#mine: ghost whisperer

[hannamarins]

GHOST WHISPERER (2005-2010) | 1x01 - Pilot

[sculien]

Ghost Whisperer | 1.13

[ghost-proofbaby]

"and i can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you - or anybody that decides that i'm of use."

[anothersuperstition]

finally getting my living room how i want it!! reminds me a lot of my grandma’s sense of style and that makes me so so happy

[ria-starstruck]

if i had a nickel for every time beach house's "irene" jumpscared me, i'd have one nickel, which isn't a lot at all but it almost became 2 just now

[vipermenace]

One of my friends likes to run Mafia games on discord every blue moon!

My last character was Blue! A jazz cellist who loved dressing in punk. Very chill person who was tasked at running the coffee shop.

I got hit by the Nightingale, and was transported to a mirror world! At least Blue got to live in the end.

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

Sometimes I look back.

I'll never be twelve years old me again.

She was so angry but oh wasn't she graceful? In her suffering, a romantic was born. And in her rage I drown, expecting to get her blood into me.

Because I might not be her. But she was so beautifully written, she was so chaotic and poetic and she could've eaten the world if she wanted so.

So I've taken all her rage and made it mine, I've taken all her thoughts and knitted them all together, creating a web of knowledge she only talked about in an abstract way when she tried to find her reasons to justify her rage, so her words won't be put in question. I've got my fists up for her cause and swore to the girl I once was.

Sometimes I look back.

I'll never be twelve years old me again.

But I'll honour her, I'll try.

[pieterhb]

Scary Western Short Stories - 14 Scary Western Short Stories (Complete Short Stories) (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1471043399-14-scary-western-short-stories-complete-short?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Pieterhb Here is the second book that AI wrote with some help from me. This time it is about scary western stories that are sure to make you sleep with the light on at night, once you have read these 14 scary western stories. New and even seasoned authors are more than welcome to get inspiration from these stories or use the stories script and storyline to create their own spin on it. Horror and thriller stories always intrigue plenty of readers and if you like that type of genre, then these short stories might just be what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed putting everything together.

[yeyinde]

winter soldier au with John Price who was held in a gulag for three years and comes home wrong. comes back snarling and furious and threatening to rip apart the goddamn world if they don't give him what belongs to him, what's rightfully his, if they don't give him back his fucking wife, right this second—

the only problem is: John's ex-wife remarried. she's halfway around the world, and Laswell knows John enough to immediately squash that idea right away. but if not her, then who?

and then you walk into the room—a newly hired secretary that John has met less than a handful of times; a pencil pusher barely even a blip on the radar—but he pounces. snatches you up before any of them can react, tucking your bemused face into his chest, cradling you tight; possessively clutching at you as Kyle tries, and fails, to calm him down.

"you don't know her, sir. just let the girl go—"

it's met with a nasty snarl. all gleaming, bloodied teeth. a stranger in a familiar shape as John drags you further away from them. "this is my goddamn wife."

his declaration is met with shock. you're definitely not his wife. you barely know him much outside of a several, threadbare exchanges where he breathed down your neck about filing the wrong reports, and the cluttered mess of your desk ("a goddamn eyesore—"). you're not even friends. and in all honesty, you didn't even think he liked you that much. so. wife?

but he's beyond reason. his head a mangled, trenched mess of artillery fire and Makarov's torture. three years, Kate breathes. three whole years.

you can tell, almost immediately, by the look on her face that this—that you—will become a necessary loss in the grand scheme of things. and when John lets her close enough to whisper into your ear (having somehow convinced him that he can just walk out of here with you, his fucking wife, leaving for the marital home (and bed) that he demands from them for this brief stalemate)—she hurriedly tells you about their plot. this high risk, no reward scenario of playing along. not that you have much of a choice.

keeping John Price as close to them as possible was worth more than something as flimsy, as malleable as your agency, your autonomy. and if the way to do it was to let a brainwashed man play house with you, then so be it.

she, at the very least, offers a grim sort of smile even though you can see her working out the mechanics of it all as she makes promises on your behalf. things like, yes, John, you can leave with your wife. she missed you so much, John. she's so happy you're home.

"we kept your wife safe for you, John—" no one seems to react to the violent way Johnny has to be dragged out of the room by Ghost, kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all because th' captain wouldnae do this! don't do this t'him!

and John—if there's any part of that man still inside him, he doesn't let an inch of it show—just nods, lip pulling up into a snarl as he bullies you closer to his chest, and growls about finally getting you home.

"I'll keep you with me," he rasps, blunt fingers spreading wide over the fill of your body. a mad, twisted gleam of possessiveness, ownership, burning in bruised blue as he familiarises himself with this body he claimed as his. "right where you belong, wife."

(the word comes out in a bite. snaps around you and sounds just like mine.)

[craftingrovingrambler]

Am I chasing ghosts?

The one that I had left behind

Searching every new face

That age old familiarity

That thoughtless bond, older than us

Will I ever find such a ghost again,

Or am I meant to be seeking, this life time

One that will quench the thirst

While calming and enraging the fire inside my bones

As his hand ghosting over my scars

A voice that I may pretend is his

Finally hearing my words from his lips

Or am I forever chasing the wind?

