#with your occasional dose of >:)

[lizardtheartist]

A post-Halloween tradition :)

[melonymint753]

imma go out on a limb and say

Where is Theseus?????? I want his smug ass back

maybe he's actually heroically fighting in the underworld like a true evil vanquisher

[anewbrainjughead]

taylor swift you are not lana del rey, you are not even the 1975, you are bryan adams! just accept it and stop making us suffer

[yo9urt]

had a tarot reading done today...

[cherry-shipping]

not that id ever want a job, and in reality if me and sans lived together hed probably be the one mostly responsible for our income on account of his countless fucked up jobs, BUT. i love the thought of sans being a cute shitty little househusband sending me off to work with a kiss and a lunchbox except the lunchbox is just, like, a compact bomb of as many sausages and a gross slurry of a million fucked up condiments as he could fit in there

[recents]

unethical life pro tip for my fellow adult autistics who also have ocd or other anxiety disorders that make your texture reactions Worse: the Perfect amount of alcohol actually acts as a Mental Shield that will protect you from the Texture Induced Bad Times. But Watch Out

[marzipanandminutiae]

ok but what are YOUR favorite and probably real victorian funfacts?

There genuinely were some doctors who thought riding in trains would cause uterine prolapse [uterus falling out], when trains were new. The concern was that the vibrations from travelling so fast would break the fibers connecting the uterus to the abdominal wall. Unsurprisingly, this did not stop women from riding in trains. Because fuck that noise- trains!!!

One time in the 1840s a bunch of doctors shellacked live horses and rabbits and concluded, when the animals died (probably from heat exhaustion after being unable to sweat), that they had suffocated and that mammals breathed partially through our skin.

Some beauty manuals of the era may have created accidental sunscreen. Occasionally you see advice to wear cold cream on your face when going out, to prevent sunburn. This probably mostly didn't work- but some cold cream recipes contained zinc oxide for a "white foundation" effect, due to beauty standards favoring very light skin, which may have created a low-level SPF. Other manuals also advocate sealing the cold cream in with powder...which even more frequently involved zinc oxide.

A dentist may have gotten away with a malpractice death by blaming tightlacing. A 23-year-old maid named Annie Budden, of Preston, England, went to have a tooth pulled in January of 1895 and suffocated after the procedure, during which she had been dosed with nitrous oxide. The dentist said she was tightlaced and therefore the coroner ruled that he was not at fault- however said dentist claimed that her natural waist was 23" and her corset measured 18". Presumably that's the closed measurement, and corsets were commonly worn with at least a 2" lacing gap at the time (one corset ad I've seen mentions that women liked to give the theoretical closed measurement of their corset as their waist measurement, to make it sound smaller, while actually wearing it with the customary gap). Ergo, she was only laced down about 2-3 inches, a difference unlikely to cause asphyxiation. The fact that she worked as a maid similarly calls the assessment into question- how could she have successfully done physical labor while laced down in a way that diminished her lung capacity so much? Her employer vouched for her good character and excessive tightlacing was seen as vanity- and would have been noticed by making Miss Budden look out-of-proportion physically. That doesn't add up either, to me. The dentist went on to become mayor of the town where this all happened.

That thing above started as a fun fact about the only credible death due to tightlacing and then I looked into it more and now I'm just mad.

Justice For Annie Budden

Sorry this has gotten off-track but I'm still mad about the whole Annie Budden thing

[eye-of-yelough]

rewatched Withnail And I recently and realised with horror that i’ve subconsciously based Leo and Anders’ dynamic off of them

like i can really see this scene taking place sometime between act 2 and 3 when they’re both at their worst Mental Illness-wise and are also newly moved in lovebirds learning how to live together and like Normal People

[luveline]

How did reader react when Spencer was exposed to anthrax? (I normally request stripper or bombshell reader but I want to leave up to you which reader - shy, confident, bombshell, stripper, not mentioned here)

Thank you 🖤

“This is unacceptable.” 

Spencer looks at you through plastic. He opens his hands, his hair already soaking wet, huge streams of water running down him as a woman in a hazmat suit sprays him down. He ends up giving you a glare. A bold choice.

“Spencer Reid.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

“For you to make less ridiculous decisions.” 

“I didn’t exactly choose to get dosed with anthrax.” 

