#the wink had me wheezing

[katherine-mcnamara]

[ettharajenda]

just need to let everyone know that a manic pixie dream girl hit on me today in the taco bell drive thru and gave me the Confidence Boost i needed to get shit done

[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.

[pitchsidestories]

wouldn't change a thing II Ona Batlle x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1415

a/n: dear readers, we hope you'll enjoy the oneshot which is inspired by this lovely request here. 💗💗

Being relatively tall for a woman had its advantages, you had to admit. Especially when you played for Barcelona and their dressing room wasn’t designed for the average female body height.

In contrast to your several inches shorter girlfriend, you could reach all the shelves with ease.

But you and Ona had established a routine by now. After every training, she would wait for you to hand her the towels, so she didn’t have to climb up on the bench to reach them.

You had decided that the injury risk was way too high and offered to do it for her. Your height had to be good for something.

As usual, you also handed her the towels after todays’ training as well: “Here you go.“

“Thank you.“, Ona smiled and pushed herself against you for a hug.

“You’re welcome.“, you replied as you held her close to you.

You pressed a quick kiss to her temple as she was the perfect height for it and brushed a few stray hair from her forehead.

Mapi giggled from the other side of the dressing room: “You’re too tall for your girlfriend, y/n!”

You grimaced at the defender: “If that’s the case, then Ingrid is too tall for you too.“

“I can reach my own stuff.“, Mapi shrugged.

“So can I but sometimes it’s just easier that way.“, Ona replied unimpressed and threw the towel over her shoulder.

Alexia joined the conversation, a sly smirk on her face: “Oh please, everyone knows that Ona loves the princess treatment.“

“She can’t get enough of it.“, Aitana agreed with a laugh.

Ona rolled her eyes, way too used to their teasing: “Guys.“

“Yeah, it’s not that funny.“, you sided with your girlfriend.

Mapi shook her head, still grinning: “I think it is.“

You sighed: “Of course you do.“

You knew what was coming. As soon as one started, the others would join immediately. It was some kind of weird Barcelona Femeni love language. You quietly braced yourself for the bad jokes that would inevitably be coming.

“Are you even allowed to wear heels when you go out with Ona?”, Cata asked. She was already wheezing about her own joke.

“You’re definitely more likely to see me in heels than Oni.“, you smiled back at her. Ona loved her sneakers, you loved a good pair of heels, height difference or not.

Cata continued: “Poor Ona is even smaller then. But at least you two don’t bump heads when you go dancing.“

“But I always find her in any crowd.“, Ona shrugged, winking at you.

“And Ona is the perfect height for hugs.“, Fridolina chimed in, sounding more delighted than taunting.

“She is.“, you confirmed.

“So cute with your matching opposite aesthetics.”, Salma commented with a huge smirk on her lips.

“Salma don’t.”, Mapi warned, clearly fearing the tall forward would stop the banter with her observation.

“Why?  It’s very opposite.”, she chuckled.

Meanwhile, you turned around to face your girlfriend. “Are you ready to go, Oni?”

No words were needed for her to answer the question, she simply jumped on to your back grinning.

While you made sure she was positioned safely, the brunette murmured into your ear. The smile carried through the voice. “Ready.”

Both of you said your goodbye to your teammates, when you were almost at the door Vicky yelled smiling. “Bye, princess.”

“They’re such idiots.”, Ona sighed.

“I love them though despite the teasing.”, you admitted.

“Yeah, me too. It’s a normal height difference though, they’re just annoying.”, she said.

You nodded in agreement. “True.”

“Let’s just go home.”, the defender suggested in a longing tone, nothing sounded better in her ears than having a good dinner and afterwards being cozy on the sofa with her dog and you.

Noticing the dreamy look in your girlfriends’ eyes you decided. “Yes, please. I’ll drive, you already look a bit sleepy.”

“Okay. Fine, I won’t complain.”, Ona answered.

“Good.”

The two of you got into your shared car while the fellow football player started the music playlist, she couldn’t help but to tease you. “Even though you drive horrible.”

“Excuse me? Your fast driving isn’t better.”, you protested laughing.

“I drive well.”, the defender countered.

“Do I’ve to remind you of-“, you begun.

“I’m quiet.”, Ona interrupted you softly. 

Fast forward and it was the night of the Ballon d’Or.

Sadly, not many of the female players could attend the event because it was set during the national team break, but a few of your club teammates and you were able to.

On the other hand, the gala wasn’t known in its history to be this supportive of women footballers in general.

Surrounded by the nominated female players you put on your high heels who gave you the needed confidence boost and calmed your nerves for the moment.

“You look gorgeous.”, Ona whispered admiringly, tiptoeing to place a heartfelt kiss to your lips.

“So do you.”, you told her and meant every word, your girlfriend wore her beautiful long wavy hair open, only slight make up, so her natural beauty shone through even more and the defender was in an outfit she felt comfortable in.

“Naw.”, Aitana remarked.

Impatiently Caroline threw in. “Can you two love birds hurry up now?”

“We’re good to go.”, you assured the Norwegian.

“Finally.”, Alexia noted happily.

“Come on, we can’t be late.”, Aitana reminded everyone urgently.

“Coming.”, you tried to soothe the small midfielder.

As you followed her, Ona interlaced her fingers with yours and whispered: “Don’t let go of my hand.“

“I won’t. Nervous?”, you quietly asked.

She shook her head: “Not at all.“

“Me neither. It’s between Caro and Aitana.“

“We’ll see.“, she replied earnestly which caused you to pause and raise your eyebrow at her.

“What? They’re simply the best, Ona?”

She turned back to you with a frown: “I didn’t say that they are not.“

“You would have deserved a nomination too.“

She shrugged nonchalantly: “I don’t care about this award to be honest. Defenders usually don’t win.“

“It’s not fair.“, you complained on her behalf.

“It’s fine.“, she assured you.

You pulled her in for a hug. First you wanted to press a kiss to her forehead but remembering your lipstick, you thought better of it: “You’re still the best.“

She chuckled lightly, brown eyes shining brightly as she looked up at you: “You’re too sweet.“

“Girls, time to pose together. And stop that teeth rotting sweet talk!”, Alexia called over to them, right before she stepped on the red carpet.

“We’re not doing anything.“, Ona blinked innocently while the two of you joined the group standing in front of the photographers.

“Lies.“, Caroline said through her teeth.

“Just smile for the camera.“, Aitana ordered.

You did as you were told, before taking your seats at the ceremony. You politely applauded for every winner and cheered whenever your teammates were onstage but with every passing hour you could feel Ona getting more impatient.

“Glad we’re done with this.“, she jokingly sighed as the ceremony ended and people moved on to the afterparty.

“Sounds like someone wants to go home.“, you grinned.

Nodding, Ona bit her lip: “Yes, my girlfriend looks so hot and I really don’t feel like sharing tonight.“

“Oh, you don’t?“, you teased but just like her, you didn’t mind skipping the party and go straight back to your hotel room.

“No.“

Hand in hand, you snuck out of the building and hailed the next cab. You scrolled through several social media posts of the Ballon d’Or on the drive back. Of course, you couldn’t help but check the comments too and they were exactly what you expected.

You chuckled softly: “They write so much bullshit, amor.“

“Let me see.“, Ona demanded as she scooted closer to have a look at your phone screen.

“They’re still commenting about our height difference.“, you grinned. “Seems to bother them a lot more than us.“

“Right? Let them keep talking, I don’t care.“, Ona laughed and leaned over to kiss you.

The cab stopped in front of your hotel. You could barely wait to go inside.

A few years ago, comments like these would have plunged you into self-doubt, wishing you were a few inches shorter. But not since Ona came into your life.

With Ona you felt confident and desired, not despite but because of your height. They could say what they wanted, all you could see in those photos was a couple that matched each other perfectly.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/batlleonafc/748573331298697216/her-smile-lights-up-every-room?source=share

[reiderwriter]

If your requests are open could I get a fic where Spencer lost his virginity to bau!reader the night before and when he comes into work the next day Morgan is like ‘you look different’ (you know that stereotype that people you know well can tell when you lose your virginity) and bau!reader is like yeah you do why is that Spencer🤨 lmaoo

A/N: This was a really fun request to write! Nice, short and sweet! I hope you enjoy it~♡

Warnings: implied sexual encounter, some suggestive talk, mentions of virginity.

Masterlist || Song Fic Challenge

“Wait, kid, hold up, something’s different. You get a haircut or what?” 

You tried your best not to giggle profusely as the blush crept up Spencer’s neck to sit prettily across his cheeks. It had only been an hour since you'd left him sleeping soundly in your bed after a night of well… ravaging him. 

Spencer Reid, your beautiful, awkward, nerdy, and charming coworker was no longer a virgin. Nor was he single. And surprisingly, he wasn't all that bad at sex either, a little cautious, but for all intents and purposes, quite the natural. 

He certainly hadn't turned into a sex god over night, but you did plan to accost him rather regularly from that point onwards, so you very much were enjoying the abject look of horror passing over his features at that moment. 

“I was running late this morning. My alarm didn't go off.” 

You stifled a giggle, knowing that his alarm probably had gone off. He'd just been in a completely different apartment and hadn't heard it. Maybe it was still going off now. 

When his eye caught yours, he froze still in a flush. It was impossible not to run tour gaze along the length of his body, showing him enough quiet appreciation you thought he'd drop to his knees. 

Instead, his hands that were wrestling with his tie fidgeted more, finding it impossible to tie the damn thing like he had every morning for the last five years. 

“Having some trouble, Spencer? Maybe I could help you out?” You winked at him to punctuate your question, and all he could do was stand and gulp down a breath, nodding in agreement. 

“You do look pretty tired, kid? Long night?” Derek asked, a quiet bemused look hanging on his face. He'd had this same conversation with Reid at least four times in the last year, assuming that every time he came in looking slightly dishevelled, he'd enjoyed a night of pleasure. 

It had certainly been pleasing to you, and you were absolutely going to help teasing Reid if you got the chance. You certainly enjoyed doing just that last night. 

Grabbing the two ends of his tie and pulling him a step closer to Reid - maybe a bit too close for two people in their place of work - you began righting all of his clothes. 

“You didn't wake me up,” he whispered with a pout into your ear, his pout audible even as he tried to keep his face neutral. 

“I tried,” you whispered back. “But every time I got close, you lunged for me in your sleep and started grinding your morning wood into my ass.” 

The flush that you enjoyed so much was now a fully glowing face. He was so red you expected steam to pour from his ears any minute. 

You finish knotting his tie and brush his shirt a little, just as Derek clears his throat again. 

“Kid, did you hear me? I asked if you had a long night.” 

Spencer's gaze didn't leave yours, though. Even in his embarrassment, he was so intently focused on you that it nearly set your entire body on edge. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, his gaze dropping to your lips. You wished they hadn't, because now you had to stop yourself from jumping him right there in the bull pen. 

“Oh shit,” Derek couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest as he stood looking from you to Spencer and then back to you. 

“Oh shit. Spencer, I didn't know you had game like that.” His words were wheezed out between fits of laughter, and you were irritated when the focus in Spencer's gaze shattered, settling into a look of discontent. 

“Derek, come on…” he groaned, and you put your hand gently on his chest to get him to look at you again. 

“Next time, I'll work my hardest to wake you up, Spencer.” 

With his jaw hanging open in shock, you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving him stood like a statue as Derek bent over in laughter, trying to catch his breath. 

You smiled in your final triumph just as Emily walked over to greet the two men and opened with a question. 

“Weren't you wearing that outfit yesterday, Reid?”  

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Mʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅ || 𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I've become obsessed with him

"Little bird! Hold up...you do not know which creatures could be lurking about." Elrond shouted trailing behind you.

"How will I be able to protect you when you are unable to stay in one place for more than two seconds!" He shouted glancing at the wet stones as you seemed to be gliding across.

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you paused on one of the rocks, your fingers clutching your dress as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh yes! Protect me dear Eldron....from the ankle deep water." You teased continuing on your way.

Elrond huffed, following you on the stones, his light and careful footsteps making sure not to even get his boots wet

"I will not be mocked" His voice as he carefully maneuvered across the rocks. "The water can be hiding dangerous things and not to mention it's easy to trip....I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

Letting out a hum, you continued to hop from rock to rock until you finally reached the spot of land dropping your dress into the dirt.

"And pray tell me what dangerous things could be hiding in the waters?" You teased.

Finally managing to cross and step down on the land, he made his way towards you not even thinking about the question.

