#in his presence is fullness of joy

[dwuerch-blog]

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End

Her Farewell Tour Came to an End A Farewell Tour is what musical artists call it when they are retiring from the business. And, we might say that’s what Mom did when she bid us adieu on October 15th. I’ve given my readers a picture of what a Farewell Tour looks like for a nearly 100 year-old (just two weeks shy). She was ready to check out. And thanks be to God for checking her out. She was…

[kirbyddd]

Despite its flaws, there has never been a more beautiful and faithful adaptation of Tolkien's work

[fairy-angel222]

Being older bf! Toji’s sweet dolly gf.

Everybody wonders just how it even happened. He was so big and broody, face always serious as he peered down at people with hard glares. But you.. you were so sweet. Everyone loved you, thought you were the most darling girl in town.

You were always so kind to people, smiling brightly as you engaged in conversation with almost anyone, easily lighting up their day with your gentle tone.

You’re a joy to be around, your presence was soft, warm.. welcoming. His was mean, scary even. It was a strange mixture. Not to mention how much bigger he is compared to you. His tall height and broad body engulfing yours completely when his arm wraps around your waist.

Your hand tight in his as you two walked down the street. Intertwined fingers swinging as you attempted to tug him into the direction when something caught your eye. Batting your lashes up at him with an innocent tilt of your head. “Daddy.. can you buy me this? Pretty please?”

He thinks he spoils you too much, only chuckling deeply before letting you drag him into the store with a squeal. The singular item turning into bags full by the time you were ready to leave. You could hear the whispers circulating around you about you and your big boyfriend, huffing with the roll of your eyes when a girl questioned your ability to please him. To take all of him, insisting to her friend that she’d do a better job.

Of course you could take him, you did every single night. When your legs are bent onto his arms. The man’s large muscles flexing as he slid your little body up and down his cock. Using you like his own personal flesh light to stroke himself with your snug walls.

You mewl loudly, head falling back onto his shoulder as your pussy gushed messily. Toji’s large hand pressing both your legs to your chest with a smirk. Watching as your eyes filled with tears at how much deeper he could reach when he began slamming up into you roughly. Throbbing tip kissing your g spot meanly before bullying its way deep inside you- being able to feel his massive girth poking desperately at your cervix for entrance.

You let out a string of high pitched moans, body shaking as Toji fucked your tight pussy on and off his cock. Your snug grip ready to milk him dry as he groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect like this baby. Shit, pretty pussy doesn’t even wanna let me go.”

“Mmfg— d-daddy. So g-good, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah? Close f’ me already? You’re taking me so well baby. Taking daddy’s cock so far up that sopping pussy like a good girl.”

You smile with a choked cry, toes curling through your socks as you neared your orgasm. You wished that girl could see you prove her wrong, show her how well you took your boyfriend’s fat cock. Something she could never ever have.

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[suguae]

Haunted

જsynopsis. If it was a dream, then he would never want to wake up.

જpairings. Z. Toji x F. Reader

જcontents. Mention of self harm, weight loss, mild smut.

Final part.

“Y/n…” He whispered. 

Megumi, with his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement and his bright eyes sparkling with joy, ran towards you with arms outstretched. His tiny feet pattered quickly across the wooden floor, and his soft, tousled hair bounced with each enthusiastic step. When he reached you, he wrapped his small arms around your legs, squeezing you tightly in a deep warm embrace.

"You come back!" he exclaimed with a mix of relief and happiness in his voice. His words tugged at your heartstrings, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. The pure, unfiltered love and innocence in his voice overwhelmed you.

"Y/n," Toji repeated, his voice more certain this time, though it still carried the weight of his remorse. "I... I didn't think I'd ever get to see you again." His eyes softened as they met yours, searching for any sign of the forgiveness he was too afraid to ask for.

You took a step closer, the child clinging to you with an unspoken trust that seemed to break down the barriers Toji had built around his heart. "It's been a long time, Toji," you said gently, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. "A lot has changed."

Toji was content, but his heart still swelled with emotion. One thing he couldn't ignore was the drastic change in your appearance: your body was thinner than before you left, and the bags under your eyes were impossible to miss. He sighed quietly as you spoke to Megumi, who nestled comfortably in your arms.

"Daddy missed you a lot, he was crying sometimes," Megumi said, his small voice full of sincerity as he nuzzled closer to you. You smiled gently at his words before looking up at Toji, your eyes meeting his with a mix of affection and concern. 

You both knew that you needed to clear things up, but with Megumi excitedly being all over you, it was impossible. “Will you come home with us?” Megumi asked, causing you to look back down at him.

“Yeah…” you whispered, your voice soft and tinged with emotion. Megumi's eyes lit up with joy, and he hugged you tightly. You glanced back at Toji, who gave you a small, hopeful smile. Despite the changes and the unspoken words between you, there was a sense of relief in the air. For now, being together was enough.

With Megumi pulling you around the house to show you his new toys, you noticed Toji hovering nearby with a soft smile glued on his face. Seeing the effect you had on Megumi made his heart swell with pride and affection.

“Now we can watch a movie?” Megumi asked, throwing his body onto the couch with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Sure, we can watch a movie,” you replied, your smile mirroring his.

As Megumi nestled closer, resting his head on your lap, he whispered, “You stay here forever with me and papa…” His words were filled with innocence and a longing for permanence. You smiled tenderly, brushing his hair soothingly as his eyes drifted closed, succumbing to sleep.

Toji's gaze lingered on you, his eyes burning with emotion as he watched the interaction between you and Megumi. The warmth of your presence, the familiarity of your bond with their son, it all served as a healing balm to him. The sight of you back here with him, it felt like a salve on old wounds, like a promise of better days ahead.

But beneath the surface, there lingered a question, unspoken yet palpable: Were you going to stay forever? It was a question that hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty and hope, waiting for an answer that only time would reveal.

"Toji, I wanna give it another chance…” you sigh, feeling the weight of your words as they hung in the air. You threw your head back, a mix of uncertainty and hope swirling within you. “But I don’t wanna mess it up.”

Turning to look at him, you found Toji already staring back, his expression a mix of understanding and anticipation. “I’ve been through a lot of stuff that changed me mentally," you continued, your voice soft with vulnerability. "I mean, what if I’m not enough for you?”

Toji reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “You are more than enough,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “We've both been through our share of ups and downs, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. We can work through whatever comes our way, together.”

"And how are you so sure?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes.

"Because," Toji replied, his hands reaching up to gently cup your cheeks, his touch warm and reassuring, "I love you, and I don't want to let you slip away so easily, again."

After so long, he had finally said it. "I love you." Those words, so simple yet so meaningful, meant everything to you. Coming from Toji, they carried even more weight, knowing how it was never easy for him to express his feelings so openly.

His words washed over you, carrying with them a sense of sincerity and devotion that you couldn't ignore. As he wiped away the small tear that slipped down your cheek, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his love, you knew that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

You couldn't help but notice the small promise ring wrapped around his finger—the one you gave him, the one he never wore because he was too busy wearing his old wedding band. But here he was, wearing the promise ring now.

The sight filled you with a mixture of surprise and warmth. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about his commitment to you, about his willingness to let go of the past and embrace the present with you.

As you looked at the ring, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "You still have it..." you murmured, your fingers gently tracing the ring on his finger. “Why would I not?” Toji replied, his eyes filled with sincerity and love.

"We can't change the past," you said softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of sadness and determination. "But we can choose how to move forward from here."

Toji couldn't believe his luck. Here you were, back in his bedroom, with his clothes on, fresh from the shower. It felt surreal, like a dream he never thought would come true.