You think it’s pointless to deny all accountability in this situation. When Derek rehashed the story to you down the phone, you’d assumed he was making a sick joke, but no, your Spencer is alright with endangering his life. 

“Spencer, you aren’t a child. You know what you were doing.” 

“If you’re here to shout at me, can you not?” 

“Can you take your clothes off?” the woman in the hazmat suit asks. 

Spencer cringes but begins undressing. 

“Spencer, somebody needs to. All Hotch will do is give you a disappointed shake of the head, he won’t even write you up.” 

“Maybe he realises it was accidental!” Spencer says hopefully, shivering as his shirt hits the floor. He grabs his boxers and holds them in place as he kicks off his pants, water spraying everywhere now, pattering against the plastic sides of the haz-gazebo as it bounces off his naked skin. 

“Doubtful.” You raise your eyebrows. “Shouldn’t he take his boxers off, too?” 

The woman in the hazmat suit sighs. “I’m afraid so.” 

Spencer sputters as she sprays his waist with the hose. “I’m so cold.” 

Sympathy grows. You wrap your arms around yourself and feel at the cashmere sweater that stretches over your elbows, thinner softness, warm in the sunshine. You have a hundred things to be stressed about and Spencer’s at the top of the list when he shouldn’t be on it to begin with. “Can’t you use warm water?” you ask, more gentle than you had been. 

“Sorry,” the woman says. “I’ll be quick.” 

“And then he’ll, what? Get to ride in the ambulance?” you ask. 

“That’s the plan. Dr. Reid, can you turn around?” 

Spencer gets washed from head to toe with ice cold water. His shivers turn full body, his lips pressed firmly together when they finally let him out. He’s quickly wrapped in a towel, then a foil blanket, and packed into the back of an ambulance with three EMT’s and an insistent you. 

He’s going to be assessed en route. 

You sidle past an EMT to sit by his head, out of the way, but close enough to brush his wet hair from his forehead. “You okay?” you ask. 

“You’re being nicer to me.” 

“Spencer, I’m aware that nobody really deserves to be poisoned.” 

“But I took an unnecessary risk.” He sighs deeply, then coughs, to your internal horror. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m being mean.” You cover his forehead with your hand in hopes of warming him. 

Spencer relaxes now he knows you aren’t mad, his shivers occasionally resurfacing, his worry plain as day across his features. Brown eyes squinted like he’s pained, his mouth twisted. 

“You’ll be okay, I promise,” you say, rubbing a quarter circle at his temple with your thumb.

“I’m just so cold.” 

His weak laugh is lost on you. You can’t cover him up anymore than he is while the EMT’s work to check his vitals and take his blood for testing. You lean down, the bumpy road nearly forcing you to kiss his cheek. “You’re doing well,” you say, “we’ll be there soon. You won’t be cold all day.” 

You blow warm air at his cheeks. They turn pink, but you let him blame the hosing. 

[rafedaddy01]

Summary: based on this request - part 2

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, age gap, riding

-

You had a massive crush on your boss. How could you not? He was Rafe Fucking Cameron. King of the island, and you were lucky enough to score the job as his live in maid.

“Mmm, feels good” Rafe grumbled in his sleep.

So of course you took advantage of the title.

“Fuck” you whispered as you fully sat down on his hard cock

“So warm” he groaned, his eyes still shut and his breathing even as he slept.

“Shit, sir. You feel so good inside me” you bite your lip and start rocking back and forth.

“Holy fuck, don’t stop” Rafe grunts

You’d do this pretty often.

Rafe would come home after work and you always have a glass of whiskey waiting for him, with a little something special to make him sleepy.

You’d crawl into his bed and make yourself feel good.

You didn’t feel any shame, you couldn’t. You’ve seen the way he occasionally stared at you when you bend down to dust or when you cook him and his kids dinner. He wants you. He simply just needs some motivation, and you’re more than willing to give it to him.

You picked up the pace, lifting your lower half and bouncing up and down at an even yet fast pace.

Your clit rubs against the scruff patch of hairs on his skin, it felt heavenly.

You wish he could be awake to see your tits bounce as you moved, to see the way you bite your lip as you try to contain your moans.

“Oh sir, you feel so good” you whisper to yourself as you grab your tits and squeeze. Indulging in your pleasure.

