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mononijikayu · 19 days ago

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ni yao de ai — ryomen sukuna.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?” And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?” Then it became bigger and bigger. One after the other, he could not shut up. He was, after all, too damn in love. “Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?” And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 6k words.

Note: i'm working on the actor nanami fic, so here is something for you to enjoy while you wait for that. also, i keep thinking about how sukuna would have been like pro-hero bakugo had he not been dating reader. like, he would be so good at volleyball, but he would be so eager to be blunt about absolutely everything and just be so crass, you know??? anyway, our sukuna managed to not be like that, cause he's #1 lover boy first. enjoy this!!! see you in a couple days!! i love you!!! <3

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THIS WAS NOT OUT OF THE ORDINARY NOWADAYS, FOR YOU TO SIT HERE. Your long-time boyfriend, professional volleyball player Ryomen Sukuna, has always been a bit of a big deal. Well, you try to not make it to be but you both know that it is.

He was undeniably talented, incredibly confident, and dangerously charismatic. But it wasn’t until this past year, when he officially made Japan’s national team and became their standout player, that his star practically exploded.

And with that… came you.

You didn’t ask for it at all. The attention, the headlines, the fan-cams. However, by virtue of loving Sukuna, you had become a fair bit of a participant in his stardom. And it wasn’t like Sukuna did it on purpose.

Well, actually he kind of did. Because if there was one thing about your boyfriend, it was that he never shied away from publicly loving you. In fact, he leaned in. Hard.

And you?

You could never say no to him when he asked. Ever. Because you loved him as he is, and that includes loving you. And if supporting him meant occasionally being pulled into the spotlight alongside him. Well… you’d do it a million times over. That’s how much you loved him.

It started small at first.

Little moments here and there.

Well, he tried to ease you into it.

Like when Sukuna played his first international match for Japan, and you sat quietly in the front row with his family. You thought you were being lowkey, just there to support your love. But the cameras caught you. Multiple times. Your face blown up on the jumbotron — smiling, proud, hands clasped in silent prayer every time he served.

Sukuna noticed you on the screen mid-game, and instead of ignoring it like any normal athlete would. And then he would go on and smirk. Then almost like he can’t help it, he winked at you. On live television. You damn near sank into the earth.

The clip instantly blew up on Twitter.

Everyone on the internet lost its mind.

Suddenly there were viral captions like:

“When the national team’s ace makes eye contact with his girl mid-game and winks?????”

“The way he’s SO unapologetically in love I’m crying.”

“The girlfriend has MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY I’m obsessed.”

And you? You just wanted to disappear.

Ryomen Sukuna, on the other hand, ate it up.

“You see how they love us, babe?” he grinned later that night, scrolling through TikTok edits of you two.

“My love, I was literally just sitting there.”

“Nahhh, you were the cutest girlfriend alive.”

“Stop watching the videos, I look like I was going to hurl because of nervousness.”

“Nope. I’m obsessed with us. Sorry, babe.”

But then it started escalating. Almost too quickly. The more Ryomen Sukuna won on the national stage. And the more the media realized he could not shut up about you. The more you started to become a topic. At first, it was small questions during post-game conferences.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?”

And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?”

Then it became bigger and bigger.

One after the other, he could not shut up.

He was, after all, too damn in love.

“Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?”

And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

And suddenly you were trending on Twitter at every single match.

People started calling you “Japan’s National Team Girlfriend”.

There were TikToks like “POV: You’re dating an Olympic-level volleyball player and he’s obsessed with you”. Someone even made a fan account dedicated to you. Some people are making fan accounts about the two of you. It was just insane.

You were horrified about it.

You never expected this.

Sukuna, however, was thriving.

“Babe, you’re famous now.”

“I am just—this is crazy, my love. I didn’t think this for myself.”

“Too bad. You’re dating a national treasure. That makes you one too.”

“You're the only national treasure here, not me—”

“Wrong. We’re a package deal. We always have been, babe.”

“Well, fuck. Looks like I gotta know how to deal with this.” You sighed, leaning into the couch. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” He says, looking at you with those warm loving eyes. “Very much.”

You sighed, moving close to lean into him. “I love you too. Very much.”

And then, of course, came the Vogue interview soon after that.

Sukuna got asked to do a pre-Olympic feature for Vogue Japan. It was going to be a full-blown video interview and magazine spread to highlight him as the country’s volleyball superstar heading to his first Olympic Games.

You didn’t think much of it at first—until Sukuna casually mentioned. “They wanna do a segment with you, too.”