As he watched you, a sense of gratitude washed over him, mingled with a hint of disbelief. The past had been filled with so much pain and uncertainty, but now, in this moment, there was only the soft glow of the lamplight and the comforting presence of you beside him.

With Megumi peacefully sleeping in his own room, the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside. It was a moment of stillness, of peace, that Toji knew he would cherish forever.

As he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace, he whispered  "I love you, and I was a fool for letting you go," Your heart swelled at his words, hearing the vulnerability and honesty in his voice. It was a confession you had longed to hear, a validation of the love that had never truly faded, despite the distance and the pain.

"I love you too, but it was best for me to leave. You needed to heal," you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and sadness.

Toji's expression softened as he listened to your words, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I know," he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush away the tears that fell down your cheeks. "And I'm sorry for everything you had to go through because of me."

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. "It wasn't your fault," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "We both needed time apart to find ourselves again. And now, here we are, together."

Toji's eyes traced every feature on your face, filled with admiration and longing. Leaning in, he pressed a small, tender kiss on your pink, plump lips. The kiss was filled with longing and desire, a silent expression of the love that had never truly faded.

Pulling away, he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with affection and a hint of uncertainty. But before he could say anything, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. The world around you faded away as your bodies pressed against each other, the sensation of his lips moving against yours sending shivers down your spine.

His body hovered over yours, the cushion beneath you sinking as you melted into each other's embrace. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment and the intensity of your love. 

Toji's hands made their way under the shirt you wore, gently sliding it off you, revealing your bare breasts. His eyes wandered over your exposed skin, filled with desire and longing. But then his gaze landed on your wrist, something he hadn't noticed before due to the coverage of your shirt.

"Toji..." you whispered, your voice filled with apprehension.

His heart felt heavy as he saw the burn marks on your wrist, a painful reminder of the struggles you had faced in his absence. Guilt gnawed at him as he realized the depth of your pain, the scars left behind by wounds he couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out to gently trace the marks with his fingertips. "I never knew..."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him, seeing the regret and sorrow reflected in his gaze. You caressed his cheeks, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm better," you reminded him softly, wanting to ease the weight of his guilt.

You leaned in to kiss him, the urgency and intensity of your desire evident in the messy, passionate embrace. Your tongues danced together, a symphony of longing and love as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace.

You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, a silent invitation for him to slide them off. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. You eagerly nodded, your desire evident in the way your eyes met his with unwavering determination. There was no doubt in your mind—you wanted this, needed this, more than anything.

With a small smile, Toji reached down, slowly sliding off his sweatpants, revealing his cock. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he moved closer, his body now fully exposed to your hungry gaze.

As he hovered over you, his eyes filled with love and desire, you felt a rush of excitement course through you. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the raw, unbridled passion that consumed you both.

With a passionate intensity, Toji thrust into you, his movements filled with love and urgency. As he kissed your scars tenderly, each touch was a silent declaration of his love and devotion.

With each thrust, you felt the weight of his love pressing into you, a reminder that you were not alone, that he was here with you, sharing in every moment of pleasure and intimacy.

Your soft moans filled his ears, your voice whispering his name like a prayer. "Ah, Toji..." The sound of your pleasure sent a shiver down his spine, his heart fluttering with a mixture of desire and disbelief.

He had dreamed of this moment, of having you here in his arms, but now that it was real, it was more than he could have ever imagined. The intimacy between you was a testament to the depth of your connection, a bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations you had faced.

As his lips moved over your skin, tracing the marks left behind by your past pain, you felt a sense of healing wash over you. In his embrace, you found solace and reassurance, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, stronger than ever before.

That night, after the heat of passion had cooled and the world outside faded into darkness, Toji held you tightly in his arms as you both drifted off to sleep. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, the fear of being apart from you once more haunting his thoughts.

With you nestled against his chest, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, a reassurance that as long as you were here, everything would be alright. He held you close, wanting to savor every moment, every breath, knowing that tomorrow wasn't promised.

As he listened to the steady rhythm of your breathing, he whispered “I love you”. In this moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace and comfort in the warmth of your love.

Toji's heart sank as he woke up to find no sight of you beside him. For a moment, panic gripped him as he feared that you might have left. But then, to his relief, he heard laughter echoing from the kitchen, the sound of your voice mingling with Megumi's.

As Toji stood from a distance, watching you and Megumi messily making pancakes together, a warm feeling spread through his chest. Megumi sat on the counter, attempting to mix the batter while you smiled, taking pictures, your laughter filling the room.

Toji couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you, wearing his shirt that barely reached your mid-thigh, with flour messily in your hair, likely due to Megumi's enthusiastic mixing. The sight of you, so carefree and nurturing with his own child, stirred something deep within Toji.

It was a moment of realization for him, a moment when he knew with certainty that he wanted to have his own children with you. Seeing you act so motherly towards Megumi filled him with a sense of longing and anticipation for the future. He imagined how wonderful it would be to have a family of his own, to see you as the mother of his children, to share in the joys and challenges of parenthood together.

"Daddy!" Megumi's excited voice rang out, and Toji couldn't help but smile as he watched his son.

You turned to Toji, your face lighting up with a radiant smile that seemed to glow like an angel to him. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted him affectionately as he approached, your warmth wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

Toji's arm instinctively wrapped around your waist as he leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your shoulder. In that moment, surrounded by the love of his family, he felt a sense of contentment and gratitude wash over him.

As he looked at you and Megumi, he knew that this was where he belonged, with the two of you by his side. And as he savored the warmth of your embrace and the love that filled the room, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Epilogue 

"DAD! SHE'S WALKING!" Megumi exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. Your eyes glistened with tears of joy as your beautiful daughter took her first steps towards you.

Toji felt his heart warm at the sight, a sense of pride and love swelling within him. He quickly took out his phone to record the moment, just as he had done when Megumi had started walking.

As he watched his daughter take those tentative steps, her tiny hands reaching out for support, Toji felt a sense of wonder and awe. In that moment, he realized how much his life had changed, how much richer and fuller it had become with you and his children in it.

As his daughter finally reached you, her face lighting up with a smile that mirrored your own, Toji knew that this was a moment he would cherish forever. And as he wrapped his arms around you and his children, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family he had been blessed with.

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[sweetiecutie]

Underbed monster! Simon who was absolutely delighted when you first moved in. Such a pretty little thing, so sensitive to subtle change in aura whenever he stirred under your mattress, making you throw a concerned look around your room, trying to figure out what exactly it was that disturbed you. How, he was going to have so much fun with you!

Underbed monster! Simon who just can’t help himself from looming over you while you sleep, carving every smallest detail of your cute face into his memory. Can you blame him tho? Not when you’re all soft and vulnerable before him, smacking and pouting those puffy lips as creature’s presence caused your dreams to take a darker turn. Your fear tasted delightful.

Underbed monster! Simon to whom you’ve woken up quite a few times, looking up straight into those red glowing eyes until your sleep paralysis worn off, this creature disappearing immediately after you finally regained your ability to move. But you never thought too deep into that. After all he was just a figment of your imagination, right?

Underbed monster! Simon who started to grow fond of you rather quickly. He liked it how tidy you were, not intruding his space with empty bottles and whatever else trash - unlike past inhabitants of this house. He quite literally lived for nights when you were restless in your bed, finally giving up and opening a drawer of your bedside, retrieving pink dildo from within. Slowly but surely Simon shifted his diet from negative emotions from the nightmares he was causing to your positive, way sweeter feelings. Oh how delicious your pleasure was, Ghost literally purred while absorbing all the joy every orgasm brought you, your moans being too aloud for you to hear any strange grumbling.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally dared to touch you months after you moved into his place. He picked the perfect moment for it, right when you were on the very edge between reality and daydream, mind barely comprehending what was real and what was not. His black smokey tentacles crawled up from under the bed, slowly making their way to you plastered on your soft mattress, gently wrapping himself around your ankles. You paid no mind, mild coolness felt good against your hot skin, so you didn’t even think into it.