“I wish you could see me” you place your hands on his chest and bend down to bite at his earlobe as you whisper.

Rafes cock is throbbing inside you.

You stop bouncing and grind in a circular motion, letting your clit get some attention.

Rafe shifts under you, his eyes fluttering but closing right after as his breathing settles back to an even pace.

You feel the warmth inside you, the way he paints your walls white and it triggers your own release and you rub your clit with your small fingers and bounce faster. Making sure you milk him for everything he’s got.

You ride out your high and pull off him to look down and see his cum drip down your thighs as a glob falls onto his thigh. You dip your finger into it and suck it off, moaning at the delicious taste.

“Sweet dreams” you giggle as you peck his lips and rush off to your room.

You sleep like a baby, waking up early in the morning to start breakfast.

Meanwhile rafe wakes up feeling a little sore, and as he looks down and notices the mess you left behind.

“Fuck” he groans

“Not again” he huffs out a breath as he closes his eyes and the flashback of his dream comes back.

His cock rehardens as he images you on top of him. Chasing your own pleasure, he imagines you whispering in his ear and teasing him.

His hand reaches down, gripping his cock hard and stroking up and down.

Small moans of your name come out in breaths and he quickens his pace.

“Shit, shit, oh fuck” he grunts as he tugs on his poor red tip and his cum splatters all over his lower stomach.

His head falls back against the pillow as he steadys his breathing.

“Fuck” he swallows hard and pushes the dirty thoughts out of his mind before getting up and showering.

Downstairs you move around his kitchen, a satisfied smile on your face as you plate the food for everybody.

“Good morning, sir” you beam at rafe as he enters the kitchen.

“I made eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes, your favorite” you set the plate in front of him before handing the kids their plates.

Rafe eyes you up and down. From your beautiful smile to the way your ass fits incredibly into your jeans.

“Mr. Cameron?” You scrunch your eyebrows at him, snapping him out of his trance. Although too bad for his dick, it’s already standing at attention again.

“Is everything alright?” You try to hide your smirk.

You know everything is not alright.

This happens every time. The dose you give rafe is not enough to make him forget everything, it simply just blurs his mind and he wakes up thinking he dreamt the whole thing.

He clears his throat, “everything is perfect” you nod at him before turning around and containing your giggles. You love your job.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover

[her-favorite]

CLUELESS; M. STURNIOLO

DAD!MATT STURNIOLO X F!MOM!READER

warnings: (toxic)baby daddy!matt YUPPP (except with a happy ending bc i can’t help myself)

a/n: requested! i gave the daughter a random name bc typing “y/d/n” gets annoying lmao, i also kinda added more detail to it (and a happy ending bc angst makes me sad) but i hope you like it anon!! <3

wc: 2,570

SYNOPSIS: Matt made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship with you, but how does he react once you tell him you’re going out for the night?

-

Matt broke it off with you, it was his decision entirely.

Since you have birth to Angelina, it was said that Matt wasn’t ready for an official relationship. At the time, you had been angry; you had a few month old baby in your arms as your boyfriend proclaimed that he wasn’t “ready for something so formal.” As months pass, you’ve grown used to the situation, handing your daughter back and forth with the father of your child as you minded your business and he minded his.

Today was Friday, and Matt had texted you a few days ago that he was going to come by to pick up Angelina so she could visit Nick and Chris. You complied, given it was also a perfect opportunity to get out for once. Usually, when Matt has his daughter at his place, you stay in and relax, something you’re not necessarily able to do with an almost two year old around.

Today you decided to go to the bar… information Matt was not expecting.

When you heard the annual three knocks on your door, you made your way towards it and opened it. “You have a key, Matt, you know how to get in.” You say as usual, walking back into the bathroom to finish putting in your earring. You were already dressed up, nothing too crazy, but still comfortable enough for you to wear out.

“Why are you all dressed up, mama?” Matt leans against the open doorframe, his blue eyes raking over your body before watching you in the mirror. His arms were crossed over his chest, accentuating his taut biceps in the tank top he was wearing, accommodating to the nice weather outside.

“I’m going to the bar.” You reply shortly, turning around without looking at him as you walk by. Before he could get any sound out his mouth, your daughter sprints out of your room (too busy playing with her box of fake fruits that Uncle Nick gifted her), looking for her father.