You froze. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, you know….like those….interviews we watch.” Sukuna said it, like it was the most casual thing. “Like a couples segment. You know. Cute shit.”

“Okay, but this is insane. I don’t think I’m good enough to be interviewed for a magazine like Vogue.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most beautiful and smartest person in the world, like the coolest. How could you not be in the magazines?”

“You’re just saying this cause you’re biased.”

“So?” He snickered, leaning closer to you like a cat to his owner. “Isn’t my opinion the only thing that matters?”

“My love, please—”

“Babe, come on. It’ll be fun. Just some quick questions. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Are you sure you want me there?”

“I always want you with me.” He whispers to you, eyes adoringly looking at you. Almost begging. “Please come with me.…I’ll make it worth your while later.”

You can’t say no to him. Not like this. Not ever. You sighed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

And so, here you are now, right beside your boyfriend, in this studio.

The massive studio hummed with quiet energy. You could feel the subtle buzz of camera equipment, the low chatter of the production crew, and the muffled thuds of footsteps as people flitted around making last-minute adjustments.

Despite the growing tension in the room, there was one person who looked like he couldn’t be less bothered and that was Ryomen Sukuna himself. Your beloved Sukuna is now Japan’s top star volleyball player right now.

The man who was about to debut in his very first Olympic Games. And yet he sat there like he was in his living room, entirely unruffled by the cameras or the fact that the world was about to have their eyes glued on him.

To him, this was just like any other day. It was nothing special, nothing worth that much of a fuzz. It’s media day. Well, of course he was with you. That was always something that made him happy.

But the occasion in itself just as it was, like on all work days.

It truly did make sense for him to be like that.

After all, Sukuna had been through enough media circus for the past few years. With all the pre-game conferences, after-game interviews, constant media coverage during training camps.

By now, cameras had become like background noise to him. Even though he wasn’t the most camera-savvy person, he had long accepted that it came with the job. As much as you have.

Though, you know it was just still so insane. This level of fame was not something you expected to see. But well, what can you do? Your boyfriend is an ace at anything he does, and he always will be.

So here he was now, gold chain glinting under the bright studio lights, his long arm draped casually behind your chair as if he had all the time in the world. His thumb, rough, calloused from years of playing was tenderly brushed the curve of your shoulder absentmindedly, warm and familiar. His long legs were spread obnoxiously wide, his knee brushing against yours like it belonged there.

You, however, were fighting down a giggle like you did when you were both younger. It wasn’t fair how good he looked in front of the camera. Your Sukuna was in his official team Japan tracksuit, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.

His messy pink hair was styled back, just enough for his sharp jawline to be obnoxiously prominent and his signature smug grin made it look like he had already won gold before even stepping onto the court.

And then like he could feel you staring, Sukuna leaned toward you.

You raised a brow as you finally noticed his ruby eyes tender on you.

“What? There something on my face?”

“Bet I can answer faster than you, babe.” His voice dropped low, just for you to hear, the gravel in his tone sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You snorted, glancing at him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t embarrass me, my love.”

His grin sharpened, canines flashing. “No promises, babe.”

You groaned to yourself.

You were so screwed.

He’s competitive even on this.

The interviewer settles in her seat across from you both, a friendly smile on her face. “Alright, we’re rolling!” she calls out. “Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The crew claps behind the camera and you and Sukuna stand up, quickly bowing your heads lowly to everyone in the room, greeting them politely one by one. The crew did the same, with eyes full of awe as they both looked at you two as you sat down.

“Alright, hello everyone!” the interviewer finally smiled, straightening in her seat. “We’re here today with Ryomen Sukuna, Japan’s powerhouse volleyball player heading to his very first Olympic Games — and we’ve got his longtime girlfriend, [Your Name], who is also a Astrophysics researcher joining us today!”

Sukuna perked up a little at that introduction, his grin widening. “Renowned, huh?” He turned to you, his voice dropping low, teasing. “Damn, babe. Are you that famous now, my baby?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting down a smile. “Says the Olympic athlete. Let’s not do this, please.”

The interviewer laughed. “We are so excited to have you both here. Thank you for making time despite your hectic schedules — especially you, [Your Name]. I imagine taking a break from Astrophysics research work isn’t easy?”

“Oh—” you started, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I really shouldn’t have gotten a break. I was actually supposed to have a research advisory today…”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brows raising. “Wait—what?”

You blinked. “…Huh, what?”

“You never told me that. I thought you just got permission.” Sukuna scoffed, his head tilting. “Babe, you really have a major advisory today? How the hell did you get off work?”