So underbed monster! Ghost shamelessly continued, his tentacles boldly slithering up your shins and then to your plush thighs, soon sliding under the hem of your panties. Wrapping himself around your clit and stuffing your pussy full of his appendages, literally purring at the taste of your pleasure mixed with slick, how blissful your velvety walls felt against him.

The next morning you woke up, only recalling some snippets of embarrassingly good wet dream you had, your cunny strangely sore, slick and overstimulated.

Underbed monster! Simon who has so many delightful and pleasurable things planned for you two, you just wait<3

Part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Requests are open<3

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 

DING DING DING 

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 

“Then why is this happening?” 

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 

“Hm? Who’re you?” 

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 

“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 

“Two minutes.” 

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 

 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 

“Why are you being annoying-” 

“Who were you talking to” he chides.  

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 

 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 

He promised. 

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 

“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  

“So, um.” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 

“Sorry. For what I said.” 

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 

“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“I know.” you reassure.  

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?”  he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

[strawmaerry]

gojo & megumi. | g. satoru

gojo satoru bringing home fushiguro megumi was something you did not anticipate of.

you were cooking a welcome home food for your menace, satoru, when he startled you with his teleportation and a frowning kid.

“hello to my prettiest girl, the love of my life, the light in the dar—”

you shushed him. “i thought you work as a sorcerer, never thought you would take kidnapping as a part time job.”

he pouted. he had the audacity to be offended. “excuse me?! how dare you accuse me of such blasphemous claim?”

you shrugged, used to his outrageous reactions. “well, you’re definitely the type of man that my mom warned me about. those guys who would entice you with candies just to get in a van?” you looked at him, up and down, “yup, that’s you.”

before he could answer, you heard a snicker from the kid. your lips slightly curled up before raising an eyebrow at your irritating (affectionately) boyfriend.

“oh,” he stupidly realized, “this is megumi, i’ve bought him from an auction.”

megumi kicked satoru’s shin and he pretended to be hurt. the spiky-haired boy dusted off the invisible particles on his clothes.

you snorted before going back to cooking dinner.

“so, tell me why you decided to change career that involves kidnapping children?”

“well, i wanted to practice on how to take care of a child when we decided to have one.”

you accidentally put your hand over the burning stove and satoru practically flies to you. he basically becomes a mother hen as he blows your hands.

“[name]! oh my god, what happened?”

you go to the sink to wash your hands as you blankly stare at your burning hands. oh man, you think your hearing is deteriorating. you’re hearing some things that are… impossible.

“satoru, you’re not funny.”

satoru, who has the most alabaster skin, pales. he’s hearing his government name. not ‘toru, baby, pretty boy, my husband.

“haha, pretty baby, what do you mean? i’m always funny. ha. ha.”

“don’t kid around like that. you know our job is…” you trail off, unable to continue the sentiment.

in a world where you attend more funerals than birthdays; you greet more corpse than people; having to work under those ungrateful elders, tomorrow is uncertainty, so you try to enjoy the present as much as you’re alive.

he seems confused for a moment before a dawning realization etches on his face. his eyes soften before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i really wanna see you carry my babies, y’know? wanna see you round and full an—okay! i know we’re still not finish in school but whenever i see my future, i see you in it. i see us together. i see us forever and i want that. i don’t want to live in a life without your presence. you brought me so much joy if you weren’t crying right now, i would be on my knees begging for you to take me. make me your one and only. make me the happiest and luckiest man on earth because that’s my only purpose why i was born in this cruel, yet beautiful world. i live for you.”

tears run down on your cheeks as you hear satoru’s honest thoughts about his joke. oh my god, how did a simple joke turn into an almost-but-not-quite proposal?

you cradle his face between your hands and kiss his sweet, soft lips that utter nothing but devotion to you. you feel him smile against yours.

[suntoru]

(PARENT)HESIS ON LOVE!

— SYNOPSIS: gojo has always been the one babied; although now that you're pregnant, the roles have been reversed.

— WARNINGS: pregnant reader, fluff, hormones, insecurities about getting bigger, referred as mama once or twice, not proofread, a bit of crying, 1k words

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i'm cooking i swearrrrrrrrrr i'm too sad to write

gojo satoru is completely infatuated with you, especially now that you're carrying his child. every little thing about you seems to sparkle with an extra layer of beauty in his eyes; the way your skin seems to glow with an ethereal radiance, and how you've become increasingly dependent on him lately, fills him with a sense of pride.

and oh, his favouritest thing in the world is the way you waddle around the house, so cutely, letting out tiny grunts of effort to get around. normally, you're the one taking care of him, but lately, he's been the one doting on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. he's so mindful, always making sure to take extra care, especially now that your mood swings are coming in at full force.

"you're so beautiful," he whispers to you, his eyes brimming with admiration as he gazes at you. his hand gently rests against your swollen stomach, his touch tender and soft. feeling a tiny kick from the baby, he can't contain his joy. "our baby's getting so big," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and adoration.

however, despite his pure intentions, hormones wreak havoc on your emotions, causing your mood to plummet suddenly. his innocent remark triggers a surge of insecurity and sensitivity within you.

"are you calling me big?" you mumble, your doe eyes welling up with tears as you struggle to hold back your emotions. crossing your arms defensively, you glare up at him, the hurt evident in your expression.

yet, gojo remains remarkably patient, his demeanor unwaveringly gentle as he responds to your emotional outburst. he never raises his voice or shows even a hint of frustration, instead choosing to shower you with affection and understanding. with a soft smile, he leans down to press a tender kiss to your swollen belly, his lips conveying all the love and reassurance he feels for both you and the precious life growing inside you.

"you know that's not what i meant," he reassures, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. as your grumpiness begins to surface, he remains by your side, tenderly massaging your sore legs, smiling up at you gently. with a sniffle, you push him away, your lips forming a stubborn pout as tears stream down your cheeks.

"go away," you sob, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. "i don't wanna see your face right now." he sighs softly, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he cups your face with infinite tenderness.

"do you really want me to go?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern, his willingness to leave evident in his earnest gaze if it would even bring you an ounce of peace. the thought of him leaving, even temporarily, fills you with a sense of emptiness and longing.

"no," you sniffle, longing to be held in his arms but hindered by the growing bump of your stomach. you sulk over the fact that you can no longer fit perfectly into his embrace like before, and how your increased appetite and mood swings must be testing his patience. insecurity grips you tightly as you think about how tired he must be of your constant ups and downs, from holding your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness to enduring your emotional outbursts. the fear of burdening him weighs heavily on your heart, and before you know it, fresh tears cascade down your cheeks.

"i'm sorry..." you sob, feeling utterly overwhelmed by your emotions, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your cheeks. "i'm fat, and... and ugly now, and i've been so mean to you lately..." your voice breaks as you unload your insecurities onto his sleeve, seeking solace in his comforting presence. frowning with concern, gojo gently brushes your hair behind your ears, his touch tender as he pulls you closer into his lap.

"hey, what are you talking about? you aren't any of those." he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of your emotions.

"b-but... i can't even tie my own shoes without help because i'm big..." you snivel, hiccupping between words. he continues to stroke your head with a gentle rhythm, allowing you to cry freely against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his expensive shirt.

