#it needs to be a cup with a handle please

[iamquiantrelle]

OFFSIDES (chapter 3) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨). # wc: 8.16k

# tags: @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @ri6ht6ack @captainwithoutmakingitlove @masn-mount @itsleonaa @alika-4466 @mufasathatniggatho @livinglifethroughfanfic

# summary: nazanin "naz" williams and real madrid star aurélien tchouaméni's casual relationship takes an unexpected turn. after he temporarily ghosts her, leading to leaked photos and public drama, they must face their feelings for each other and try to make their 'situationship' into something concrete. masterlist

RealMadridTea: Anyone else find Tchouaméni's girl's old pics? Rutgers grad, Delta something... guess she's not just some random chick after all 👀

FootballWAGS: That American university photo of Naz is actually cute. She looks different now but still pretty! #RealMadridWAGs

tchouagoals: leave my boy's business alone fr... but since we're here, she got credentials unlike some other wags js 🤷🏾‍♀️

Naz stared at her phone, scrolling through the endless tweets. Her Instagram might be private, but these people were like detectives – finding her college graduation photos, shots from her Delta Sigma Theta days, even an old academic award ceremony picture. Someone had even dug up her senior thesis from Rutgers' digital library: "The Psychology of Black Americans: Mental Health in the Black Diaspora."

"You're doing it again," Kiki said from their kitchen doorway. "I thought Aurélien told you to stay off Twitter."

"He did." Naz locked her phone, but not before seeing another notification about someone sharing photos from her line's probate show. "But it's like watching a car crash."

Her roommate – soon to be ex-roommate – set a cup of ginger tea in front of her. "Girl, you've got bigger things to worry about. Like what you're taking to Madrid and what you're leaving behind."

The half-packed boxes scattered around their London flat were testament to that. Some labeled "Madrid" in Naz's neat handwriting, others marked "Storage" or "Donate." Two years of life in London being sorted into neat categories. Her Delta letters, should they go to storage or Madrid? Her collection of psychology books – which ones would she need for whatever job she found in Spain?

Her phone buzzed again. Aurélien: Ready for tonight?

Their first proper date. Because apparently that's what you do when you're already pregnant and planning to move countries – you go on first dates. Try to build something real while your world is literally in boxes.

As ready as I'll ever be, she typed back. Though Twitter found my sorority pictures so...

His response was immediate: You looked good in crimson. But seriously, stay off there. Let Simon handle it.

Simon wasn't handling anything though. The tweets kept coming, the speculation growing. Her line sisters had started a group chat about it – half concerned, half excited that one of their own was "dating up." Her old roommate from Rutgers sent screenshots of forum discussions about her. At least they hadn't found anything too embarrassing. Yet.

"Earth to Naz," Kiki waved a hand in front of her face. "You good? No more fainting spells?"

"I'm fine." Her hand found her stomach automatically. Still flat, but somehow everything felt different now. Heavier. More real. "Just... overwhelmed."

"Yeah well, moving countries while pregnant will do that." Kiki started sorting through another box, pulling out Naz's framed psychology license. "Still can't believe you're leaving me for Madrid."

"I'm not leaving you-"

"Girl, please. You're moving in with your fine-ass footballer baby daddy. I'd leave me for that too." She paused, holding up a photo of them from their first day in London. "But you better FaceTime me every day. And name the baby after me."

"What if it's a boy?"

"Keith is a perfectly good name."

Naz laughed, but it caught in her throat as another wave of nausea hit. Morning sickness was a lie – it lasted all damn day.

Her phone buzzed again: Maman wants to know what you're craving for dinner. She's cooking.

Because that was her life now – first dates with the father of her baby while his mother cooked and Twitter dissected her past. Somewhere between the sorority pictures and the morning sickness, between London and Madrid, between casual and complicated, this had become her new normal.

"You know what's wild?" Kiki said, sitting next to her. "Ten months ago you were just thirst-following footballers on Instagram. Now look at you."

"Yeah," Naz whispered, looking around at her boxed-up life. "Now look at me."

"You will be okay, Naz," Kiki said to her as she shot her a knowing look. "You and that baby."

"Hold up, let me record this for the girlies," Naz said, opening Instagram. She flipped her camera to show the chaos of boxes. "Day three of packing and I still can't figure out what goes where."

She added it to her Close Friends story – a carefully curated list that Destiny had been removed from weeks ago. The responses were immediate:

Girl you better pack that fine man's jersey first from her line sister Ashley.

Send me measurements to Kiki’s flat, I might move to London 👀 from her college roommate Gia.

"You're really okay with Aurélien covering the rent?" Naz asked Kiki for probably the tenth time that week. "Just until you find someone new or decide to move?"

"Girl, am I okay with a millionaire footballer paying my rent? Is that a real question?" Kiki tossed a throw pillow at her. "The real question is are YOU okay with quitting your job here?"

Naz thought about the resignation letter she'd submitted two days ago. Her supervisor had been understanding – too understanding, really. Had even suggested she take some of her regular clients remotely.

"I mean, I can still do sessions online while I figure out the Spanish job market." She picked up her license again. "Might need to get this transferred though."

"And what did lover boy say about all this?"

"He wants me to take my time. Says I should focus on settling in first, learning Spanish..." She rolled her eyes. "Being healthy."

"He's not wrong though." Kiki's voice went serious. "After that hospital scare-"

"I know, I know." Naz added another clip to her story, this one of Kiki dramatically hugging her Delta letters. "But I can't just... exist. I need to work."

"And you will. But maybe take a minute? Enjoy being pampered by your rich boyfriend?"

"He's not-" Naz stopped. What was Aurélien exactly? Baby daddy seemed too casual. Boyfriend felt too simple for what they were becoming.

"Speaking of which," Kiki nodded at her phone, "didn't he say something about dinner?"

Right. Their first proper date. Because apparently they were doing things backward – baby first, dating second.

She added one final clip to her story: "Last few weeks in London... ready for my next chapter I think ❤️"

"Corny ass," Kiki teased, but she was smiling. "Now please tell me you're not wearing that on your date."

Naz looked down at her oversized t-shirt and leggings. "I have time to change."

"Girl, your man is taking you on a real date. After everything? You better show up and show out."

"It's just dinner at his place-"

"With his mama cooking! Even better!" Kiki was already heading to Naz's room. "We're finding you something that says 'yes I'm carrying your baby but I'm still that bitch.'"

"Pretty sure Josette doesn't need that message," Naz laughed, but followed her anyway.

Her phone buzzed again: Maman's making that fish you liked last time. Says it's good for the baby.

Then: You okay? Need me to get you an earlier flight?

Always checking on her now. Always making sure she was okay. It should feel suffocating but somehow... didn't.

I'm good. Just packing and talking shit with Kiki.

Tell her she can stay by herself as long as she needs. No rush finding someone new.

Naz showed the message to Kiki, who whistled. "Girl, keep him. Not just for the baby. Keep him for life."

And maybe, Naz thought as she finally let Kiki drag her to the closet, that wasn't such a scary thought anymore.

*******************************************************

The Madrid sun hit different than London’s cloudy ass weather, Naz thought as Aurélien loaded her bags into his Urus. Maybe because this time it felt less like a weekend visit and more like coming home.

"Happy?" she asked, catching his grin as he started driving.

"You're here," he said simply. "Course I'm happy."

"I still have to go back next week. Pack up the rest, deal with the movers-"

"Yeah, but you're here now." His smile was infectious. "In Madrid. With me."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling too. "You're being extra."

"Can't help it." His right hand left the steering wheel, finding its way to her stomach. "How's our little midfielder?"

"Making me throw up on the plane. Business class was not impressed."

He rubbed gentle circles on her still-flat belly. "Maman found these ginger candies. Special order from some Asian market."

"Your mom needs to stop spoiling me."

"Never." He glanced at her. "Oh, by the way, I signed us up for Lamaze classes."

Naz nearly choked on air. "You what?"

"Lamaze. For the birth? The instructor speaks English-"

"Aurel, I'm barely three months-"

"Yeah but we need to be prepared. I've been reading these books-"

She couldn't help laughing. "Since when are you such a nerd about this?"

"Hey, I'm serious!" But he was grinning too. "We gotta learn the breathing techniques and stuff. I don't want to mess up when you're in labor."

The way he said it – like it was obvious he'd be there, like there was no question about them doing this together – made something warm bloom in her chest.

His expression turned more serious. "Speaking of preparation... have you told your mom yet?"

And just like that, the warm feeling vanished. "Not yet."

"Naz..."

"I know, I know. I'll get to it."

"All your friends know. Your sorority sisters, Kiki, Gia-"

"That's different."

"You're going to start showing soon. The whole world's gonna know before your own mother?"

She stared out the window at passing Madrid streets. "Maybe she'll see it on Twitter."

"Nazanin."

"Don't 'Nazanin' me. You don't know what she's like."

His hand squeezed gently where it still rested on her stomach. "No, I don't. But I know she needs to hear this from you, not the internet. Not when I do the baby cele as the official announcement."

"You’re going to do the cele?"