"well there could be fish" he paused "or a very angry otter maybe, or the most dangerous of all: frogs, you clearly can't take on a frog on your own"

Throwing your head back for a laugh you stepped close to the man placing your hand on his chest with a grin forming on your face."Oh yes! My dear Elrond! Please protect me from the vicious frog. He may hop at me!"

Elrond chuckled, his chest moving under your hand as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Do not under estimate the frog, their looks are deceiving"

The elf warned playfully before his arm pulled you even closer, your chest gently colliding with his chest.

Gaze softening, you let your lips brush across his cheek. "You're adorable."

"and you're reckless" he said, his tone more serious, as he felt your lips against his cheek and his breath hitched and his cheeks began to flush a very soft shade of pink, but a pink shade none the less, despite being centuries old he still wasn't used to the affect you had on him.

Letting your fingers clutch his robe, a giggle left your lips.

'Cute' you couldn't help but think.

"Since I am so reckless...I bet you can't catch me." With a wink you gave him a playful shove then took off running through the forest.

Elrond could help but just stare for a split second, a little speechless, his cheeks a soft pink as he watched you run off before he snapped out of it the thoughts racing through his mind.

"oh that just isn't fair!"

He shouted as he started to run after you, managing to keep up with you despite you having a head start off of your earlier push and shoving, the elf was determined to catch you.

Your laugh echoed throughout the forest, feet barely touching the ground as you ran, your hair flowing behind you intending on taking him to one of your favorite spots.

The elven lord could only manage to curse under his breath,as he found it hard to catch up to you, the elf was fast and agile but his robes were slowing him down quite a bit, the only thing he was thankful for was the fact the forest was mainly open, so he wasn't having to duck under low branches and weave in-between trees to get to you.

Rushing through the fields, you slowed to a stop nearing the edge of a cliff that over looked a lake. Chest heaving as you glanced over your shoulder flashing him a grin.

"Fancy a swim?"

Holding your hand out for him, you tiled your head to the side.

It took a moment or two for the poor elf to finally catch up to you, his own chest heaving and breath heavy in an attempt to properly breathe, a hand on a tree supporting his weight.

"you...You are a menace" Elrond wheezed between breaths, before looking up at you then down towards the lake below as he grasped your hand softly.

"But you love it." You whispered, your eyes mischievous as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he gently squeezed your hand. "Anything for you, my little bird."

Smile brimming with happiness, you tugged him forward leaping off the edge of the cliff still holding his hand into the water bellow.

A shout leaving his lips, a laugh leaving yours.

He would do anything for you, for his little bird.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[biolumien]

friendly blows

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader smile and wave everyone. there may be the slightest bit of suggestive dialogue but that's bc hoshina's a fucker word count: 1091

“Do you take great pleasure in beating the shit out of me or something?” you pant from where you lay on the floor. As you attempt to sit up, you wince, holding your rib. “You kicked me in the fucking rib, Hoshina-”

“Ah, pshaw. Didn’t hit it hard enough to properly break it,” Hoshina says, waving his hand dismissively. “You’ll live. I know your limits better than you, I think. After all, I spend so much time staring at your vitals in HQ anyway… I know what’s fragile about you. And besides, I’m not trying to kill you. You’ll be fine.” He wipes sweat from his jaw, one of his crimson eyes opening as he smirks down at you, a wink. He extends his hand out to you. “Up on your feet, soldier. Got a bit more fight left in ya, I can tell.”

“You’re a bastard,” you grouse, reaching out your hand to grasp his as you begin to pull yourself up–

And then Hoshina retracts his hand, and you fall right back onto the ground.

“Fucker!” you grumble as Hoshina begins to chuckle.

“Ohh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… had to, had to. If you still have the energy to mouth off I’m sure you have more than enough energy to fight me.” Hoshina teases, though his expression seemed a little more serious. “You’re the one who wanted to fight me, let’s not forget. I’m just giving you your money’s worth.”

You growl, pressing your hands against the training room’s mats as you push yourself up, still rubbing at where Hoshina had kicked you before. You ready yourself into a sparring position, and Hoshina simply just stares at you, a teasing smirk on his face.

Pure cockiness.

You’ve been fighting for close to thirty minutes–it’s felt like an eternity, in any case. He’s seen most of your moves, and the ones he hasn’t seen, he’s been able to predict with relative ease. 

Hoshina moves fast–almost too fast for your eyes to process, his foot swinging out to kick you in the side, and you manage to jump out of the way just in time for his swing to find no purchase. He laughs, winding up his arm to slam a punch towards your face. You hold up your hands fast enough to block the blow and grit your teeth as Hoshina bears down on you with the punch, forcing his whole weight onto you.

“Not bad,” Hoshina says. “You’re getting better at predicting my moves.”

Focusing’s taking too much of your time, so you simply huff.

“Ahh, there it goes,” Hoshina teases. “Can’t mouth off if you’re too busy trying to focus on not getting hit, right?”

A sudden punch to your stomach scatters your focus immediately as he swings his leg, his foot hooking your ankle and causing you to slam against the ground with a thud. 

You cough as the impact takes all the air out of your lungs, and Hoshina leans over you. 

“You alive?” he teases, baring his teeth. 

Fucker.  

“Oh, plenty alive,” you rasp, reaching up to grab him by the collar. 

As he yelps—it’s a cute sound, to hear him caught off guard—you hook your leg around the back of his knee and he collapses against you, barely avoiding smashing your heads together by bracing himself against the mat. After a bit of struggling, you flip your positions so that you’re pinning him against the mat with a hand pressed against his sternum, your legs bracketing his thighs to keep him from moving. 

Hoshina’s eyes are fully open, staring at you as his chest heaves. He pants, and you’re furtively grateful he’s not making some kind of smart remark.  

“What was that, you said? If you have the energy to mouth off… something like that? Where’s all your fight now?” you gasp out, pressing your hand down harder. 

Hoshina wheezes. 

“Oh, believe me, pretty thing, I’ve got more fight left in me than you could ever imagine,” Hoshina says, his eyes meeting yours as suddenly you feel yourself buckling. Hoshina pushes you back with a gentle hand, as if you’re barely any weight to him at all, shuffling your bodies–

“Hey–” you protest as he flips you onto your front, pinning you to the mat with a knee to the small of your back and holding your arms back with a hand. “I got you that time!”

“You did,” Hoshina amends. “You can get some praise for that, if you want. Ohh, you did so well,” his voice lilts as he leans forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “Keep it up, and maybe you can pin me down for longer…”

Your face flushes.

“Going red? How cute,” Hoshina says. “Well… hm. Let’s end training here for today.” He pulls back, letting you get up. 

“You bastard,” you say, your hands coming up to your face to assess how flushed your cheeks are. It might just be because of the training, but you feel like you’re on fire, somehow.

“Mm, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hoshina says, holding up a water bottle to you. “Here. Good work today.” 

You unscrew the water bottle, drinking about half the bottle, crushing the plastic in your grip as you do. Hoshina watches with bemusement in his eyes.

“I just feel like I’m not getting better,” you say frustratedly. “When I fight you it just feels like I just forget about everything else I’ve learned.” “Aww, don’t let that get you down,” Hoshina teases. “You’re doing great against me. Most people can’t even land a hit on me, you know! And you kept me pinned down for… longer than anyone could say they had before.” He seemed almost embarrassed to admit it, pressing a hand to the back of his neck. 

“You’re making fun of me,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” Hoshina says after a moment, a smile approaching this side of genuine crossing his lips. “You’re doing great against me. I look forward to the day where you can beat me. Let me see your hand for a sec?”

You extend your hand for a second, wondering what he’ll do–

Hoshina simply kisses your bruised knuckles, holding your hand gently. You think you might be dead, hallucinating, or something, with the way your heart stops for a moment–and then the moment’s over, because Hoshina has parted from you, letting go of your hand.

“Text me if you ever want to spar again,” he says, turning away from you. 

“Hoshina–” you start, but he’s already gone.

Fucker.

[librarygarten]

Isekai!Reader Meets Dink

It has been A Week and I needed to write something less serious. Reader meets Dink and roasts him.

It was a stupid idea, really, but it was all you had left. The entity in front of you was running circles around the group. One moment, it was a Lizalfos, jumping away from any attack. Then, it was Darknut, taking every hit as if it was nothing. It would blend into the darkness of the night before leaping out somewhere new.

Dodge. Parry. Dodge. Breathe in. Breathe out. It took everything in you to avoid the weapon the thing before you was wielding. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened to Twilight. But the fight was going on for too long. Hyrule was running out of magic. You could hear Sky struggling to breathe behind you. It raised its weapon towards Time. He wasn’t going to be able to dodge in time.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You grabbed your sword. You jumped up. And you smacked the thing on the head. You heard something crack, and the beast fell.

The shadows melted under you, reforming and reshaping. Whatever it was, you had dazed it. The chain surrounded the writing mass of darkness, swords and shields ready for whatever it would become next.

The form solidified. An arm. A head. Legs. It was kneeling, clutching its head with one hand. It turned its face to you, glaring. You recognized this new form.

“DINK???” You exclaimed. The shadow winced, it’s head still throbbing from when you had hit it. Time paled. He recognized this enemy, too.

“What did you just call me?” The shadow growled, but there was no threat. He was too weak from the fight.

“Uhh. Dink?” You shrugged, the grip on your sword loosening somewhat. “It’s what the fans have taken to calling you. Dark. Link. Dink.” Wind snickered at your explanation, and Dink turned to glare at the boy. Wind took a step back, raising his sword to defend against the shadow’s gaze.

“Do NOT call me that.” He stood, and you realized he wasn’t even an adult shadow. It was the same form he took in the Water Temple. Seventeen. Lanky. A threat, for sure, but also…

“What? Dink?” You smiled, making sure to stay out of his range. “Why not?”

“I am the shadows. I am darkness. I am everything the heroes of light are not.” He wobbled on his feet. Had you concussed him? “I am the dark reflect-”

“Uh huh.” You interrupted his speech, rolling your eyes. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. Time to stall. “Sure, Dinky. Shadows and darkness and all that emo stuff.” You nodded. Twilight pressed his lips together, trying not to burst out laughing as you mocked the entity. Warriors looked at you like you had grown a second head.

“I am not… Dinky.” Dink took a threatening step towards you. You calmly stepped away from him.

“I dunno, man.” You smiled. “You’re acting pretty annoying, with all the portals and what not. You gotta be compensating for something.” Behind you, Legend wheezed, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Dink stared at you for a moment before the shadows near his cheeks darkened. Was he… blushing?

“You…” He looked around. He was surrounded. There was no getting out of this. He turned to face you again, taking in your relaxed expression. “What is WRONG with you! You’re supposed to fear me!”

“Why?” You made a show of checking your nails, picking the dirt out from under them.

“I am everything the hero stands against!” Dink shouted. “I am the darkness within him!”

“Well, good thing I’m not the hero.” You wink. “The greatest darkness I need to face is working up the courage to call the pizza place for dinner.”

Dink blinked at you. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe you were just insane. Whatever the case, he had no idea what to say. Usually, the person he was fighting would be shaking with fear at this point.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, the light filtering through the leaves of the forest. Dink hissed as it hit him, his body disappearing where the sunlight hit him directly. He looked sort of like a very evil (or very moldy) slice of swiss cheese. He looked towards the sunrise, shielding his eyes and wincing.

“I’ll be back.” He glared at you. Then, he sunk down into the ground, disappearing into the shadows still left. The chain watched him disappear.

Time was the first to break the silence. His laughter echoed through the now quiet morning. The others followed suit, some even clutching their stomachs or falling over.

“Y/N, that was bloody brilliant.” Wild gasped in between fits of giggles.

“Well, we weren’t going to win fighting normally.” You blinked. You hadn’t expected this reaction.

“So you chose to use psychological warfare instead?” Hyrule wiped a tear away from his eye.

“Ye.”

[its-avalon-08]

hey can you write that Carlos Sainz is his wife Y/N (she is also Spanish) are nicknamed the couple the funny ones in the paddock because they often play pranks on each other on TikTok and they often tease each other because they have the same personality as it's their humor and that they are both tactile

glitter and lucky socks

the air in imola crackled with nervous energy, race day for the emilia romagna grand prix. but amidst the tension, a familiar giggle echoed through the ferrari garage. there, carlos sainz, in his pristine red race suit, was doubled over, socks clutched in his hand.