"you're carrying a literal human being in you; of course you'd get a little bigger," gojo reasons, his words carrying a reassuring weight. despite your doubts and fears, he remains steadfast in his support, his unwavering love evident in the earnest gaze he directs towards you. "but that doesn't mean i love you less. you always are, and will be, my pretty girl," he adds, his smile radiating warmth and affection, a beacon of reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. feeling unworthy of such devotion, you struggle to comprehend how someone as incredible as gojo could love you so unconditionally. his declaration of love washes over you like a gentle wave, soothing your battered soul with its sincerity.

"i love you, yeah?" he whispers, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back in a tender attempt to calm your racing heart. you nod softly, finding comfort in his embrace, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he kisses away your tears, his touch soothing your soul. "you're perfect," he murmurs against your cheek, his voice filled with adoration as he peppers your face with gentle kisses.

"our baby's lucky to have you as its mama." you cling onto him as if he's your lifeline, his presence grounding you amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. with each whispered word he rambles to the life growing within you, he fills the air with promises of love and protection, his hand caressing your swollen belly tenderly.

"hey there, little one," he coos, his voice filled with anticipation. "you behave for mama, okay? we can't wait to meet you."

© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Ryomen Sukuna getting on his knees for his wife

Pairing: Sukuna x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: For more than 500 years, you waited for your husband's return. When he finally shows himself again in Shibuya, he can't help but worship his wife the way she deserves it

Warnings: no smut but this is a tease y'all, language, violence, Jogo (lmao), this is just Sukuna hehe

You can’t help but smile to yourself, the intoxicating smell of death and agony filling you with nothing but joy. Oh, how much you long to finally see your husband again, to feel his arms wrapped around your body. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? A few hundred years, maybe more. They were too keen to keep him from finding a new vessel, to come back into your open arms. But you’ve waited.

A huff escapes your lips. And now is finally the time to greet him again.

Without gifting them a single look, you walk past all those disgusting humans begging for their lives, the floor plastered in crimson. Is he responsible for this?

“Such a mess”, you mutter to yourself, a shiver of excitement running down your spine.

It has to be him, without any doubt. When you heard about his awakening, felt the fear that ran through the jujutsu community, you knew it was Sukuna. Good that brat decided to swallow his fingers you preserved so carefully for this exact moment.

You stroll into the train station of Shibuya that radiates so much unpromising energy that it’s hard to keep your cool composure. Where is he? What is he doing? Surely, he has a masterplan in his head already. But where is he?

“You.”

With a swift motion, you pin the strongest curse nearby against a wall, staring right into his widen eye.

You. Jogo has no idea who you are and where you came from. But he didn’t feel your presence until know, wasn’t even able to see you with your movements being so fast. Are you a special grade curse?

No, you have to be way above that level – way above him.

“Who are you?”

“You’re not in the position to ask questions. Where’s Sukuna?”

That threatening tone in your voice along with the sheer power you radiate. You…You…

Are you the queen of curses, Sukuna’s wife?

“I’m…I’m searching for him as well.”

It’s a miracle Jogo was able to press out a response, given the way your eyes are darted towards him. There were always rumours about your existence, that the king of curses himself has in fact a wife. But no one ever saw you, no one really believes that someone like him would fall for something pathetic like love.

“Then go ahead. I’m waiting.”

But oh he does. Your sheer presence is proof alone. His feet carry him down the hallways of Shibuya train station by themselves, the frightening sound of your sky-high heels against the floor sending shivers down his spine in waterfalls. One wrong movement, one unthoughtful word, one change of mind and he’s dead. Wiped from this earth forever with a swift motion of your little finger.

“Why are you searching for him, curse?”

Jogo swallows hard, thick fear running through his veins. What is he supposed to do? Lying? No, the chance of you knowing immediately is too high. He can’t afford your resentment.

“I would like to ask him to fight on our side.”

A cruel laughter escapes your lips before he even finished his sentence, cold eyes glaring at the back of his head.

“Listen sweetheart, Sukuna doesn’t do things like favours. But you know what? If you manage to find him, I’ll talk to him about this. After all, you’re here to kill these jujutsu sorcerers, right?”

He doesn’t reply when it hits you with full force. The stinging presence you missed so much these last decades, the unpromising change in the air. You and the curse in front of you stop in your tracks at the same time, eyes darting towards two girls who kneel on the ground.

Above a pink-haired boy, feeding him fingers.

His fingers.

Finally.

“Get away from my husband, girls. He’s already taken.”

A little movement of your fingers is enough to shoot them right into the next wall while you make your way to the puny figure leaning against the wall.

“Take care of them, curse. I need to look after my husband.”

Your usual composed heart almost beats out of your chest when you come near him, the power vibrating through his body becoming stronger and stronger every second. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“Wake up, Mr. Drama. Your wife missed you”, you purr while placing your hand around his delicate neck.

Oh, the way his blood pumps through his veins, the feeling of his useless heartbeat against your tingling fingertips.

“I’m getting impatient, Sukuna.”

Your nails dig into his tender flesh until a trail of blood runs down his neck.

“So impatient…”

Suddenly, you find yourself pressed against the wall Sukuna was laying against just a moment ago, a hand wrapped around your neck.

And then you meet his eyes. The stone-cold red eyes that already caused so much pain, eyes that make every human cry out in sheer panic.

The eyes you longed for every lonely night.

“But I will forgive you. After all, I was gone for quite some time. Right, princess?”

“I’m not your princess”, you mumble against the force of his hand.

Your wrap your longing arms around his neck, pull him even closer, let him choke you even harder. Oh, you want to swallow him whole, want to feel him as close as possible. With a swift motion, you tear away the fabric that hides his upper body from your gaze.

“I’m your queen.”

Sukuna doesn’t waste another minute. His lips find yours. Longingly, passionate, so intense that you threaten to lose balance. His tongue re-discovers your mouth all over again, teeth nibbling on your lips so roughly that blood spills.

“Oh, how much I missed you”, he mumbles against your lips.

His hands roam around your body, hold your waist in place while he gets lost against your intoxicating mouth. The mouth he thought about all this time, the mouth that is capable of doing way more than talking.

“How much I longed to see you again.”

The king of curses gets on his knees, presses his head against your belly, cups your butt with his needy hands.

“Let me worship every inch of your body.”

“Just like you should for keeping me waiting”, you breathe out, a satisfied smile decorating your puffy lips.

“I will make it up to you, darling. When I’m done here, I’m all yours again”, he promises with low voice, still kneeling in front of you.

The world around you goes silent, both girls and Jogo staring at the scene in front of them in sheer disbelief. Is this the king of curses, kneeling in front of a woman and apologizing? This is absolutely impossible, almost absurd.

“You’re always mine, Sukuna”, you reply before pulling him up and getting a taste of him all over again.

“But before that, we should kill everyone around here, am I right?”

His breath caresses your cheek in sheer excitement, eyes soaking you up.

“That’s my wife.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[pinkflower2003]

Little Norris

Lando Norris X Reader

Masterlist - Ask Berry🍓

The sun was shining brightly over the karting track, the air buzzing with excitement and the distinct smell of fuel. Today was a big day for your five-year-old son, Ethan. It was his first competitive karting race, and he couldn't have been more thrilled. Karting had always been a significant part of your family’s life, thanks to his dad, Lando Norris, who was not only an accomplished Formula 1 driver but also Ethan's hero.

Ethan had been talking about this day for weeks, practicing in his miniature kart with an enthusiasm that made Lando beam with pride. The sight of his son in his tiny racing suit, a smaller version of Lando’s, always brought a smile to your face. It was a reminder of how much Ethan idolised his dad, wanting to follow in his footsteps and race just like him.