“Ohhh, yeah…” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah… funny thing about that.”

The interviewer’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

You hesitated and then bit back a smile. “So… My head researcher’s daughter is actually a huge fan of Sukuna. Like, borderline obsessed.”

Sukuna’s brows shot higher. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” you chuckled sheepishly. “And when they found out I was doing this interview with him, my boss was like, ‘Yeah, just get me his autograph and I’ll look the other way on you missing the advisory.’”

Sukuna immediately cackled. “Really? That’s damn hilarious.”

“Swear to god, it's crazy in there when it comes to you.” you laughed, sinking a little in your seat. “He told me, ‘If you get me a video of him saying hi to my daughter, I’ll even let you off the hook for the paperwork you forgot to pass last week.’”

“Babe.” Sukuna turned his entire body toward you, his grin practically ear-to-ear. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? That’s easy. Just give me a pen later—hell, I’ll record her a whole-ass personalized video.”

You scoffed, blushing. “Oh my god, no—you don’t have to do that much—”

“Nahhh, I gotchu, babe, don’t worry.” Sukuna grinned mischievously, already plotting. “I’ll make her dad look like a hero. Gonna be like: ‘Hey princess, your dad is the real MVP for letting your fave’s girlfriend skip work today to give you content.’”

You smacked his arm, mortified. “Oh my god, you are so insane.”

The production crew lost it almost immediately.

The interviewer covered her mouth, laughing.

“I’m serious!” Sukuna laughed, scarlet eyes crinkling. “You know how many brownie points that’ll get you at work? You could literally ghost them for a week and they’ll still cover for you.”

“Oh my god, stop—”

“And the paperwork you forgot?” Sukuna shot you a playful smirk. “I’ll just sign it with ‘Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend is a genius, give her a raise.’ Boom. Problem solved.”

“RYOMEN SUKUNA.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Sukuna raised his hands in surrender. “Just don’t call me that, okay? You know what my name is.”

The interviewer was crying. “I am so sorry, I can’t breathe—you guys are adorable.”

You slumped in your seat, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never living this down.”

Sukuna just laughed harder, his hand finding your thigh and giving it a warm squeeze. “Nah, you’re good, babe. I’ll make sure you’re employee of the month after this.”

The interviewer, trying to recover. “W-well! We really appreciate you being here, [Your Name]. Seriously. It's not every day we get a literal astrophysicist and an Olympic athlete in the same room.”

“Oh no, I should be the one thankful!” you stammered, still flustered from Sukuna’s antics. “Thank you for having me here with my love. Honestly, it’s such a privilege.”

Sukuna practically preened. “Her love. You guys heard that, right?”

You smacked his arm. “Oh god, don’t even start.”

“Too late, babe.” Sukuna grinned smugly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m riding that high all day. Like, that’s from the one I love right there. I’m riding this forever.”

“You can’t just—” You lower your face to your hands, feeling yourself warm. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t get embarrassed so fast!”

“I’m trying hard not to!”

The interviewer was now fully crying from laughing.

And you? You were about two seconds away from melting into the floor from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

You just can’t believe he’s like this today.

“So, uh, are you guys ready for some quickfire ten-second questions?” She asks as you finally recover, lifting your head.

Sukuna cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Easy. We’ve been together more than a decade or so. I can ace this.”

You scoff. “You’re gonna overthink everything.”

Sukuna feigns offense. “Excuse you? I’m very decisive.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alright, let’s put that to the test. First question: Sukuna, what’s your favorite pre-game meal?”

“Ramen.” he says instantly. Then, a beat later, “Wait. No. Her curry. Yeah, yeah. That one….the spicy one. Final answer.”

Your mouth drops open. “Are you serious? I thought you hated it.”

He grins smugly. “It’s true. I loved it all. Took another plate after you left. Your food hits different, you know?"

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “O–okay, I guess.”

The interviewer beams. “Cute. Okay, [Your Name], what’s his go-to post-game routine?”

“Oh, easy.” you say, straight-faced. “Complaining about his back. Then how he doesn’t like how Gojo Satoru took that line shot at him at a game. Take a ridiculously long, hot shower. He has a beer before we eat dinner. Then aggressively demands my cuddles.”

Sukuna sputters at you. “Aggressively?!”

You arch a brow. “You corner me in the kitchen. Every time.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, his large hand sliding to your knee. “Okay, fine. Fair point.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Alright, Sukuna — who’s the first person you call after a big win?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Her. Always her. And she picks up, even mid-experiment.”

Your chest tightens, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re too much.”