"Eventually. If I get a goal." He paused at a red light. "Which is why you need to tell her soon. Before she finds out some other way."

"I will." She caught his skeptical look. "I will. Just... let me get settled first. Figure out this move. Then I'll deal with my mother's disappointment."

"Maybe she'll surprise you."

Naz thought about her mother's face the day she announced she was moving to London for her master’s instead of taking that fast track PhD offer at her alma mater. The tight smile when she joined Delta instead of a "proper" sorority. The cold silence when she chose clinical psychology over cognitive practice.

"Yeah," she muttered. "She's full of surprises."

Aurélien must have heard something in her voice because he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Whatever happens, you've got me. Got all of us."

And maybe that was what scared her most – how much she was starting to believe him.

The smell of Josette's cooking hit them before they even opened the front door. Naz's stomach growled, reminding her she'd barely eaten on the flight.

"Ma fille!" Josette appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was the flight? The morning sickness?"

"More like all-day sickness," Naz admitted as Josette pulled her into a warm hug.

"Ah, just like me with this one." She gestured at Aurélien. "Sick until five months. But the fish will help."

"Maman, you didn't have to stay and cook-"

"Of course I did. Nazanin needs proper food, not your takeout." She shooed them toward the stairs. "Go, go. Get settled. I'm just taking the fish out and then leaving you two for your..." She made air quotes, "date."

Aurélien groaned. "Maman..."

"What? I think it's sweet. Better late than never, non?" She headed back to the kitchen, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a lullaby.

Twenty minutes later, after Naz had freshened up and changed, they came down to find the dining room transformed. Candles lit, table set properly, wine glasses filled with what looked like sparkling water.

"Your mom did all this?"

"She's... invested," Aurélien said, pulling out her chair.

"I can see that."

Josette appeared with the fish, set it down with a flourish. "Now, I'm going out with Denise. Don't forget the dessert in the fridge. And Aurélien?"

"Oui?"

"Be a gentleman." She kissed them both on the cheek and practically floated out, leaving them alone.

"So..." Naz watched him light the last candle. "First date."

"First proper date," he corrected, sitting across from her. "Though technically, Paris could count."

"Paris was a bootycall and you know it."

He laughed, the sound warm in the candlelight. "A very nice bootycall though."

"The nicest." She took a bite of fish, nearly moaning at the taste. "Okay, your mom needs to teach me how to cook like this."

"She will. She's already planning cooking lessons." He watched her eat with that soft look he got sometimes. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

"You know everything about me."

"Not everything. Like... what made you choose clinical psychology?"

She thought about it, taking another bite. "Honestly? Growing up with my mom... made me interested in why people are the way they are. Why they push their kids certain ways. How trauma and expectations shape us."

"And you didn't want to specialize in anything specific?"

"I like the breadth of clinical work. Getting to help different kinds of people, understanding various mental health issues." She glanced at him. "Though lately I've had a few athlete clients. They find it helpful that I understand the pressure of performance."

"From your dad?"

"Yeah. Growing up around his analysis of sports, seeing how mental health affects performance... it definitely influences how I approach therapy." She took a sip of water. "Your turn. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"I'm terrified of spiders."

She nearly choked. "What?"

"Can't stand them. Cama has to kill them for me at training."

"The great Aurélien Tchouaméni, afraid of tiny spiders?"

"They're creepy! All those legs..." He shuddered dramatically.

The conversation flowed easily after that. They talked about first crushes, embarrassing moments, favorite books.

"It's weird," she said later, as they finished dessert. "How we did everything backward."

"Backward?"

"Yeah. Like, we had sex first, then got pregnant, now we're finally having our first date..."

"Maybe we're just making our own timeline." His hand found hers across the table. "Our own rules."

Looking at him in the candlelight, Naz thought maybe he was right. Maybe their story didn't need to follow anyone else's path.

"Another thing you don't know about me," she said softly. "I'm really glad we're doing this. The date thing."

"Me too." His smile was worth every backward step that led them here. "Not tired yet, are you?"

"Depends what you're plotting."

"Want to go out?"

Naz raised an eyebrow. "And do what? Can't exactly hit the clubs like before."

"I was thinking..." He grinned. "Arcade?"

"Arcade?" She stared at him. "Really, Aurel?"

"Why not?" His smile was dangerous – the same one that usually preceded some of their wilder adventures. His eyes twinkled in the candlelight. "Could be fun."

"We're not little kids, Aurélien."

"Oh really? Says the girl who watched cartoons with me until 4 AM that time in Budapest?"

Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory. That night after his first match as interim captain for Les Bleus. They'd been riding the high of the win, of his performance, of everything that followed in that hotel room – things that would make Josette clutch her pearls if she knew.

Then somehow they'd ended up watching French-dubbed Dragon Tales of all things, tangled in hotel sheets, her body still bearing marks from their….activities.

"That was different," she muttered. "We were... distracted."

His grin widened. "I remember. You kept trying to test your skills and translate it to English."

"Until you shut me up."

"Very effectively, if I remember right."

She kicked him under the table. "You're terrible."

"And you're avoiding the arcade question." He leaned forward. "Come on, Naz. Let me beat you at ski ball."

"As if I’ll let you win."

"That sounds like a challenge."

She shouldn't. She was tired from the flight, from the move, from growing a whole human. But something about the way he was looking at her, about how he was trying to make this – them – feel normal...

"Fine," she conceded. "But when I destroy you at Dance Dance Revolution, don't cry."

His laugh was worth any exhaustion tomorrow might bring. "There's my girl."

My girl. The words settled warm in her chest, right next to where their baby was growing.

"But first," she stood, moving to his side of the table. "I think you owe me a proper first date kiss."

His hands found her waist immediately, pulling her between his legs. "Thought that came at the end of the date?"

"We're doing everything else backward," she reminded him. "Why start following rules now?"

When he kissed her, she tasted promise – of arcade games and cartoon nights, of backward timelines and forward momentum, of everything they could be if they just let themselves try.

Morning sunlight painted stripes across Aurélien's bedroom, catching dust motes and memories of last night. The massive teddy bear he'd won at free throws sat in the corner, looking absurdly out of place among his minimalist decor.

"Can't believe you actually made those shots," Naz mumbled against his chest. "Mr. 'I play football, not basketball.'"

"Can't believe you destroyed me at ski ball." His fingers traced lazy patterns on her stomach. "My ego may never recover."

"Poor baby."

"Speaking of baby..." His hand splayed wider across her abdomen. "When do you think you'll start showing?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "Few more weeks maybe? Though your mom swears she can already tell."

"Maman thinks she knows everything."

"She kind of does though."

They lay in comfortable silence, his fingertips still mapping the territory their child would soon make known.

"It's weird, right?" she said finally. "That we're actually having a baby?"

"So weird." He shifted to look at her properly. "Like, there's really a whole person in there. That we made. On that balcony in Mallorca."

"Stop," she laughed, but he was grinning.

"Just saying, that view was worth it."

"The view or what happened with the view?"

His grin turned wicked. "Both."

Last night felt like a dream – running around the arcade like teenagers, stealing kisses between games, him showing off at the basketball hoops until she shut him up by demolishing his ski ball score. They'd gotten ice cream after, walked through Madrid's streets hand in hand, and for a moment it was like they were just two people falling in love, not two people preparing for parenthood.

"What about names?" he asked suddenly.

"Already?"

"Just thinking about it. Maybe something French and American? Or Cameroonian?"

She traced the planes of his chest, considering. "You have any ideas?"

"Maybe." He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. "But I'm not telling yet."

"Tease."

"You love it."

Did she? Love it? Love him? The thought should terrify her but somehow, lying here with Madrid's sun warming the sheets and his hand on their baby, it didn't seem so scary to fall in love with him.

"Last night was nice," she said instead. "Felt normal."

"We can be normal." He pulled her closer. "Just... our kind of normal."

"Our kind of normal includes a baby now."

"Yeah." His voice held wonder. "Weird how that's not as scary as it was two weeks ago."

She knew what he meant. Somewhere between hospital rooms and arcade games, between morning sickness and midnight ice cream, between London and Madrid, terror had softened into something else. Something that felt a lot like hope.

"We're really doing this," she whispered.

"We're really doing this," he confirmed, then added with a smirk, "After we sleep more. Someone kept me up late beating me at games."

"Poor professional athlete, defeated by ski ball."

His retaliation tickle attack was worth the shrieking that probably woke up half of La Finca. The tickle fight soon dissolved into something softer, his hands gentling on her sides as she straddled him. When their lips met, it felt like coming home. Aurélien kissed like he played football – with purpose, with skill, with an intensity that took her breath away. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before deepening the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pressed against her lower back.

There was something different about kissing him now. Maybe it was the morning light making everything feel more real, or maybe it was knowing their baby was growing between them, or maybe it was just them – finally letting themselves have this, have each other, without pretense or games.

They broke apart with matching grins, both a little dazed. Naz studied his face – those dark eyes that seemed to see right through her, that sharp jawline she'd traced countless times, those full lips still curved in a smile. How was it possible for someone to be this beautiful? Even with bed head and morning stubble, he was unfairly handsome.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

"Ignore it," she murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "I want more kisses."

