and less likely, even to the most delusional section of your mind.
So you spent your night eating leftovers and binge watching your current Netflix fixation, trying to ignore how you would much rather be spending your night. Your legs rub together in your bed, soft and smooth from your nighttime shower routine. Pressing your thighs together, you sigh, unable to resist. Fuck it.
After shutting your laptop and placing it on your bedside table, you remove your pajama pants, tossing them to the floor. You could feel yourself dripping even from outside your underwear, breaking any last reservations you had on indulging in self pleasure. Reaching in, you put pressure on your clit, immediately melting into the touch.
Unknown to you, practice for UConn didn’t get out on time this night - it got out early, an uncharacteristic move for Geno who felt that the players would be better off resting their bodies before their upcoming games after a long week of practice than another hour of running the same drills. Though normally Paige would use this extra time to go to Ted’s with the rest of the team, she was more than happy to return home to you - even if this stupid bet was still going on.
The truth is, Paige had been just as wound up all week. If the two of you weren’t equally as competitive, she likely would have forfeited in the first three days. Honestly, its not like she would necessarily disagree that she was the hornier one out of the two of you - I mean, anyone who saw you would be. It was the definitiveness in your voice that got to her. She always loved proving people wrong.
She knew your door was unlocked, but gave it a light tap just to notify you of her presence. Normally this would prompt a “come in” or “it’s open”, but this time she was met with nothing except for the muffled sounds of your neighbors pregaming. Curious, she opened the door, walking into your living room with a call, “babe?”
Though you heard her, your brain was slow to process, too focused on the sweet relief you were getting. As you heard footsteps pad towards your room, you finally developed enough sense to slow your breathing, about to will yourself to remove your hand when the door swung open, all six feet of your sweaty, rain soaked girlfriend standing in the arch.
For a beat, the two of you looked at each other like deer in headlights, your hand still in your panties and her jaw on the floor She noticed the same moment you did, her eyes trailing as you quickly removed the digits.
Paige slowly set her backpack on the floor, blue eyes still never leaving you. Her gaze was filled with something you couldn’t quite detect - was it anger? She made a slow stride over to you, her hands shoved in her pockets, and you realize just how dilated her pupils had become. Nope, definitely not anger. More like pure arousal, mixed with admiration.
“Keep going,” Her voice is low, accent thick. You want to question it, but she adds on a,“Please.”
Shocked yet intrigued, you slowly trail your hand back down, tracing your nipple and lightly kneading the soft tissue of your breast. Paige licked her lips, watching the show you were putting on intently. Her pupils dilated as you finally make your way to your cotton panties, hooking your fingers under the sides and pulling them down just enough to give yourself more mobility and add more visual appeal for Paige. Paige hardly had time to be embarrassed by how much of an effect your wet pussy had on her after a two week drought, not when you immediately sunk a finger in while maintaining your hungry stare on her.
There was a beat of silence, the only sound in the room being the faint suction of your core gratefully accepting the relief from your middle finger. You don’t know whether it was the fact that you hadn’t cum with your girlfriend in weeks, or the fact that she was staring at you hungrily, but you couldn’t hold back the moan that raged through you, ending in a sharp whine. Paige inhaled, her eyes shutting as if she couldn’t bare to look. Exhale. Then, the silence was broken.
“Fuck it.”
You hardly had time to blink before she was on you, a hand reaching down and borderline yanking your hand away from your clit, replacing it with hers. The other hand reached for your face, connecting your lips as her fingers began making messy circles.
You melted into the kiss, thankful for the way it muffled your moans as Paige slipped a finger in, still paying good attention to your puffy clit. Your legs began to tighten, and you could almost cry because of how overwhelming it all was. You never thought just fourteen days without sex would do such a number on you, as you and Paige has certainly gone longer, but the fact that it was forbidden combined with the knowledge that you got her to snap like she did caused a rush of warmth to your core.
“You feel so good.” Paige’s voice comes out muffled by your lips, her breath labored. You love when she does this, riling herself up just by getting you off. “Missed this pussy so much.”
“Paige, please,” you don’t quite know what you are begging for, but the pure desperation in Paige’s voice has done a number on you. After over a week of feeling like the needy one, the way Paige is fucking you now is nothing short of satisfying and you need more. “Need you so bad.”
“I know, I know.” She whines, her face hiding in the crook of your neck. She was convinced if she took one look at you while you were asking (no, begging) her for more, she wouldn’t be able to hold back from cumming in her pants. Between sloppy kisses to soft skin, she babbles, “I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise. Gonna make you cum.”
That was Paige in a nutshell. No matter how tired she was, or how much the ache between her legs begged for her attention, she put your orgasm before hers always. She paid attention to the way your breath quickened, your legs becoming impossibly stiff, and she whispered, “You close?”
All you could do was nod, so focused on your release that forming coherent sentences was not in the cards for you at the moment. “Go ahead, wanna feel it.”