“Hey, I really do call you the most after every match.”

“And after a loss?” she presses.

Sukuna leans slightly toward you, his arm shifting so his hand now rests protectively on your thigh. “Also her. But I’m significantly more annoying.”

You snort. “So much pouting. He becomes, like, unbearable.”

Sukuna gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Unbearable?! I’m mourning, babe!”

“You’re sulking. Just like right now.”

“Same thing!”

The interviewer is practically doubled over laughing. “I love this dynamic. Okay, favorite thing about each other — go.”

Sukuna’s answer is immediate. “Her laugh. Hands down. Best sound in the world.”

Your heart lurches, face instantly heating. “Oh my god, shut up—”

“No, like dead serious, babe.” he interrupts, his smile softening. “Could be having the worst day ever, and if she laughs? I’m good.”

You smack his arm, your face now an embarrassing shade of red. “You’re being gross on camera!”

Sukuna shrugs, unbothered. “Truth is truth, babe.”

The interviewer melts. “Okay, your turn, [Your Name].”

You stammer, still flustered. “Uhh—” you scramble to think of something non-cheesy, but instead, your mouth betrays you. “The way he always warms his hands before touching my face.”

Sukuna freezes. “…Huh?”

You blink. “…What?”

“That’s your favorite thing?” he asks, blinking at you like you’d just dropped a bombshell.

You squirm. “I mean, yeah. You do it all the time. Like, even if we’re just watching a movie or something — you always warm your hands first. It’s cute.”

The grin that spreads across Sukuna’s face is devastating. “You’re so obsessed with me.”

You physically groan. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The interviewer is practically swooning. “This is the cutest thing ever—okay, okay, next one. Sukuna, if you could steal any skill from your girlfriend, what would it be?”

“Her patience.” he deadpans.

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“No, like actually, I really think you mastered it so much.” he insists, leaning forward. “You have no idea how insane she is at staying calm. Like, I’ll be losing my mind over a game or a bad practice, and she’ll just—” he waves his hand, mimicking your nonchalant demeanor, “‘Okay, babe, it’s fine. You’ll win next time.’ Like. What the hell? Where do you get that?”

You’re dying of laughter. “It’s called balance, my love.”

“It’s witchcraft.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Then learn it.”

He laughs at your words. “No, but I’m genuine about this. My girl can sit there and deal with a long day where her research yields bad results and do it again even though it takes long. And come home to me sulking and just know how to be just as patient.”

You looked at him, eyes full of love. “You’re so….I love you. Just a lot.”

He smiles back at you. “Love you too, babe.”

The interviewer sighed, whimsically. “I love you two so much. Okay, final question—and you both have to answer this.” She leans in dramatically. “What’s the very first thing you’ll do if you win gold at the Olympics?”

Sukuna’s cocky grin is instant. “Kiss her. On live TV.”

Your jaw drops “‘kuna, my love! Don’t just say that!”

“What?” he laughs, utterly shameless. “Manifesting, babe.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Your boyfriend snickers. “Yeah, you say that now but you’re gonna make out with me after this—”

“Oh my god, not here!”

The interviewer howls with laughter. “And what about you, [Your Name]?”

You glare at Sukuna but ultimately sigh in defeat. “I guess… I’ll let him.”

Sukuna beams, victorious. “See? Obsessed with me. You were lying earlier, hm? Saying you won’t and now here you are, you admit the truth. I am so vindicated.”

You slap his arm, but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but I am your annoyance. That's my happy life right there, being loved by you like that.”

The interviewer shakes her head, still giggling. “I swear, if you actually win gold and kiss her on live TV, I’ll play this clip everywhere.”

Sukuna’s arm curls around your shoulder, pulling you in. “You better be ready, babe. I’m serious.”

And the terrifying part? You can already picture it. Because you know that he can do it. He can win it all just like that. You could see the gold medal around his neck, the camera zooming in, and Ryomen Sukuna turning straight to you with that same smug grin before sweeping you off your feet.

You purse your lips into a flat line, blushing. “Yeah, yeah…..I’m prepared.”

The interview finally wraps up there.

You’re still a little dazed. The cameras, the lights, the overly intimate questions about your relationship—but Ryomen Sukuna? He still looks happy, still completely unbothered. Like he lives for this. Which, you suppose, he does.

His arm never leaves your shoulder as you stand to shake hands with the Vogue team, his thumb still brushing absentminded circles against your skin. And just as you think you can finally slink away into the background, done with all the attention, Ryomen Sukuna pulls you right back in.