"You do?" His smile turned playful.

She nodded, capturing his lips again. They lost themselves for a few more moments until another buzz interrupted.

"Let me check this really quick."

She let out an exaggerated groan, complete with pout.

"Don't give me that face, Naz."

"But Aurel-"

"Just a second okay?" His hands squeezed her hips. "Maybe I'll give you some dick too..."

"Promise?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

He caressed her chin with gentle fingers. "Promise."

Naz settled against his bare chest as he reached for his phone, her fingers absently playing with the trail of hair below his navel. She felt the moment his body tensed.

"Putain," he cursed.

"What's wrong?"

He turned the screen toward her. Twitter was exploding with photos – them at the arcade last night, him winning the teddy bear, her laughing as he failed at ski ball. But as he scrolled down the thread, her blood ran cold.

There she was, outside her therapist's office in London, clearly taken with a long lens. The tweet above it speculating about why Tchouaméni's girl needed counseling.

Their bubble of morning bliss popped instantly.

"Fuck," she whispered, sitting up. "How did they-"

"I'm calling Simon." His voice had that edge now, the one that meant someone was about to have a very bad day. "This stops now."

But they both knew it wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. Because this was their life now – private moments made public, speculation about every move they made.

So much for their kind of normal.

Naz grabbed her own phone with shaking hands, Twitter already lighting up her notifications.

FootballLeaks: Why is Tchouaméni's girl at a counseling center? 🤔 Problems in paradise already?

MadridInsider: Sources say she's been going weekly. Must be rough being a WAG...

"Don't read the comments," Aurélien said, but she was already scrolling.

Then someone dropped another bomb – a photo from eight months ago at Cama's party. Her and Destiny, glasses in hand, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. The caption made her feel sick:

RealMadridTea: Like bestie like bestie? First Cama, now Tchouaméni... and look who's with Vini now 👀 These girls have a type! #JerseyHoppers

The replies were worse:

they pass these girls around like pokemon cards fr

nah destiny upgraded to vini but naz got the bag with tchou

"Naz." Aurélien's voice seemed far away. "Give me the phone."

"They think I'm like her," she whispered. "They think I'm jumping from player to player like-"

"Stop." He took her phone gently but firmly. "You know that's not true."

"But-"

"No buts." He pulled her against his chest. "You're nothing like her. The people who matter know that."

She could hear him on the phone with Simon now, voice tight with controlled anger. Words like "invasion of privacy" floated around her, but all she could think about was that photo with Destiny. How happy they'd looked. How fake it all was.

"They're watching me at therapy," she said when he hung up. "Taking pictures of me at therapy, Aurel."

"Simon's handling it."

"That won't stop them from comparing me to her. From thinking I'm just another-"

"Look at me." He tilted her chin up. "You're the mother of my child. My girl. Nothing else matters."

"But Vini-"

"Already knows the truth about Destiny. Cama told him everything last night."

That made her pause. "He did?"

"Yeah. Apparently he wasn't too happy about being lied to." Aurélien's thumb stroked her cheek. "The truth always comes out, bébé. Let them talk. We know what's real."

She leaned into his touch, trying to find comfort in his certainty. But the image of her outside that counseling office kept flashing in her mind.

"I go to therapy because I want to be better," she said quietly. "Because I want to understand myself, help other people. Not because-"

"You don't have to explain." His kiss was soft against her forehead. "Not to me, not to anyone."

Her phone buzzed again in his hand. More notifications, more speculation, more hate probably.

"What do we do now?"

"Now?" He set both their phones aside. "Now we go back to our morning. Don't let them steal this from us too."

But as he pulled her back down into the sheets, as his lips found hers again, she couldn't help wondering how many more private moments would become public spectacle. How many more comparisons to Destiny she'd have to endure.

"Aurel?" Her voice was small against his chest.

"Mm?"

"What if..." She swallowed hard. "What if they have pictures from the other clinic too?"

His body tensed beneath her. "What other clinic?"

"The abortion counselor." The words felt heavy in the morning air. "What if they saw me there and-"

"Hey." He shifted to look at her properly. "That was private. That was your choice to consider, and-"

"And what if they post it? What if they twist it into something ugly?" Her voice cracked. "They'd crucify me. Call me a baby killer or say I tried to-"

"Stop." His hands framed her face. "First of all, getting counseling about your options was the responsible thing to do. Second, if anyone tries to shame you for that, they'll have to deal with me."

"But your image-"

"Fuck my image." The intensity in his voice made her blink. "You were scared and alone because I blocked you like an idiot. You had every right to consider all your options."

She traced patterns on his chest, not meeting his eyes. "The fans wouldn't see it that way."

"The fans don't get a vote in our personal decisions." His thumb wiped away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "And if those pictures exist? We handle it. Together."

"How?"

"By telling the truth. That we made a choice – together – to have this baby. That we're happy about it. That whatever came before was our business and no one else's."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Though Simon might have a heart attack if we're that direct."

That startled a laugh out of her. "He does prefer his PR statements very... sanitized."

"Very boring, you mean." His fingers tangled in her hair. "But seriously, Naz. Nothing they could leak would change how I feel about you. About us."

"Promise?"

"On everything." His hand found her stomach again. "On both of you."

She settled back against him, letting his heartbeat steady her. "Your mom would probably fight anyone who tried to shame us anyway."

"Probably? Definitely. Maman's already got her wooden spoon ready."

The mental image of Josette chasing Twitter trolls with a spoon made her giggle. "We're gonna be okay, right?"

His kiss was answer enough, soft and sure against her lips. "More than okay. We're gonna be amazing."

Maybe we will be okay…..

"I'll make breakfast," Aurélien added. "Pancakes?"

Naz hummed in agreement, but the moment he left the room, she reached for her phone again. She knew better – knew doom scrolling while hormonal was a recipe for disaster, but she couldn't help herself.

Instagram was worse than Twitter. FootballWAGsTea had already posted a series of photos: her outside the counseling office, at the arcade with Aurélien, and that damning shot with Destiny from Cama's party.

Swipe for the tea! Looks like Tchouaméni's new girl has a history with the WAG scene... 👀 Sources say she was close with Destiny (now dating Vini Jr) when Des was with Camavinga! Pattern? 🤔

The comments made her stomach turn:

she looks desperate tbh

at least destiny is upfront about what she wants

notice how she only goes for the rich ones

bet she's trying to trap him

If they only knew, she thought bitterly. Then the familiar wave of nausea hit – stronger this time, probably triggered by stress and an empty stomach.

She barely made it to Aurélien's ensuite bathroom before losing what little was in her stomach. Morning sickness was brutal enough without adding social media anxiety to the mix.

"Naz?" Aurélien's voice carried from the bedroom. "You okay?"

She wanted to answer, but another wave hit. Then his hands were there, holding back her hair, rubbing her back.

"I told you to stay off social media," he said softly.

"Since when do I listen?" she managed between heaves.

"Hardheaded."

"You like it."

He didn't deny it, just kept rubbing her back as she emptied her stomach. When she finally sat back, he handed her a warm washcloth.

"The pancakes are burning," she whispered.

"Fuck the pancakes." He settled on the bathroom floor beside her. "What did you just see?"

"Nothing I didn't expect." She leaned into him. "Just... hits different now. With the baby and everything."

His hand found her stomach automatically. "They still don't know shit about us."

"They think they do though. Think they know everything." Her laugh was hollow. "Wait till they find out about this."

"Hey." He turned her face toward him. "When they find out about our baby, it'll be because we choose to tell them. On our terms."

"If they don't figure it out first."

"Then they figure it out. But right now?" His kiss was soft against her temple. "Right now it's just us. Our secret."

The smell of burning pancakes finally reached them.

"You really left the stove on?"

"Shit." He scrambled up. "Stay here. Drink water. No more social media."

"Yes, captain," she mock saluted, but her smile faded as soon as he left.

Her phone sat accusingly on the bathroom counter. One notification caught her eye:

@FootballWAGsTea: Anyone else notice she's been looking... different lately?

The nausea returned full force.

******************************************************

Josette had confiscated her phone with all the gentle authority of a mother who'd raised a stubborn son. "No more stress," she'd said firmly, tucking the phone away in her room before leaving. "Doctor's orders."

Now Naz was stuck in this massive villa with nothing but her thoughts and a weirdly clingy Ocho. She'd tried Netflix, but nothing held her attention. Prime was just as useless, despite Aurélien paying for every streaming service known to man.

"This is what happens when your social media addiction gets cut off," she told Ocho, who'd been following her room to room like a furry shadow. "You realize you don't know how to function without it."

The dog just tilted his head, staying closer than usual. Maybe he could smell the changes in her body. She'd read somewhere that dogs could detect pregnancy.

Unpacking seemed like the responsible thing to do. She managed to get through organizing her toiletries and hanging up the clothes from her carry-on before restlessness hit again. That's when she caught her reflection in Aurélien's full-length mirror.

She turned sideways, studying her profile. Still flat, still just... her. If it wasn't for the constant nausea and two positive tests and that grainy ultrasound image, she wouldn't believe there was actually a baby in there.

