Work Text:
Tenna doesn't really need to be spoiled.
With her show still up and running and a promising modeling gig to accompany it, her paycheck is bigger than yours.
And yet, you decide to keep working (part-time, at least) and return home to get things ready for when she's back, often surprising her one way or another.
Today, though —based on the sticky note she left on your breakfast box stating she had a special surprise for you after work (with a winky face below the words)— it seems that's been switched around.
Ding!
Precisely as the time hits eleven in the morning, there's a message from your wife (you customized her number with a special ringtone—and hers only, just so she remains your priority even with the new contacts in your phone from her TV crew), so you clock out of work first, then check it.
📺💖: Might want to open the next message somewhere… private. ;)
Not taking her advice for granted, you beeline towards the bathroom, slip into a stall, and check twice to verify it's locked.
Safe from the public eye, you click on Tenna's newest message, and your phone nearly falls off your hand.
“Waiting for you… xx,” the caption below the picture reads, but your eyes stay glued to the picture for the most part.
It's a full-body selfie of Tenna sitting on a kitchen counter, wearing nothing but a red apron with frilly black lace whilst flashing a risqué pose: apron barely covering her thighs as she pins the skirt down with a palm between them, and cleavage good and plenty as she faces the camera with a smirk.
📺💖: How does dessert before lunch sound? <3
The next picture makes you look around, even if you're still in the stall.
She's with her legs spread out, grinning with her fangs bared out and flashing the lingerie (matching the style and colours of the apron) you saw her buy the last time you went to the shopping mall.
📺💖: I'll be waiting! See you soon, sugarboo. ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)
With Tenna as your wife, you've slowly come to experience plenty of new things you would've never thought you'd be doing by your own judgement.
Kissing on live television when she announced the two of you had gotten married…
Participating in a couple versus couple contest full of wacky board games and absurd physical challenges…
And —most shocking of all— getting frisky in Tenna's changing room right before her show, then panicking when seeing you ruined her makeup, only to have her burst with laughter and assure you she had it covered.
You're not about to risk a coworker stepping into the bathroom and noticing the guilty expression on your face, so you shake any indecent thoughts aside, store the phone away, and hurry out of the stall, wiping the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand.
You look at yourself in the mirror, assessing the tense look on your face and how you need to calm down before anyone sees you and makes assumptions.
Whenever you close your eyes, you can still see Tenna clearly: her beautiful body —a pleasant combination of shiny metal and squishy silicone— awful tabloids have dared to call clunky, sublimely decorated by the apron and lingerie.
Whenever you open your eyes, you can still see yourself clearly: a constellation of hickies on your neck and collarbones from the last time you got busy with Tenna—exactly a day ago, with her trying on dresses upon receiving a special invitation for a popular talkshow, wherein she pulled you into the changing room alongside her to smother your face in kisses.
With that motivation set in mind, you're not about to make Tenna wait more than necessary, so you get yourself together, step out of the bathroom, and pick up your pace on your way to the car.
Buckling up and putting your game-face on, you drive off, grumbling about slow traffic on the way back home and how dare it prevent you from getting to her sooner.
Twenty minutes later, you burst into the living room like a horse without reins, hurrying to slip your shoes off whilst your eyes dart across the rest of the house, searching for Tenna.
The kitchen looks empty from the distance where you stand, though you hear the water running in the sink and things being shuffled around the utensil drawer.
“...Honey?”
Your call is left unanswered, yet soon there's the familiar clickity-clack of Tenna's at-home heels (not to be confused with her going-out heels) getting closer and closer, until her silhouette shows up—in a big-striped peach and sea foam green beach towel covering her body all the way down to her ankles.
“I’m right here, ⋆˚✿˖°𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓹𝓮𝓪 °˖✿˚⋆!” She stops in front of you and lets the towel fall, pooling at her feet. “How was work?”
Oh gosh.
That's all your mind can think of as you look at what she's showcased: the apron she took the picture with, far better up-close.
She sets her hands on her hips and grins broadly, no doubt basking in your attention like she basked under the sun the last time you went to the beach together.
“Took you a lil’ long, so I went ahead and…” She giggles. “...added a ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) ｓｐｉｃｅ (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵).”
Tenna's hands reach for the neat black ribbon behind her back, undoing the apron and letting it cascade to the floor along with the towel.
Her chest —kept decent by the lacy lingerie she promised— has two words written in frosting, right above her cleavage.
“Eat me,” the message reads.
When you stay looking at her without saying a single word, Tenna snickers, walking up behind you at a saunter.
“Aw, what's wrong, ʕ｡- ˕ -｡ʔ 𝓼𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓫𝓸𝓸 ʕ｡- ˕ -｡ʔ?” she teases, grabbing your shoulders, then leaning in so her nose brushes with your ear and her lips brush with your neck. “Cat-hode caught your tongue?”
She chuckles, and her breath hits your face: as sweet as the frosting on her chest probably tastes, with just a touch of cinnamon.
“Um…”
You'd smack yourself across the head if it wouldn't ruin the mood.
Denying her question would be lying: you have no clue how to move forward from here.
It's the first time you've ever done something so intimate, and it'll probably be the very last if you don't get your shit together.
“Oh dear…” she mutters, sighing.
Whatever doubts you could've possibly had about yourself, Tenna takes your speechlessness as a compliment, feeling her smile against your skin when she kisses your neck.