Your release rushed through you, warm and all encompassing, and it took all your strength to remain somewhat quiet as you exhaled through it, your moans coming out more as whines if anything. As your breath steadied, Paige’s mouth returned to yours, this time more sweet as she brought you back down.
In your post-orgasm glow, you widen your eyes just enough to look at your girlfriend, the front tendrils of her hair damp from both sweat and the storm outside. A blush floods her face as she grins at you, prompting you to pull her down for a kiss.
“Wanna use my mouth on you, that okay?”
Paige nods, her eyes wide and breath labored from the performance she just gave to you. The two of you switch positions, her laying down on your pillows while you crawled over her, moving down her body. Though you wanted nothing more that for her to just sit back and relax as you showed her just how grateful you were for her, she did aid you in removing her drenched hoodie, the two of you laughing as it momentarily got stuck on her head (in any other circumstance you would scold her for laying in your bed with wet clothes, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment).
You kiss down her torso, watching her toned core flex in reaction as she inhales sharply. Her hands reach down to your shoulders, and you know exactly what she wants - she would just never outright ask. Looking up, eyes wide, you smile sweetly. “Grab my hair, baby.”
She sighs, fingers interwoven in your hair as you make work on her pants, pulling them down along with the boxers you love so much. You press gentle kisses to her inner thighs, ignoring the area begging for your attention until Paige huffs, “please, waited long enough. Want you so bad. Need you so bad.”
You bite back a grin, loving just how vocal your girlfriend gets. Giving in, you press a gentle lick to your girlfriends core, feeling her thighs tense in reaction, before giving her all of you and finding her waiting clit.
“There you go, good girl. Oh fuck,” She melts into your bed, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she’s overwhelmed by the sensation. Unlike you, who at least got the opportunity to indulge in self-pleasure, she never had the time, either spending her nights with you, in a hotel room with her teammates, or too tired after a long day of practice. Wanting to make the most of your handiwork, she moved one hand to the side of your face. “Look at me”
Still sucking at her clit, you lift your head slightly, and she cries out as she sees just how drunk off of her you look, doe eyes watering as you lap her up. It’s all just too much for the blonde as she struggles to maintain her breathing, feeling familiar sensations way quicker than she normally should.
“I’m close… I’m gonna cum… fuck.” The words tumbled out of Paige’s mouth in quick succession, as if she severely underestimated just how quick she was to tipping over the edge. With a groan, her grip on the back of your head tightened as she met her release, your tongue lapping it up like it was your last meal.
You wait until she rides out her orgasm before crawling back up, her hands meeting your waist to help. You collapse next to her, head raising just in time to meet her waiting lips.
“Love the way you taste,” you hum in satisfaction, prompting a smile from your girlfriend. You lived for the come down after sex, where it felt like it was just you and Paige alone on this earth, nothing and nobody else to worry about. She rubbed at your back, and you get so wrapped up in the domesticity of it all you almost miss the next words out of her mouth.
“You got one more in you, baby?”
“What?” You croak, looking at her as if you must have misheard. You thought the two of you were on the same page, having cum so hard you couldn’t imagine having space for anything more than passing out next to her.
That is until Paige finds enough energy and strength in her legs to stand, backing up towards your dresser while still facing you with a smirk on her face. “You didn’t think I was joking when I was telling you how bad I want you to suck me off, did you?”
Fuck. Though you were tired before (and still are), you can’t deny the way warmth floods south, already wound up again after hearing the sounds Paige made as she released. You nod, and Paige opens the top drawer.
In this moment especially, you’re grateful for Paige’s idea to get two straps, one for each of your apartments. “More convenient that way,” she had said with a wink. Paige adjusted the harness to herself, her movements only faltering for a moment when she noticed you drop to your knees, Calvin Klein bralette still on.
“You know what to do if you need me to stop, right sweet girl?” Her thumb traces your cheek sweetly. You nodded, having done this just enough times to establish a gesture (three taps on Paige’s inner thigh) to indicate you needed a rest. You’ve never had to use it - Paige just absolutely refused to put herself in a position where she could hurt her sweet girl without safety measures.
You inch closer, offering gentle kitten licks to the tip of the dildo before opening your mouth to let it rest on your tongue. Paige, gentle yet firm, pushes you down a little further, and you inhale through your nose praying that you don’t gag so early on. Your thumb is caught in a fist on your non dominant hand, the other one wrapping around the remainder of the strap as you bob up and down.
“Fuck, thats it.” Paige groans as the back of your throat betrays you, resulting in a choking sound and a pool of saliva on the toy. When your eyes meet hers, watery yet determined, she sighs. “You look so beautiful like this.”
You remove your lips with a pop, gaze never wavering. “Need to be inside you, please.”
Paige, never one to deny your request, aided you in a standing position, hands at your waist as she backed you towards your bed, until the two of you were forced to crawl on top. Biting her bottom lip, she circles your core a few times before allowing herself to sink in, and both of you gasp at the intrusion as if the dick was truly a part of her.