This morning, as you helped Ethan get ready, Lando hovered nearby, his usual calm demeanor replaced by nervous energy. He was fussing over Ethan’s gear, double-checking everything to ensure it was perfect. You couldn’t help but laugh at his overprotectiveness.

“Lando, relax sweetheart” you said, placing a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing lightly. “Ethan is going to be great.”

Lando smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know. I just want everything to go perfectly for him.”

Ethan, noticing his dad’s anxiousness, looked up and grinned. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m ready!” He said, hugging one of his legs.

Lando crouched down to Ethan’s level, ruffling his hair. “I know you are, buddy. Just remember to have fun out there, okay?”

Ethan nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with excitement. “I will!”

The three of you made your way to the track, where the other young racers were getting ready. Ethan’s kart was positioned in its spot, the bright colors and number 4—a tribute to Lando’s racing number—standing out proudly. Lando’s presence drew some attention from the other parents and kids, but he was focused solely on Ethan.

As the race began, you could see the mix of pride and anxiety on Lando’s face. He was holding his phone, ready to film every moment. The sound of the karts revving up was loud, but not louder than Lando’s cheers as Ethan sped off the starting line.

“Go, Ethan! You’ve got this!” Lando shouted, his voice full of encouragement.

The race was intense, with the little racers showing impressive skills. Ethan was doing exceptionally well, navigating the twists and turns with a determination that mirrored his father’s. Lando’s excitement was palpable; he was the loudest supporter on the sidelines, cheering and offering advice whenever Ethan passed by.

“Keep it up, Ethan! You’re doing amazing!”

As the laps went by, Ethan maintained a strong position. You could see the pride in Lando’s eyes as he continued to film, capturing every moment of Ethan’s performance. The other parents around you smiled at Lando’s enthusiasm, clearly charmed by the famous driver’s devotion to his son.

Finally, the race came to an end, and Ethan crossed the finish line in first place. The crowd erupted in cheers, but none louder than Lando, who was practically jumping up and down with joy.

“He did it! He won!” Lando exclaimed, hugging you tightly, giving you a kiss before rushing over to lift Ethan into the air.

Ethan’s face was a mix of shock and delight as he realised he had won. He beamed down at Lando, who was grinning up at him with tears of pride in his eyes.

“Dad, I did it! I'm just like you!” Ethan shouted, wrapping his arms around Lando’s neck.

“You sure did, champ. I’m so proud of you,” Lando replied, his voice choked with emotion, holding his son, peppering his slightly chubby cheeks with kisses.

As Ethan stood on the podium, holding his little trophy high, Lando took countless photos, capturing the moment from every angle to be able to send to his friends and family. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable, and you knew this was a memory neither of them would ever forget.

----

The following weekend, the excitement continued as the McLaren team had arranged a special surprise for Lando and Ethan. The paddock was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the upcoming race. Lando had his game face on, but there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes, knowing something special was in store. Ethan held onto his hand the whole time before Lando was to race, always wanting to see what was going on, where Lando was going, mimicking his every step.

As you arrived at the McLaren garage, you noticed a small crowd gathered, including team members and a few media personnel. In the center of the commotion was a miniature version of Lando’s racing gear—complete with a custom McLaren karting suit and helmet, all designed for Ethan.

Lando’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “What’s all this?” he asked, turning to the team with with a grin, Ethan saw too, his eyes widening to the size that you thought they could almost pop out of his head.

One of the team members stepped forward, holding the tiny suit. “This is for Ethan. We thought he deserved something special after his big win. YN told his all about it.” They said, smiling, as the rest of the team began clapping for your son.

Ethan’s eyes lit up as he saw the suit. “Is this for me?” he asked, looking up at Lando with wonder.

Lando knelt down to him, taking the suit and holding it up. “It sure is, buddy. Now you can look just like me when you race.”

Ethan’s excitement was contagious as he quickly put on the suit, the team helping him with the final adjustments. He looked up at Lando, who was beaming with pride.

“How do I look, Daddy?” Ethan asked, striking a pose.

“You look like a champion,” Lando replied, ruffling Ethan’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

The team then lifted Ethan into the air, chanting his name in celebration. “Little Norris! Little Norris!” they cheered, making Ethan giggle with delight. The reporters snapped photos, capturing the heartwarming moment between father and son.

As the race day progressed, Ethan stayed by Lando’s side, proudly wearing his new gear. The sight of the two of them together brought smiles to everyone’s faces, and the bond between them was evident to all.

Before Lando’s race began, he knelt down to Ethan’s level, looking into his eyes. “I’m going to be just like you were last weekend and try my hardest out there. Think you can cheer for me?”

Ethan nodded vigorously. “I’ll be the loudest, just like you were for me!”

Lando chuckled, hugging Ethan tightly. “That’s my boy.”

As Lando took his place on the grid, he glanced over to where you and Ethan were standing. You had put your son on your shoulders so he could see his daddy clearer. Ethan was waving enthusiastically, his small figure standing out in the crowd with his bright McLaren suit. Lando felt a surge of motivation, knowing his biggest fans were watching.

The race was intense, but Lando drove with a renewed sense of determination. Each lap was a testament to his skill and dedication, and he could hear Ethan’s cheers echoing in his mind, pushing him to do his best.

When the checkered flag waved, Lando crossed the finish line in third place. It wasn’t a win, but it was a hard-fought podium finish, and he felt immense pride as he made his way to the podium.

Ethan was waiting for him, beaming with excitement. As Lando stood on the podium, holding his trophy, he spotted Ethan in the crowd, waving and cheering. He lifted his trophy high, pointing towards Ethan, who was shouting with joy.

After the ceremony, Lando made his way over to Ethan, scooping him up into a hug. “You were amazing out there, Daddy!” Ethan exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration.

“You’re the amazing one, Ethan,” Lando replied, kissing the top of his son’s head. “You’re my inspiration.”

The reporters captured the touching moment, the sight of Lando and Ethan together melting hearts around the world. It was a testament to the unbreakable bond between father and son, both on and off the track.

As the sun set over the circuit, you stood with Lando and Ethan, feeling a sense of contentment and pride. The journey of karting had only just begun for Ethan, but with Lando’s support and love, you knew he was in for an incredible ride.

LandoNorris: Little Norris having more wins than me. Love you champ, prouder than I ever thought I could’ve been.

View all comments

Mclaren: Our favourite Norris (other than YN)

LandoNorris: ouch? but also same

OscarPiastri: do you guys have the same size racing suits?

YNNorris: Lando’s is a bit smaller than Ethan’s, Ethan keeps growing and Lando keeps shrinking, have to swap them all the time🙄

LandoNorris: this was suppose to be a nice post for our son and you continue to try and roast me. Rude.

DanielRicciardo: LITTLE NORRIS!! future world champ🗣️

CarlosSainz: proud of my godson ❤️

CharlesLeclerc: wtf since when were you his godfather??

YNNorris: since never, we just let him live the delusion

CarlosSainz: you told me I was allowed to be godfather?😖

LandoNorris: we just told you that so you’d stop asking us

CarlosSainz: who is his godfather tf?

OscarPiastri: hi, i think you would find that’s me

CarlosSainz: HIM???

F1: Future world champ right there, we love having him around and can’t wait to see his future❤️🏎️

[neuvistar]

AN ANGEL’S GIFT.