“Daddy!” Her sweet voice distracts Matt as his eyes drift down, meeting hers. She has a cute smile on her face as she extends her arms up towards him.

“Hi, babygirl.” Matt smiles wide as he leans down to pick her up, resting her on his hip, placing a stabilizing arm underneath her. Placing kisses around her face, sweet giggles fill the air, quickly placing a smile on your face just from the sound.

As Matt makes his way over to you, he watches you gather your things. Rocking her slightly on his hip, he speaks up, “What’re you doin’ at a bar?” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but the edge in his tone was clear. Immediately picking it up, a sigh escapes your lips. You glance back at him, noticing how Angelina was too busy playing with her father’s horse necklace to pay attention to what her parents were saying.

“What do you usually do at a bar, Matt?” You reply sarcastically, giving him a look. With a clench of his jaw, he keeps his eyes on you, occasionally falling down your body to watch your legs sway by each other.

Licking his lips, he averts his gaze and looks back over at you. “Are you meeting someone there?” His voice became heavy, jealousy seeping through.

Matt’s always been possessive, not too an unhealthy extent, but enough that even a stare towards someone that had romantic feelings for you got the hint. You used to love it, it felt safe, like he was protecting you. But ever since he called it off (and with Angelina), he’s had no reason to be jealous because neither of you had any time or reason to be or hookup with someone else.

His sudden dose of questions doesn’t surprise you, but they did start to get on your nerves. He was the one who didn’t want to stay together.

“Does it matter?” You respond, grabbing your phone as you turned to face him. You notice the way he tries to hide his irritation, either for Angelina’s benefit or for yours. There was no use if the latter was the case, you knew him inside and out. “When are you coming back with her?” You decide to change the topic, your voice back to normal, trying not to let his curiosity get the better of you.

Exhaling softly, Matt licks his lips again as he answers, “Nick was actually wondering if you’d wanna come over Sunday; said he misses you.” He never stops his slight movements with his daughter on his side, soothing her into unconsciousness.

As the words leave his lips, it made you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen Nick and Chris. You did miss them; they were your best friends. But being as busy as you were with a little girl, you barely have time for yourself, let alone to hangout with your friends. You’re hoping today will ease your anxiety of going out again.

Nodding your head, a soft smile curls at the end of your lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You accept the invitation, the thought of seeing the other two boy’s lifting your mood.

“Cool.” Matt’s answer was short as he watches your reaction. He’d be lying if he said seeing you happy didn’t make him happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted for you, he was just always scared he’d never be the one to give that to you. But, now, with you going out to the bar, potentially meeting someone else…

“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he blinks. Swallowing dryly, Matt nods and tightens his hold on his girl, grabbing the bag you pack for her every time Matt came by to pick her up.

“Yeah, I should probably get back, anyway.” He replies, trying his best to go along with your statement, despite the uproar of jealousy burning up his body. He slings the bag over his shoulder, taking steps towards your front door.

Before he leaves, Matt turns to let you talk to your daughter. “I’ll see you soon, Angel.” You kiss her cheek, smiling as she giggles softly. “I love you.” You whisper close to her ear, knowing how much it tickles her. More giggles fill the air as she playfully swats at you, her tiny fingers resting against your nose. Pressing a peck against her small palm, you let go of her as she immediately reaches for Matt’s necklace again.

“Say, “bye, mama.” Matt rocks her gently, looking down at her. Angelina’s bright eyes look over at you, waving her hand dramatically.

“Bye, mama.” She repeats, her words slurred slightly, clearly just a few seconds from sleep. You laugh softly at her attempt, waving back at her. As Matt turns to leave, he opens the door, but not without a last glance to you.

“Have fun tonight, Y/N.” He says, catching you off guard. Exhaling through your nose, your shoulders lose their tense position, watching Matt watch you. Your eyes swipe between his, trying to read him. For the first time, you couldn’t. It made you feel anxious, like you were doing something wrong. No, he’s doing this on purpose, he knows how to get under your skin.

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply shortly, keeping your face neutral as you spoke. With a curt nod from him, he turns and shuts the heavy door behind him. Sighing as you can’t help yourself, you walk over to the window, watching him walk away. You notice the way he entertains Angelina’s babbles as he buckles her into her carseat, exaggerating his reactions to make her laugh. As he rounds his car, he takes his seat in the driver’s side and turns it on. With a glance towards you, he notices you staring as he sends you another nod before putting the car in drive and pressing on the gas.

Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight…

-

That same sentence repeats itself in your head as soon as you step foot into the busy bar.

It’s only been a couple minutes since you walked in and you already regret it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been in this sort of setting and you’re far from getting used to it. You’d be lying if you said your mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts of Angelina and Matt. You know how good of a father Matt is, he’s just… complicated, it was something you just had to live with.

As you sat at the bar, you pondered whether you should get a drink or not, knowing you wouldn’t be able to drive home if you did. Getting lost in your thoughts was easy as the people around you entertained themselves.

“Hey.” A voice broke you out of your reverie, your head snapping in the direction beside you. A man seated himself on a chair next to you, a half-empty glass in his hand.

Swallowing dryly, you reply, “Hey.” You couldn’t remember the last time someone tried to flirt with you, given you’ve spent so much time with Angelina and Matt. Once your eyes met his, you almost gasped at his appearance. He had dark brown hair contradicting his blue eyes, bright skin a familiar shade. He looks like Matt…

Redirecting your gaze, a quiet sigh escapes your lips, thankfully being drowned out by the loud music. Silently waiting for his next words, your fingers tap anxiously against the top of the bar.

“I was just wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing sitting alone.” The stranger replies, a smirk forming on his face. Exhaling softly, you ignore him, contemplating your options. Matt would never start a conversation like that. A voice inside your head yells at you to stop comparing other people to Matt, knowing that a habit like that could get destructive.

You needed to go home.

-

Sunday morning comes around as you sleep in, taking the empty house for granted. When you had gotten home Friday night, it was easy to fall into a routine of making food and watching tv, deciding to take your free time to relax instead of go out. Maybe it just wasn’t for you.

A few hours later, your make your way over to the triplets’ house, putting the car in park as you unbuckle your seatbelt. It was a little past four as you knocked on their door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.

“Y/N!” Nick’s voice blared as soon as the door creaked open, enveloping you in his arms almost immediately. With a soft laugh from you, you wrap your arms around him, relaxing in his hold. “I missed you so much, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He says, his tone more dramatic than needed, making you chuckle.

“I missed you, too, Nick.” You smile, stepping into their house and up the stairs. Smiling once you see your daughter, she reciprocates and giggles loudly, alerting Chris. She rests on his lap as his legs bounce lightly, previously relaxing her.

“Y/N!” Chris smiles, looking over at you.

“Mommy!” Angelina exclaims, trying to get over to you. Chris picks her up and walks over to you, handing you your daughter before hugging you softly, making sure he doesn’t crush Angelina.

“How’ve you been, ma?” Chris asks, his voice soft. He grew into the habit of calling you that ever since he found out you were pregnant; you slowly got used to it.

Entertaining his small talk, you feel Angelina play with the neckline of your shirt, her tiny fingers just barely tugging on the fabric. Chris stands with his arms crossed, listening to your words, occasionally interrupting whenever a new thought popped into his head.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?” Matt walks out from his room once he hears his daughter giggle, not expecting for you to be here already. Nick had made his way back up next to you, joining your conversation, not without periodically getting annoyed at Chris.

“‘Cause you were too busy brooding in your room.” Chris replies, a smile that’s been on his face the entire time never leaving. With a scoff from the other brother, Matt gets closer to you, reaching out to tickle his daughter gently. With a cute giggle in response, his mood quickly switches as he watches her.

Once Nick announces that he needs to grab something from his room (to get away from the conversation he held with Chris), Chris immediately follows him, his words never stopping even when Nick groans in irritation. As they walk upstairs, it leaves you, your daughter and Matt together.

“So, how was the bar?” Matt breaks the silence as his arms cross, his jaw subconsciously tightening. He waits to hear your answer, his blue eyes raking over your reaction.

“It was fine.” With a vague answer, you knew it upset him, but you wanted to figure out why. You notice the way his tongue licks over his teeth, his short nails digging into the soft skin of his arm.

“Did you meet anyone?” His question lingers in the back of your mind as you walk a few feet to sit down on their couch, shortly after feeling the cushion beside you dip as Matt took his seat next to you.