“So big… you’re so big.” You whimpered as she began plowing into you, lifting one of your legs to where your knee was nearly to your chest. The sounds your pussy made as it gripped Paige’s cock were sinful, prompting a smirk from the girl above you.
“So scared of people hearing huh? Why’s this pussy screaming for me then?” Paige taunted, watching the purple dildo slip in and out. The room filled with slapping of skin and Paige’s cock genuinely swimming inside you - you can’t remember the last time you felt (or sounded) like this.
“Such a fucking tease all week, winding me up so bad.” Paige continued, her voice gravelly as she watched your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. Licking her lips, she added, “Just needed a good fuck, didn’t you?”
Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of the strap stretching you out. She was consuming all of you, from your pussy to your mind, and you forgot to respond until her hand grabbed your waist, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough pressure to snap your attention back towards her. “Words, sweet girl. I know you know how to use them.”
“Paige, please. Wanna feel you in me,” Your words come out as broken sobs as she stilled herself, reaching down to play with your overstimulated clit just to feel something. You feel Paige offer a shallow thrust, but it isn’t good enough, you want more. Observing the way her brows furrowed in a last attempt to maintain control, you pout. “Wanna feel you cum inside me.”
You didn’t fully understand the grip those six words would have on her, not until in what felt like one movement she flipped you around, your knees planted on the bed and back arched as she entered you once more, both of you moaning at the contact as she drove into you like it was her mission. All of your senses were overwhelmed; your ears filled with the sound of your ass pushing back against the strap only to bounce back, mixed with Paige’s stuttering breath. Your head pressed close to the pillow, giving easy access to smell your freshly washed sheets. Turning your head to the side to breath, you could see your full length mirror capture the point where you and Paige met, the sight bringing you to the edge.
You’re sure two weeks ago you would have been utterly humiliated at the cry that leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, but when mixed with Paige’s groans of “fuck”, you couldn’t give less of a shit if your neighbors heard. By now, they definitely knew Paige’s name.
Paige collapsed on you, strap still inside your spent core until she musters enough strength to roll over to her side. The two of you took a moment to catch your breath, unsure of the last time you had gone that hard. Finally, still covering the top of her face with her arms, Paige breaks into a chuckle, which I catch.
“Holy shit.”
“Don’t say it.” She says, her voice deadpan. I take one look at her flushed cheeks, hair a messy collection of blonde tresses, and consider sparing her from my gloating. But after two long weeks, I feel passing up on the opportunity would be a waste.
“you lost the…”
“I know.” Paige groans, though her smile reveals she’s not being serious. “You try hearing your pretty little moans and not fucking you. It’s physically impossible.”
You laugh, moving to cuddle next to her as she haphazardly disposes of the strap, tossing it along with the various articles of clothing (you made a mental note to wash it later). “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think any of my actions the past week have proven I’m any less horny than you.”
Paige shrugged, arms wrapping around you and pulling your head into her chest, her lashes fluttering in a failing attempt to stay awake. “It’s why we work so well together, I guess.”
The two of you lay there, your breath matching hers, ready to put this stupid bet to rest along with yourselves. Reaching for the remote for your fairy lights to turn them off, you turn to her. “Just so you know, we’re watching a horror movie on Friday.”
“Worth it.”
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chaoticwriting · 1 month ago
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YOU ARE MARRIED??!!
-Wayne Manor, Gotham-
Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.
Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?
Cass: No.
Vicky: Then how about that pict-
Cass: I'm already married.
Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.
Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.
They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.
She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.
When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.
Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.
Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.
A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.
Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.
Some more murmurs sounded in the room.
Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.
More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.
Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?
A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."
Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.
Tim: Fuck you mean no?
Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.
Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)
Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.
Tim: So he is also a vigilante?
Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.
Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?
Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.
Jason: Like how Lian is with me?
Cass: No. Biological daughter.
Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.
Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.
It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.
Bruce: How long have you been married?
Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.
Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.
Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.
Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.
Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?
Cass: Yes.
Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.
Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?
Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.
Bruce: Why do you hide it?
Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.
Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.
Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.
Steph: And why is that?
Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.
Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?
Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.
Tim: Is it a forged identity then?
Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.
Dick: What? Why?
Cass: I don't know.
Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.
Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?
Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-
A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.
A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.
???:Mama!
Everyone: Mama?!!
Part 2
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onceinablueberrymoon · 20 days ago
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made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader
part 3 is up! scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive
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“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”
At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.
“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.” 
You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look. 
“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself. 
“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.
“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips. 
“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver. 
Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.
…or so you thought.
In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.
“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”
It was your turn to shiver. 
When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.
Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face. 
“Oh wait, I do.”
How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too! 
You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.
“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”
Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.
“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”
This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.
As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.
The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.
“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?” 
“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek. 
Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.
“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded. 
Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.” 
“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 
He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.
“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.
Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.
“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.
Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”
Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”
“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”
“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.
“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.” 
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a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol
tags: @preppyfella
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