— featuring ┊sunday x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! not proofread, cunnilingus, he plays w ur tits lol (t!tplay), established relationship, use of nicknames, mentions of breeding wooopeee (not rlly tbh its jus him yapping abt angel babies) a lil rushed but it’s okay! pt 2 will be out when i’m not lazy :3 | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊this might b a bit messy sincd it’s VERY late n i’m half asleep but i’ll correct things tmr! sunday has been on my mind 24/7 all day all night all morning it’s actually insanity.. sunday <33 tbh giys this doesn’t rlly have a specific theme.. it’s jus sunday eating u out n yapping abt giving u angel babies… instead of leaving n doing boring work business LMAO (the pt 2 will have more guys trust i’m jus a tad bit lazy..)

“m—more sunday..”

the two of you spent a cherished night together in the hours before his impending departure to meet and discuss matters with the members of the IPC, catching news of them arriving to penacony a few days prior. in all honesty, you wanted this to last as long as it can.. you missed sunday’s touched, and he missed yours. as sunday caressed and kissed your body, your soft squirms and moans filled him with a pleasant sensation of affection for you. the halovian savored the moment as much as he could, cherishing every last bit of intimacy and closeness between the two of you. “you’ve always impressed me, my angel. it brings me pure joy hearing all sorts of sounds leaving your pretty lips.” soft moans that escaped your lips and the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair stirred up a pleasant sensation within him. even the sight of you wrapped up in his arms, his lips kissing your sensitive skin as your body writhes in pleasure, it made him feel the immense satisfaction and fondness between you two. even that, your presence itself brought sunday immense joy, and he made sure to relish every single moment together with you.

"please... don't stop..." your voice cracked slightly, betraying your own need. a chuckle rumbled from your husband’s throat as he leaned in closer. sunday grabbed hold of the hem of your shirt. with one powerful yank, it ripped clean off your body, revealing your lacy bra underneath. you gasped in surprise, your breasts jiggling slightly as they were exposed to his hungry gaze.. he could feel his cock throbbed even harder, practically leaping out of his pants at the sight of your firm breasts.

"so beautiful, my girl.” trailing his tongue along your collarbone, stopping just short of your neck. sunday’s hands moved downwards, roughly palming your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.. aeons, they were soft and supple just like be remembered, heavy with anticipation. “it would be such a wonderful sight see these pretty things leak with milk don’t you think, sweetheart?” with a chuckle of desire, he ripped the bra apart as well, freeing your breasts from their restrictive confines. “think about it, my angel,” he pinched your nipples, earning another sharp gasp from you. “imagine.. your belly round and full with my heirs, your breasts heavy with their milk.”

his hot breath fanning over your sensitive nipples caught you by surprise, his talented tongue traced slow, teasing circles around your nipple, closing his lips around it as he sucked greedily. sunday’s tongue flicked and swirled around the sensitive tip, tasting your flesh.. breathing in your aroma, that same aroma that drove him to the edge. “talk to me, baby. what do you say? do you like the idea of that.. hm?” his hands roamed downward, lifting your skirt and pushing your panties aside in one swift motion, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze.

“hng.. i mean, i’m not against the idea.. it’s just that..” you lost your composure completely when sunday went even lower down to your region, his tongue darted in and out of your folds unexpectedly. “ah.. hey! aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the IPC—“

“shush baby, work can wait.” sunday could feel your arousal building up, your body arched slightly as he continued his brutal attack on your sensitive cunt. his large hands and held your legs wide open, giving him full access to his feast as the wings that protruded from each side of his head tickled your skin. his tongue probed deeper, finding your core and teasing it with quick flicks. you were so vulnerable under him, and it turned him on even more. "i’ll make sure to take good care of you, but remember who's in charge here.. just enjoy my tongue. you should be grateful i’m here giving you attention you wanted for days rather than talking with them.”

your husband’s tongue flickered against your cunt once more, causing you to arch your back slightly. sunday was relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, determined to make you feel good. "you’re so fucking small, angel.. it’s driving me insane." sunday’s voice was muffled by your flesh, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through your body every time his tongue explored every inch of her. "so innocent, yet so brave... fascinating." feeling your warmth envelop his face was like heaven to him, he wanted nothing more than to show you just how much he loved moments like these. the halovian reached up and grabbed your hips, guiding your movements against his face. goodness.. it was like he wanted you to suffocate him. “a place filled with life and chaos... much like your body." he licked and sucked at your folds, the rough muscle of his wetness swirling around your clit , his nostrils breathing in the scent of your arousal.

“to feel my tongue fucking and sucking this perfect little cunt.. this is truly an angel’s gift is it not, my wife?”

[shanieveh]

when im no longer young and beautiful...

— growing old with the genshin men

you both wander the world — kazuha, KAVEH, itto, bennett, TARTAGLIA, kaeya, xingqiu, heizou

Even as years and decades go by, you and him travel the world in order to really feel its beauty. And the best part? Even as your hair color turns gray, you both were still together. And it was the most beautiful part in all your adventures.

Seeing every single part of the world and cherishing all it's glory. You were glad to do it with him, his smile never really changed after all these years. In some cheesy way, in all your adventures his utter joy is the best view.

settling in and starting a family— alhaitham, DILUC, ayato, thoma, TIGHNARI, gorou, tartaglia

It probably is adopting or other means, but with him you finally have family. Full of cheers, full of parenting but always full of love. Every day you were never alone, there was never an instance where you felt unwanted. Home. That was one word to describe it.

But watching all your little babies grow up was the hardest part, and as they all go on and live their lives he was still there. Doing the same lovey dovey gestures he did when you first fell in love, when you married, and when you grow old in each other's arms.

living a quiet life— kaeya, xiao, THOMA, tighnari, CYNO, dainsleif, SCARAMOUCHE, KAVEH, albedo

Both of you have gone through so much, and this domestic bliss is really the heaven. The happy ending. Everyday growing the plants to eat, doing laundry, cleaning the dishes. These little mundane tasks, just being in each other's presence. No one to bother you, no more pain. Just... peace.

Even as time fades by like sunsets in the afternoon, it never really got boring. Just living in a simple house, sleeping in an always disorganized bed. Playing with the little kids in the farm. You couldn't ask for anything else, with him by your side you couldn't ask for anything more. Because what else can you even ask for when this is enough.

still acts like young couples— kaeya, ALHAITHAM, xingqiu, VENTI, heizou, itto, cyno, ZHONGLI

It doesn't matter even if wrinkles cover your face, he would still kiss every part of you. The same over the top pet names. Still twirling you around like your first date. Still sharing the same straw in your favorite drink. Sometimes people would share a look of judgment but he really didn't care.

Dancing in the rain, the water droplets as your very own music. Laughter as your melody. 5 years.. turned to 20 years turned to 30 years. Even then the dance never had actual steps, more so the tapping and intimacy of two soulmates in the comfort of the rain.

BONUS: visiting your grave— scaramouche, VENTI, zhongli, xiao, DAINSLEIF, pierro, albedo

Knowing that one day his immortality would catch up, he cherished every single day with you. And for a very long time he never had been so happy—so content. Looking at your grave, one that he himself carved your favorite flowers. Making a garden surrounding it. It became more of a haven for him, rather than a mouring spot.

He was grateful for everything, the memories, the time even if finite, and you. His mind always full of war for a minute... finally became happy. He finally learned to be grateful for what he had. And even years after your death, he was still so glad... that you grew old with him.

[harryspet]

homestead | r.cameron [p.2]

[warnings]dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, NONCON, unprotected sex, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.4k

In which you confront Rafe's unsettling mix of tenderness and manipulation.

part one

Your search of the room for anything useful as a weapon was not fruitful. Most drawers were empty except for clothes. You found more pairs of pajamas and nightgowns, but searching the closet only yielded a few hung sundresses. The bathroom was simple, with a clawfoot tub and another window looking out onto green pastures. On the bathroom counter, you found a wicker basket full of what you assumed were newly bought essentials. Several containers of prenatal vitamins, body washes and creams for sensitive skin, panty liners, Epsom salts, and essential oils. 