"no, no, no!" he wheezed, laughing so hard he was struggling to breathe. "that can't be real! y/n, you didn't!"

across the garage, you, his ever-playful wife, smirked, phone in hand. "y/n! you dyed my lucky socks pink?" carlos' voice, laced with mock horror, reached your ears.

you winked, feigning innocence. "what socks, cariño? i haven't seen any pink socks around."

carlos knew that look. it was the same mischievous glint he saw reflected back in his own eyes every time he'd snuck toothpaste into your shampoo or replaced your coffee with a peppermint smoothie (much to your initial disgust since you hated it, but ultimate amusement).

"oh, come on," he whined, getting up and moving to grab you from your waist. "mi amor ¿por qué debes burlarte de mí? (my love why must you tease me?). y/n still holding up her phone, to record her shenanigans, had small tears in her eyes following her husband's reaction. after posting the tiktok the caption read: 'sending some extra luck to my favorite driver (don't worry, they're his backup pair) #f1 #pranksforsainz #losdivertidos

the video had already blown up, with comments like "y/n is savage" and "carlos, your wife is a menace!" erupting like virtual popcorn.

charles leclerc, carlos' teammate, strolled by, phone in hand. he glanced at the video, then at carlos' pink-socked foot, and burst out laughing. "mate, you're doomed!"

carlos groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. you two were known in the paddock as 'the funny ones'. your constant pranks, playful teasing, and the undeniable fact that you seemed to share the same mischievous personality – it was all part of your humor, your way of showing affection. as charles saw the way carlos and y/n looked at eachother he chuckled as he remembered the times carlos had put a whoopie pillow down on y/n's chair infront of the ceo of ferrari much to her horror or how y/n had replaced carlos's hair gel with glitter. the two were madly in love and in such a serious world, they still found time to be human.

charles continued to recall how carlos would always hold you in anyway he could, how he would grasp on to your pinky finger in a crowd, how y/n would always hug carlos from behind, the way carlos and y/n's hand were permanently intertwined. amidst all the pranks and jokes, the couple knew each other inside and out.

later, after the race (which carlos, miraculously, managed to win, pink socks and all), you found him in the pits, a towel draped over his shoulders.

"so," you said, leaning in for a kiss that left him breathless, "about that luck i sent your way..."

carlos chuckled, pulling you into a hug. "you're lucky i love you," he mumbled against your hair.

"and you're lucky i put the real socks back in your bag before you left for the grid," you whispered, earning a playful shove that sent you both into another fit of laughter.

as mechanics swarmed around them, celebrating the win, charles shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. there they go again, he thought. those two are a riot. but then he saw you plant a big, lipstick-stained kiss on carlos' cheek, and a warmth spread through him. maybe a little paddock romance wasn't such a bad thing after all.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[ihatemakingusernames]

Here he was again, the big, fat, wobbling tub of lard approaching my coffee shop for the third time this week... It's Wednesday, he's here every day.

Though we do this every morning, I couldn't help but get excited by how wheezy he sounded as he approached the counter. Little beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead as he desperately tried to calm his embarrassingly loud breathing.

"The usual?" I asked, knowing his order by heart. He nodded his assent, still trying to catch his breath.

I prepared a large iced coffee, with heavy cream and extra caramel - fantasizing yet again about pouring in a caramel boost as well. I tossed a buttery chocolate croissant, two heavy, rich, cheese danishes, and two warm bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches into a bag for him. Feeling flirtatious, I also tossed in a fresh chocolate chip cookie as well - on the house.

I handed the coffee and the very full bag over to him. I could see his plump face light up when he saw the cookie on top.

"Thanks, Audrey!" He said.

I smiled and winked at him. "Anything for my best customer!"

As I watched him waddle away, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like shoving each delicious bite into his greedy mouth.

The rest of the day wore on until about an hour before closing time. The shop was slow and I was busying myself wiping countertops and packing up the leftover baked goods - I usually donated whatever was left at the end of the day, I hated seeing good food go to waste - but then I was greeted by a familiar huffing and puffing.

"Oh? Back again are we?" I asked, "I've only ever had the pleasure of seeing you once a day!"

"Audrey," he said through wheezing breaths "I just wanted to thank you for your kindness. Those extra goodies you've been adding to my order have really been delicious, but," he ducked his head to hide his blushing cheeks, "I'm going to have to cut back." "I've been starting to notice that I've put on a few pounds and if you keep giving me all the extras I can't help but eat them!" He placed a hand gently on his bulbous gut for emphasis.

I could feel my cheeks flush and a familiar heat of arousal warm my body. "I'm not sure what you mean, if anything you look like you've lost weight!" I lied.

"Oh come on, Audrey," he chuckled. "If you had given me any more free food, I'd almost think you wanted to see me fatter!"

I blushed even harder, if I wanted him to know my true intentions... And take any shot of fulfilling my fantasies... This was it.

"I do want to make you fatter." I muttered almost under my breath.

He cocked his head at me. "You what?"

It was now or never. "I do want to make you fatter," I repeated, a little louder. "I love seeing how much bigger you get week by week... It's kind of... Sexy."

"Y-you do??" He stammered in disbelief.

"I really do," I admitted. "I know it sounds strange but I take pride in the weight I've put on you." I dared to reach out and touch the fat belly I've been daydreaming about for ages. "It looks good on you."

He relaxed at my touch and said "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a crush on the cute barista at the coffee shop, little did I know all I'd have to do to impress her was eat!"

I started moving my hands across his enormous gut, feeling every pound I'd put on it. With a crooked smile, I teasingly raised an eyebrow, "Well, you could always eat a little more?"

"I have been feeling a bit hungry," he said "I wonder if there's anywhere with a few good pastries?"

I jumped up to lock the door and close the blinds. "I think I can help with that!"

I had already packed four full bags of leftover pastries, I picked them up and brought them to a small table. "Here, sit," I commanded.

He did as he was told and sat down. The small bistro chair creaked beneath him, he seemed a bit apprehensive resting his full weight down, but that only served to make me hornier. I picked up two huge, glazed apple fritters and sat atop the table. He looked up at me as I pressed one to his mouth. He took a small, delicate bite.

"Really? You're going to tell me you've packed on this much weight taking such little bites?" I teased.

He smiled and began to eat with gusto. I had stuffed about a bag and a half of food into him before he leaned back in his chair and groaned. "Ugh, Audrey, I am stuffed! I don't know how much more I can..."

*CRACK*

The chair snapped beneath him and he spilled onto the ground.

"Oh my God, are you okay!?" I rushed to his side and he just started laughing, it took all my strength to help him heave himself off the ground. He said, "had I known how badly you wanted to feed me, I would have asked you to dinner months ago!"

I chuckled. "Well there's no time like the present, is there?"

"You want to go to dinner? Now??" He asked, glancing down at his stuffed gut and looking around at the mess.

"I thought you'd never ask!" I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. The mess could wait, but I couldn't wait any longer.

[milfsiril]

symptomatic

kabru x reader; one shot

word count: 10k~

tw: adult audiences only, pet names, sex pollen, overstimulation, no pronouns but mentions of breasts and vagina, mild breeding kink if you squint

*—*

His breath tickles against your skin as he presses his face into your shoulder, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s purposely trying to tease you. Scratch that; he definitely is. He hums, his voice honeyed and low. “Don’t move,” he groans, his grip on you solid.

Although your party had recognized that you were all underprepared, you still made the mistake of rushing into the lower levels of the dungeon, despite how ill-advised it was.

Kabru was aware it was partially his fault; he had been too reckless, impatiently pushing everyone on despite the looks of uncertainty.

That’s what led to this very moment: Kabru clinging to you as if being apart physically hurt him, soft noises of protest spilling from his lips any time you shifted.

They had fallen and been revived many times, yet he had insisted on pushing further. This had led to him being snared by a plant monster and coming away coughing and wheezing as the pollen penetrated his sensitive membranes. Healing spells had proven ineffective, and despite the others’ voices of concern, he had waved them off, convincing himself he could push through any ill effects.

He had managed to stave off the symptoms of the pollen for long enough, but one night, as you had retired to the fireside, you commented about how he seemed more worn down than usual. You had raised your eyebrows in concern when you went to check his temperature and he had instead nuzzled against your palm.

Your party had left the dungeon, ignoring Kabru’s protests, and had holed him up in an inn so he could recover with no disturbances. You had agreed to stay with him, yet it didn’t explain why he was now curled around you, his fingers wrapped in the material of your shirt.

He whines quietly, pressing his face against you almost as if he was trying to hide. “Mm sorry,” he apologizes, his lips grazing the skin exposed by your shirt neckline. He rests his weight on you when you move, trying subconsciously to hold you down and prevent you from leaving.

Despite your prior relationship and his smooth talking ways, his pleas this time seem genuine as he begs you, “Please stay with me.”

You sigh heavily, stopping yourself from moving. You had originally joined his party because he was the only person you could find who would agree to take you. You worked as a member of a dungeoners safety and health organization, and had been required to go to the field (or the dungeon rather) to directly document health and safety violations.

Since most adventurers at best found an untrained person a burden and at worst were actively creating health and safety violations, it was difficult to find someone to take you with them. Luckily, Kabru’s party had needed the coin (or unluckily you supposed).

Kabru had also gone on a tangent about “protecting the rights of humanity” at the time, and winked at you, to which you had shuddered in disgust. The two of you were definitely at odds, and didn’t see eye to eye. You found him arrogant and narcissistic and he found you stuffy and nagging.

You two had argued often, and you had scolded him for not being careful many times, but still were the first to notice he was being affected. Now, you were here, nearly pinned under him as the rest of the party had gone to the next town over in search of a doctor who could remedy magical maladies.

He's.. a lot quieter now than he was before, not that you were complaining about that. If anything, you welcomed the temporary respite from the constant witty remarks and sarcastic quips that would spew from him on a daily basis.

His hand moves to thread through your hair, and he buries his face against your neck once again, inhaling deeply before letting out a breath that's almost akin to a sigh of relief.

He's so, so close to you. You can feel his chest rise and fall against your own, and you idly wonder if he's aware of just how hard his heart is beating.

You chew your lip, highly uncomfortable but willing yourself to be still for his sake. It’s not like he could help it at the moment, and it was your job to ensure adventurer safety technically, so you were the best to monitor him while the others went for help. His breath against your neck tickles, and you squirm a little. “This is… helping?”

As you squirm, he makes a low growl into your neck, almost like a warning not to move away. When he speaks, it's in a low murmur against your collar. "Stop moving. You're making it worse. Yes, it's helping, please. Just--" His grip on your shirt tightens, and he's suddenly moving to bury his face into your shoulder with a strangled moan of frustration and irritation. "Just let me breathe you in, for god's sake. You're not close enough."

You stiffen again, your body betraying you. While Kabru had certainly been an irritant for you, you felt terrible that he was so affected, and also.. had not been this close to someone in a very long time. You bring your hand up, petting his head awkwardly in what you hoped to be a comforting manner. He whined again in protest at your movement, and you hummed at him. “I have to move a little to make you as comfortable as possible… I’m sorry…” Gods, why does this have to feel so good?

He practically whimpers when you start to run your hands through his hair, his grip on your shirt lessening in order to hold onto your hip instead. His other hand finds its way to your side, fingers splayed out against your hip as if afraid that you might suddenly try to leave.

"It's-- It's fine," he says through gritted teeth, his voice cracking a little near the end as he tries to collect himself. "Just.. Just don't go too far. Please."

You bite your lip as he clings to you, his grip nearly bruising as he presses your body against his. “I won’t. I’m here.” You whisper as you keep petting his head. He seemed to react well to it. You allow your fingers to card through his hair in order to soothe him.

It's both a relief and a torture that you're indulging him. There's no other way he can satisfy this overwhelming need to hold and touch and make sure that you were here and real, and it's also torture because it makes it all the harder to keep any sort of coherent train of thought.

With how your fingers are running through his hair, he feels like he's losing his goddamn mind. He can practically hear the blood rushing in his ears if he tries to concentrate hard enough, and he leans into your touch.

You bite your lip even harder, drawing blood as you hear him practically purr, simultaneously trying to shove his face into your shoulder and push back into your hand at the same time.

Gods, you're going to drive him insane like this. He's completely unraveling under your hands, and it's.. it's so hard to think straight. He wants to push farther, wants more, but a part of him restrains himself from doing more than just bury his face against your shoulder and grip at your hip and side. He's already doing more than enough with how he's pinning you down like this.