Her hand found her stomach, pressing gently. Nothing felt different. She poked her belly out deliberately, trying to imagine what she'd look like in a few months.

"What do you think, Ocho?" she grabbed one of the decorative pillows from Aurélien's bed. "Think I'll look like this?"

She stuffed the pillow under her shirt, smoothing the fabric until she had what she imagined was a decent fake baby bump. The sight made her breath catch.

"Weird, right?" she whispered to Ocho, who'd settled at her feet. "There's really a baby in here. Like, an actual human that me and your dad made."

But besides the morning sickness – which was really all-day sickness – she didn't feel pregnant. Shouldn't she feel different? More maternal? More... something?

The tests said she was pregnant. The ultrasound showed that tiny flutter of heartbeat. Aurélien's mom was already planning nursery colors and Aurélien himself had downloaded three different baby apps.

But standing here, alone with her reflection and a fake pillow bump, it felt surreal. Like playing pretend.

She pulled the pillow out, letting her shirt fall flat again. Her fingers traced where their baby was supposedly growing.

"Your dad's at PT right now," she told her stomach, feeling only slightly crazy for talking to it. "Probably driving his trainers nuts asking about what exercises are safe around pregnant women."

Ocho whined, pawing at her leg.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm being weird." She scratched behind his ears. "Just trying to wrap my head around all this. Being here, being pregnant, being..."

Being what? Aurélien's girlfriend? Baby mama? Future WAG?

She caught her reflection again, trying to see what those gossip blogs saw. Did she look different? Could people tell?

Or was she just looking for changes that weren't visible yet, like searching for proof that this was all real and not some elaborate dream she'd wake up from?

"Come on," she told Ocho. "Let's stop before I completely lose it talking to myself in mirrors."

But she couldn't help one last glance at her profile, one last moment of wondering when she'd start to see on the outside what she knew was growing inside.

When this would start feeling real.

Naz abandoned the mirror to sit on Aurélien's – their? – bed, Ocho following faithfully. Her hand hadn't left her stomach.

Lamaze classes. She almost laughed at the thought. Aurélien was so excited about them, had already picked out an English-speaking instructor and everything. Would she be the youngest one there? Would the other moms judge her? Maybe she should join one of those mommy groups too, though the thought made her cringe. She'd seen those groups at the parks in London, all designer strollers and organic snacks.

"Never thought I'd be here," she told Ocho, who rested his head on her lap. "Like, this was never the plan."

The plan had been perfect: graduate high school with honors, get through Rutgers without any "distractions" (her mother's word for boys), finish her master's, establish her career. She'd been so careful, so responsible. Hell, she'd made it through four years of college without so much as a pregnancy scare.

But one weekend in Mallorca with a footballer...

"It is what it is," she muttered, echoing Aurélien's favorite phrase.

The option to terminate was still there. Technically. She knew the timeline, knew her rights. Had literally marched in protests supporting those rights. Funny how different it felt when it was your body, your baby, your choice.

Her fingers traced patterns on her stomach. Their baby. Because somewhere between that first positive test and now, it had become real. Become wanted. Even with all the terror and uncertainty, even with her career hanging in limbo, even with the social media harassment...

"I have Aurélien," she reminded herself. "And Josette. And Uncle Bertrand."

Family. Support. Love. Things she hadn't expected to find when she first started hanging around footballers. Things that made the idea of motherhood slightly less terrifying.

But then there was her own mother.

"Fuck," she groaned, falling back on the bed. Ocho immediately scooted up next to her.

How do you tell your perfectionist mother that you got knocked up by a casual fling? That you're moving countries for said fling? That all her careful planning and guidance led to her daughter becoming exactly what she'd warned against?

The fact that the "fling" was a millionaire footballer probably wouldn't help. Her mother had very specific ideas about athletes and the women who dated them.

"She's going to kill me," Naz told the ceiling. "Actually murder me. Then resurrect me to lecture me about responsibility and throwing away my future."

But what future was she throwing away really? She could still practice – maybe even build a niche helping other athletes and their families. Could still make something of herself beyond just being Aurélien's girlfriend or baby mama.

Baby mama. God, she hated that term. Made her sound like some stereotype, like what those Twitter trolls thought she was.

"Not that it matters what they think," she said to her stomach. "Your dad's right about that at least."

Her hand settled over where their baby was growing. All these plans she'd never thought to make, all these decisions she never expected to face. Lamaze classes and mommy groups and birth plans and...

"Holy shit," she whispered. "I'm actually going to be someone's mother."

The thought should terrify her more. Maybe it would later. But right now, lying here with Ocho's steady presence and the memory of Aurélien's excitement about those damn Lamaze classes...

Maybe it wasn't the future she'd planned. Maybe it wasn't the path her mother had mapped out. Maybe it wasn't what anyone expected of her.

But maybe, just maybe, it could be better than any plan she'd made for herself.

"Papa est rentré!" Aurélien's voice carried up from downstairs, followed by the clicking of Ocho's nails against the hardwood as the dog abandoned his post by her side.

She could track their movement through the house – Aurélien's heavy footsteps, his voice going soft and silly as he talked to Ocho. "Où est maman? Where's mommy, huh?"

Ocho's excited panting led them right to the bedroom, where she was still sprawled on her back, contemplating existence.

"Should I dissociate with you?," Aurélien teased from the doorway.

"Be my guest."

"Sarcastic ass," he muttered, kissing his teeth, but she heard him toeing off his Nikes before the bed dipped with his weight beside her.

"How's the ankle?"

"Good. Ready for Athletic Club next week."

Then quiet settled over them – not the awkward kind from their early days, but the comfortable silence of two people who'd seen each other at their worst and chosen to stay anyway. The afternoon sun painted shadows across the ceiling, and somewhere below Ocho's collar jingled as he settled.

"Did you know," Aurélien's voice was soft but certain, "that our baby is the size of a raspberry right now?"

The corners of her mouth lifted. "Let me guess – one of your baby apps told you that?"

"Also told me my sperm determined the sex." She could hear the smile in his voice. "So technically, whatever we're having is my fault."

"Everything's your fault."

His chuckle was rich and deep, vibrating through the mattress between them. The sound always did something to her insides, even before all this.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. "And don't give me that 'as long as it's healthy' bullshit."

He laughed again, caught. "That obvious?"

"That diplomatic. Very PR of you."

His smile went softer as he met her eyes. "A girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." His hand found her stomach. "Little princess to spoil. Someone who looks just like you."

"Poor kid if she gets your height and my curves."

"She'd be perfect." The certainty in his voice made her chest tight. "Just like her mama."

Looking at him in the afternoon light, all earnest eyes and gentle touches, Naz thought maybe dissociating wasn't necessary after all. Maybe this reality was better than anything she could escape to.

"I want a boy," Naz said, turning on her side to face him properly. "A little mama's boy like his daddy."

"I am not a mama's boy-"

"Says the man whose mother confiscated my phone and you didn't even question it."

"That's different," he protested, but his grin gave him away. "And anyway, hopefully not too much of a mama's boy." His voice shifted into an exaggerated Cameroonian accent, clearly imitating his father: "Strong sons, Aurélien! We need strong sons! Not these boys always running to their mothers!"

Naz burst out laughing. "Your dad does not sound like that!"

"You haven't heard him after a few drinks at family gatherings." He kept the accent going. "My son, the footballer! But why you let your mother feed you so much? Where is the discipline?"

"Stop!" She was really giggling now. "Fernand would kill you if he heard this."

"Probably." His voice returned to normal, but his eyes still danced with mischief. "But for real, can you imagine? A little boy with your smile and my footwork?"

"More like your smile and my attitude."

"God help us all," he said with a dramatic eye roll.

She poked his side. "You love my attitude."

"Most days." He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "When you're not being hardheaded."

"Says the most stubborn person in Madrid."

"Second most stubborn. Clearly you're first."

Their laughter faded into something softer, his thumb tracing circles on her wrist.

"Boy or girl though," he said quietly. "They're gonna be so loved."

And that, Naz thought, was probably the truest thing either of them had said all day.

"Should we do a naming ceremony?" Naz asked, watching his long fingers move to trace patterns on her stomach. "Like, is that something your family would expect?"

Aurélien's eyebrows furrowed before his lips curved into that knowing smirk. "Oh, you trying to be African African now?"

She rolled her eyes at his teasing. "I don't know, I've never had a baby before." A pause. "You had one, right?"

"Mhm." His movements were characteristically slow, deliberate as he shifted closer. Those athlete's hands spanning her stomach easily. "Parents even took me back to Cameroon when I was little. Maybe two? Three? After the naming ceremony in France."

His tongue darted out to wet his lips – a tell she'd noticed happened when he was thinking deeply about something.

"Your sister came for that, right? Your mom mentioned she stayed a few weeks when you were born."

"Yeah, Clarisse was there." He sucked his teeth, a habit that came out most when he was being sarcastic or attitude-heavy. "Seven-year-old big sister apparently wasn't too happy about me stealing all the attention."