Ghosting hands on my waist

Shuddering like a flower in the breeze

When it hits my neck

Just a breeze stroking desperate flesh

[hannamarins]

ghost whisperer challenge 👻 most emotional moment

[birdghosting]

i love seeing so many october art challenges rise up out of nowhere on my feed, it's so cute

[oceantornadoo]

persephone (simon riley x f!reader) age gap, a bit coercive, dark

—

it started with fruit.

you were simon riley’s secretary, working for a man clouded in darkness and gold. you’d hear whispers on the street, see pitying faces when you mentioned who you worked for to strangers. to them, he was a cold, hard beast. to you, he was a king.

he started by bringing you fruit, pomegranate seeds and ghost-white pears. small quips about eating healthy now while you were still young enough. ms twenty something meets mr not-yet middle aged, the lines of his face just starting to crease but the beer belly nowhere to be found. he mined diamonds, you heard. he owned cemeteries, said another secretary. they call him ghost, whispered a personal assistant. you didn’t care, didn’t need to when that wasn’t your job.

he had scarred hands, craggly things winding into the cuff of his midnight black suits. didn’t wear a mask but always seemed to be covered in darkness, his face unrecognizable in half lit rooms and empty offices. he always stayed late so you did too, indulging in the extra car he ordered for you, his driver called charon. simon never held long conversations but simply beckoned you, some string in your belly pulling tight at his recognition. at least a third of his day spent with you, murmuring soft nothings, inquiring about your mother and the upcoming winter, the beauty in the death of the trees. “y’ smell like spring, love.” he’d said one morning, and you resolved to wear that same pomegranate spritz indefinitely.

and then it moved to jewels. congratulations on your one year preceded by a tennis bracelet. a trinket of a three headed dog, something small to keep on your desk. the hours draw on later and later, canceled plans with your mother and nymph-like friends piling up like leaves. his touch starts lingering, hard calluses on soft skin.

a hand on your back, guiding you into a conference room. your hair brushing against his torso, the intimacy of it jarring. you twisted your ankle one day, the height of your heels overindulgent. ended up on the couch in his private office, his hands massaging your foot. “like a delicate flower.” he’d murmured, rewarding you with an anklet of diamonds once the pain wore off.

three years in, an invite to his private island. no service, leave your phone at home. sign an nda, we’ll work remote, gone for a month maybe more. pack some nice clothes, maybe a white dress if you’ve got one. take my card if you don’t.

stepping off the helicopter, charon at the helm. you weren’t there against your will but the hairy arm around your waist was heavy, a reminder of the cost you’d paid to visit the underworld. two weeks in and you couldn’t even act surprised when he proposed, on one knee with a glint in his eyes. “you and me, love, against th’ world.”

and if you said yes to the fruit, the diamonds, the care, the attention - saying yes to this was just the next step. an elopement, he’d already drawn up the license - “why wait, dove? y’r so fragile already.” you’re not, have a hidden strength under you, but ghost doesn’t care, ghost takes what he wants, and you, legs spread and eyes soft, are it.

when he fucks you, that’s when it’s settled. cunt dripping on his fingers, his face, his cock. he mutters something about a vasectomy and you’re taking him bare, making eye contact with a ghostlike gardener who walks past the window. your jaw unhinged, drool at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you from behind, one hand on your throat.

“such a good secretary, hm?” and you nod ferociously like the three-headed puppy on your desk. you’ll never work again, too busy with his cock in your mouth or his remote vibrator in your cunt at dinner. the jewels drip into a roar - diamond encrusted toys you’re not sure are entirely safe, bejeweled handcuffs, glittery collars. he’s pluto, the riches of the earth following his orders when he chases you in his private woods. simon’s presence is otherworldly, taking you with the strength of a god as you squirm against his grip. his oldness disgusts you but makes you gush all the same. “gonna be good for daddy?” and you agree vehemently at the king before you, on his knees.

[creamflix]

EPISODE 9 — VIRGINITY LOSS & RIDING ! — featuring gojo satoru & geto suguru content warnings: established relationship, lots of praising, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, finger sucking, virginity loss, riding, soft dom gojo, soft dom suguru — kinktober masterlist ♰ general masterlist

GOJO couldn't tear his eyes away from you, the sight of the ring on your finger, sparkling faintly in the dimly lit room, making his chest tighten.

he’d thought the word would never suit him — ‘husband’ sounded far too domestic for someone like him, but looking at you now, lying on your back beneath him, breathing softly as his lips brushed along your collarbone, it was the only title that made sense.

“god, i still can’t believe it,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing. his fingers trailed down your sides, slow and deliberate, memorizing every inch. “you’re mine now. all mine.” his tone had a possessive edge, but his touch remained gentle, worshipping.

your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, sucking lightly before pulling away to look into your eyes. “you’ve always been mine,” you teased, the smirk tugging at your lips a small victory, knowing how easily you could push his buttons.

satoru chuckled, the sound low and almost dangerous, but his eyes betrayed nothing but pure adoration. “yeah, but this is different,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “now everyone knows. everyone knows you belong to me.”

the weight of his words settled heavily, but it didn’t scare you. in fact, it thrilled you — the way he claimed you, the way his touch felt like it was branding you as his own. his hands slipped lower, fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he leaned in, his mouth ghosting over your lips.

“i’ve been waiting for this,” satoru admitted, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “for so long.” he kissed you, deeply, as if trying to prove a point. and in that kiss, you felt his need, the raw intensity behind every stroke of his tongue, every gentle bite of his teeth against your lower lip.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to let his words sink in, his breath mingling with yours. “how you make me lose my mind.”

he was always like this, cocky and full of himself, but the way he looked at you now — it was different. there was no arrogance, no smug grin, just… devotion. an unwavering, undiluted love that made your heart race.

“you love me that much, huh?” you teased again, though your voice was breathless, barely able to mask how he made you feel.