Rafe Cameron thought of all of this?

The window offered a view of the other side of the house and a large white barn and Rafe’s blue pickup truck caught your eye. You stepped into the tub to get a closer look out the window. Maybe you could see a road, a way out of here, or even a street sign that might tell you where you were. Just like the bedroom windows, they didn’t budge either. 

The bedroom door swings open once more, and you sink into the empty tub, your head cradled in your hands as you desperately try to force your mind to function. For the sake of your baby, you need to think clearly. The overwhelming situation presses down on you, making it even harder to process what’s happening. You can sense his presence in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I made scrambled eggs,” He said. 

“They make me sick,” You said stoically, “Haven’t eaten them in months.”

“Good to know,” His tall, broad figure stood over you before you heard him kneel down beside the tub, “I also brought yogurt and fresh fruit. How does that sound?”

“All the windows are locked.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said as if it were normal, “I know you’re hungry. You need your strength. I don’t have to remind you why.”

You looked up to see his hand offering a white bowl filled with yogurt, fresh blueberries, and strawberries. He was right—you needed your strength. If not for the baby, then to gather the energy to escape. Perhaps you could think more clearly on a full stomach. You gazed at the food for a full minute, trying to rationalize why you should accept it, wrestling with the cognitive dissonance that churned within you.

You took it from his hands without a thank you and stirred your spoon about twenty times before finally bringing it to your mouth. It tasted heavenly, which you hated. “There’s the cutest farmer’s market a couple of miles from here. The blueberries are incredible but you gotta get there early on Sunday before they’re sold out.”

You met his eyes for a brief moment and realized they were sparkling with joy. You didn’t have to respond to him, he’d happily talk to himself as long as he felt like he was making some progress with you. You couldn’t let me feel that way for long, “You’ve outdone yourself, Rafe, really.”

“Just want you to be comfortable,” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, “It’s a lot right now, I know that.”

“A lot,” you scoffed, bitterness laced throughout your tone. “This is insane.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, whatever it was, “You’re safe here. Your baby’s safe here. There’s plenty of room, plenty of food, and you’d never have to work a real jon. You haven’t even seen everything yet, but it’s beautiful. It’s a great place to raise a kid.”

“Rafe, you took the choice away from me.”

He shook his head, “So what? I saved you from suffering even further. Not even a little part of you regrets choosing JJ?”

You went quiet, feeling your temper rising. Instead of responding, you brought another spoonful to your mouth. He didn’t understand why this was so completely wrong, and presenting him with common sense didn’t seem to be working. 

“I love you, Y/N,” He spoke as if to get your attention, but you didn’t meet his eyes this time, “Don’t start thinking anyone’s coming to save you, Y/N. And you won’t overpower me or make it far running. Not in your condition. You know that.”

You knew that, didn’t you? Clearly, JJ didn’t care enough about you to do better. And Pope had a bright future ahead of him. Maybe he’d realize he was better off without you. What were you to do now? Give in when you’ve just realized that Rafe is a monster?

“Finish your food, I’ll be back later,” When you looked again he had the plate in hand and was walking away, not without loudly shutting the door. 

Your head tilted back against the cold porcelain. This would turn out to be a game of endurance. You had to outlast him and perhaps outthink him. He’d been planning to bring you here for weeks, but he couldn’t have planned for everything. 

You finished your food and then spent the next few hours exploring the room in more detail, ensuring you hadn’t missed any detail. After all that time, the only new discovery that you make is under the bed. Still, in its packaging, you find a pregnancy pillow. You wouldn’t admit that you felt a small comfort at the sight of it. Sleeping had started to feel completely uncomfortable over the past few weeks, and you woke up painfully sore each morning.

It felt wrong when you knew it shouldn’t. In the meantime, you’d also take some of the prenatal vitamins. You could only afford one bottle of the generic brand, but Rafe provided several different types. Taking multiple kinds meant you weren’t missing any nutrients your baby might need. In just a matter of hours, you were starting to realize all that you didn’t have. 

You unzipped the pillow from its packaging, letting yourself feel the soft material against your chest. Although the knock at the door wasn’t loud, it startled you. Rafe appeared now in work boots, jeans, and a flannel. He held the doorknob in his hand and looked you over as if he hadn’t just seen you or picked out the exact outfit he wanted to see you in. You noticed he was even taller in those boots.

“What do you think?” He gestured to the pillow.

“Looks expensive,” You said simply.

“It had the best reviews,” he added, “You’ll have to let me know how you like it tomorrow morning.”

You stared back at him, shifting on your feet. "Can I show you something?" he asked, the door still wide open. A chance to leave. Of course, you’d take it. Faking compliance, you carefully stepped towards him. As you crossed the threshold of your room, you allowed him to place a hand on the small of your back. "The room right next door," he said.

Your eyes were anywhere but that door. You were scoping out the entire hallway. There were two more doors across the hallway, perhaps one of them was Rafe’s, and you spotted the staircase. The walls were painted a muted beige and adorned with several rustic paintings. The scent of mahogany lingered in the air, likely one of Rafe’s attempts to make this place feel like a home rather than a prison. You couldn’t turn your head far as Rafe was urging you forward. 

“I’ve been working on something,” When Rafe opened the door, you stepped inside a brand new nursery room, “Rose helped with the decorations, but  I can change anything that you don’t like.”

The wallpaper was decorated with blue flowers and little woodland creatures. A wooden crib sat in the corner, a white canopy draping right next to a rocking chair. The window on the far side of the room also looked out onto green pastures. Shelves on the walls were already adorned with toys and baby books. It was surreal. Beautiful and horrifying. You clutched your chest as you slowly walked around the room. 

“Rafe,” was all you could manage to say.

“I didn’t get a lot of clothes yet. I knew you’d want to pick those out,” His arms raised up, scratching his head as if he was nervous to see your reaction. Over the crib, you noticed the space-themed mobile you had picked out at the store gently hanging down. "It’s a good start, right?" he added, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s literally perfect,” You couldn’t lie at that moment, “Rafe, d-do you really think I would be that horrible of a mom on my own?”

“No,” He rushed out, his face falling, “What? No, I don’t think that.”

“I could never give my baby anything like this.”

He came closer, but you stepped back, “That’s not what I’ve been trying to say with all of this. I think you’d be a great mom. You’re gonna be a great mom.”

You needed to hear those words. Maybe Rafe was the wrong source but you needed that confirmation. In a moment of weakness, you let him closer. He wiped your tears as they began to fall, “It’s not about what you have, but I’m telling you that I won’t let you do it on your own,” He wrapped his arm around your waist and tear-eyed, and you let your head rest on his chest, “I’ll take care of every little worry. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“If you really care about me,” you said softly, letting him run his hands over your hair. “You’ll let me make my own choices.”

“Y/N–”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done. I really do,” You lied, “And I want this. I promise. I know JJ is no good for me or the baby. Could you just give me a little bit more time?”

“You’ll go back to him,” Rafe said. His grip on your waist tightened, and you pulled your head away from his chest, gazing up at him. 

“It’s not your baby. You know that, right?” It was the wrong thing to say. His nostrils flared, and your heartbeat quickened. There was no reeling it back, so you pressed him further, “Even if we don’t end up together, I wouldn’t keep his baby from him. That’s wrong.”

“What he’s done to you is worse.”

“You’re right,” You said, trying to maintain the calm, “I know that now. And I understand that you care about me-”

“Do you understand? Really understand? Huh?” 