"But she got over it?"

"Eventually." His swagger was still evident even lying down. "Now she's out in Lagos doing her NGO thing, acting like she wasn't trying to trade me for a puppy when I was born."

"She works with refugees, right?" Naz remembered Yannis bringing it up at dinner. "That's amazing."

"Yeah, she's the real deal. Dad's first wife's daughter but..." He shrugged those broad shoulders. "She's just my sister, you know? Been there my whole life."

"Think she'll come when our baby's born?"

His face softened. "Probably. She already texts Maman asking for updates about you."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Whole family's invested now." His hand slid up to cup her face, those long fingers gentle against her skin. "So yeah, we can do whatever ceremonies you want. Mix it all up – Cameroonian, American, French..."

"You just want an excuse for multiple parties."

He kissed his teeth again, but his eyes were laughing. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to show off my family."

The way he said it – my family – made something warm bloom in her chest.

"Your African African family?" she teased.

"Quiet," but he was grinning that megawatt smile. "You know what I mean."

And she did. Somehow, impossibly, she really did.

Aurélien pulled his Urus into the training facility lot, catching sight of Denise Bellingham's car dropping off Jude. He shook his head – boy was too grown to still be getting rides from his mama.

"Ay!" He called out after parking, dapping up Jude. "Your barber coming through?"

"Yeah, hitting the house later. You need a cut?"

"Maybe." Aurélien ran a hand over his fade. "Unlike some lightskin pretty boys who can’t go months without a trim."

"Don't hate." Jude flashed that signature grin. "We can't all be blessed like me."

"Blessed? Bro, you don't even drive."

"And? Girls still love me."

"Girls gonna love you less when they find out their man needs his mama for transportation."

Jude just laughed, clearly unbothered. "They still fuck me though."

"You're impossible." Aurélien shook his head, but he was fighting a smile.

"Speaking of impossible..." Jude fell into step beside him as they headed inside. "How's Naz? The baby?"

"Good. She's settling in."

"Cool, cool. So about names-"

"Jude..."

"Hear me out!" His eyes lit up with that mischievous glint. "What about Judah? Biblical, you know? Or Judith for a girl?"

Aurélien kissed his teeth. "We're not naming our baby after you."

"Why not? I'm gorgeous, talented-"

"Humble."

"Exactly!" Jude was properly grinning now. "Plus, think how good Jude Tchouaméni sounds."

"You're actually insane."

"Judette? Judina? We can get creative with it."

"I'm walking away now."

"Jude Junior? JJ for short?"

Aurélien flipped him off without looking back, Jude's laughter echoing through the facility.

"Just think about it!" Jude called after him. "Your kid could be named after a legend!"

"A legend who can't drive!" Aurélien shot back.

Jude's "Still gets more play than you!" followed him into the locker room.

Some things never changed. And maybe that was good – having this normalcy, these friendships, while everything else in his life was shifting.

Even if his best friend was an absolutely shameless lightskin who needed better name suggestions.

*****************************************************

Back on the pitch, everything else faded away. This was where Aurélien lived, where everything made sense. The grass under his boots, the familiar weight of the ball, the rhythm of drills he could do in his sleep.

His ankle felt good – strong. The medical team had done their job, and those endless PT sessions were paying off. He intercepted a pass from Kylian with his usual precision, his body remembering exactly how to move, when to strike.

"Looking good, Tchou!" Carlo called from the sideline. "How's it feeling?"

"Perfect, Coach!" And it was. This was perfect.

They ran positioning drills, the kind of tactical work that made his brain light up. Reading the game, anticipating movements – this was his element. He could feel Jude and Cama watching him carefully at first, probably worried about the ankle, but after his third perfect tackle, they stopped holding back.

"Showing off for the baby mama?" Cama teased after Aurélien executed a particularly clean sliding challenge.

"Nah," he grinned, that familiar swagger returning. "Teaching you how it's done."

The ball felt like an extension of himself, his touches precise, his positioning flawless. Being sidelined had been torture, but maybe it had been good for him. Made him hungry. Made him appreciate this more.

Sweat dripped down his back as they moved into a practice match. This was where he thrived – the chess match of midfield battles, the quick decisions, the perfect passes. His long legs ate up the pitch as he tracked back, intercepted, distributed.

"Damn," he heard Vini mutter after he broke up another attack. "Man came back different."

Different was right. Everything was different now. He had more to play for, more to prove. A family to support, a legacy to build.

The afternoon sun beat down on Madrid's training ground, but Aurélien barely felt it. All he felt was the game, the movement, the pure joy of being back where he belonged.

His ankle didn't even twinge when he launched into a perfectly timed tackle, stealing the ball from Kylian and immediately finding Jude with a long pass.

"Show off," Jude laughed.

But Aurélien just smiled. Because yeah, maybe he was showing off a little. Maybe he wanted to prove something – to himself, to the team, to everyone who'd write stories about how fatherhood might affect his game.

Prove that he could have both. The career and the family. The glory and the responsibility. The pitch and the nursery.

His next tackle was even cleaner, his next pass even sharper.

The water break turned into what it usually did – them clowning around, Kylian showing off some new handshake with Vini while Jude recorded for his Instagram stories.

Then Cama, never one to keep thoughts to himself, had to bring it up: "So you still messing with Destiny or what?"

Vini shrugged, that easy Brazilian swagger intact. "She knows what it is."

"What it is?" Cama grabbed his dreads in disbelief. "Bro, what are you doing?"

"Relax." Vini took a long drink. "I told her to back off, yeah? No trying to get in with the WAGs, no bothering Naz."

"How'd she take that?" Jude asked, putting his phone away.

The look Vini gave them said everything – she hadn't taken it well at all, but she'd agreed. For now.

"You don't know Des like I do though," Cama shook his head. "When she wants something..."

"Bro, she tried to trap you," Kylian cut in. "Tell him."

"Yo," Cama held up his hands. "She was giving me head, right? But wouldn't swallow. Caught her trying to save that shit."

"What the fuck?" Vini's face twisted in disgust.

"Nah for real! That's why I'm telling you-"

"She really tried to..." Jude made a face. "Save it?"

"Like in a cup and everything." Cama was on a roll now. "I told you about her, Vini. That girl's got plans."

Aurélien, who'd been quietly hydrating, felt all eyes turn to him.

"At least Naz was straight up about it," Cama added. "Told you as soon as she found out."

"After you blocked her," Jude reminded him.

"Yeah well..." Aurélien wiped his face with a towel. "We fixed that."

"And now you're having a whole baby," Kylian grinned.

"A baby Jude," Jude added helpfully.

"We're not naming the baby after you-"

"Anyway," Cama cut in, "all I'm saying is be careful, Vini. Des sees you got that new contract..."

"She knows better," Vini insisted, but something flickered in his expression.

"That's what I thought too." Cama took another drink. "Then I caught her with the cup."

The collective grimace that followed had their trainer calling them back to drills. But as they jogged back to position, Aurélien caught Vini's thoughtful look.

Some lessons, he figured, you had to learn the hard way. He just hoped Vini figured it out before he ended up with his own cup story to tell.

******************************************************

The high of training carried through his shower, through the locker room banter, all the way to his car. His body had that good kind of tired – the satisfied ache of doing what he was born to do.

"Tchou!" Carlo caught him before he could leave. "Good session today. Very good."

"Thanks, Coach."

"And..." his coach's knowing smile appeared. "How is everything else? The personal situation?"

Aurélien couldn't help his own smile. "Good. Really good."

"Babies and football," Carlo shook his head fondly. "Changes everything, no? Makes you play... different."

"Different how?"

"More focused. More..." he gestured vaguely. "Complete. You play like a man with purpose now."

The words followed him to his Urus, settled in his chest as he pulled out his phone. Three messages from Naz:

Your mom finally gave me my phone back

Already regret asking for it

But I found a onesie with "Future Midfielder" on it so maybe social media isn't all bad

His fingers flew over the keyboard: Buy it. Buy ten.

Someone's in a good mood

Killed it at training. Ankle's perfect.

My strong baby daddy 💪🏾

He laughed out loud at that, the sound echoing in his car. Then another text:

Found some more nursery stuff. Come look when you're home?

Home. Where Naz was waiting. Where their baby was growing. Where everything made sense in a different way than it did on the pitch, but just as perfectly.

On my way, he typed back. Got something to tell you about Des too.

Tea? 👀

The whole pot bébé

Starting the car, Aurélien felt that same certainty he'd had on the pitch. Different was good. Different was right. Different was exactly where he needed to be.

His ankle didn't even twinge as he pressed the gas. Some things just needed a little time to heal properly. To come back stronger.

Maybe relationships were like that too.

…………………tbd

[bumblesimagines]

i missed you. more than you know.

things didn't work out with them.

Anora

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

It was November and (Y/N) lingered by the vent blasting hot air while wrapped in a thick blanket silently wishing climate change turned New York into Florida. He hated it. He hated everything about winter and New York and winter in New York.