Feeling more assured that this is helping, yet feeling bad that you’re even touching him in such a state, you shut your eyes, bringing your other hand up to rub up and down his back gently. “I’m sorry.” You whisper again, leaving the rest of that sentence unspoken. For him feeling like this? For touching him? For the inappropriate thoughts gracing your mind? You weren’t sure which.

No, no, he's enjoying the way you're rubbing up and down his back, the way your fingers comb through his hair. He's enjoying the way you're letting him hold you like this, indulging him so that the damned pollen can run its course through his systems. He's enjoying having your body flush against his, how your touch radiates through his clothes so that he can feel it against his skin. "Mmn... Don't apologize. Just.. gods, don't stop."

You nod, your cheek brushing his head as you do. Your fingers scratch his scalp, the other hands draw soothing circles against his back. His shirt is damp with sweat, and you look down at his curly head of hair rubbing against you. “You’re so warm...”

He practically writhes under the combined effect of the pollen and your touch. Your fingers scratch at his scalp and the back of his shoulders, and the circles you make against his back only make shivers run up his spine. He lets out another shuddery breath, and you can practically feel his body try to press up against your own even more than it already is. His shirt is sticking to his skin, mostly drenched with sweat now. "’m not, you’re too cool..."

You pause for a moment but continue stroking him when he whines, “Does that… does the coolness of my skin feel good?”

"M-mn-- yeah," he admits without hesitation, his words slightly muffled from where his face is tucked against your shoulder. "Your hands are cold, they-- gods, that feels good."

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel his fingers dig into your hip, so hard that it's almost painful.

You take a deep breath, unsure if it’s a good idea or not, but the words tumble out of your mouth anyway. “Do you want to take off your shirt? It might help…”

His fingers freeze for a moment, and you can practically hear him swallow in an effort to respond. That request shouldn't have affected him so much, but he can already feel the heat rushing up his neck.

"... Yes," he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Y-yes."

He sits up for a moment to take his shirt off, practically flinging it to the ground before he's back on you again, now with his bare chest flush against your own.

You grimace, though you still have your own shirt on, with less of a barrier you can feel how warm and damp he is. You return your hands to him, the heat of his back against the coolness of your hand. You rub your hand up and down, and grit your teeth at feeling his sinewy muscles twitch under your fingertips.

Why is the contrasting temperature difference between your body and his making him feel so sensitive? It's making him feel lightheaded with how your hand feels so good against his skin.

Almost on instinct, his hips grind against yours, seeking even more contact and friction. "Mmn.." he moans, his voice cracking into a ragged gasp.

You freeze, your eyes widening as you feel his hips move, grinding down against your thigh. “Ka-Kabru…”

He feels his heartbeat quicken at your reaction, and suddenly he's all too aware of how his body is moving against your own. How his hips are grinding, seeking more of that friction and contact that feels so good.

"Nggh don't-- Don't freeze up on me now." He tries to warn, but it comes out as a low, almost ragged plea. "Please don't, don't stop-- please."

His hips continue to move, and you bring both hands up to grab his cheeks. He nuzzles into your palms, his eyes hazy and face flushed. “Kabru… I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, you know this magic is affecting you, and you’re not in your mind right now…”

He's so gone with the effect of the pollen, and your words almost seem to hang in the air for a moment with how he's too lost in the sensation of your hands and the feeling of your body flush against his own. But then the words actually register with his fuzzy, cloudy mind, and he groans, burying his face into your palm. "I know that, I know-- I know," he murmurs against your skin, his voice cracking. "I.. I want this. Please--"

You move his face again, making his hazy eyes look at you once more. “You’re sure? You’re ok with me helping you out?”

He's still grinding his hips against your thigh, his breathing labored and hitched as he tries to control himself. He wants you. He's craving you, and it must be so obvious in his expression and the way his body is moving against your own. It's taking all of his willpower to hold himself back from just taking you.

And yet, he knows. He knows that he is not in his right mind right now. So he swallows down a ragged moan, and nods weakly against your hands. "Yes."

You suck a breath in through your nose, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your bravery, and you use the grip on his cheeks to pull him level with your face, smashing your lips against his.

One moment, he's grinding down against you, seeking that friction that was driving him mad... and the next, he feels your hands tugging at his face to pull him up to your level. When he feels your lips against his, he practically sobs into your mouth, his mind going completely blank, overwhelmed by sensation.

He kisses you back greedily, his lips moving against your own with a feverish desperation that he's never felt before.

You feel his tongue immediately dart out, pushing against yours, him whimpering into your mouth as your tongues tangle. It’s sloppy, he doesn’t have the capacity to be precise at the moment, and his fingers dig into your skin. His hips had momentarily stopped in surprise, but he resumes grinding down, his position now switched so he’s nestled between your legs.

Your mouth is so perfect. So good. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel your tongue against his, and he practically keens when he feels you kiss him back with an equal fire.

His hips start to move again, now more confidently, more surely as he slots himself in between your legs. He lets out a whimper at the pressure, and his hands start to wander along your body.

His hand trails down to your chest, quickly finding your breast and squeezing the flesh, rolling it under his palm. You gasp into his mouth, moaning at the contact of both his hands and his hips grinding into yours.

He relishes how you moan against his mouth as his hand wanders down your chest, finding one breast and squeezing. He's greedy. Greedy to hear more sounds like that, to feel more of your body against his own.

His hips start to move more forcefully, the pressure driving him wild, and he almost growls into your mouth as his tongue tangles against your own. His other hand grips at whatever part of your body he can reach, holding tight to anchor himself to you.

He paws at you, and you allow him to explore, his hands moving quickly from place to place like he can’t decide where to touch. He untangles his mouth from yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck messily, leaving saliva and marks behind as his whines against your skin.

He's practically drunk on the way you taste, addicted to how your body feels under his, and the pollen is making his mind feel fuzzy, hazy-- "Mine," he grunts against your skin.

You whimper at his words, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You whine out loud as he leaves a particularly hard bite, his tongue soothing over it. “Ka…bru…”

He growls as you tug at the hair, the stinging sensation just adding on to the overwhelming amount of stimulus he's feeling right now. He knows that he's being rougher than usual, especially with the way he bit down on your neck just moments ago.

His tongue soothes over the bite mark, and he moans against your skin, his hips moving against yours in a relentless rhythm. He grinds against you, seeking more friction to satisfy his growing need.

His hands come down to grip the hem of your shirt, growling as he tugs his mouth away to pull it over your head, almost as if he’s angry at himself for having to be separated from your body for one second. Shirt off, he presses his chest against yours, grinding his entire body into you, licking your cheek.

You lift your legs to either side of him, making it easier for him to fit between them. He immediately drops his head to your chest, wrapping his lips around your exposed nipple and sucking hard. “Haaa-ahh!” You cry out, surprised by the intensity.

Gods, the way you sound when you cry out. The way you taste. He moans against your chest as he works his mouth against your breast, sucking hard.

He lets out another whine, his hips grinding against yours relentlessly, the pressure making him ache in the best way possible. "You're mine," he grunts against your skin. "All mine."

He switches sides a few times, nipping with his teeth and sucking, before you push lightly at his shoulders. “Nnngh… pants… off…” You demand.

He lets out a whine at the loss of your skin beneath his mouth, but he lets you push him back as you gasp out your request. Pants off—

His hands are already moving to fumble with the laces, working them off as quickly as possible until he's left in just his underwear.

He doesn't hesitate to press himself against you again, his hands gripping your hips to center himself as he resumes grinding against you.

You had somehow managed to pull your own bottoms down as fast as he had done his, so the only barrier between you was your underclothes. You whimper, feeling his heat between your thighs, embarrassed he could feel how damp your underwear had become in such a short time.

You're so wet-- The thought comes unbidden, but suddenly he is very much aware of it, aware of just how much you're enjoying this, how much you're enjoying him against you.

He gasps, almost akin to a whine, against your skin, and he can feel how the pollen has affected him, has left him a mess, desperate on top of you. "Can I...?" he pants, pulling away from your chest to look at you.

He lets out a ragged moan at your nod, his eyes dark with desire. He's panting, breathing heavily as he looks at you.

He sits back on his heels and gently pulls your underwear down your thighs, exposing your flushed skin beneath him. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze wandering across your body, taking in the sight of you beneath him, and he groans, leaning down to leave another bite mark on your hip.

You gasp, which fades into a moan as he sucks a mark, his hands coming up to part your thighs.

He growls, making room for himself to move in between them. His mouth wanders across your hip, making sure to mark your skin with a few more bites before he looks back up at you with a hazy stare.

He gasps hoarsely, his voice cracking as he watches your expression. He lifts up one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder. "Look at you~"

You shudder at the reverence in his voice, embarrassed by how closely he’s inspecting you. You whine as he brings up his fingers to test your wetness, rubbing them together and making a string between. You whimper, looking away.

His pupils blow out wide, and he can feel the way your body shudders beneath him. His gaze is almost piercing as he looks at you, his eyes raking down your body, taking in every little detail. You shut your eyes as you start to feel overwhelmed.

"No, no... look at me," he commands urgently, bringing his other hand up to gently grab your chin, gently pulling your face up to look at him. "I want to see you.”

You scrunch your face, but look at him as he had asked. His eyes are lidded, and his face is still flushed. He leans down, placing a teasing kiss on your lower stomach, keeping eye contact while he does so.

"Good," he croons against your skin. "Gods, you're so good for me." One of his hands comes up, moving up to gently cup one of your breasts in his palm. "So good, so perfect."

You whimper again, both turned on and embarrassed by the praise. “Wh-what are you going to do…?”

He chuckles, his fingers teasingly rubbing against your nipple as he speaks, "What do you think I'm going to do?" he asks lightly, his mouth against your stomach again as he lets out a warm breath of air over your skin.

"I'm going to taste you." he answers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Going to make you mine, completely."

He moves down, his hot breath falling against your center. You bite your lip, wondering where he suddenly got all this patience from when he was so desperate before.

His mouth slowly moves lower, and lower, his tongue darting out to sample you, drawing a long, slow stripe against your skin. He groans at the feeling, the taste of you, and he wants—

But he restrains himself, moving his head to nip at the inside of your thigh instead. His hands massage your skin as his mouth teases around you.

You whine, your hand resting atop his head. “Shouldn’t we be… helping y-you… not me?”

He lets out a shaky breath against your skin, his mouth pulling away from your thigh for a moment, though his hands remain pressed against you. "Later," he pants out. "I'll deal with that... later. Let me... Let me focus on you, for now."

He lets out a ragged gasp as he takes another look at you, taking in the way you're spread out in front of him, helpless beneath him. "L-let me focus--"

You clench around nothing, his strong, hyper focused gaze making you feel extra sensitive. “Kabru…” You whimper his name mindlessly.

He lets out a groan at the way you clench around nothing, and he desperately wants to replace his gaze with something else.

He leans his head down again, bringing his mouth back between your legs, just to teasingly run his tongue against your folds. "Just... just relax, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath against your skin.

Despite his words, your stomach clenches as his tongue dips into your folds. You whine again, and his eyes flutter shut as he tastes you. You feel desperate suddenly, your eyebrow twitching. This was supposed to be making him feel better, and yet he’s toying with you?

"Patience," he murmurs against you, his voice rough. He can tell that you're getting restless, but he doesn't mind that at the moment. He wants to feel you writhe beneath him, wants to hear your desperate whimpers, wants to feel you clench around nothing as his tongue teases you.

He mouths at you with a slow, deliberate pace, not letting you get what you want too easily.

At that, your mind momentarily forgets he’s under a magical effect, that vexation at his bravado returning. You thread your hands in his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers as you pull his head back, hissing at him. “As much fun as you’re having, we don’t have all day.”

He lets out a low, needy whine as you tug at his hair, his body shuddering as he lets you pull his head back. He lets out a shaky exhale as he looks up at you, his gaze hazy with want, but also slightly surprised at how commanding you're suddenly being.

"I know we don't," he says. "But you just look so good, like this. You just... I just want-- I need--" He bites his lip, trying to find the words to express himself.

You feel bad instantly, knowing he can’t control himself right now, shame flooding you. You loosen your grip, smoothing his hair instead. “I know… I want you to feel better, but you’re going to make it worse if you drag it out. Let me help you, please?”

He lets out a low whine as you soothe his hair, and he leans into your touch, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. He nods a bit at your request, giving in to your words even as his body tries to resist.

But even still... even though he wants to protest, wants to keep teasing you, just to hear that pretty voice of yours, his body is begging for more. "Please," he gasps out, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, help me."