“My audience is 𝗩 𝗘 𝗥 𝗬 quiet today.” Tenna returns to stand in front of you, her hands folded behind her back like she's clueless about what she's doing. “...I wonder why.”
She leans forward and takes your chin, lifting your gaze so you're facing her screen, the smile on her lips turning into a toothy grin.
Of course, with her being your wife and a model, this is nothing you've never seen or experienced before.
But you doubt you'll ever get used to seeing her in bolder outfits.
(Much less, if she'll be adding a ‘little’ spice to them!)
“Tell me how I look, ✮⋆˙ 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮 ˙⋆✮.”
Tenna tugs your face closer, a soft pink blush betraying her level of composure.
“You…”
Pretty, you'd say, when she's getting ready to go out for a date on a Friday evening.
Lovely, you'd say, when it's a Saturday and she's gotten ready to do the groceries together.
Gorgeous, you'd say, when it's a Sunday and you've booked a restaurant for a fancier night out.
Beautiful, you'd say, when it's a Monday and she's made you breakfast, you've made hers, and you've both finished getting ready to head off to work.
Today, she looks…
“You look sexy.”
Poof!
As a flower blooms from the tip of her nose, Tenna's screen flushes bright with all the colours of the signal error screen, and she lets go and steps back to cover her face with her hands.
“Oh, ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ!”
Despite her weak tone, her tail is wagging at record speed, and her antennas are as springy as ever.
“Do you…” She removes her hands from her face, and the flower flutters off her nose, though you catch it before it can touch the floor, saving it in your pocket. “Do you really think so?!”
With her saying it like this, you realize you haven't called her ‘sexy’ before.
Sure —besides all those compliments you thought about earlier— you've also thought she's cute, stunning, and handsome, but ‘sexy’ and ‘hot’ have never really been brought up.
And it's not because she isn't those things (your intimate moments in bed are more than enough proof by themselves), but because…
Oddly enough, even if you've seen each other at your most vulnerable, calling her either of those two compliments felt… inadequate.
“Yes. You look hot.”
Until today.
“R— Really-really?! You're not pulling my tail, are you?!”
Had you known Tenna had been so worried about something so simple, you'd have said those words multiple times before.
And had you known Tenna would have such wonderful reactions to you saying those words, you'd have said them right from the start.
(Realistically, as soon as you became an official couple and had a proper talk about what you expected from each other, because you doubt she would have let it slide prior to you getting together.)
“Honey…”
Instead of answering her question, you step forward and reach for her face once you've brought her back to your eye level and you're a little higher on your tiptoes, facing her screen again.
“Wouldn’t it be better to show you my answer?”
Tenna nods, the blush on her face gradually fading.
You close off what space remains, bringing her lips with yours for what starts as a chaste kiss.
And then, you go lower, kissing her neck.
“Ah!”
She carries a palm to her mouth, covering up the next moan she lets out when you bite down on her neck, directly on the silicone.
“Goodness, ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗, and here I thought you were getting ❆⋆⁺₊❅ ｃｏｌｄ ❅₊⁺⋆❆ feet!”
Your grip on her face tightens, and your gaze turns stern.
“Never,” you say, with more intensity than you intend to. “I'll never get cold feet, and I'll marry you as many more times as you need me to.”
Her body, previously with a pleasant warmth, turns hot, and her vents work overtime to keep her cooled.
“C— Could we?”
Nodding against her neck, you kiss her silicone skin once more, making her jolt.
“Right now, if you wanted to.”
But she shakes her head no, squirming under your touch until she pulls away from you, stepping back and looking at you with a pouty frown.
“It’s ᵐᵉˡᵗᶦⁿᵍ…”
With Tenna facing down at herself, you follow her gaze to see her staring at the frosting on her chest, the words now illegible.
Wasting no time, you gather as much strength as it takes to lift someone of her size off the floor—making her squeal, kick her feet, and cover her face with her hands (...however many times you've done this prior to today).
“Let's take you to the bedroom first.”
Her tail curls around your waist, smacking your back with how fast it wags, and her antennas crackle like sparklers when you start going up the stairs to your destination.
With how much static she's producing, your arm hairs stick up like needles, and your face feels all fuzzy as she nuzzles her screen closer to your neck.
“Do you…” She shrinks a bit, clearing her throat. “Do you love me?”
The fact that she's asking this when you're just an inch away from stepping into the bedroom to do the do!
Chuckling, you nod your head and bring her down to bed, pinning her underneath you.
“ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ 𝓢𝓷𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓶… ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ”
Her timer for the question possibly having run out, she frowns bigger and shrinks a bit more.
Regardless, you swipe a thumb across the melted frosting on her chest and draw a heart on her forehead with it.
“What did I say during our vows?”
Her face, again flushed with colour bars, lights up in realization.
“You…” She grows back to her normal size, and another flower ‘pops!’ from her nose. “You do?”
Smiling, you lean in, kissing the frosting off her forehead, then pressing your own forehead against hers, tilting your head so you don't bump with her nose.
“I love you, honey, and I'll say it however many more times you need me to.”
Her arms wrap firm around your shoulders as you go lower, kissing the frosting off her chest.
“I…” She lets out a trembly sigh, and you lift your face to kiss her lips. “I love you, too, sugarboo.”