He hated the cold air that made his nose runny and his eyes sting; he hated when the snow melted outside and made simply walking out onto his small porch a hazard when it froze again; he hated having to bundle up in three to four layers of clothes just to walk down the street to the nearest bodega for a gallon of milk or a sandwich; most of all, he hated how winter made him reflect on everything wrong in his life and how miserably lonely he was.

While he brooded around his annoyingly small apartment and complained to no one about his woes, his work friends posted about the cutest little decorations they set up with their families or announced a new engagement or revealed a blissful little pregnancy.

Half the people he went to high school with posted about how great their lives were going, about how happy and grateful they were. It only made him wallow in his misery even more.

"City of dreams my ass." He huffed, shuffling through his kitchen toward the coffee maker and peering into the pot as he tugged the blanket further over his shoulders. Not enough for even half a cup of coffee. His lungs released a heavy exhale of air and his forehead dropped onto the cold countertop. 

He just needed one good thing to happen. Just one, little, happy thing that would help him leave the year off with a-

Another sigh left him when there were two knocks at his door and he straightened up, contemplating leaving whoever it was on his porch freezing their ass off until they got the memo. The second pair of knocks, this time a little harder, made his head loll back with a low groan. He reluctantly tugged the blanket off himself and draped it over the back of the couch when he stepped out of the kitchen on his way to the front door. 

He cracked the door open and shivered at the cold air that poured in, nearly shutting the door on instinct but leaving it open enough to catch sight of his ex-girlfriend standing on his porch with luggage.

To say Anora looked exhausted was an understatement. Her cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold, her eyes were red as if she'd been crying for an hour, and her hair was a mess and lacked the vibrant tinsels she loved decorating it with. 

This was not what he meant.

"Ani," He blinked at her wildly. Vera couldn't have possibly kicked out her sister, but the luggage made him nervous regardless. "What- What are you doing here?"

"I've had-" Her voice was hoarse and low, laced with exhaustion. "-the worst day of my life, (Y/N). Can I please come inside?"

He swallowed and nodded weakly, cracking the door open enough for her and her luggage to slip inside before he shut the door behind her and sighed in relief as the warm air began circulating again.

Anora pushed the handle of her luggage, her movements slow and almost sluggish. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it over the couch's armrest before simply.. standing still. He watched her, lips drawn into a line. The silence was deafening.

"Do.." He motioned toward the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?"

Anora took a step toward him and silently wrapped her arms around his waist, her cold face pressing into his shoulder and body deflating with a long sigh. (Y/N) stiffened in her embrace and stared at the wall across the room until he realized she wasn't letting go of him.

It was one thing for his ex to show up out of the blue, it was another to be tightly embraced by her. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and felt her nuzzle her cheek against him. 

"I got married." God, when was it going to be his turn? "Things didn't work out with him. His parents made us get a divorce."

"Oh." He winced and rubbed his palm into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ani. I'm sure-"

"He didn't care."

Jesus. Maybe his life wasn't so bad after all.

Anora's shoulders rose with an inhale and she tilted her head back to look at him, semi-lidded eyes gazing intently at his face. "I missed you. More than you know. I know it sounds bad 'cause I just got dumped or whatever but.. the entire time I was dealin' with all that crap I was just wishin' you were there to tell me everythin' was going to be okay. I don't want to go through somethin' again and not have you there, (Y/N). I want you in my life."

[ikuzeminna]

I need your help with a hypothesis!

For context: My linguistics professor and I got into a discussion after a test she did with us, and I was of the opinion that the reason for the results was different from the one she offered, so she encouraged me to test my theory.

What I need

All you need to do is draw a coffee cup (with a handle, not the disposable stuff) and then answer three questions.

I don't need to see the coffee cup. You can draw it wherever you like; on a piece of paper, digitally, in the sand, on a foggy window. Anything works. It does not have to be good. A doodle is fine.

You have to draw the coffee cup before you see the questions. This is very important. If you decide to help me with this, please doodle the coffee cup before you keep reading.

Assuming you have drawn the coffee cup, I now need you to answer these three questions:

On which side did you draw the handle?

Are you right-handed or left-handed?

Do you primarily write using the Latin alphabet or a different one? (please specify which)

More context

Most people will draw the handle on the right side. My professor says it's because most people are right-handed, so they draw the handle in the direction that would be comfortable for them to pick up.

I said drawing it on the right side just felt more comfortable to my hand and argued it's probably because we write a bunch of letters like that. B, b, D, P, p, R all look like a tiny "handle on the right side" and are all a straight line followed by a round one (so "cup first, handle second," like most people draw cups). The Latin alphabet doesn't have letters like that that face the other way, except maybe d, depending on how you write it, so it makes sense to me that people writing mostly Latin letters would go with the handle on the right side.

Which means that I need to know what Asians, Arabs and Greeks do and if the distribution of left and right sides of handles differs from the Latin alphabet group. Cyrillic seems to favor right, too, though it'd be interesting to see if there are differences.

If there are, my theory is right. Doubly so if there is a sizeable increase in a group whose alphabet has letters that benefit the left side choice.

So feel free to spread this to as many people as you like and put the answers in the comments or the tags of a reblog. The more answers I get, the better I can assess whose theory is better.

Thank you for your help!

[araneitela]

WHICH SYMBOLIC FRUIT ARE YOU?

Cherry. (Man, this is going to need some tag rambling; because while it's what I suspected and it's very fitting in many ways, I need to address one element).

In popular culture, cherries have come to represent sensuality, sex, and seduction. In the cult classic, Twin Peaks, Audrey Horne expresses her sexual expertise by tying a cherry stem with her tongue. "Cherry" is also used to refer to the concept of virginity: why? I don't know to be honest, but here we are. Much like the cherry, you're a sensual person who enjoys all the creature comforts the world offers. You enjoy delicious food, dynamic relationships, passionate lovemaking and stimulating conversation; however, you may also come across a touch vapid or shallow, due to your quickly fading attention when something has served its usefulness to you. To quote some man on tinder: "you're here for a good time, not a long time". You can come across, at times, slightly tart, carrying a bit of a bite to you that not everyone can handle. That’s okay: you’re an acquired taste!

Tagged: @basbousah (Thank you 🩷) Tagging: I don't tend to tag for quizzes easily but this one was actually fun, so let's harass. @immobiliter (how about Furina?) @kushtibokt @genus83 @genius81 @spiderwarden @delusionaid (Wriothesley, or Zhongli— porque no los dos? 🤭) @apocryphis (Topaz) @aventvrina @resolutepath (Elio) @daybreakrising (Blade) @astrxlfinale @kahakera @cygnor @chasersglow @scrtilegii (Jing Yuan)... and anyone else who'd like to do it, say I tagged you because I'd love to see the results!

[partygatorresurrection]

“berretini comes to life!” then kill him?? thanasi??? athanasios??? please????

[maryse127]

I am so nervous about packing tomorrow. I bought so much shit and now I have to somehow fit all of it in my suitcases and bagpacks. In compliance with airline rules which is scary when you dont have a scale :)

[kavehayati]

PLEASE ?! WHAT THE HECK WAS WORK 😭 /pos

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[neo-nomatrix]

EAT IT UP !

HOW THE JJK MEN EAT P*$$Y

Multiple x reader

-> GOJO, NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, SUKUNA, CHOSO

warnings ⚠️ smut… duh. pussy eating… duh. 69 in getos. talks of bondage. talks of choking (on dick) overalll smut idk

GOJO SATORU AKA “kid in a candy store”

On his tummy, feet in the air, humming. His legs are swaying back and forth but you’re way too busy to notice. He’s looking up at you with those unmistakable eyes watching you fall apart on his skilled tongue. His hand use your thighs as handles and makes out with your sloppy, cute cunt. He’s trying to tease you but the words come out as gurgled mumbles since his mouth is basically superglued to you.

You’re throbbing on his lips and he slurps it up like honey. Sometimes he dips his fingers in but usually sticks with his mouth. Fucks his tongue inside of you and he’ll probably start gagging because of how far he gets. He has to hug your thighs when you cum because of how squirmy you get. Nips at your clit when it’s all sensitive and giggles.

“You’re so fucking cute squirming”

“Oh wow… feels that good huh?”

“Is this how it feels when you gag on my cock?”

NANAMI KENTO AKA “use me like a chair”

Wants all your weight on his face or else he’s not happy. And no- it’s not an option. Maybe you’ll suffocate him, but who’s to say that’s not the goal? He cups his hands around your thighs and pulls you down on him, immediately getting to work. He’s so sensual and romantic about it. Slowly licking from your entrance to your clit. Definitely kisses your clit before starting anything.

Gathers a whole bunch of spit before and globs it onto you. There should literally be bubbles when you get off of him. Tries his best not to snake his hand down his pants so he can focus on you. As much as he loves you grinding down on his face he always stops you. This is for him to do all he work, he should be making you feel so good you don’t need to think about grinding down.

“Let me do all the work, just sit there.”

“I know i’m hard, sweetheart. I’ll get to that later.”

“Stop hovering, do i need to tie you up?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO AKA “this is for him”

Even though it’s an activity meant to pleasure you, it’s for him. For him to melt away his worries into your sweet cunt. He uses it as a stress reliever, massaging your ass like a stress ball. will literally ask you why you were squirming so much, it disturbed his peace.