You shudder at the need in his voice, and part your thighs more. “If this is what you want…” you gently push his head down, “then take it…”

His eyes go half-lidded as he gazes back down at you, his mouth parting slightly as his breath stutters in his throat. He can feel the pollen making it hard to think, making it hard to resist, and he can feel your fingers, gentle but firm, guiding him back down, back to your heat.

He lets out a low groan as his tongue begins to taste you again, and his hands grip tighter against your thighs.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your sounds as he fully puts all his effort into devouring you, his grip on your hips tight as he pulls you against his face, nearly smothering himself.

He's desperate in his want, his need for more of you, his tongue working against your skin, trying to get as much of you as he can.

He lets out another desperate whine against you as his tongue dips deeper, trying to lick into you more.

You feel your eyes flutter, hand tangling in his hair again, this time just holding him while you rock up your hips, keeping time with his pace. You whine out as he groans into you, the vibrations shooting heat through your stomach. “Nnnghh… good… feels.. good..” You whimper.

He lets out a strangled moan as your fingers grip his hair, his eyes practically rolling back at the feeling of your fingers against his scalp, holding him tight against you.

He can feel the way your hips rock up to meet his motions, the way you whine out at his sounds against you, and it drives him wild. He doubles his efforts, trying to get more, more—

You feel the bed rock, and realize he’s grinding his hips down as he pushes his tongue into you. You moan aloud, turned on by how much he’s getting off on this alone. You accidentally press down, smushing his face harder into you as you clench, your body heating up.

He shivers as you press down against him, his hands digging into your skin as he lets out a gasp against you. He's almost lost in the feeling of you clenching around his tongue, his eyes closing as he moans against you, his hips pressing down into the bed as he grinds against the pressure.

He can feel the pollen taking hold of him again, and it makes him desperate for more, makes him need more of you. He lets out another hitched moan against you, his tongue lapping up every drop of you he can collect.

You moan, body rocking both from your own movement and his, your head falling back against the pillow. “Fingers… please…” You manage to gasp out.

He lets out another whine as you plead for him, shuddering at the pleasured sound of your voice. For a moment, he thinks about denying you, not giving you what you want just yet, wanting to hear you beg for him...

But the pollen in his veins is making his brain fuzzy, making him desperate, and he wants to please you, wants you to sing for him. His head pulls back from you for just a moment, and he pants against your skin.

His hand comes down between your thighs again, his fingers parting you as his tongue quickly gets back to work, and you keen as you feel both start to press inside of you. “Y-yes….” your breath hitches, and you flop back against his ruffled pillow again.

He's frantic, his hands moving desperately, his teeth occasionally biting marks into your skin as he works his mouth over all of you. He's drowning in you, greedy for more, begging and pleading and whining into you as his head moves against you.

He can't think straight, can't do anything other than focus on you, on the way you taste, on the way you sound.

He lets out a ragged gasp against you when you suddenly squeeze down, your heat and tightness making him dizzy. He’s frozen in place for just a moment as he feels you clenching around him, feeling like he's already on the edge, like he's already so, so…

He finally regains his bearings, moving his fingers inside you, trying to give you some of what you need as he whimpers desperately against you once again.

He starts to pump them into you, his own hips bucking against the bed, whining and laving his tongue against you, the pollen once again ravaging his mind as he gives into the pleasure.

His body is shaking uncontrollably, breath coming out in desperate gasps as he pumps his fingers into you. He can feel the pollen making his head go fuzzy, making him struggle to even think, his body giving control over to instinct as he gives into the pleasure, the need to feel you. “So good," he pants out hoarsely. "Gods, you feel so good-"

Your back arches, your breath coming out heavy as you focus on the feeling of his fingers. “Good… need it… haaahh-“

He lets out a low, ragged moan as he feels you arch up into him, his fingers pumping into you again, trying to find the perfect rhythm. His eyes are half-lidded, darkened with need as he looks up at you, wanting to see your face as he takes you, as he pleases you. "I need you," he gasps out desperately. "Need you so badly- please!”

You clench around his fingers again, and he groans, fading into a high pitched whine as he leans down, burying his face into you again. The bed rocks harshly as he grinds down even harder, his shoulders trembling against your thighs.

The sounds that leave him are broken and ragged, almost animalistic, as he tries to hold back his own moans. The bed is shaking at the force of his grinding, his body moving on pure instinct as he tries to take more of you, to feel you all around him-

He suddenly lifts his head, moans tumbling from his lips as his eyes roll back in his head. His body shudders, mouth falling out with small panting whines coming from him. He shakes for a moment, his hand stilling as his head flops forward, the shaking of the bed stopping. You lift your head curiously.

He's panting against you, a strangled, broken sound, as he slowly works his way back down from the wave of pleasure that crashes over him. His body is shuddering against yours, the remnants of the pollen making his brain go fuzzy as his head rests against you.

He seems to realize that you're looking at him, and he slowly opens his eyes to look back at you, his face still flushed and breath labored. "..mmm.." he groans out between pants.

You bite your lip, looking at his fucked out expression. “Kabru..? Did you just..?”

He turns red at your words and he shuts his eyes, his head flopping down again as he tries to catch his breath. "..I.. I may have..." he says with an embarrassed groan. "..it was too much, you were too much-"

You rub his head softly, the pleasure in your own body softening back to a lull for the moment. “It’s ok… you were feeling good…”

He shivers at your touch, his eyes closing again at the soothing feel of your fingers in his hair. He lets out another low groan, the last of the tension seeming to slip from his body as he leans into your palm. "..it felt amazing," he gasps out between breaths. "You... you felt amazing, too good. I couldn't help it."

You smirk a bit, your own breathing returning to normal. You pet his head for a moment longer, before you pause. “Do you… do you want to stop now..?”

He blinks up at you for a moment, his mind still a bit fuzzy from the pleasure just moments before. He almost thinks about stopping, before he feels another overwhelming wave of need, of want, crash over him again.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath as he tries to get more control over himself, before he looks back up at you again. "No," he gasps out, his eyes dark with desire. "More, please, need more of you-"

He starts moving his fingers again, and your eyes widen, letting out a surprised moan as the hunger returns to his gaze. At the very least, his release gave him some clarity, so he’s entirely focused on you now, his tongue coming back down to rub against you, his eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes stay locked on as he works you back up, the desire, the need still burning strong in his gaze as he moves his fingers against you. He's determined now, focused on one thing and one thing only, on making you cry out for him, on letting himself please you.

His tongue works against you with precision, moving in practiced motions as he watches you for any tiny reaction, any tiny sound.

You breathe out a long moan, the dormant fire in your blood kicking back up as he returns his attention to you. Your thighs tighten together over his shoulders, squishing his face between.

He closes his eyes as he feels you squeeze around him, a low moan rumbling in his chest as his head is trapped between your thighs. His fingers keep moving desperately, and he keeps lapping at you, tasting as much of you as he can, lost in the sensation, in the pleasure.

You arch up again against his mouth. “Need to finish… wanna come for you…”

He lets out another low moan at your words, a shudder going through his body at the sound of your voice. He's desperate to give you what you want, to make you feel good.

His hands keep moving, pumping his fingers as his tongue keeps sliding against you desperately, taking in as much of you as he can. He wants to make you finish, to make you fall over the edge, all for him.

You whine, your hips bucking as you whimper out a string of curses. “Shit I’m close… gonna come… please…”

He whimpers low in his chest, his eyes closing and breath stuttering for a moment as he hears you whine and curse. He wants nothing more than to give you what you need, to give you what you want, and so he moves his fingers and tongue faster, working you towards your completion as he gasps out. "Please, please, please-" he whines desperately against you.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, and at that your head snaps back, your eyes rolling as you crest over the edge. You hold your breath for just a moment, then it all comes whooshing out as you nearly scream, hips snapping against his hand and face as you reach your release.

His own eyes flutter shut as you come, a muffled groan leaving him as he feels your body shudder and tense against him. He tries to keep his hands and mouth moving, to keep working you through the pleasure, desperate to draw out every last wave of it that he can. He feels satisfaction at the way you call out for him, at the way you clench around him.

You whimper as you come down from your high, Kabru cleaning you off with his tongue. The overstimulation hits and you try to push him away.

He lifts his head at your insistence, his eyes hazy and dilated as he slowly comes down as well. His expression turns apologetic as he realizes the overstimulation, and he quickly pulls his face away from you. He lets out a shaky breath, his body shuddering at the essence of you still on his tongue. He wipes his mouth as he hovers over you again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes rake over your body.

Your chest heaves as you attempt to recover, looking up at him with your eyes lidded in satisfaction.

He just stares down at you for a moment, his eyes taking in your flushed skin, your lidded eyes, the way your chest heaves as you recover. He feels his desire flare up again at the sight, his body aching for more, for everything, but he manages to keep himself back, for the moment.

He pants softly as he runs his eyes over you again, before finally letting out a shaky groan. "You're so beautiful," he blurts out.

You reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him down for a kiss, lips meshing together more slowly than before, but still filled with need.

He lets out a low groan into the kiss as you pull him down, melting against you as your lips press together. Some of the frantic and desperate need from earlier is gone, replaced instead by a different, subtler kind of burn.

He moves his body against yours, pressing himself up to you, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as he savors the feeling of your lips against his.

You kiss like that for a moment longer, before you feel his need poking at your hip once more, hips bucking into yours as he starts to kiss you more frantically, the pollen once again overtaking his mind, panting against your mouth and hips stuttering.

He lets out a shuddered gasp as his hips buck up again, his body instinctively seeking out more contact, more pleasure. The need, the desire, is back in full force as he kisses you more frantically, desperately, his hands gripping your body like a lifeline.

"Please..." he pleads softly against you between pants. "Please, please—"

You spread your legs some more, letting him slide in between again. You reach down, taking his hardness in your hand and guiding it to rub against your entrance. “Come on…”

He lets out a shaky breath against you, his body trembling with the sensation, the need running through him. Before he can doubt himself, he moves his hips again, pushing into you, his eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hits him.

"Ah-" he gasps softly, his breath shuddering even more in his chest as he burrows his face into your neck, his hands gripping at your body again.

You feel him shake as he makes his way in, seated inside you. He hovers over you, looking down to watch himself disappear inside you, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

He pauses there, screwing his eyes shut and trying to retain his sanity. You dig your nails into his back to bring him back to earth.

His eyes shoot open at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, a soft moan escaping him at the slight sting. He tries to remember to breathe, to stay focused. "You feel so good…!"

You move your hips just a little. “Kabru.. need you to move.” You whine.

He lets out another shuddered gasp at the feeling of your hips stuttering when you say that, and he quickly nods, desperate to make you feel good, to give you what you need.

"Okay, okay-" he pants, his voice shaky. He starts to move his own hips then, slowly at first, pulling almost all the way back before pushing back in again.

You tilt your head back, exposing your neck as you tremble and whine, inadvertently clenching around him. Even with the preparation, it’s still a good stretch.

He feels you clench around him, a shaky moan falling from his lips. He grips at your hips with his hands, holding you firmly as he finds a rhythm, slowly working up to a steadier pace.

He lowers his head to your neck, nuzzling and kissing at the exposed skin, desperately trying to keep himself in control.

You arch, pushing yourself up into him. While it feels good and you’re enjoying this, you know he needs more to feel better. You look at him, foreheads pressing together as you look in his gorgeous blue eyes. “D-don’t try to control yourself, you need this, take what you want.”

He lets out another low moan as you arch into him, his eyes shutting for a moment at the sensation. But then he feels your forehead press up against his, and he slowly opens his eyes to look at you again.

He can see the concern in the way you look at him, the way you talk, and he feels a pang of affection for you in his chest. He also knows the pollen's still getting to his brain a bit. "Are you... sure..?" he gasps out. "I don't want to hurt.. to overwhelm-“

You bite your lip, deciding if there’s any moment to be honest, it’s this one. “It’s fine.. I… like when it hurts a little…”

His eyes widen at your words, the confession taking him a little off guard. He shivers, a shudder running through his body as his eyes rake over your face, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth. He lets out another breath, the words still bouncing around his head.

You flush, embarrassed at his lack of response. “Ok well if you want to go all slow be my guest…” You mumble.

He lets out a soft scoff at your shyness, affection welling up in his chest at the way your face flushes. He moves to kiss your forehead before leaning down to press his lips to your cheek, followed by him sliding down your jaw to nibble gently at your neck. "Was just making sure, is all," he mumbles gently against your skin. "You... like the pain, huh..?"