“Rafe-” You pushed at his chest, and he grabbed your wrists tightly. Your eyes widened as you struggled against him, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Powerless, he held you there, “I’d love your baby like it was mine, I would. And soon after, we could have our own. That’s what I want, for us to be a family,” Each word was low, tight, and controlled as he glared down at you. 

“Okay,” You agreed, scared more than anything, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll show you,” He was completely cold now, “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you. How you deserve to be treated. Everything I can give you. Then you’ll see, huh?”

He forced you down to the plush blue carpet with his body weight. You weren’t used to how your center of gravity had shifted, how your belly was also keeping you from being able to push back against him, “Please,” You said over and over again, your arms flailing until he pinned them above your head. You were out of breath already, and you had to slow your movementsand stop your struggling just to catch your breath. In this position, the baby is pressed against your further against your diaphragm, “Rafe, don’t.”

He just looked at you hungrily, grunting as he pulled down your bottoms and underwear. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He reached between your legs, and you felt your body freeze, “Fucking gorgeous … I’m so lucky.”

You might’ve swooned in any other context. You were more swollen and much more sensitive, meaning you felt every caress that he made. You didn’t want to, but your head tilted back as he carefully rubbed your sensitive mound, “I’ll make you feel good … haven’t been touched in so long. Daddy’s gonna take care of you,” You told yourself that your body was just reacting, that it didn’t matter how good it felt because you didn’t ask for it. He kept your hands pinned only using one of his, as he used his other to undo his jeans. When he finally freed himself, able to palm his growing hardness through his briefs, he let go of your wrists. On your elbows, you tried to pull yourself away and you caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face. He liked this. Watching you struggle and attempt to crawl away. 

You yelped when he grabbed your hips, pulling you back and lifting them up at the same. He was inside of you before you could fully comprehend it. You could handle it if he thrust hard into you if he destroyed you fast, but Rafe took his time with you. There was no rush or hurry in his movements. He went as deep as you would take him, and his long strokes left you crying out with each one. 

You could handle it if it weren’t personal, but Rafe leaned over you and stared into your eyes with fierce determination. He talked you through every rush of pleasure, “I know, baby,” He’d coo when he knew it was too much, “Feels too good, don’t it?”

“I know you’re gonna cum for me,” He’d say when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head. “Cum all over me, baby,” He said when you finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

When he spilled into you, your body froze again. He cursed, his hips rutting into you. You felt every drop of him, and he didn’t pull out until he’d fully emptied himself inside of you. He sits back on his knees, and you hear him pull up his zipper. 

You flinched when you felt his hand on your thigh again.

“I’m sorry.”

What exactly he was apologizing for, you had no idea.

Rafe had gotten what he wanted because you didn’t speak out of turn once over the next two days. At some point, you expected the cavalry to arrive and come save you, but that hope shrank with each passing day. He invited you out of your room, and each time, you denied it. You easily recalled what happened the last time you left your room. You had all you could mentally handle within the room, and Rafe would bring you all three needed meals and snacks. You were quiet when he started the conversation, but you mustered up a few sentences for him when he grew frustrated at the lack of back and forth. 

You should have been focused on escape, but all you could think about was never letting him do to you again what he had done on the nursery floor. Being pregnant already made you feel like you had no control over your body. Rafe amplified that feeling, making you feel even more vulnerable and easily manipulated given your current state.

You spent most of the day sleeping, punctuated by long baths or staring out the window. Rafe woke up early each morning to tend to chores, the animals, and the early summer harvest. The vast expanse of land meant you didn’t see all the animals during the day, but in the afternoons when he fed Wrangler and Sadie, many of the animals rushed to the fence, hoping for scraps.

“Got you some books,” Rafe said when he came to see you around dinner time. To your disappointment, he wasn’t carrying any dinner with him. He set the stack of books on the dresser before adding, “And I ordered pizza.”

“Thank you,” you said, resting your head back down on your pillow, hoping that meant he’d bring it to you later. 

“Come watch a movie with me, I finally got the surround sound set up.”

“I’d like to eat up here, please?” You asked quietly, “I don’t feel good.”

“You haven’t felt good since you got here.” You let him sit in silence, “You’ll come eat downstairs tonight, Y/N.”

This was the first time you felt he was forcing you out of your room. You didn’t have the courage to upset him, so you lifted yourself out of the bed. He watched you intently, as if waiting for your compliance, aware of your recent streak of obedience. The way the look on his face softened was obvious, and you hated how relieved that made you feel. 

This time, he led you down the staircase, his hand gently guiding the small of your back as you held onto the railings. As you descended, you caught a glimpse of the front door, sunlight streaming in from the setting sun, but Rafe guided you in the opposite direction.

You passed through a large dining area with a substantial dark wooden table near the front of the house, then continued into a cozy living room. A plush sectional couch faced a massive stone fireplace, underneath which neatly stacked firewood awaited use. Above, a large flatscreen TV was mounted on the wall, flanked by windows dressed in simple, cream-colored curtains. Adjacent to the windows, a bookcase filled mostly with DVDs caught your eye.

He took the time to show you the downstairs bathroom and laundry room before leading you to the kitchen, which was located toward the back of the house. It was straight out of a magazine, spacious and well-appointed, complete with a charming breakfast nook. Many of the touches seemed to reflect Rose's influence, and seeing the rest of the house gave you a clearer picture of just how well-off he was.

A box of pizza sat atop the kitchen island, and Rafe pulled out one of the stools for you to sit on.

“You take care of this place all by yourself?” You asked as Rafe helped you into the seat.

“I’ve had some help,” He shrugged, “But I won’t need much help anymore now that you’re here.”

“You’re expecting me to take care of the house?” 

“Someday soon,” he spoke nonchalantly, opening the pizza box. He grabbed a slice straight from it and started eating so you assumed you could do the same. He added with a slightly full mouth, “Better than working at The Wreck.”

You took a bite of your pizza, not wanting to delve into that conversation further. You should’ve known he was expecting you to be a homemaker. Now that you were gonna be a Mom, you didn’t need to have any career aspirations. 

You picked at your slice under his careful eye. This house exuded a warmth that almost drowned out the coldness you felt toward Rafe. You took the time to map out all the windows and doors and the downstairs layout. It kept your mind busy and, combined with the food, provided a helpful distraction. 

“Are you feeling better now?” His voice cut through the silence. 

“I’m fine.”

“You still like those cheesy rom-coms?”

A memory flashed in your mind. You saw Rafe sitting across from you on his bed. A huge party was going on downstairs in Tannyhill, but you and he were upstairs watching a movie. You wanted so badly to show him Enchanted. He didn’t act impressed at the time, but you could tell he liked it because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen. 

“Yeah,” You answered cautiously, though the truth was that you hadn’t had time to enjoy a movie in long time. 

“I happen to have a few Patrick Dempsey movies … if that interests you,” He smiled, trying to tease you. 

“I really should get some rest . . .”

“A movie will help you relax. Just one? C’mon, we can watch Can’t Buy Me Love,” Realizing he wouldn’t let up, you gave in.

You sat on the couch as he moved to set up the movie. You should’ve known that he would sit right next to you, his arm wrapped around the pillows directly behind you, “Relax, enjoy the movie.” He said as the movie’s intro began, and you did your best to appear more like you were. When it wasn’t sufficient, Rafe pulled you closer until you could only lay against his shoulder to be comfortable. You tried to focus on one of your favorite movies and there were moments that night when you completely forgot your circumstance. 

Yet, every additional touch brought you sharply back to reality—whether it was the gentle circles his thumb traced on your arm or the tender kisses he placed atop your head.

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!