Never stops after you come. More flavor for him. Has you on your tummy, he’s spreading you apart and eating it. His hands are never still. Always running up and down your back or playing with the skin of your ass. Moves up to grope your tits and play with your sweet nipples.

“Put your face into the pillow and bite if it’s to much”

“You take my cock every day but my mouth is too much?” oh wait, that’s also too much

“Maybe i should leave some marks on this ass too.”

GETO SUGURU AKA “34 + 35”

SixtyNine KING. Can’t decide between being on bottom or top. On bottom he can get the pleasure of you sitting on his face. The only downside is your squirming with so much pleasure that you forget to suck his cock. He doesn’t care that much, eating you out is plenty of pleasure, but it would be nice. But he does hate it when your strokes get sloppy and they become borderline teasing.

On top he gets the added bonus of fucking your face. Thrusting in and out of your moaning mouth as much as he pleases. He loves hearing you choke while slurping you up. He just doesn’t like the blood going to his head while eating you out. He’s pretty simple when it comes to pussy eating. Loves to suck on your clit and use his fingers. Definitely makes you lick your own cum from his fingers. Finger fucks you until his hands are pruned.

“C’mon baby, at least stroke me baby. Look how hard he is for you.”

“I know it’s so much, huh?

“That’s fine, i’ll just throat fuck you with my cum soaked fingers,”

RYOMEN SUKUNA AKA “stop running”

Eats you out until you’re rolling around on the floor. And still keeps going. He hates it when you squirm, but also doesn’t do anything to stop it. Locks his arms around your thighs and presses a hand against your tummy. Sloppily eats your cunt with no technique. Spits soo much on it. The noises that come from your cunt and his mouth are insane. Dips his tongue real deep into your mess to get every drop.

Has you on the verge of passing out when you cum. And you guessed it, still won’t stop. He definitely pushes your thighs to your chest and wraps his arms around your whole body to keep you still. Loves it when you push on his head in desperation. It makes him so much harder.

“You keep fucking running and I’ll go for longer.”

“You’re only making it worse for yourself by squirming.”

“Fucking take it or I’ll make you.” yeah he definitely makes you

CHOSO KAMO AKA “kitten licks”

He eats you out like he’s scared. He’s so fascinated by your slippery pussy that he unintentionally goes super slow. Giving soft kisses to your clit and licking at your entrance like a popsicle. You have to tell him to go a little harder so it feels better. and once he does, no going back.

Starts to eat it like a starved man. He gets so mad he’s never done this before because he’s in heaven. Ruts his cock into the sheets because it feels so amazing. Moaning like a slut into your pussy. So much spit and his tongue is going wild on your pussy. He’s definitely making this apart of your routine.

“Oh my god it’s so wet baby.”

“Faster? but when i go faster with my cock you cry…”

“It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?”

[salemwasnteverhere]

How Sylus fucks you when he overstimulates you

A/N: I couldn't resist turning a cold mean man into a slight softie for us :'). If you prefer colder/meaner Sylus then please ignore this post and block me! <3

Tags: Stylus x Reader, reader is not Mc, Fem!Reader, creampie, clit rubbing, praise, use of "sweetie", slight dumbification, sloppy kisses, overstim, slight belly bulge

It was rare for Sylus to be very gentle in bed. Not saying he was aggressive and manhandled you every time, but he wasn't exactly mother Theresa. He usually had a bruising grip on your hips while pounding into you, one hand making it's way to your face, forcing you to watch his face or watch as his cock slid into you.

But then there were the nights where you begged for more, your eyes teary and hips bucking up to antagonize him. He'd give you what you want, slamming his hips back into yours until you fell apart on his cock and your mind practically snapped. He'd be gentle if you asked any night, but it was when you couldn't ask that he did it unprompted.

"There we go, sweetie." He pulled your body against his chest, hand rubbing your back as his thrusts slowed down and he fucked his cum deeper in. He came three times already, his cum dripping down the base of his cock after it leaked from your cunt.

His right hand slid up your back and he rubbed your hair, kissing your head. "A-ah...Sylus..." You buried your face in his chest, legs wrapping around his waist. He groaned slightly when your nails weakly dug into his back, hitting the scratch marks you left the night prior.

"So needy.." he rolled his hips up into you, smirking at your gasp. His cock hit all the right spots like it was made for you. He sped up slightly, watching as your hips bounced up slightly.

You lean back slightly, putting a little space between your chests. "So hot..." Your voice came out as a small whine, your body slick with sweat. Sylus held onto your waist with one hand as the other slid down from your neck, cupping a breast.

Sylus leaned in and blew cold air onto your neck, making you shiver. He smirked and kissed your neck softly, licking the slick skin. His hips moved slightly faster, his skin slapping against yours.

"Fuck...oh God.." you cry out slightly as he pressed your back against the bed, his hand on your waist holding onto the headboard. "Damn it.." he huffed slightly when you squeezed around him, his eyebrows knitting down.

He bottomed out and went all the way to the hilt, his tip kissing your cervix. You cry out and turn your head to the side, clawing at a pillow. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the sound mixed in with the already lewd noises of your moans and wet slapping.

You desperately slid your hand down to rub your neglected clit, which earned Sylus slapping your hand away. He pressed his thumb to your clit and rubbed it weakly, his gentle touch making you yearn for more.

"Sylus-"

"You can handle it."

He rubbed harder and your toes curled. Your head fell back and a silent scream left you as you came. Sylus groaned when you squirt on his cock, hips squirming like crazy. He grabbed your hips and forced you as close as possible when he came. His balls tightened and you felt his seed pump into you for the third time that night, making your stomach bulge ever so slightly.

A minute later he pulled out with a wet 'shulp', his cock limp and covered with cum and slick. Your eyes were barely open and your whole body trembled. Sylus picked you up and cradled you to his chest, walking over to the large couch in his room.

"You got the bed dirty. Not like I mind. But I need to fix it first." He sat you down on the couch and covered you up with his coat, smiling when you curled up under it. He kissed your head and put on a robe.

You fell asleep before he could even start.

--

Requests are open! :3

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM .ᐟ

⋆ ft. itachi, neji, kakashi, sasuke ⋆

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ itachi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi is not someone who’d be reckless with this decision.

Sure, his cheeks would turn scarlet when you ask. His head would whip to the side so fast his neck would be in danger of snapping, drawing one leg up as his entire body shifts towards you on the couch. He would slip two fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tug, desperate for a cool breeze to tame the suffocating heat now creeping down his throat, flushing his chest.

His gaze would flicker across your face, hand resting on your thigh, squeezing once. He’d ask, “You — are you sure? You don’t want me to wear a condom anymore?” His voice would crack on the word condom and his blush would darken. Itachi would take a second to clear his throat, glaring at you without any real heat when you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sure, Itachi.” You’d readjust your position, mirroring his, and look up at him through your lashes. “I just, I need to feel you. All of you,” you’d admit, playing with his fingers before lacing them together. The sweet heat building in your belly would remind you of the way it feels to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

Itachi’s lips would part, and you’d be certain you caught his dick jerking in his sweats. He’d make you wait until you’re on some other form of birth control. No surprise babies in this house.

Itachi would hold his breath when he pushed his latex free cock into you for the first time. His eyes would squeeze shut, a shaky exhale of your name spilling from his lips as he bottomed out and fucking came. You’d be able to feel the harsh twitching of his dick as he made you look nothing short of a cream filled donut. He’d be so embarrassed, ready to apologize, but he’d stop short at the fucked out look on your face.

The added slick sensation would turn you on like no other, cheeks hot to the touch as you begged him to keep going. He’d stay as hard as a rock, rolling you both until you’re perched in his lap. He’d draw his knees up, tangle his fingers with yours, and encourage you to “Ride me, sweetheart. C’mon, take what you need. I’ll let you use me until your pretty little pussy is sore.”

Itachi doesn’t have to tell you twice.

༝ ᭝ ༝ neji ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Neji loves having sex with you, but he’d be a bit paranoid.

Neji’s uptight. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell how pussy drunk he gets. He’s a whiny, breathy mess any time his cock’s inside you.

However, he’d also be hyper aware he could get you pregnant if he’s not careful. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having a baby with you, but he wouldn’t be ready for quite some time. He’d wear a condom, no matter how bad he wants your pussy to squeeze him raw. You’d have multiple conversations about it, convincing him to try just putting the tip in.

He’d be….hooked, to say the least. It’d be by sheer force of will that he doesn’t shove his entire cock in your pussy that first time. But, it’d also be the very next time Neji swears “just the tip”, when things spiral.

The warm ache in Neji’s belly would overshadow his concerns. He’d end up knocking your thighs further apart with his knees, bending forward and planting his elbows on either side of your head, leaving just a few centimeters between you. He’d whine, “Baby, I can’t handle this temptation any longer. Please, can I feel your pussy?”