“more than you’ll ever know.” his hands gripped your hips firmly, fingers digging in just enough to leave a delicious sting, and his lips quirked into a grin. “but i’ll show you. i’ll show you how much you mean to me. how good i can make you feel.”

he shifted, positioning himself between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours as his lips hovered above your stomach, trailing lower and lower. every kiss, every touch felt like a silent promise, an unspoken vow to always make you his.

“you’ve been so good to me, baby,” he murmured, his voice laced with praise, fingers slipping between your thighs. “my perfect little wife, always so sweet for me.”

your body trembled under his touch, the praise sinking in deep, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed over the inside of your thigh. he chuckled, feeling your reaction, his ego swelling as he pressed soft kisses along your skin.

“see? i knew you’d be perfect for me,” he purred, his fingers moving in teasing circles. “always knew. even back then.” his voice dropped, becoming darker, more serious. “but now… now, i get to ruin you. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

his words were filthy, but they had you unraveling, each syllable seeping into your core as his fingers finally pressed into you, slow and deliberate. your back arched, and satoru’s name spilled from your lips, breathless and desperate.

gojo’s eyes never left yours as he brought his fingers to his mouth, your slick coating them. with a deliberate slowness, he licked each finger clean, his tongue tracing along the length of his digits, savoring every drop. his gaze was dark, intense, and it sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly all over again.

“sweet as always,” he murmured, voice rough with desire. “you’re perfect, baby.”

before you could respond, he slid those same fingers between your lips, gently guiding them into your mouth. his eyes locked on yours as you sucked on them, your tongue swirling around his fingers. the low groan that rumbled from his chest told you just how much he loved the feel of you, warm and soft around him.

“fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, his hips shifting slightly against you, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. he pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly, savoring the wet heat before letting his thumb caress your bottom lip. but then, his expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes fading just a bit, replaced with something more serious. his breathing slowed, and the air between you thickened, heavy with anticipation.

“baby,” his voice dropped, more sincere now, a quiet edge of vulnerability you didn’t hear from him often. “are you ready for this?” he asked, his tone careful. “i mean… really ready?”

the question hung in the air, the weight of it settling over both of you. you knew what he meant. this was something the two of you hadn’t done yet — something that went beyond just being together, beyond the teasing touches and playful kisses. it was the final step, the ultimate form of giving yourself to each other. your first time, and his.

you bit your lip, heart racing as you looked up at him, the nervousness you felt mirrored in his gaze. he wasn’t the ever-confident, cocky gojo satoru in this moment. he was just… satoru, your satoru, and he was asking you to take this next step with him.

he leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his hand cradling the side of your face with such tenderness it almost broke your heart. “i want it to be with you. only you.” his voice was barely above a whisper, full of sincerity and emotion. “but if you’re not ready, we can wait. i’m not rushing you.”

the softness in his words, the way he always put you first, made your chest tighten. this wasn’t just a physical thing for him; it was more. it was his way of showing you that he loved you, that he was willing to give you all of him, completely.

you swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest, but there was no hesitation when you spoke.

“i’m ready, satoru,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. your hand came up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over his skin. “i want this. with you.”

he let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and anticipation flooding his features as he kissed you, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt into that kiss. “i’ll take care of you,” he promised softly against your lips, his hands moving to slowly undress the rest of you, careful and patient, as though he was unwrapping the most precious gift.

“we’ll take it slow,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, “and if you need me to stop, you just say the word.”

the trust between you felt palpable, like an invisible thread tying you together, and as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down your bare skin, you knew this moment would stay with you forever. this wasn’t just an act — it was a confession, a promise, something only the two of you would share.

satoru's hands slid lower, his touch gentle and reverent as he positioned himself above you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt. there was none. you were ready for him, for this next step, for whatever came after. and as his lips found yours again, everything else faded away — there was only him, and the love you shared, stronger and more certain than ever before.

satoru’s breath hitched the moment his velvety tip slid past your entrance, and for a split second, his mind went completely blank. the warm, tight embrace of your walls was everything he had imagined - no, better. it felt like heaven itself was pulling him in, and he had to clench his jaw to stop the groan from escaping his throat too quickly. he blinked, dazed, barely able to process the overwhelming sensation with just the tip inside you.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice strained as his forehead pressed against yours, white strands of hair sticking to his damp skin. he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even begun to feel the full extent of you wrapped around him, and already, his body was betraying him. it was so good that his brain short-circuited for a second, a wave of pleasure so intense that he had to remind himself to breathe.

his hands gripped your hips, trying to ground himself, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on not losing control. he hadn’t even begun to truly enter you yet, but the way your body hugged him made it nearly impossible to think straight. what the hell’s gonna happen when i’m all the way in?

you gasped his name, your voice breathless, and satoru’s eyes shot open. your hands were clutching at his shoulders, and you looked up at him with a soft concern that made his heart swell. “‘toru... are you okay?”

that question nearly sent him over the edge right then and there. the way your voice trembled, the way you said his name — it was pure, unfiltered sweetness, like you were worried about him when he should be the one making sure you were alright. you were making this so much harder for him, and the way your body trembled beneath him didn’t help.

he chuckled softly, though his breath was shaky, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “you’re asking me if i’m okay?” his voice was hoarse, struggling to maintain his usual composure. “baby, you feel so damn good I’m trying not to lose it here.”

his fingers dug into your hips, keeping himself steady as he slowly pushed forward, sinking in just a little more. every inch felt like torture, a blissful, agonizing kind of torture, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning too loudly. the way you fit around him — it was like you were made for him, every part of you molding perfectly to his shape, and he could feel his restraint slipping with every breath.