Hesitating, you exhale softly trying to figure out how to reply. You could be unclear and not give him a definite answer, or you could be honest and finally tell him how you truly feel. You knew waiting any longer would just make things worse..

“No.” You reply, looking over at him. Matt tries to hide the look of shock on his face, but you noticed it before he fixed it. “Because I was too busy thinking about you.” You mutter, looking down at your daughter in your lap as she fidgets with your fingers.

Matt sat still, watching you. He’d be lying if he said he was expecting you to say that, too engrossed with the idea of you meeting someone else and forgetting about him. His chest moved faster than usual, your sudden confession taking him off guard. “You were thinking about me?” He asks, his voice coming out softer than intended.

With a nod in response, you keep your eyes on your girl, too nervous to look at him. Your eyes widen slightly when you suddenly feel his hand grasp your chin, making you look over at him, his tattooed arm holding you tightly.

“You were thinking about me?” Matt repeats, his blue eyes boring into yours. You knew this game he played; if he ever asked you something important and you didn’t verbally answer, he’d make sure you did either way.

“Yes.” You sigh, swallowing thickly as your nerves heighten. His tough façade slowly breaking as a small curl tugs at the ends of his lips. Rolling your eyes, a small smile overtakes your mouth as you try to look away from him.

“Look at me, baby.” His voice was raspy as he caught your attention, mindlessly following his words. “I know I’ve been difficult and these past two years have been a lot, but,” he takes a second to think, trying to find the right words. “I was an idiot for never treating you the way you deserve, mama. I promise I can do better this time.”

And who were you to say no?

[feralforfrank]

simon riley x fem!reader

i was bored in class and desperately wanted to nap. so, this happened. just huge man sleeping anywhere and anytime.

simon riley loves napping. the when and where doesn't matter. if there's a chance to sleep (and he feels safe to do so), he takes it.

the most common times are after a meal, while reading a book (he will literally put it down and just casually nap for an hour), or watching a documentary with you.

the best time to nap is on a sunday morning. you drag him out of bed early, convincing him to tidy up the apartment with you. but when you give him the cleaning duties of the living room (while you're two rooms away, cleaning the bathroom or something), you best believe you'll find him dosed off, with the (thing that cleans dust) forgotten on the coffee table.

his favourite places are on your side of the bed (because it smells like you, and your pillow is fluffier, apparently), even better when you're laying on it. the couch is also a good spot, for your cat always ends up on top of him, all purring and happy (simon will never admit it, but he likes it when joe - the cat - chooses him to nap on).

but, his all-time favourite place has got to be your lower half. he starts by laying his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you twirl and tug on his blond strands. as the night progresses, he goes lower and lower until you feel the weight of his head on your stomach. his breathing matches yours, and you hear him occasionally hum if you tug on his hair a bit hard.

you find his habit of falling asleep so easily cute, but his napping hours weird.

you could both be watching a show, you talking his ear off about it, when you suddenly hear a snore as loud as a tractor. you can't help but lift your head from his chest with a look of bewilderment. how the fuck can he be asleep? he was talking with you two minutes ago.

or when you return home, heart in your mouth, because he wasn't answering your calls and you thought something had happened, but nooooo, simon's just snoring on the couch with a blanket draped over him and joe on top of him.

simon riley can never resist a nap.

—

bonus. the one time simon dosed off when he wasn't on leave happened to be during a debrief in price's office.

he had his arms crossed over his chest, legs spread, and leaning back against the squeaky, uncomfortable chair. it was rare for ghost to be laid-back and relaxed, always on alert for danger even in his own base. but the preparations for this mission were kicking his ass, he missed you a lot, and being surrounded by familiar faces - his work family - relaxed his muscles and his brain a bit more than it should've.

gaz noticed first and nudged soap, who snorted. that caught price's attention, who lifted his eyes from the papers he had been reading to look where his insubordinate sergeants were looking. he couldn't help but shake his head and cough to cover up his chuckle.

soap snapped a quick picture (to send to you later) before gaz cleared his throat loudly, causing the lieutenant's eyes to open. it took him a second to get back to his senses, and when he did, his glare turned towards his two sergeants, who looked like they were trying to hold their laughs in.

he never slipped in front of them again.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

[kombuuuu]

Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?

It Sounds Nice coming from You.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader

“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)

People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.