“Babe, c’mon.” he murmurs, his mouth brushing your temple. “Stay for the photoshoot.”

You blink. “What?”

“The shoot. They’re doing my Olympic feature photoshoot now.” He grins like he already knows how this will go. “Hang around for a bit.”

Your eyes narrow. “I thought this part was just you?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you need me here?”

“Moral support.” he says with a teasing smirk. “Also, you look really cute today, and I need you to stand there and be hot while I take photos.”

You gawk. “My love…..”

“What?” He shrugs, pulling you even closer as he starts walking toward the set. “I’m serious. Just stand off to the side, babe. I’ll behave.”

You have exactly zero trust in that promise. But you sigh and let him tug you along anyway. Because at the end of the day, you can’t say no to him. You never could. Not then and certainly not now. That’s just how much you loved the man.

So you do stay. But you try your hardest to stay out of the way. This is just for him, and only for him. You shouldn’t meddle. This isn’t for you. You do not want to get involved. So you make sure he sees you but sees you preoccupied, as you take food from the snack pile and coffee from the coffee machine.

The photoshoot setup is expansive. There were grand lighting rigs, enormous backdrops, a team of stylists fussing over Sukuna’s hair and clothes. He’s already swapped his casual attire for his Japan national team uniform, crisp and iconic in its red and white.

And good god, you were stunned.

He looks obscenely good, even better than normal.

You were just hypnotized.

Like, you can definitely say that it's an actual deity-tier sort of beauty. Tall and lean, the muscles in his arms and thighs practically sculpted. His sharp features and dark tattoos look even more striking against the stark white backdrop. And the way he carries himself. It was that dangerous, unbothered confidence that had the photographers practically swooning as much as you were already.

You stand quietly off to the side, as you stuff yourself with snacks. You were doing your best to stay unnoticed and so far so good. But the moment Sukuna locks eyes with you from across the room, in the middle of his solo shoot, you already know you’re already fucked.

Because he grins. That stupid, sharp, predatory grin.

And you just know something is going to happen.

Because, you know that look on his face.

He’s about to pull some bullshit.

“Alright, Sukuna — tilt your chin up a bit. Perfect, perfect — can we get some more intensity in those scarlet eyes?”

He obliges easily, shifting his stance. For a few moments, you think you’re in the clear. Maybe he’ll actually behave. Maybe he’ll just get through his shoot without doing anything that would just throw you off your horses.

“Hey.” Sukuna suddenly calls out — loud enough for the entire set to hear. His gaze zeroes in on you. “Can she come here real quick?”

Your stomach drops.

The entire team turns to look at you.

Your soul leaves your body.

“I swear to god…..” you hiss, mortified. “No—”

“C’mon, babe.” he grins. “Just real quick. Just one picture.”

The photographer, looking intrigued, asks, “Wait — are you talking about her?”

“Yeah. Of course I’m talking about her.” Sukuna says smoothly. “That’s my girl.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

You try to melt into the floor. “My love, no—”

“Babe, come on.” he says, mockingly sweet, “I thought you were here for moral support? Come on, just one picture. I won’t even ask them to include it in the spread.”

The team just absolutely loves what’s happening right now. They’re already whispering to each other, eyes lighting up with interest. One of the assistants, who was clearly a hopeless romantic, suddenly gasps, “Oh my god, can we get her in a couple of shots?”

“No, no, no you don’t have to.” you stammer, mortified. “I-I’m not part of the shoot—”

“You are now, babe.” Sukuna smirks, already striding over to grab your hand.

“My love, I’m not even— I didn’t sign anything—”

“Babe, relax.” he murmurs, tugging you right into the center of the set like it’s nothing. “You’re not doing a solo shoot. Just stand next to me. That’s it.”

The photographer, gleeful, immediately jumps in: “Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes. Let’s do a few couple shots. Just casual. We can get a few ‘power couple’ frames, I love this.”

“No, please, it’s not fair to you all or him.” you say, panicked. “It’s his shoot, I’m not supposed to—”

Sukuna grins down at you. “C’mon, babe. What’s one photo?”

You glare. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He tugs you even closer. “C’mon, let me show off my pretty girlfriend a little. Please?”

“…I hate you so much.”

The next twenty minutes are the most unhinged photoshoot of your life.

It starts simple. Ryomen Sukuna standing tall in his Olympic uniform, with you just casually next to him. He’s still smug and composed, while you try your best to look like you belong there. But then it escalates, as it always does with him.

“Can you put your arm around her waist?” the photographer asks.