“i knew it’d be good,” he murmured, his voice strained as he kept himself from thrusting all the way in, “but this —” he swallowed hard, fighting the urge to just give in and bury himself inside you. “this is something else.”

his forehead pressed harder against yours, the heat between your bodies intensifying as he whispered against your lips. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

your breathless moans were making it worse, each sound sending another shock of arousal through his system, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of losing control. i can’t finish too soon, he told himself, struggling to keep his mind focused on anything but the way your body felt wrapped around him. what kind of husband would i be if i did?

he forced himself to stop, his hips trembling as he held still, buried just halfway inside you. his chest heaved, his breath ragged as he kissed you, the desperation in his touch clear. “you’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with need. “so fucking perfect, i don’t know how much longer i can hold back.”

he needed to move, to bury himself in you completely, but he couldn’t — at least, not yet. just a little more, he thought, fighting to keep his control intact, even as your name spilled from his lips in a quiet, reverent whisper.

when you whispered for him to go faster, satoru practically whined, his lips brushing against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. your words sent a pulse of heat straight through him, and his hips twitched in response, aching to give you exactly what you wanted. but there was a problem, one that satoru didn’t quite know how to confess. if he went faster — if he gave in to that pace — he wouldn’t last. not with how perfectly you enveloped him, how snug and warm you felt around him.

“baby,” his voice came out strained, almost desperate, as his fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly in place. he couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped his throat, his mind foggy with the overwhelming sensation of being inside you. he wanted to go faster, to drive into you like you were begging him to, but the tightness of your walls around him made it impossible to think clearly. it was too good — you were too good.

how could he tell you that? that speeding up, giving in to his primal urge, would mean a higher chance of losing himself too quickly? the last thing he wanted was to finish before he could truly savor this — savor you.

“i want to,” he admitted, his lips trailing up your jaw, voice thick with restraint. “god, i want to so bad.” his hips rocked forward slowly, and even that was almost too much. “but if i go any faster, i don’t know if i can hold out.”

his breath hitched, his forehead pressing against yours as he closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but how incredible you felt. “you’re so perfect,” he murmured, biting his lip as he thrust shallowly, savoring the sensation of your walls hugging him in all the right ways. “i don’t want this to end too soon.”

it was the truth — every second inside you was pure bliss, and he couldn’t get enough. you were pulling him in, making him want more, crave more. your body was so inviting, so snug, that it made him feel like he could drown in the pleasure. how could he not want more?

“fuck,” satoru groaned, his voice dropping lower as his grip on you tightened. “you don’t know what you do to me.” his movements remained slow, deliberate, as he tried to pace himself, but the desire to pick up speed, to give in to the growing need for release, was becoming harder to resist. every soft sound you made, every call of his name, only pushed him closer to the edge.

“you’re making it so hard for me,” he whispered, his tone laced with frustration and affection. “i don’t know how much longer i can keep this slow.” he smirked slightly, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss, as his hips ground against you in an agonizingly slow rhythm. “but i want to make it last. i want to feel you for as long as i can.”

his resolve was crumbling, though, and he knew it.

the second satoru admitted his fear of finishing too early, something in you shifted. the vulnerability in his voice stirred a new kind of thrill within you — one you hadn’t expected. you wanted to push him, tease him, see how far he could go before he snapped. the way his breath hitched when he said he might not last much longer sent a spark through you, igniting a dark, almost sadistic pleasure that made you want to see him lose control completely.

you leaned forward, lips grazing his ear before sinking your teeth into his shoulder — not too hard, but enough to make him wince, his body jerking in response. the sound that left his throat was almost a whimper, and you felt his hips stutter, his attempt to cover it up with a moan only making it more obvious. you heard him. felt him.

“fuck,” he hissed, his breath shaky as his hands clutched your hips even tighter. your name spilled from his lips, strained and broken, as he struggled to keep some semblance of control. but you could tell he was right on the edge, teetering between holding back and completely falling apart. and the way you bit him? that only made things worse. or better, depending on how you looked at it.

you grinned against his skin, biting down a little harder as he drove himself into you, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. each thrust was deep and unsteady, his usual confidence crumbling right before your eyes. and you loved it.

he whimpered again, his voice trembling as he tried to keep the rhythm, but you could feel the way his body tensed, the way his breathing became shallow and ragged. you knew he wouldn’t last much longer — he was barely holding on as it was.

“shit — baby — ” his voice cracked, and before either of you could even react, his hips bucked sharply against yours, and suddenly, his resolve shattered completely.

satoru gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder as he thrust deep one last time, his body convulsing as he came hard, hot ribbons of his release filling you. his hips jerked uncontrollably, every muscle in his body tensing as he rode out the waves of pleasure, gasping for air as he bucked against you, his movements wild and unrestrained.

“fuck, fuck —” he groaned, his voice breathless and raw, his grip on you bruising as he clung to you like a lifeline. the sensation of his hot, sticky release spilling into you, coating your insides, had him practically trembling, his body still shaking with the aftershocks as he pressed his forehead against yours.

his breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he tried to recover, but the look in his eyes was one of sheer exhaustion and bliss. “you... you did that on purpose,” he muttered, a weak grin tugging at his lips as he kissed you, his voice still breathless from the intensity of his release.

even though he was spent, there was no mistaking the spark of mischief that danced in his eyes.

you couldn’t help but laugh as you looked at satoru’s flushed face, still recovering from the intensity of his release. “how was that for a first time?” you teased, the playfulness in your tone undeniable.

but satoru didn’t immediately answer. instead, he shifted, his eyes dropping to the mess between your legs. with a soft groan, he lowered himself, settling between your thighs as his gaze locked onto the aftermath of what you two had just shared. small blobs of his cum clung to your folds, some of it slipping out and beginning to drip down your thighs. his eyes darkened at the sight, his expression growing more serious, more primal.