“Fuck, put it in Neji. As long as you pull out it’ll be fine, I promise.” You’d lift your hips to take more of him before he could regret it, and Neji would oblige. Your pussy would hug his cock better than in his dreams, and Neji’s low, broken moan would light your blood on fire.

Neji would straighten up to sit on his knees, grip one of your ankles and haul your leg over his shoulder, allowing the other leg to hang loosely at his hip. He’d bend you in half to deepen the angle, hands resting by your shoulders. Just to tease you both, he’d pull out halfway and push back in at an agonizing pace.

Neji would fuck you within an inch of your life, long hair becoming a curtain that cuts you off from the world. Your nails would scratch angry pink lines down his chest, and his cock would start to throb as he toed the line of release. You’d smack his chest, reminding him with a desperate plea, “Don’t cum inside me! Neji, Neji, baby — you gotta pull out!”

He’d slip his cock free at the last second, letting your body flop to the bed as he stroked his cock. With three quick pumps he’d cum all over your belly.

Safe to say, this would be Neji’s new favorite way to have sex.

༝ ᭝ ༝ sasuke ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Unlike his brother, Sasuke is impulsive.

He couldn’t deny the thought would cross his mind every now and then, playing with the idea of fucking you raw and seeing his sticky, white cum cover his cock and spill from your pussy.

Usually when he got the urge he’d jerk himself off. Cool fingers would wrap around his warm cock, shivers running down his spine as he stroked himself slowly. He’d cum in a heartbeat.

It would dull the ache of his desire for a while. Hell, he definitely wouldn’t want to have a baby any time in the near future. But soon enough it’d start to eat at him again. His stomach would clench tight every time you’d have sex, nasty dreams forcing him to wake up hard. That’s why, when you beg him to take the condom off, it’s take zero effort to convince him.

Your face would be buried in your pillow, ass in the air, and one hand would fist the sheets. The other would twist behind to smack against Sasuke’s lean lower belly, pushing at him to wait. He’d be too focused, hands pressing your lower back into a harsh arch, sweat trailing down his temple, over his jaw, dripping onto your back.

“Sasuke,” you’d moan, asking for his attention. “Wait, Sasuke — ah fuck!” You’d dig your nails into his belly until he sucked in a sharp breath. “Take the condom off, please!”

His hips would still, pressed flush to your ass. “What?” He’d ask, already be pulling out. “You want me to fuck you raw?” He’d tease. “So spoiled, princess.”

You’d roll onto your back, cheeks heated, chest heaving. “Just fucking take it off,” you’d demand, reaching to grasp the slippery latex and slide it free. Sasuke would smirk, eyes glued to his dick as it bobs once the condom pops off.

Sasuke’s jaw would go slack once you stroked his cock, the skin soft and slick from leftover lube. He’d fucking whimper, a noise he’d never made before, when he pushes all the way in. Sasuke’s thoughts wouldn’t be coherent after that. He’d put your knees to your ears and fuck you until he’s cum twice and you’re squirting onto his pelvis.

He would panic the next day, going dizzy with relief when you inform him you started getting birth control shots.

༝ ᭝ ༝ kakashi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kakashi would be asking you if he could hit it raw.

For your entire relationship, Kakashi would have it known that he’s got a fantasy about giving you a “cream pie”, for lack of a better word. He’d never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, no, he’d be more than happy to even role play the act.

There’s no denying that Kakashi would truly want to get you pregnant. He’d love to see your belly round with his baby, but he’d be patient and wait for you to give him the go ahead. However, Kakashi has a loud mouth, and he’d voice his desires at least every other time you have sex.

In the end, the idea would get in your head and become more than appealing to you. When you gave in, it’d be when Kakashi least expected it. It’d be a night when his back is propped up by a couple pillows near your headboard, calloused hands gripping your ass and guiding the slow roll of your hips. Kakashi would be drooling about how well you ride his cock.

Your hands would brace themselves on his pecs, nails digging into his skin, and Kakashi wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No surprise there. “Babygirl,” he’d moan, eyes rolling towards the ceiling when your pussy clenches tight. “Look so pretty when you ride me, m’gonna cum so hard. You’ll let me knock you up, yeah? Wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad.”

You’d slap your hand over his mouth to stop the stream of filthy words, cheeks blistering. “Kakashi,” you’d say through your teeth, voice pitching higher. “Take off the condom.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows would shoot to his hairline, jaw dropping open as the words he’d been waiting forever to hear sunk in. There’s no way in hell you’d have to repeat yourself. He’d shove you off his lap and onto your back, settling between your spread thighs as he all but ripped off the condom. He’d stroke his cock a couple times before readjusting his weight, taking his time to slide his bare cock back inside you.

Kakashi would whine in back of his throat, pushing your thighs apart until your muscles started to protest. “Kakashi!” You’d gasp, pushing up to your elbows, fisting the sheets as he railed the shit out of you.

“Sorry, can’t — fuck, can’t help myself,” he’d pant, not sounding sorry at all. You’d catch a glimpse of Kakashi’s sharingan whirling and then he’d be cumming before you realized he’s close.

He wouldn’t stop with one round. He’d wring pleasure out of you until your legs turned to jelly. He’d cum again after that, making such a mess that you’d both end up in the shower.

[solaceseven]

you storm out in the middle of an argument

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking. when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.

[beanlot]

ellie, who unexpectedly orgasms as she’s strapping you.

you thought something was off by how sloppy she was handling your hips, her fingers twitching impulsively and the thrusts of the silicone in your cunt is faltering. maybe her stamina is no longer, or maybe she’s just not into you.

but you hear her exhale shakily, her choked up breaths. people usually tried missionary first, but not ellie - she wanted to see you ride it reverse cowgirl, watch your ass from behind in doggy, and she wanted to hear you cry out speed-bump style.

but she’s on top of you now, your lower back angled comfortably on a sweaty pillow, legs hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“fuck.. fuck.. fuck—“ she whimpers silently to herself, and your glossed eyes are fluttering open. you’ll call out her name with difficulty, ellie?

that intangible pleasure in your cunt she used to hit with ease is starting to subside, but it doesn’t matter, because your core is tightening when you see her fucked-out expression. her lids shut, eyebrows arched in ecstasy and my god, williams.. it looks like you’re the one getting fucked.

the constant rocking has been stimulating her poor, swollen clit. and suddenly provoking her orgasm, her hips are twitching like crazy, whimpering exhales sloppily seeping from her lips.

“are you fucking coming?” you gasp jaggedly, feeling the silicone burrow deeply into your hole in these random and unanticipated twitches.

you’ll cup her face, and her skin is piping hot, melting into your sweaty palms. her eyes are closed, and even when they are fluttering, you can only see the pleasured whites of her eyes.

“mm—fuck-‘m sorry, i’m sorry baby-ah—..” she whimpers, too embarrassed to open her eyes fully for you to see her shameful irises, dilated pupils that are so selfish.

she’s using her remaining momentum to sporadically thrust into your soaked slit, encouraging those last ruffles of her rupturing orgasm, humming low and guttural as she does so. “felt so good—fuck, pussy feels so good, baby—“ she exhales breathlessly, her parted lips against your chest.

you can feel the hot air on your skin, condensation melting into the pores.

she tries to continue, for your sake, for your enjoyment. but it’s too much, oversensitivity that has her trembling like a loser; her arms are quivering as they try to hold her up. “i can’t-can’t go anymore—“ she whines, her measly thrusts forcing her clit into overdrive.

just the smallest tap has her overwhelmed. but you’re not satisfied, she knows this.

“keep going.” you demand, determined eyes maintaining a solid gaze at her own, your palms still framing her jaw. “i need to come too.”

and when she pauses, eyes glassy with the overbrimming bliss, you dip her face lower. her ear inches away from your lips, and you whisper with a callous hue. “you talked so much fucking game, so fuck me until i come. is that so much to ask?”

“i can’t-i can’t, it’s too—“ she tries to defend herself, tries to ignore the constant contracting of her hole; the rigorous pulsing of her tormented bud. but you’re quick to deflate it.

“it’s always about you, huh, ellie?” you murmur, slowly rutting your hips against the silicone. she can hear the challenge in your voice, the way you diminish her, the humiliating wetness of her slick.

and she loves it.

“stop being so selfish, and fuck me.” you order, your arms sprawling out to your sides - because you want her to put the work in, make the same mess of you as she did herself.

and she will. she’ll whine, she’ll beg, she’ll plead. can’t go anymore, i can’t, please baby as she fucks into you like you deserve. the veins in her hands prominent as she tries to keep herself steady, the definition in her abdomen from the clenching, and the pitiful way she’s crying out. whimpering for breath, a pleasured tear landing on your collarbone.

but she fucks you good, and you’re grateful for it.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 is up! scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[dollgxtz]

Sleepy Crow

Word Count: 1.8k words

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!

AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333

Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.

As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.

He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.

Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.

Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.

The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.

Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.

Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.

But he couldn't.

He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.

How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.

Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.

This thought stirred in his head for a bit.

Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.

You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.

“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.

This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.

Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.

"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.

Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.

He had to have you. And he had to have you now.

He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.

"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.

As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.

"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.

He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.

"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.

His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.

As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.

"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”

Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.

"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.