But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.

The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.

You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.

There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.

So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.

—

Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.

Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.

Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.

The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.

The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.

He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.

Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.

Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.

It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.

“She’s silent, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”

“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”

“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”

The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.

“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“

“Cut it, mate.”

He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.

“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”

“Jesus..”

He felt rather accomplished that day.

—

It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.

Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.

Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.

He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.

immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(

I’m patient 🦑

u werent 2 seconds ago

I don’t subscribe to consistency.

Or this slandering talk

ur consistently lame

also why squid

I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute

hes not real

Don’t do this me

reeeeeal tasty tho

What is wrong with you.

numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)

Inhumane.

mmmmmm yummyyyy

He can’t die, he’s immortal

The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.

“Hey, Hobie!”

Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.

He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.

“Pav, my guy!”

Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.

“What’chu doing up there?”

His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.

Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”

Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.

“Textin’ [Name].”

Just then, the next message from you showed.

immortal ??? how consistent of him to live

He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.

He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything

ihu

terrivle joke

No, you don’t

And it was great

wtvr >:P

Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.

“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.

“They do argue very often.”

“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”

Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.

They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.

He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”

Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.

“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”

“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”

“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.

“What does mini-punk even mean!”

“Not exactly, Pavitr.”

Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.

The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.

“Huh?”

“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.

“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”

Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.

Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.

“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.

Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.

“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”

A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.

“Wha’ ‘bout it?”

His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.

“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”

Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.

“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”

The punk quirked a brow.

“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.

“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.

“Exactly, it’s not.”

Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.

“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”

Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.

“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.

“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”

“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”

“Gwen, it’s not like that.”

“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”

“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.

“No— well, not unless—,”

“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.

“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“

They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.

“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.

The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.

—

“You agreed to this?”

lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”

He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.

“Now, you know that’s not tr—“

His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.

“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”

He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.

“I really didn’t mean to agree.”

Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”

And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.

You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.

How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.

You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.

And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.

Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?

Because you love him, you guess.

His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.

His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.

“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”

“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”

“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”

Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.

—

Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.

“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.

“This—, This asshole!”

“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.

Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”

“Not kicked.”

“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”

Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”

“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”

“Gwendolyne.”

“All of you, stop.”

Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”

“Since when did you have a say—“

“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”

“She’s an adult.”

“When it’s convenient to you.”

Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.

“She doesn’t talk to people.”

“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.

“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”

“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.

“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.

“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oops too late, portals open.”

“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.

“Yeah..”

“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.

“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”

The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.

—

He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.

You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.

Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.

Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.

“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.

“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.

“I totally called it.”

“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.

“Oh my god, I love this movie!”

“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.

Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.

“The horse.”

“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.

Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”

You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.

The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.

—

Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.

“You doin’ right, babe?”

“Yeah, Hobes.”

You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”

“We’re in bed, dummy.”

He shot you a playful look.

“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”

You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.

A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep, sweethear’.”

“Mhmmph.”

Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.

No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.

—

BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️

[innerfare]

Smutty Law Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Law headcanons

Genre: pure smut

CW: spanking, oral sex, penetrative sex, daddy kink

———

The most effective way to start his engine is to walk by, take his hat off, and run your fingers through his hair. Bonus points if you place a kiss on his temple. Extra bonus points if you put his hat back on his head and walk away like nothing happened. 

Does his best work with his hands. Long, lithe fingers, nice and thick, knows exactly how to use them. 

Works really hard to hide how worked up you get him.

Takes him a long time to feel comfortable fucking with the lights on. A nocturnal creature, accustomed to living deep below the sea. Nearly has a heart attack the first time you strip down on an empty beach in the middle of the day while docked on a summer island. You thought, “why the hell not?” And he thought, “please, no.” He then proceeded to have the best orgasm of his life, not that he’d admit it. 

It also took him a long time to make any noise in bed. He’s so accustomed to silently jerking off just to get a grip on his raging hormones that it takes a while for him to learn that moaning and groaning is acceptable and even expected. 

Not much of a dirty talker. Mostly says your name in an extra deep voice and groans, gasps, and grunts when he cums, swears if you have a special trick up your sleeve. That being said, he will give you the occasional order and will absolutely, enthusiastically argue with you in bed. He hates being teased, so teasing him is a good way to warm up his vocal cords. 