"fuck," he whispered, almost to himself, his fingers brushing lightly against your sensitive skin. he looked up at you with a lazy grin, his usual cockiness returning full force, despite the exhaustion still weighing on him. “i’d be damned if i let any of that go to waste.”

his words hung in the air, dripping with intent as he licked his lips. “so, what’s it gonna be, baby?” he asked, his tone dangerously playful as his fingers traced teasing circles on your thigh. “i either clean you up with my tongue…” his breath was hot against your skin as he dipped his head closer, lips hovering just above your slick folds, “or i fuck all of this back into you.”

he shot you a wicked grin, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief and lust, as if the answer didn’t really matter — he was going to enjoy either option. his lips brushed against the inside of your thigh, and you could feel the heat of him, so close to where you needed him most.

“so... what’s it gonna be?” his voice dropped lower, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, his fingers lightly grazing over the mess he left, a teasing promise of what was to come.

a rush of heat surged through your body at his words, igniting something deep inside you. the way satoru’s voice dropped, teasing and full of promise, had your heart pounding in your chest. your breath hitched, barely able to hold back the whine that spilled from your lips.

“just — anything with your tongue, ‘toru,” you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. your thighs instinctively tried to close around him, but his strong hands held you in place, spreading you open as he gave you that signature grin of his — cocky, mischievous, and entirely in control.

“oh, baby,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, “i’ll show you exactly what this tongue can do.”

and then, without warning, he dove into your folds, his mouth hot and relentless as his tongue swirled around your entrance, lapping up every bit of the mess he’d left behind. the sensation was immediate and overwhelming. your body jolted at the sudden contact, a sharp gasp escaping your throat as satoru devoured you, his tongue dragging over your slick heat with a precision that left you writhing.

“fuck — ‘toru,” you moaned, your hands fisting into the sheets as his tongue worked you over with a hunger that bordered on feral. he wasn’t gentle — he was ravenous, his mouth pressing against you with an intensity that made your legs tremble. he teased and taunted, his lips brushing over your swollen clit only to pull away and return to your entrance, sucking and licking until every last drop of his cum was cleaned from your folds.

but he didn’t stop there.

he groaned low against your skin, his tongue pushing deeper, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you wider, angling your hips so he could bury his face further into you. “god, you taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your cunt as his tongue dipped in and out of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

your back arched off the bed, your fingers scrambling to find purchase in his hair as he ate you out like a man starved. the pressure was building, intense and almost too much. but satoru didn’t slow down — if anything, he pushed harder, his tongue fucking into you, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard, making your entire body quiver.

“you’re shaking, baby,” he murmured between licks, his tone teasing, but there was something darker in his voice, something that told you he wasn’t even close to done with you yet. “you like that, huh?”

you barely managed to nod, your breath coming in ragged pants as he continued his assault on your senses. the pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that. it was the way he was relentless, the way he stuffed you with his tongue, as if he was determined to make you feel every inch of it, to push you past the point of pleasure and into something else entirely — something bordering on painful in its intensity.

it was a pleasurable pain, though. the way his tongue worked inside you, the way his hands gripped your hips and forced you to take everything he gave you — it was too much, and yet not enough all at once.

your stomach clenched as the pressure built, his mouth working you closer and closer to the edge until the sensation almost hurt in the most exquisite way possible. every drag of his tongue, every pull of his lips had your body tensing, your thighs trembling with the need for release, but satoru wasn’t giving you that yet. no, he wanted to take his time — wanted to push you to the brink and keep you there.

“fuck, satoru — please,” you whimpered, your hands tugging at his hair, your body teetering between pleasure and pain as he pushed you further and further. your cunt ached from the way his tongue filled you, stretching you in ways that left you gasping, your body trembling from the sensation.

he chuckled darkly against your folds, his hands pressing your thighs even further apart as his tongue delved deep inside you again, swirling and licking, relentless in his pursuit to break you.

“not yet, baby,” he growled, pulling back for just a second, his lips shiny with your arousal. “i’m not done with you.”

and then he dove back in, his tongue fucking into you with renewed intensity, his lips and teeth grazing your clit as he pulled you even closer to that line, keeping you teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, between ecstasy and something darker, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

after what seemed like an eternity of being overwhelmed by his relentless tongue, satoru finally lifted his head from between your legs, his lips wet and shining with evidence of his handiwork. his blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he gazed up at you, his trademark smirk plastered across his face.

“how’s that, baby?” he teased, voice thick with amusement and pride, as if he hadn’t just pushed you to the brink of overstimulation.

his white hair stuck to his forehead, damp from sweat, but that didn’t stop him from looking impossibly smug as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your inner thigh. you twitched at the contact, your body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just put you through.

with a wink, he looked up at you, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin along your thigh. “a little payback,” he said playfully, clearly satisfied with himself for the way he’d worked you over. he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, his lips brushing against the skin as he continued to pepper lazy kisses up your leg.

you could barely form words, still reeling from the intensity of it all, your breath shaky as you tried to catch it. satoru’s teasing grin only widened as he sat up, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back over your body, settling his weight on top of you.

“told you i’d show you what my tongue can do,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you softly. the taste of him, of you, lingered on his lips as his hands wandered down to your hips, massaging the tender skin there.