As he says that, he snaps his hips against yours, making a cry bubble from your lips. You furrow your brow. “I-I….”

His eyes darken as he hears your moan, your mewl at the movement of his hips. His fingers dig gently into your hips as he starts to move again, more purposely this time, his eyes glued to your face, watching your expressions intently. "You like it when it hurts.." he breathes into your ear.

You blush, moans being forced out of you as he picks up the pace with each sentence, his hips punctuating everything he says with a sharp thrust. You gasp, “Y-yeah… feels g-good-!”

He lets a soft snicker out as he watches you flush in embarrassment, the sight only serving to encourage him further. His eyes rake over your face hungrily, drinking in all your expressions, the way you flush and the way you gasp for breath, the way your words seem to come out involuntarily.

He starts to pick up the pace more, shifting his hips a bit and adjusting the angle-

"There. What about there..?" he asks you, voice strained.

He feels you squeeze around him as he hits your most sensitive spot, your body tensing as a moan falls from your lips. A smirk tugs at his lips as he takes note, filing it away for future reference. "Right there...," he purrs into your ear, watching your expression intently as he angles his hips and starts to move against you again.

Your hands clench his back, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as he starts to hit that spot over and over. You try to say his name, but it only comes out as a gurgle.

He hisses softly as he feels your nails digging into his back again, the slight sting adding a pleasant sensation to the needy feeling running through him.

He groans at the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, the sound of his name leaving your lips in a garbled moan driving him crazy. He keeps working his hips up into you, moving against you frantically.

He presses his face into your neck, hips moving at a brutal pace, not wanting to be separated for even a second. You hold him to you tightly, wrapping your whole body around him.

He lets out a strangled gasp as he feels your grip, your hold on him tight and your limbs encircling him. He can feel himself getting lost in the sensation of you, every fiber in his body craving more, more, more.

He keeps his face buried in your neck, breathing in your scent as he keeps on slamming his hips against you, frantically, desperately, his fingers gripping your hips tightly.

He sits up suddenly, pulling your calves up onto his shoulders. You start to ask what he’s doing, but instead heave a loud moan as he bends you in half, leaning forward to push into you again. “Oh… oh gods..!”

He lets out a groan of pleasure as he moves your legs up onto his shoulders, the new position letting him push himself deeper into you, and he pants loudly as he feels you clench around him, your words getting cut off mid-sentence. "You good..?" he asks you between breaths, wanting to make sure you're alright in the new position.

You open your mouth and a cry tumbles out. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So deep… please… more…”

He lets out another noise when he hears your cry, the sound shooting straight to his gut. His hands grip onto your legs at your words, heart skipping a beat with desire.

"Yeah, I got you... I'll give you more..." he gasps as he starts to move again, angling himself against that spot he'd found earlier and starting a steady rhythm, working up to a slightly faster pace.

You try hard to keep your eyes open, his dark lust filled ones keeping eye contact, his face much closer as he drives into you like this. The new angle feels so intense, you can’t even try to close your mouth, every breath accompanied by some kind of pleasured noise.

He keeps his eyes fixed on yours as he moves into you, watching, drinking up the way your face twists and the sounds that fall from your lips, the way your breaths and gasps are getting more labored.

Between all his gasps and panting, he manages to speak a few times, his words shaky, raspy, as he tells you how good you feel, how much he needs you.

His hips slap against you and you bite your lip hard, surely bruising yourself at how much you’re feeling. “Gods… need it so bad… want you to fill me up.. hannghh-!”

He lets out a shuddering moan at your desperate whines, his eyes darkening as his hands grip your legs with a little more pressure. He can feel the building tension in him starting to get more and more intense, his eyes raking over your face desperately. “Yeah, you want it that bad, huh..? Need me to fill you up, baby..?" he pants out, voice strained with the effort.

You nod mindlessly, feeling your eyes go out of focus at his words. “Need it… please.. give it to me….”

He gasps as he sees your face start to twist in front of him, your eyes glazing over and your words sounding almost mindless. He lets out a shaky moan at the desperate tone of your voice, his body getting tight with tension. "Yeah… yeah, I will, you’ll take it-" he gasps out as his pace starts to get more and more frantic, moving against you roughly.

In the back of your mind you wonder if some of that pollen had rubbed off on you, acting even more desperate than the party leader above you. You tilt your head back, enjoying the sensation of his hips pounding into you.

You gasp and moan again as he keeps pumping into you, feeling the burning pleasure building in your abdomen again. You bring your hand down, fingers rubbing circles against yourself to help bring you to the edge.

He can feel the way your body starts to tense up, your moans getting more and more frequent, and he knows that you're close.

He watches as your hand comes down to touch yourself, the movement making his heart start to pound in his chest harder.

"Gods- just like that, baby.. please-" he gasps out, voice strained.

You look up again, making eye contact with him, and a spark of pleasure shoots through you. You whine, bucking your hips up as best you can from your position. “Gonna come again… oh gods… gonna come for you…”

He lets out a shaky gasp as he sees you look up at him, your eyes making direct contact with his, and he whimpers at the feeling that comes with the sight.

He keeps moving against you while trying to control himself, not wanting to lose himself too soon. But at the sound of your whine and your words- "Please baby.... come for me-"

At his response, your eyes slam shut, your body tensing for a moment before you thrash, your pleasure being ripped from you as you reach your high again. You tremble around him, both your thighs and insides clenching as he keeps his harsh pace through it.

His eyes go wide as he watches you come undone in front of him, your body tensing and trembling as he keeps moving against you, the feeling almost sending him over the edge.

He moans loudly as he feels you clench around him, the sight of you in front of him, the sounds you involuntarily make, the way you thrash as you reach your high making the tension in his body almost unbearable-

"Gods- Gods, baby-" he gasps out again, his eyes squeezing shut.

You shiver and whimper as he keeps going, “Please…” You moan out “Come inside… please…”

He feels another pang of pleasure go through him when he hears your voice, shaky and needy. Each word from your mouth only makes it harder to hold onto any semblance of control, makes him want to give in even more.

He pants as he picks up his pace, moving harder, deeper into you as he feels himself close to the edge. He almost moans out your name in between the gasps and pants as he gets closer and closer- "Yeah... gonna... hah.. gonna give it to you-!”

He falls silent, his head dipping down as he concentrates, his brow furrowing as he buries himself in you over and over, gasping as he teeters right on the edge.

He tries to hold on just a bit longer, trying to draw out this moment in time as long as possible, savoring the feeling of moving against you, the sound of you moaning right in his ear. “Fuck-" he gasps out- "Hah- please.. I'm gonna- mmph-"

He slams his hips into you frantically, his vision going white as he finally reaches his climax.

His eyes squeeze closed as he loses control, his hips moving in quick, rough bursts as he feels himself reach his peak, his fingers digging into your hip as he gasps and writhes.

He lets out a shaky moan as he feels his release wash over him, his body tense as his hips twitch while he rides out his orgasm, moving instinctively against you. He groans out your name in between the pants and moans as he shudders and trembles.

He feels himself twitch inside you, the sensation sending sparks through his body as he pants desperately, still coming down from his high.

He leans against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body pressed against yours, still moving against you slowly. He lets out a shaky gasp, his breath hot against your skin as he tries to catch his breath.

You bring your hand up, moving his damp hair from his forehead, feeling him still twitching.

He shudders when he feels you touch his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin from the exertion and sweat. He shuts his eyes as he feels your hand move along his face, your fingers tangling in his hair gently. His breathing still has a bit of a tremble, his body shuddering from the aftershocks.

He lets out a soft gasp as he feels himself twitch again, the feeling starting to get just a bit overstimulating.

You sigh out as he breathes, slowly returning to normal. He lays still for just a moment, yet suddenly his hips snap up again. He whimpers, a mix of pain and pleasure, but his hips move again as if they have a mind of their own.

His eyes widen when he feels his hips move without his control, his body acting on its own as it seems to be searching for more friction. His whimpers are shaky, caught somewhere between bliss and discomfort.

He gasps as he feels himself twitch again, the sensation of being overstimulated making him shiver. "Wait-" he gasps, voice trembling, "help me- please…"

You gasp as you feel him drive into you again, sensitive from just before. “Kabru..?” You question.

He lets out a whimper as he moves into you again, the mixture of pleasure and sensitivity causing him to shiver as he moans.

He feels his cock twitch inside you again, another wave of sensation running through him. He pants out a shaky "Please-" as he lets himself get caught up in the feeling, his eyes going half-lidded again.

You shiver at the movement. “What’s… you’re still..?”

He trembles as he hears your words, his mind feeling fuzzy with pleasure. He bites down on his lip as he tries to get control of his thoughts again. "Hah- Yeah… yeah, I-” he gasps out, voice shaky and trembly. "I-I don’t… think I’m done-”

You feel his arm muscles shake with exertion, picking himself up to hover over you again, a complicated look on his face, over sensitive but still craving the sensation.

He swallows hard as he looks down at you, his expression torn between discomfort and craving more. His body is still seeking out friction without his control, his hips grinding against yours.

You furrow your brows, concerned. “You… doesn’t it hurt…?” You run your hands through his hair, him whimpering and pushing up into your palm, his hips snapping again and he lets out a cry.

His expression of pleasure falters when you ask him if it hurts, your words reminding him of the overwhelming feeling he’s experiencing. He lets out a shaky whine as he nods, his hips still moving despite himself.

You bite your lip, feeling bad for him. It hurt him to continue, but it also hurt to not continue. You consider what to do, and bring your hand to his cheek as he whimpers, hips twitching.

He whines again at the feeling of his hips moving, the conflicting feelings of pleasure and pain making it difficult to think straight.

Determined to help, you wrap yourself around him suddenly, pushing with all your might to flip his heavy form without crushing any important parts. He looks up at you in surprise as you smile down at him, still straddling him. “You’re tired… let me help?”

He lets out a shaky breath as he looks up at you, still somewhat tired from the previous session. He nods eagerly at your words, a silent plea for you to help him let his body rest.

You feel him relax a bit and smile, getting up on your heels and hearing him whimper uselessly at the slide. You place your hands on his chest for leverage, slowly starting to grind up and down on him.

He gasps as he feels you moving on top of him, his eyes widening again as he watches you, hands clenching around the sheets beneath him. The feeling of you grinding up and down against him sends sparks of pleasure through his body, the mixture of oversensitivity and pleasure making him shiver and whine involuntarily. "Gods- Baby- please-" he gasps out, voice trembling.

You gasp in tandem as your own body feels the ache, still moving so you can give him relief. “I got you…”

He feels his body shiver again as he watches you move on top of him, his eyes fixed on you as he swallows hard. The overstimulation is still sending waves of pleasure and pain through his body, but the feeling of you trying to give him relief makes his heart flutter. "Hah- I-I know, baby, I know… you’ve got me…" he moans out, his voice broken as he speaks.

You bounce a little harder, breath whooshing out of Kabru every time you drop back down. He releases his grip on the sheets and brings his hands up to loosely rest on your hips.

You run your hands over his chest, moaning “You just.. c-couldn’t end there huh? Needed more~!”

He moans softly as he feels your hands roaming over his chest, the feeling sending shivers through his body. He bites down on his lip as he listens to you, a shaky smile crossing his face as he nods weakly. "Y-Yeah…" he gasps out, voice trembling. "I couldn’t.. couldn’t stop, I need-" he moans, his hips pushing up instinctively against you.

You shut your eyes, focusing on bouncing on him, clenching every time you go up. “You’re gonna… fill me again… hah..”

He gasps at the feeling of you clenching around him, his head tossing back against the bed as he lets out a moan. His breath comes out in whimpers, each one more shaky than the last as he feels himself be pushed down with every movement. “Yeah- yess- I-Hah-” he gasps out, voice trembling as his hips push up once again, trying to meet you in the middle.

You move as fast and hard as you can, his whines picking up in tone as he pushes back against you, so close again already.

His breath is coming out in desperate stutters as you move on top of him, the feeling of you bouncing on him pushing him quickly towards the edge. He feels his body trembling harder, his hands clenching on your hips tightly as he pushes back against you, desperate for more stimulation. “Hah-! Baby-!” he moans, his voice trembling as he gets close again. “Gods- please… please-“

It takes only a few seconds later, and you feel him tense, his face melted in an expression of desire.