Favorite part of a blowjob is when you suck lightly on his balls. Lets out a low, “fuck,” the first time you do it. From that point onward in the encounter, he’ll be vocal (by his standards). 

His eyes roll back in his head when he cums. He turns into putty in your hands. 

Likes being called daddy, even on the occasions when you’re the one who’s more in control. It makes him feel more at ease considering he really struggles to cede power. Also enthusiastically answers to Captain and Doctor.

Has never once asked to change positions, just puts you where he wants you. 

A quiet/calm dom, but not necessarily a soft one. Very firm, expects you to do what he tells you without complaint. He, on the other hand, complains nonstop if you tease him, but he does secretly love it in small doses. 

Is kind of fussy about perceived subordination. He’s very particular about where you touch him. It takes a really long time to convince him to let you ride him, and even then, he won’t let you do it often or for more than a minute before he’s pushing you beneath him again. 

Really enjoys when you put your hand on his throat and squeeze, but refuses to call it choking because that makes him sound submissive. 

Is also very into spanking. He’ll spank you over every little thing. Any excuse to throw you over his knee. He’ll palm and massage your ass when it gets to be a little too much, but he’ll quickly get right back to it. If you’re fucking this man, you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you’re never going to sit comfortably ever again. 

His favorite position is missionary, with one of his hands holding yours and the other pushing your leg up, his fingers digging into your thigh, his face buried in your neck while he bottoms out inside of you. He’ll roll his hips slowly but surely, his rhythm nice and steady. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[pyxxiestyxx]

Class-C

The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance.  If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.

In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand.  She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening.  You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.

"So this is your bet?  Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"

Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes.  This is different.  A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain.  No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."

The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret.   She thought you couldn't do it.  You thought she was full of shit.  You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course.  Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down.  You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk.  "Easy."

Her smile only widened.  "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock.  She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed.  "No using the time you have left for rallying cries.  Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in.  When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."

You scoffed, leaning back in my chair.  "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in?  Wow, you must really be confident."

"Oh, it begins nearly immediately.  Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."

You looked at her, doubtful.  "Yeah?  Then how come I don't feel any different?"

"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already.  Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.

"Shit, I...sorry.  Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it.  You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt.  "Um.  Sorry."

"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"

"NO!" Your face was properly red now.  Oh *stars*, you had!  You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now?  Would she not want to hang out with you?  You hoped not.  You really enjoyed her compa....wait....

Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little.  It was just the drug.  You were in control.  The drugs were doing this.  But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle.  or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out.  Gosh, she's so kind...

"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say.  You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all.  So you could win the bet!

...

The bet?

"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before.  Worried, you turned to look at her.

"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this.  Well, jokes on her!  You're still in control.

"Nothing!  I don't want anything to happen.  No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication.  Got it?"

She nodded, sagely.  "Of course.  In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"

You sputtered in shock.  "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."

"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt.  "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"

"I-I...you... fucking...."  You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg.  She was trying to goad you.  She wanted you to win now.  She had entirely turned the rules on their head. 

But she also assumed you would take her bait.  You shook your head, biting your lip.  "I...fine.  I admit it."

"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table.  She was absolutely getting off on this.  You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.

"I love you?"

"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee.  "Say it louder, for one.  And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie.  This is a confession, after all~"

You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers.  Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words.  "I l-love you...I need you..."

"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly.  You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"

"Dear, it's just a game.  You can use the one you want to use."

"I love you, Mommy."

"And?"

"A-and I want...I need to be your floret.  I need it, please stars I need it.  I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.

"Go~od job, petal.  You did it."  She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you.  "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"

You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant.  You weren't going to get anything now.  You had just said so.  Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob.  "I...it's..."

She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest.  "Shhhh...petal, it's alright.  You didn't lose, silly."

"I...w-what?"

She smiled at you.  "How would love for another ever be seen as losing?  You won, silly."

You won. That made sense to you now.  Especially when She said it.  You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away.  "I won..."

"You won!  And guess what that means, dear?"

"I'm...I'm a..."

"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit.  A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.

"You tricked me, Mommy!"

"Did I?  Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you.  Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it?  Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth.  You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.

"I...noooooooooo!!!  I didn't...I mean....maybe?"

"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it.  "Now, let's get you home.  We have a contract to sign~"