Sukuna immediately complies, almost too gleefully, you might add, as he was pulling you flush against his side, his arm curling snug around your lower back.

“Actually, can you lean down and nuzzle into her neck a bit? Just natural intimacy.”

You really could feel your soul just saying a hail mary and saying goodbye for good. Your Sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. His mouth brushes your temple, his nose drags against your skin, and he actually whispers in your ear: “Told you you’d be in this shoot, babe.”

“I hate you so much, like a lot. Right now.” you grit, cheeks burning.

“You love me, a lot. I can tell.” he grins. “Like look at that bright eyed love!”

“Can we get one with her in front of him? Like, you know, back to his chest?” The director suddenly says.

You barely have time to react before Sukuna’s already wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. His long fingers splay warmly across your stomach, deliberately making the pose look far too intimate.

The camera shutter goes crazy.

And then—the final blow from the director:

“Okay, for the last shot—Sukuna, can you kiss her?”

Your brain explodes. “WHAT—”

“Ohhh, I think I can.” Sukuna drawls, thrilled. “Hang on.”

“I swear to god, you can’t just—my love!”

Too late for any arguments, he’s made up his mind. His hand slides up to your jaw, his thumb tilting your chin just slightly. And then, without a hint of shame, he leans down and kisses you. Right there. On the set. With the cameras flashing like crazy.

It’s not even a small kiss. It’s full and lingering. It’s passionate and hot and burning. It was the type of kiss that only belongs to you two. Yet you don’t push him away or pull away. Instead, you let his hand cup the edge of your face, his mouth molds against yours, and you feel his stupid grin against your lips.

The photographer practically screams. “Oh my god, that was too good! That was just perfect!”

You finally part from him. But it took you a bit before you were back down to earth from the spellbound trip to love. “You are so annoying, I swear!”

“Babe.” he says, smug as hell. “I think we just sold out this magazine issue.”

“I’m going to kill you, that was too passionate! That’s just for us—"

“Please. You’re gonna frame these photos later.”

“Ugh, no I won’t!”

“You so will.”

And when the photos do come out, everything just shifts in the world. The entire internet loses its mind over Japan’s national volleyball ace and his head-over-heels-in-love girlfriend like he always is, you realize, miserably, that Ryomen Sukuna was absolutely right.

Because you do, in fact, frame one of the photos.

Well, almost all the photos you got.

And what does Ryomen Sukuna do?

He never shuts up about it.

══════════════════

epilogue

The group chat video call came in less than five minutes after the interview aired. You barely had time to process the fact that the clip of you and Sukuna had already exploded on social media — like a firestorm-level viral.

Your phone was pinging nonstop with texts, notifications, and Twitter mentions of people collectively losing their minds over “Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF” like it was the rom-com of the century. Like it was the most important trope out there.

And just when you thought you could quietly crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment…

Incoming Video Call: “Menaces + Nanami (we tolerate him)”

“Oh my god no—”

“Babe, answer it!” Sukuna grinned, already stretching his long arm to grab your laptop. “I need to see what they’re about to say.”

“Sukuna, I’m literally not ready for this shit—”

“You’re literally adorable, babe. Don’t worry!” Sukuna smirked, already clicking Accept. “Let me enjoy my W.”

The call connected. Chaos immediately erupted.

Gojo Satoru (Camera OFF): “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Geto Suguru (Camera ON):

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Nanami Kento (Camera ON):

“…Are you all seriously screaming?”

Itadori Yuuji (Camera ON):

“BROOOOOO THEY WENT SO HARD IN THAT INTERVIEW OH MY GODDDD!”

Fushiguro Megumi (Camera ON, Visibly Unamused):

“…I’m logging off.”

Gojo Satoru (Camera ON, Appearing Out of Nowhere):

“NO YOU’RE NOT, MEGUMI— OH MY GOD YOU TWO WERE INSANE.”

You immediately face planted onto the table, groaning. “Kill me. Just kill me now.”

“Babe, why? You were really cool!” Sukuna laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “This is literally my proudest moment.”

“Oh my god, this is just so—” You groaned.

“Bro. Bro, oh my god.” Itadori was crying. “Sukuna. The way you said ‘Her love. You guys heard that, right?’ I— I fell off my couch cheesing, bro. You haven’t changed!”

“RIGHT?!” Gojo practically screeched. “And then he was going like ‘I’ll get you employee of the month, babe.’ I almost died! This was so—I can’t even explain it!”

Sukuna was thriving. His grin stretched wide, his canines flashing. “Ayyyeeee, you finally got it Gojo! You got someone, so you understand right? You see how I held her down? Boyfriend of the year.”