"think you can handle more?" he asked, eyes darkening slightly as his grin shifted into something more dangerous, more enticing.

with SUGURU, you felt like you were on top of the world — your partner, your lover, your everything. his presence alone made you feel weightless, like nothing could pull you down. little did you know, though, that you’d soon be literally on top of the world with him, straddling suguru and watching his dark eyes devour every inch of you as you rode him.

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, voice rich with affection as his hands found your hips, grounding you. his fingertips dug into your skin, pulling you down onto him, guiding your movements with a gentle but insistent grip that made you shiver. his hands slipped up to your waist, one sneaking up your back to pull you closer, his touch reverent yet possessive. “you feel so good… you’re perfect like this.”

your cheeks flushed at the praise, warmth flooding through you as you moved in sync with his guidance. suguru’s gaze stayed locked on you, his eyes full of admiration as his thumbs rubbed circles into your skin. he tilted his head back, sighing deeply, his lips parted as he took in the sight of you on top of him.

“so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with awe and desire. his hands roamed up and down your body, groping and squeezing, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, each caress claiming more of you. “you don’t know what you do to me.”

you leaned into his touch, letting him pull you closer until your chest was pressed against his. suguru wrapped an arm around you, fingers tracing the curve of your back as he leaned in, pressing tender kisses along your collarbone, up the side of your neck. every kiss sent tingles down your spine, making you arch into him, his lips warm and soothing against your flushed skin.

“you’re doing so well for me,” he praised, his hand trailing back down to squeeze your hip, pulling you flush against him as he let out a low groan. “just like that, baby… so good.” his other hand came up to cup your cheek, guiding your face toward his as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “my perfect girl.”

the sweet endearments poured from his lips with every thrust, each one making your heart race. he’d never sounded so tender, so in awe of you, and it made you feel like you truly were on top of the world, held up by his adoration and strength.

“look at you,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his voice full of pride and affection. “you’re everything i could ever want.”

the moment he felt you slow down, suguru’s hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as he rocked his own up to meet you, pressing deep. the upward thrust of his hips made your eyes roll back, and a faint, breathless moan slipped from your lips, your body tightening around him involuntarily. the friction, the stretch—it was almost too much and yet exactly what you needed, igniting a warmth deep in your belly that only suguru could give.

“what’s this, baby?” he teased, his voice a dark, honeyed whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “do i really have to do all the work here?” he grinned, one hand drifting up to gently flick your nipple, earning another soft gasp from you as you blinked, trying to focus on him. “didn’t you say you were gonna take care of me tonight?”

“i am—” you managed, voice barely above a whisper, but you trailed off, feeling the heat pool between your legs as his thumb brushed across your sensitive skin, his hands now trailing up your sides, leaving your skin tingling and sensitive to every touch. his gaze was heavy, adoring, yet clearly amused as he took in the dazed look in your eyes, his tongue flicking over his lips as he chuckled.

“oh, i know you are, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with deliberate slowness, watching your back arch in response. “just seems like you’re getting a little… distracted.” his tone was low and teasing, and with another thrust of his hips upward, he ground deeper into you, drawing out a soft, breathy moan. “mmph…”

you bit your lip, trying to stay focused, but each gentle thrust from below and the way his hands molded to your body, groping and teasing, left you gasping and clutching onto his shoulders. his hands stayed busy, one pinching a nipple while the other skimmed over your waist, making it nearly impossible to keep your rhythm steady. every time you slowed, he was there to fill the gap, his hips meeting yours with just enough force to jolt you back to reality.

“c’mon, baby,” he whispered, his voice a warm caress against your skin. “thought you wanted to take care of me?”

suguru’s grip tightened around your waist, his patience fraying as he watched you try to keep up. he knew he wasn’t making it easy for you—he was big, girthy enough that you could feel every inch stretch you, pulse inside you. seeing you struggle, cheeks flushed and brows knit in concentration, only fueled his desire to take control.

“alright, baby,” he murmured, that dark, low voice holding a hint of amusement as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers splaying out to hold you steady. “guess i’ll help you out a little.”

before you could respond, he lifted you slightly, pulling almost all the way out, only to bring you crashing back down onto him. his hips met yours with a solid, breathtaking thrust that made you cry out, your body tightening around him as he set a pace, guiding you up and down on his cock. each motion left you gasping, your body jolting from the force of his movements.

“fuck—sugu,” you moaned, barely able to keep up as he held you firmly, his thrusts deep and relentless. each time he bottomed out, a shiver of pleasure shot through you, toes curling as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you until you could hardly breathe. the obscene, wet squelch of your bodies meeting filled the room, echoing each time he guided you back down onto him, more consistent, more indignant.

“that’s my girl,” he muttered, almost to himself, watching you take him in again and again, his jaw clenched with satisfaction. “so good for me—look at you.”

your hands scrambled for purchase, finding his shoulders as you leaned forward, resting against his chest while he continued to drive himself into you, the broken moans tumbling from your lips only making him grip you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he pushed you down onto him, again and again.

his voice dropped to a husky murmur, thick with pride as he watched you struggle to keep up with the rhythm he set, your body soft and pliant under his guidance. "look at you, baby," he whispered, brushing a hand over your stomach, his fingers tracing the bulge pressing up beneath your skin with a dark fascination. “taking all of me… mmph, look at that—feel that?”

you nodded shakily, breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as you felt the shape of him, impossibly deep. the sight of that bulge sent heat rushing through you, making it hard to focus on anything but him as his voice washed over you.