He reaches his high, body tensing and shaking as he lets out a loud gasp, his head tossed back against the bed. His eyes slam shut tight, face frozen in intense pleasure as he moans loudly, his body trembling and twitching beneath you.

“Hahh- f-fuck-!” he cries out, body tightening as he rides it out.

You bounce a few more times to milk him, but he whines, this time is pain, and you sink down on his lap, panting.

He swallows hard, his breath coming out in weak gasps, hands still clenching on your hips tightly.

You lift up, pulling off him, and he whines again, but sighs as you remove yourself and flop down next to him.

He lays there, breathing heavily, still trying to catch his breath and steady himself. He closes his eyes, feeling exhausted and oversensitive in the aftermath of his climax.

You both lay there for a few more moments, his eyes still closed as he tries to even out his breathing. He can feel the exhaustion in his body, the ache in his limbs, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

After a few more moments he opens his eyes, turning to look over at you. He’s still panting slightly as he lays there, looking somewhat drained and exhausted, but there’s a soft, almost grateful look in his eyes.

As he makes eye contact, reality comes back, and you blush, looking at the ceiling instead. It’s silent for a moment. “You feel better?

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze studying your flushed face and averted eyes, and he can't help but crack a faint smile at your blushing. He stays still for a few moments longer, the silence growing thicker.

He considers your question, taking stock of how his body feels. The hazy, oversensitized feeling has receded, leaving a more general soreness in its place. He nods slightly. "Yeah… I feel better. Thank you,” he says hoarsely.

You blush harder, keeping your gaze on the ceiling. “You’re welcome..” You remain there for another moment before sitting up, clearing your throat. “You’re.. okay now?”

When he nods, you determine that he’s worked everything out, your back aching as you raise yourself off the bed. “Alright good… the others will be back with the doctor soon so…” You trail off.

He watches you as you sit up, noticing the way you wince slightly as your back aches. He feels a pang of guilt, seeing the aftereffects of the pollen on your body.

At your words, he swallows hard, nodding slowly. "Yeah…" he says quietly. There's a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, the realization of what just happened hitting both of you with full force. The others would be returning soon.

You stand, your legs shaking slightly. “I’ll uh… head to my room… if you need me again just…” You look away, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

His gaze follows you as you stand up, his eyes flickering subtly as he notices the slight tremble in your legs. He knows that he’s at least somewhat responsible for your current state.

He swallows as you speak, his eyes widening a bit as you look away, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. He’s suddenly hit by how different this situation is outside of the haze of the pollen. He nods awkwardly, still sitting on the bed. "Alright. Yeah. I’ll… I’ll.. keep that in mind," he stutters.

You quickly get dressed, the two of you silently and awkwardly moving around the room. After you finish putting your clothes back on, you head to the door, giving him a nod before stepping into the hallway.

He watches as you quickly get dressed, the silence between the two of you filled only by the sounds of fabric rustling and you moving around the room. When you finish, he frowns as he watches you move towards the door, feeling a pang of something in his chest as you give him a final nod.

His eyes follow you as you step out into the hallway, leaving him alone in the room. He groans, his mind racing, wrestling with the strange mixture of emotions swirling inside him after what just happened between the two of you.

*—*

a/n: sorry if the formatting is weird i pumped this out on my train ride today. anyway uh this was inspired by beooum’s character ai bot prompt and it got my brain moving, so enjoy my rambles as i procrastinate more of my school work!

[little-annie]

Happy Birthday @strangerthingswritersguild ❤️

M (Mentions of sexual activity and Eddie's 🍆) | WC 836 | Stobin & Steddie

It was Steve's 29th birthday and although Eddie had plans -rockstar duties- that didn't stop Robin from swooping in and saving the day.

Work couldn't be escaped, which sure, that was shitty, but Steve owned the place and still had to see through certain duties on a daily basis. Plus it gave him and Robin the opportunity to hash out their plans for the evening. On their way out of the shop they ordered pizza to Steve's apartment and set out to the closest gas station to procure a hoard of candy and a couple bottles of wine.

It was their constant gabbing back and forth that distracted Steve from Eddie's car in the parkade. 

Both he and Robin, oblivious to the fact of what was waiting in the apartment for Steve, they carried on.

By the time the elevator reached the 34th floor, a bag of Skittles had been demolished and Steve was laughing so hard he was hiccuping. With tears in his eyes and gasping for breath Steve was bent over wheezing when Robin opened the door to his and Eddie's apartment, leaving him momentarily blind to the sight before him.

But that didn't mean he missed the blood curdling scream released by Robin in the same instant Eddie's voice yelled out a happy, “Surprise!”

Popping upright with the joy that his boyfriend was home for his birthday, Steve was met with a very nude Eddie. There in his porcelain skin and tattooed glory, Eddie was laid out on their black leather couch, surrounded by rose petals, candles and chocolates.

Steve's heart fluttered with excitement.

And Robin's shuddered with horror. “Eddie! What the fuck!? Put your junk away!”

While Eddie calmly cupped himself on the couch not moving another inch from his position, Steve struggled to pull his eyes away as Robin's ire was turned towards him.

“I thought you said he wasn't going to be home, Dingus. How am I ever going get the image of Eddie's saggy nuts -

“-hey my nuts aren't saggy!”

- out of my head. It'll be forever burned into my retinas. I'll have to bleach my eyeballs or carve them out with a fucking spoon.”

Eddie's now grumbling to himself on the couch looking down at his crotch, most likely trying to hype himself up from Robin's early insult. Steve's sure he hears the whispered words of, ‘You're not saggy, you're perfectly normal and I love you.’ And with Eddie Steve can never be sure, but it's not a far off guess.

God how he loves that dork.

Steve can't believe Eddie flew in from his tour for his birthday.

Still shielding himself from Robin's delicate eyes, Eddie catches Steve's lingering stare and puckers his lips into a kiss, blowing it in Steve's direction while he continues to stand in the doorway with Robin.

Eventually he decides to tune back into her rant.

“- penis, Steve. I'm a lesbian, I shouldn't have to see anyone's dick. And we both know I've seen yours enough as is. Lord knows I can't forget last Halloween and the horror that it truly was. But Eddie's?! I didn't need to know it was pierced, let alone tattooed! Sure you probably would have told me eventually, but come on man, I didn't need to see it.”

It's the mention of such a tattoo that has Steve whipping his head back in Eddie's direction.

Eddie didn't have a tattoo there when he left.

Oh.

Oh.

As Steve catches on and Eddie sends him a wink, mouthing a sly ‘Surprise,’ he has to restrain him from shoving Robin out the door.

“Get out.”

Robin's rambling stops and she looks at Steve deeply offended, “Excuse me.”

He'll make it up to her later, but currently his rockstar boyfriend is laid out naked on their expensive couch with a new tattoo that Steve really feels the deep seeded need to taste, lick from the man's body, or suck from his skin. 

Truly any of the above works.

Robin rolls her eyes and groans, “But Steve-uh, the pizza.”

“I'll order a pizza to your damn apartment, Robby. But I swear to god if you don't leave in the next five seconds you're going to see a whole lot more than just a single dick.”

She scrunches her nose in disgust, “Boo you whore.”

“You know it.” Steve states proudly, “Now out, please. I swear once Eddie's gone we can do a pizza and wine night.”

Robin groans once again, but she does eventually leave with a pinch to Steve's ass and a snarky, “Don't get him pregnant!” sent in Eddie's general direction.

With the click of the door behind him, Steve sheds his clothes clumsily and hops from one foot to the other as he steps out of his jeans, then underwear, on his way to the couch.

With little to no grace he falls into Eddie's arms with a giggle, feeling the press of lips to his forehead and the whispered words of, “Happy Birthday, Baby,” to his skin.

[ltash]

Tease

When you first arrived at the SAS, you didn’t exactly fit in. Sure, you were good at your job, more than good, actually. You were sharp, skilled, and capable of holding your own in any training scenario. But there was one thing that set you apart from everyone else: you were funny. Mischievous, witty, and always up to something.

Most of the recruits on base were a bit too serious for your taste, but it didn’t take long for you to find your crowd. Gaz and Soap, always down for a good laugh, quickly became your partners in crime. They loved watching you stir the pot, especially when it came to Ghost. Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley had quickly become your favorite target.

Ghost was the complete opposite of you, stoic, silent, and intimidating. He didn’t joke, he didn’t laugh, and most of all, he didn’t like being the center of attention. Which, of course, made him the perfect person to mess with.

It started innocently enough, with small pranks here and there. You’d hide his gloves, switch his ammo with blanks, or throw in the occasional sarcastic comment. At first, Ghost ignored you, figuring you’d tire yourself out eventually. But you didn’t. You kept going, pushing his buttons little by little.

It was a lazy afternoon on base, and you were bored. Ghost sat at a table in the common area, going over some paperwork. You noticed he had a bag of chips by his side, casually snacking between signing documents. That’s when the idea struck you.

You’d ordered a special chip online, a chip so spicy, it came with a warning label. This wasn’t your average hot chip. This was the hot chip, the kind designed to make grown men cry. You slipped it out of your pocket and swapped it with one of the regular chips in Ghost’s bag while his back was turned.

Soap, who had been lounging nearby, noticed your devious grin and immediately perked up. “What are you up to now?”

You gave him a wink. “Just wait. You’re going to want to see this.”

Soap didn’t need any more convincing. He and Gaz both settled in nearby, watching the scene unfold like a couple of kids waiting for fireworks.

Ghost returned to his seat, oblivious to what you’d done. He resumed his paperwork, absentmindedly reaching for the chips. You held your breath, watching with barely contained excitement as his hand dug into the bag.

And then it happened.

Ghost picked up the chip, the one that was designed to feel like molten lava in your mouth, and casually tossed it into his mouth. For a second, everything seemed normal. He chewed, swallowed, and kept writing.

But then, you saw it.

The slow burn started to creep up his neck, his face barely visible under the mask. His hand froze mid-signature, and you could almost see the moment when the heat hit him. His eyes widened slightly, the only outward sign that something was wrong. But you knew. Oh, you knew.

Soap and Gaz were already covering their mouths, trying not to burst into laughter as Ghost’s hand slowly reached for his water bottle. He took a swig, but it didn’t help. You could see the redness creeping up his neck, his posture stiffening as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Something wrong, Lieutenant?” you called out, barely able to suppress your grin.

Ghost’s eyes snapped to you, and for a second, you thought you might have pushed it too far. His gaze was murderous, dark and furious beneath that mask. But he didn’t say a word. He just stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he stormed off toward the kitchen.

As soon as he was out of sight, Soap and Gaz exploded with laughter. Soap slapped the table, practically wheezing. “That was brilliant! I’ve never seen him move that fast!”

“I told you it’d be good,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “He’s never going to let this one go.”

“You do realize he’s going to get you back for this, right?” Gaz said, still chuckling.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m not scared of Ghost. What’s he going to do? Glare at me harder?”

Soap shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

But even as you laughed, a small part of you wondered if you’d really gone too far. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to let things slide. And you were right.

But you weren't done with him yet.

Ghost had been quiet since the hot chip prank, too quiet. He hadn’t said anything to you about it, hadn’t even acknowledged it happened. That should’ve been your first warning. But instead of being cautious, you doubled down.

You were walking across the base one day when you spotted a cockroach scurrying along the ground. An idea sparked instantly.

Without hesitation, you scooped up the wriggling bug and made a beeline for Ghost, who was at the training field. Soap and Gaz were hanging out nearby, and when they saw the look on your face, they knew something was about to go down.

“Oi, Trouble,” Soap called out, smirking. “What’ve you got there?”

You held up the cockroach proudly. “My new friend. I’m gonna introduce him to Ghost.”

Gaz shook his head, laughing. “You’re mad."

You scooped up the wriggling insect and made your way over to the field where Ghost was practising.

He didn’t notice you at first, he was too focused on reloading his weapon and prepping for his next drill. But that made it even better.

The element of surprise was on your side.

“Ghost!” you called, running toward him with the cockroach clutched in your hand.He glanced up, and for a split second, you swore his eyes narrowed behind that mask. It was like he could sense that you were up to no good.

“What?” he grunted, lowering his weapon.

You didn’t answer. you just kept running toward him, waving the cockroach in your hand like a trophy.

When you were close enough, you shoved your hand forward.

“Look what I found!”

Ghost took one look at the cockroach and stepped back, his broad form tensing.

“You better put that thing down.”

You blinked, surprised by his reaction. Was Ghost… afraid of bugs? No way.A wicked grin spread across your face.