“You really are, bro!”

“My love, stoppppp!” you wailed dramatically.

“Nah, babe. Let me cook from boyfriend to husband!”

“Okay but REAL TALK. [Your Name]. Explain to me why your head researcher just casually let you off work because his daughter’s a fan of Sukuna.Also, how the hell are there fans of Sukuna?” Geto Suguru says as he munches on his popcorn.

“Taking offense to that last part, Geto.”

“Hahaha, I don’t care!”

You groaned harder. “I really don’t know. But it worked. I mean, people are asking me for Sukuna’s autographs for their kids at the research facility.”

“No, cause that’s wild, actually.” Suguru laughed. “Your literal superior was like, ‘Get me his autograph and you can skip work.’ That’s insane. I wish I could do that.”

“Well you could had you gone to the same research dept as me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna work there. Your deadlines are crazy.”

“Hey, my influence is really good for her right now!” Sukuna grinned, leaning into you smugly. “I’m basically her office’s MVP. They should name a telescope after me, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s not what I'm working on right now! That’s the other team!”

“Eh, same thing.”

“The Ryomen Sukuna Space Observatory, nice ring to it.” Gojo said dreamily. “Iconic.”

“Guys, really.”

“I would like to formally request to be excluded from this narrative.” Nanami Kento deadpans as he puts away his paperwork.

“Oh shut up, Kento. Are you still acting tsundere after all this time?” Gojo cackled. “You enjoyed it.”

“No. I did not.”

“Then why’d you text me ‘how did Sukuna–san improve in comedy? he’s hilarious.’ right after it aired?”

Nanami froze. “I did not do that—”

“YOU DID TOO!” Itadori gasped loudly. “I saw the receipts, senpai. You can’t just lie about that!”

“Lies.”

“Don’t deny it!”

“I will deny it, there’s no proof.”

“…Sukuna–senpai, I have to say, you being in love still after all this time really made me cringe.”

Gojo Satoru lost it. He almost fell off his chair, laughing. “That’s so—what the, that’s so—”

“See? People do cringe when you go lovey-dovey!” You tease him, and then laugh as you lean against him.

“Wow, didn’t know that’s your true feelings about me, babe.” Sukuna scoffed, faking offense as he playfully rolled his eyes. “No love for the Olympic boyfriend, huh?”

“You sounded like a sickeningly in love golden retriever, and it was disturbing.”

Sukuna snorted. “If I still had the privilege to order you one hundred laps, I would.”

“Hm, but you don’t.”

“All because you’re jealous. How’s your date yesterday? Bad like last time?”

Megumi recoiled like he’d been shot. “Senpai, that’s so—”

“Nahhh, I get it, Megs. Cause I’d be mad too if I was third-wheeling greatness like this, while I’m waiting on Cupid to give me luck.” Sukuna gestured grandly to you and himself. “It’s hard out here.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t be mad, bro. Just manifest your own [Your Name].”

“I swear to god, senpai.”

“Again, manifest. Hell, I’ll even help you. My sister’s into you—”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay but can we talk about how senpai just easily offers the autograph AND the video like it's nothing?” Yuuji enthusiastically says, smiling from ear to ear.

“REAL! Like, this is so crazy. ” Gojo gasped. “He just casually said ‘I’ll make your boss look like a hero, babe.’”

“Bro is so down bad, man.” Geto snickers, drinking his beer. “Everyone’s losing their shit everywhere.”

“And then he was like, ‘yeah don’t worry, I’ll help sign your paperwork.’’” Yuuji grows louder, more enthusiastic than before. “I can’t believe people are seeing it more closely like this. You’re a lucky lady, senpai!”

“Yeah, who can say they have such a long loving thriving relationship, no?” Gojo teases, as he leans on the screen. “LIke, people are jealous!”

“Guys, please!” you howled, your head hitting the table as your face turned scarlet. “PLEASE STOP—”

“SU-KU-NAAAAA–SENPAIIIIII!” Yuuji screamed, clapping. “You’re built differently, man. This is why you’re not bitchless!”

“This is why you follow in my footsteps, Itadori.” Sukuna laughs proudly. “You will only end your suffering if you follow me. That goes for you, Nanami, Fushiguro.”

“No thanks.” Nanami and Fushiguro say, almost at the same time.

“Nah, cause now that I think about it….my girl’s gonna expect me to do well too, Sukuna.” Gojo says, rubbing his chin. “That’s such a cruel move, Sukuna!”