“god, you’re doing so good for me,” he continued, his hands pressing down on your waist, keeping you steady as he filled you up with each roll of his hips. “riding me so well—even if i am doing all the work, huh?” his laugh was low, teasing, as he pushed up into you, coaxing another whimper from your lips. “ah—there you go.”

his praises wrapped around you, each word sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. “taking me so well, sweetheart,” he groaned, his voice filled with awe as he watched your body struggle to accommodate him. every movement was slow, deliberate, each thrust pressing the bulge in your stomach up, forcing you to feel just how deep he was.

“my perfect girl,” he muttered, his thumb stroking over the bulge as he thrust up again, making you gasp as he pressed even deeper. “don’t know how you’re doing it—but you’re handling me so good.”

your gaze was fixed on him—his dark hair fanned across the pillow, those lust-filled eyes glued to you—and that was all it took to tip you over the edge. a high-pitched moan tore from your throat as you came undone, your release spilling over his toned torso with a wet splash. his lips curled into a soft smile, cooing softly as he ran a hand up your back.

"there you go, baby,” he murmured, clearly pleased. but he wasn’t done—not even close. without missing a beat, he snapped his hips up with renewed intensity, filling the room with the sharp, wet slap of skin meeting skin as he drove himself deeper, faster.

“ah—ahh!” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath as he continued thrusting into you, your entire body jolting with every movement. you clung to him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulders as your own noises slipped from you uncontrollably, each one blending with the rhythmic smack, smack of his hips crashing into you.

drooling onto his chest, your mouth was parted, and you could only manage breathy whimpers as he buried himself to the hilt again and again. he pressed a hand to the small of your back, drawing you closer with each upward thrust, his own low, satisfied groans mixing with the wet, messy sounds of your bodies.

“god, listen to you,” he praised, his voice a raspy murmur against your ear. “taking me so well, baby… just like that.”

as his pace quickened, you felt his hand slip between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive, swollen clit with an expert touch. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice thick with need as he began flicking and circling your clit, drawing out a gasp from deep within you. he kept up the rhythm, each touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you as he held you close, his thrusts hitting deeper, rougher.

“ngh—sugu!” you cried out, feeling the wave build impossibly fast under his touch. he watched with dark, focused eyes, his fingers relentless as he teased you, bringing you closer with every flick and press of his thumb.

“that’s it, let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice low and soothing, his own movements becoming ragged as he teetered on the edge. you couldn’t help it—the pleasure overwhelmed you, crashing down in a shuddering, breathless release, a high-pitched moan spilling from your lips as you clenched tightly around him.

“fuck, baby—” he groaned, his hips jerking as he finally let go, filling you up with a deep, satisfied growl as he spilled inside, his release warm and thick, making you shudder with each pulse. his fingers slowed, soothing your overstimulated clit with gentle strokes, holding you close as both of you caught your breath, wrapped up in the lingering warmth of each other.

still buried deep inside you, suguru looked down, his gaze darkening as he noticed the little trickle of his release escaping from where your bodies were joined. he tutted softly, his fingers trailing down to scoop up the creamy slick before bringing his hand up to your lips. his eyes held a playful glint, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head.

“we can’t be wasting anything, can we, baby?” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, pressing gently until your lips parted. “open up for me… there you go.”

obediently, you parted your lips, his fingers sliding in, and you wrapped your mouth around them, tasting the faint saltiness of him as he watched you intently. his fingers moved slowly, pushing just a little deeper as you sucked gently, your tongue swirling around each digit, savoring the warmth of his release. his breath hitched, and his other hand tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“good girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “can always count on you to take care of me.”

coming up next . . . soft & anniversary sex ! starring sukuna ryomen and nanami kento ♰ — comment to be added to taglist ♡

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[greengoblinswifey]

Show me- Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

warnings: jealous!reader, 69, possessive rafe, unprotected sex, degrading kink, praise kink, rough sex, face slapping, choking, rafe is a sweetheart at the end, s4 ep 3 spoiler kinda.

A part of you was glad Rafe was wary of the cougar. The cougar— she wasn’t that important for you to memorize her name. She was getting too close to your “man” or whatever you and Rafe were. It didn’t matter, he was yours and you were wary of her the moment you met her couple nights ago.

“I don’t trust her,” you add.

“Oh yeah? I think you’re a little jealous,” Rafe saw right through you.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, jealous.”

“No.” Your faces are inches away from each other and your eyes dart down to his lips.

“Cougar on the prowl?” he replied, playfully taunting you and you giggle. “I’m not an idiot, they think I’m an idiot but, they’ll see how Camerons do business.”

“Show me,” you reply. He felt your breath against his lips as your brown eyes stare into his.

“Show you what princess?”

“Show me how you do business.”

Rafe’s eyes darken as he grabs you by the waist, pulling you against him with a force that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, all hunger and heat, the taste of him overwhelming. His hand snakes up to your throat, wrapping firmly around it, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse quicken, sending a jolt of excitement down your spine.

The kiss is wild, desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as he dominates every inch of your mouth. You can’t help but grind your hips against his bulge, feeling the hardness pressing against you. A moan escapes your lips, and you push against him, needing more, needing him closer.

But Rafe pulls back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours as he growls, “Calm down, you needy little slut.”

His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and he smirks, his voice low and rough. “You jealous of some old bitch? You think I’d want anyone but you?” His eyes are burning with possessiveness now, and you can feel his cock twitch beneath your grinding. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, show you exactly who this cock belongs to.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you gasp as he pushes you back into the outdoor chair, the cool fabric brushing against your heated skin. “Spread your legs,” he commands, voice dripping with dominance. You obey instantly, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in your belly.