“Aw, is the big, bad Ghost scared of a little cockroach?”

“Last warning,” he said, his voice dark and low, though you detected a hint of urgency. But instead of backing off, you doubled down.

“C’mon, it’s harmless!” you said, stepping closer and waving the bug in his direction.

Ghost took another step back, visibly uncomfortable now, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside you.

You’d never seen him like this. This was a man who could take down an enemy with his bare hands, yet here he was, backing away from a tiny insect.That’s when he turned and started walking away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you laughed, breaking into a full sprint after him.What followed was a spectacle that had the entire base watching.

You chased Ghost all the way across the training field, waving the cockroach like a madwoman while he picked up the pace.

You could hear snickers and laughter from nearby soldiers as they watched the ridiculous chase unfold.

Ghost was practically power-walking now, trying to maintain his composure, but you kept pushing.

“Don’t be scared, it’s just a bug!”

“I swear to God,” Ghost growled, picking up speed, “if you don’t stop..”

But you didn’t stop. In fact, you doubled down, practically sprinting after him as you waved the cockroach over your head.

“Come on, Ghost, it’s not gonna hurt you!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ghost managed to slip away into the locker room, leaving you behind, still laughing and clutching your sides.

But as you stood there, catching your breath, you didn’t notice the way Ghost’s eyes darkened behind the mask. You didn’t notice how Soap, who had watched the whole thing, gave him a nudge and a wicked grin.

For the next few days, you continued your usual antics. You were on top of the world, convinced that you had finally broken Ghost’s stone-cold exterior.

You expected retaliation at some point, but it never came. Ghost was quiet—too quiet. And if you had been paying attention, you might’ve realized that he wasn’t just ignoring you.

He was planning.

It was Soap who sealed your fate.“You really think Ghost’s gonna let that cockroach thing slide?”

Soap had asked one afternoon, leaning against a crate in the common area.

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think he’s too scared to come after me.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s what you think, huh?”

You didn’t know it at the time, but Soap had already joined forces with Ghost. They were just waiting for the right moment.

It wasn’t until a week later that you realized just how wrong you were.

The day it happened was like any other. You had finished a long day of training and were looking forward to kicking back in your room for a while.

Your backpack was sitting neatly on your bed, right where you’d left it.But the moment you unzipped the bag, something moved.

You froze.

Slowly, cautiously, you opened the bag a little wider, and that’s when you saw it.

Bugs. So many bugs. Spiders, cockroaches, beetles, all squirming and crawling over each other inside your bag.

Your heart leapt into your throat, and before you knew what was happening, a scream ripped from your lungs.

“Holy sh—” You stumbled backward, dropping the bag as you frantically tried to shake off the sensation that the bugs were crawling all over you.

Outside your room, you heard footsteps and then, laughter. Deep, booming laughter.

Ghost’s laughter. You whipped around just in time to see Ghost and Soap standing in your doorway, both of them grinning behind their masks.

Soap was practically doubled over with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes, while Ghost simply stood there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Soap gasped between fits of laughter.

You glared at them both, still shaken by the sight of the bugs.

“You put bugs in my bag?!”

Ghost gave a slow, satisfied nod.“Consider it payback.”

“For what?!” you exclaimed, though you knew exactly what.

“For the cockroach,” Ghost said simply. “And the chip. And every other stupid thing you’ve done.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you tried to collect yourself. “That was disgusting.”

Ghost’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he took a step closer, leaning down just enough to be at eye level with you. “Next time, Trouble, think twice before messing with me.”

You stared up at him, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips.

“This isn’t over, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice low and threatening in a way that sent a chill down your spine.

Soap gave you a final wink before the two of them turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your bug-infested backpack and the knowledge that, for once, Ghost had won this round.

But you weren’t about to let that stand for long.

Not by a long shot.

[haveihitanerve]

Oliver Queen was quite certain he was going to die. He had been holding in a laugh for the past ten minutes, which was dangerous under any circumstances, and downright fatal if it was an explosive, loud and hearty laugh, which this one was. Especially considering that no one else seemed to be as tickled as he was, and if he did laugh, he would be laughing at the Batman. The thing was, that Batman had brought his own coffee mug and thermos to the Watchtower (because apparently their coffee wasn't good enough, or something, as batman hadn't exactly offered an explanation) and both had phrases on them that would be amusing belonging to anyone, and were downright hilarious due to the fact that they belonged to Batman. The thermos said “I’m not saying I’m Batman, I’m just saying you’ll never see me and Batman in the same room together” which, sadly, no one else seemed to have even looked twice at, and his mug, which had a large black bat on it, which said “We’re a Batty little family”. Both items were very much not helping Oliver to win his fight with his mirth, when Batman caught his eye. “Oh shit.” he muttered when the Bat began to move towards him. Well, he was bound to die anyway. “Nice mug.” Oliver greeted the second Batman got close. To his surprise, Batmans lips twitched upward. “Thank you. My children got it for me. I’m surprised you're the first to mention it.” Oliver looked at him in surprise. “Oh my freaking gods.” Batman, the Batman, wanted people to comment on his mug. He was proud of it. Oliver finally released his cackle, and Batmans smile grew marginally in delight. “Oh man that is priceless.” Oliver chuckled when he had finally gotten himself under control. “But hey, kids are like that. I mean, mine got me a shirt with two arrows pointing up, with a bow that was sideways beneath it to make a simile face.” Oliver sketched on his own shirt with his finger to display the image. Batman chuckled lightly. “Thats… quite funny.” “Yeah.” Oliver agreed, thinking back with a smile how often he wore it, and Roy’s delight every time. “My kids,” Batman added, drawing Oliver out of his thoughts. “Got me a tie that says, uh, “Worlds Best Dad In Gotham. Which… o-k i guess..” Oliver stared at him agape before absolutely losing it at the tone with which Batman had quoted his tie. “That is… brilliant.” Oliver wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow.” Oliver smiled with relish. “I love that.” Batman smiled back. “I do too.” “Uh, green arrow? Whats so funny?” Green Lantern called over. “Oh nothing, nothing.” Oliver called back. “Just some uh.. Dad jokes.” Hal made a noise of confusion, but Batman chuckled lightly. “Dad jokes?” Green Lantern asked, utterly befuddled. Batman and Green Arrow grinned at each other.  

Oliver Queen was quite certain he was going to die. He had a meeting in Gotham today, which was always long and boring, especially since he usually only dealt with the lower members of Wayne Enterprises. Not that he had anything against status, not really, it was only that they were always such a drag, and it was clear they wanted a higher lifestyle. But, to his surprise, when Oliver walked into the meeting room, the CEO of WE was actually present, sitting at the head of the table in deep discussion with a man Oliver vaguely remembered was named something Fox. Lucy? “Ah, Ollie, so good of you to meet with us!” Boomed a voice and Oliver turned in surprise to see Bruce Wayne. “Bruce? Hey man! I didn't know you’d be here!” Oliver grinned in surprised delight, offering the other man a quick hug. Bruce shrugged, sipping some coffee. “I’m just here as a chauffeur. I’m taking Timmy out after this, but I’ll be a part of the meeting if you want some decent conversation.” He winked and Oliver laughed. “Not that my son isn't a good conversationalist.” He added. Oliver waved a hand, moving to his seat and offering the kid a quick smile. Tim glanced over, offering a wave before returning to his heated debate. “Naw I know he is. Wasn't expecting you guys to be here. Glad you are though.” Oliver sighed in relief. Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, taking a seat next to him. “Well I’m glad to see you too Ollie, theres, actually something I want to tell you.” At that, his son finally looked over for more than a second, something gleaming in his eyes. “Oh?” Oliver asked intrigued, leaning forward. That was when he saw it. Tucked just barely beneath the lapel of Bruces suit jacket…. A tie. A tie that said “Worlds Best Dad in Gotham. Which… O-k I guess..” Oliver sat back like electrocuted. Bruce and Tim watched him carefully, and Fox gave a very good impression of looking out the window. “You- uh- you're.” Oliver cleared his throat and Bruce leaned in intently. “Yes?” “Your tie.” Oliver blurted. “Its… nice. My friend has one too.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Does he?” He lifted his mug, which had a large black bat on it, and sipped. Oliver swallowed. “W-why me? Why now?” Bruce shrugged, glancing over at his son who was now also doing a very good job of admiring the ceiling tiles. “Because I trust you. And because I need a good friend.” Oliver smiled weakly. “Well, you already had that in Brucie.” Bruce smiled softly. “I know. But friendship requires trust. And Batman needs all the friends he can get.” Oliver chuckle lightly. “So… Dad jokes was the way to go huh?” Bruce smiled, pleased, leaning back. “Yep. Dad jokes.” Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen grinned at each other. 

[allnightstay]

Day 15 - "Are you ticklish?"

Summary: When Gojo suspects that Megumi might be ticklish, he can't resist testing his theory, much to Megumi's dismay.

Lee: Megumi

Ler: Gojo

The training field was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Megumi sat cross-legged on the ground, catching his breath after yet another intense sparring session with Gojo. Despite the sweat on his brow and the ache in his muscles, he remained as composed as ever.

Gojo, of course, looked perfectly fine. The man didn’t even seem tired, lounging casually in the grass, sunglasses glinting in the sun. "You’re getting better, Megumi. I’m proud!" he said with a grin.

Megumi exhaled quietly. “Thanks. But I still need to improve.”

Gojo tilted his head, smirking. “So serious, as always." Then, as if an idea had suddenly struck him, his smile turned mischievous. "Say, Megumi…"

Megumi narrowed his eyes. He knew that tone all too well. It was the kind that spelled trouble. "What?"

Gojo leaned closer, resting his chin in his hand like a curious child. “You wouldn’t happen to be… ticklish, would you?”

Megumi blinked. His calm facade faltered for the briefest moment - a flicker of unease that Gojo, unfortunately, caught.

"Ohhhh, that was definitely a reaction!" Gojo’s grin widened. "You are ticklish, aren’t you?"

"I’m not," Megumi said flatly, shifting slightly to put some distance between them.

“Liar.”

Before Megumi could get up, Gojo was already on him, quick as lightning. He pinned Megumi’s arms with ease, the younger sorcerer squirming under his grasp.

“G-Gojo-no-"

“Gotta confirm this for science,” Gojo said with mock seriousness. "Let’s see!"

Gojo’s fingers wriggled against Megumi’s sides, brushing lightly at first. The reaction was immediate. Megumi’s body tensed, and he let out a sharp, involuntary inhale like he was trying very hard to suppress a laugh.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Gotcha! You are ticklish!”

Megumi glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the way his body jerked when Gojo’s fingers found another weak spot on his ribs. “S-stop-Gohojo!” Megumi’s voice broke into a strained chuckle as he twisted, trying to escape.

"What's that, Megumi? I can't hear you over all the giggles!" Gojo teased, doubling his efforts.

A rare laugh escaped from Megumi, a short, breathless burst that surprised even himself. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he thrashed beneath Gojo’s relentless fingers.

“I-Ihihi’m g-going to-kihihill y-you-!” Megumi stammered between ragged breaths, his normally stoic expression crumbling into helpless laughter.

“Wow, Megumi, you’re actually adorable when you laugh!” Gojo declared triumphantly. “You should do this more often.”

“Ahahahaa!! Sh-shut up! Go-Gojohoho come on!!” Megumi wheezed, trying to push Gojo away but with no success. His strength was sapped by the uncontrollable giggling, his body twisting in every direction to escape the ticklish onslaught.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (to Megumi, at least), Gojo decided to show mercy. He sat back, letting Megumi catch his breath, though his grin showed no signs of fading.

Megumi rolled onto his side, panting, his face burning with humiliation. “You… are the worst…” he muttered, glaring at his teacher with a mix of annoyance and lingering laughter in his eyes.

Gojo chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I just think it’s important to explore new sides of yourself, Megumi.” He gave a playful wink. “And now we know: Stoic on the outside, ticklish on the inside.”

Megumi groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I hate you.”

“Oh, come on, you love me,” Gojo said cheerfully, ruffling Megumi’s hair. “Don’t be surprised if this becomes part of our training routine!”

“If you ever try this again, I’ll summon all of my shikigami at once,” Megumi warned, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Gojo laughed. “Noted. But you should know-I’d still win.”

Megumi groaned again, already dreading whatever nonsense Gojo would come up with next. But deep down, a tiny part of him couldn’t deny that the laughter, however unwelcome, had made the day just a bit lighter.