He kneels in front of you, hands pushing your thighs apart as his breath ghosts over your aching core. “You’re mine,” he growls before diving in, his tongue lapping at your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. His grip on your hips is rough, holding you in place as you try to squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his mouth. He’s devouring you like a man starved, his tongue flicking, teasing, sucking until your mind is spinning.

“And I’m yours,” he adds.

You whimper, your hands fisting in the little hair he has, trying to pull him closer, needing more. He chuckles darkly against your skin, pulling back just enough to look up at you with a wicked grin. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he says, his voice dripping with promise.

Rafe stands, grabbing your hand and yanking you up, pulling you into the house and straight to the bedroom. He throws you down onto the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and control. “Now, I’m gonna show you,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours.

He pulls you into position, straddling his face while his cock hovers above your lips. “We’re gonna 69, baby,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “And I’m gonna remind you who you belong to.”

Without another word, his mouth is on you again, tongue plunging into your folds, while his thick cock presses against your lips, begging for your attention. You take him into your mouth, feeling him swell against your tongue as you moan around him, lost in the shared rhythm of pleasure, both of you pushing each other closer to the edge.

Rafe's deep moans vibrate against your core as you both lose yourselves in the intensity. His tongue is relentless, flicking against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. His thick cock is heavy in your mouth, and as you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, you hear his breath hitch, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Between your legs, Rafe pulls back just slightly, voice husky as he asks, “You like how I do business, baby?”

Your eyes flutter as you hum around him, the vibrations of your answer sending shivers down his spine. “Yes, sir,” you manage to gasp between moans before he thrusts into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your mouth stretches wide to accommodate him as you struggle to take more, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the fullness.

Suddenly, Rafe’s mouth is back on your pussy, ravishing you with a ferocity that has you gasping. His tongue works its magic, swirling, sucking, licking until you’re a trembling mess above him. Without warning, the tension snaps, and you squirt all over his face, your body convulsing in overwhelming pleasure as his tongue laps it all up.

“Ride me, bitch,” he growls, voice thick with lust. “Show me that you know I’m yours and make me cum.”

You don’t hesitate. Climbing off him, you position yourself over his cock, feeling the slick heat of your arousal as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense, and you cry out, your body trembling as you take him deeper, every inch filling you to the brim. Your pace is wild, desperate, and you scream out as his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you.

Rafe’s hand wraps around your throat, his grip firm but teasing, cutting off your breath just enough to make your head spin. Your curly hair bounces with each thrust and he reaches up, tangling his fingers in your coils, tugging your head down to make you look at him. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and possessive, as he forces you to glance down at your own stomach, the bulge in your belly where his thick cock is buried deep inside you.

“Look at that,” he groans, voice thick with pride. “Look how deep I am in you.”

The sight is enough to send you over the edge again. Your body shudders, your legs quaking as you scream his name, cumming hard all over his cock. Your moans are broken, breathless, as you ride out the intense pleasure, gripping his arms for support as your body melts against him.

Rafe’s grip on your throat tightens just enough to remind you who’s in control, his own groans mixing with yours as he holds you there, feeling every wave of pleasure ripple through you.

Rafe's palm cracks against your cheek, the sting of the slap sending a jolt through your body. He doesn’t give you time to recover before he shoves you roughly onto your back, his hand immediately gripping your throat as he slams into you, the force of his thrusts making the bed creak beneath you. His eyes are dark, possessive, and he’s chasing his own release, fucking you so hard you can barely breathe.

“You’re my bitch,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “My good girl, my baby, my princess.” Each word is punctuated by a rough thrust that leaves you gasping, your body arching up into him as you cling to the edge of another orgasm. “I’m your daddy, no one has me like you do, no one will ever have me the way you do, no one does it for me like you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you cry out, the intensity of his words and the rhythm of his hips pushing you over the edge again. You scream, your entire body trembling as you cum, muscles contracting around him, gripping him tight. But Rafe isn’t done. He fucks you even harder, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision as you whimper beneath him. Another slap to your face makes your head spin, and just as he’s on the verge of release, he pulls out, his breath ragged and heavy.

With a guttural groan, Rafe pumps his cock, cumming all over your mouth and tits. The warmth of his seed covers you, and before you can catch your breath, he grabs your coils, forcing your head down toward your own chest. His grip is firm but not painful, and you follow his lead, your tongue flicking out to lick up his cum from your perky breasts, swallowing every drop as it mixes with what’s already in your mouth.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, voice low and rough.

You obey, and his semi-hard dick slaps against your cheek as he chuckles darkly. “That’s my good little bitch,” he whispers, his hand still tangled in your hair. “That’s my good girl.”

When he’s satisfied, he pulls back, the intense dominance fading as he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms for a brief moment of tenderness. The warmth of his body presses against yours as you both catch your breath. After a moment, Rafe slips out of bed and grabs a towel, cleaning you up gently as if his roughness never happened. He moves with care, wiping the cum from your skin while you watch him, your chest still heaving from the intensity of it all.

As he pulls on his shirt, you sit up, adjusting your bonnet over your curly hair, still watching him in silence. He catches your gaze, his expression softening in a way you’ve never seen before. Moving closer, Rafe leans in, whispering in your ear so quietly that you almost miss it.

“I love you.”

The words shock you, leaving you frozen as he stands up, offering a smile before walking away, leaving you to process everything he just said.

A/N- Love me some Rafe, requests are open for him, JJ, and Pope.

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.