“Hey, I love my girl as easily as breathing.” Sukuna raises his beer can, like cheers. He grins. “Good luck. I’m here if you need tips.”

“…The fact that this interview is already at 4 million views is baffling.” Nanami whispers as he looks at his phone. “It was just released an hour ago.”

Your head snapped up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh yeah, it’s viral now.” Megumi deadpanned. “It’s already trending. Twitter’s obsessed with you two.”

“Yup, yup.” Itadori confirmed. “Hashtag ‘Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF’ is number one right now.”

“YOU’RE LYING.”

“Dead serious.”

“My love.” you whirled on him, horrified. “What did you do?”

Sukuna, entirely unbothered: “Won.”

“Bro, people are literally shipping you two like it’s a Netflix rom-com.” Gojo snickers, sighing. “I want mine to be like that.”

“Right?” Suguru agreed. “And they’re already calling you ‘The only loverboy to ever loverboy’ which is kinda crazy to say about Ryomen Sukuna.”

Yuuji sighed. “But it fits, don’t you think? He loves his girl.”

Sukuna beamed. “As they should.”

You were spiraling. “I can’t go back to work like this. They’re gonna tease me—”

“No, babe, you’re good.” Sukuna said smugly. “You literally got immunity. They’re too obsessed with me now.”

“OH MY GODDDD.”

“…So when exactly did you two sign up for a publicized rom-com?” Nanami asks.

“Bro, right?” Gojo laughed. “Next thing you know Sukuna’s proposing on live TV after winning gold.”

Sukuna gasped dramatically. “Wait. That’s fire, actually.”

“Hey, don’t you dare!” you screamed.

“Imagine it, though!” Gojo egged on. “He wins gold. Camera zooms in. Sukuna pulls you onto the court. Boom. Proposal.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Gojo Satoru!”

Geto cackles. “Nah, once you give Sukuna ideas and he likes it, he’s not gonna change his mind.”

“Write that down, bro!” Itadori gasped.

“Oh, I will!” Sukuna grinned.

“Ryomen Sukuna, I swear to god—”

“Hey, hey, slow down. That’s not my name.”

“I’m not stopping until you say you won’t do that.”

“Here me out, let me cook on this idea, like this is a really good idea. Come on!”

“No!”

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reidology13 · 25 days ago

Text

in my life, I love you more

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader - He comes home after a hard case

cw: fluff, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, a few barely suggestive thoughts, really just cuties wc: 1.7k a/n: this is basically an au where aaron and haley divorced when jack was about one, and they have shared custody so it doesn’t line up with canon at all <3 this whole fic is serving nuclear family but she’s just an acts of service girly okayyy

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Look, it’s a buttafly!” The four-year-old tugged on your hand, pointing to the window, where a small grey insect fluttered around the porch light, seeking refuge from the dark.

“No, Jack, that’s a moth.”

“Buttafly.”

“Okay, it’s a butterfly.” You smiled at his insistence, conceding with a squeeze of his hand, “Say goodnight to the butterfly.”

“Goodnight, Buttafly.” He didn’t move, looking at you expectantly, and it took a moment to understand what he was waiting for.

“Goodnight, Butterfly.” You waved to the moth with your free hand before turning back to the boy, tilting your head in the direction of his room, “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

“I’m not tired.” He whined, although he had been yawning non-stop for the past half an hour.

“I’ll tell you a story.” The bribe had his face lit up in seconds, and he practically flew down the corridor to his room. You followed him, reminding him that he had to brush his teeth before you could tuck him in. He pouted, but begrudgingly agreed, walking with you to the bathroom. You helped him hold his toothbrush, brushing his teeth with him, shushing him when he tried to speak through the toothbrush and toothpaste in his mouth.

A minute or two later, you were back in Jack’s room, tucking him under the covers before sitting down on the edge of his bed. You had his favourite book open in your lap, ready to start reading it, when he spoke.

“I miss daddy.” You looked over at him, the tears in the corners of his eyes, your heart nearly breaking at the sight, knowing how hard Aaron’s job was on both of them.

“He’ll be here in the morning, I promise.” You knew it was true, in the three years you’d been working for him, Aaron had never made you watch Jack overnight—you could still hear his voice, ‘You’re a babysitter, not a nanny’—and if something went wrong you would drop him off at his mother’s. Despite all of this, you spent most nights in the guest room, enough that it was slowly becoming yours, more so than the dorm room you were supposed to be living in. It was almost jarring every time Aaron’s week with Jack was over, and you had to go back to that lifeless room that was technically yours.

“I want him now!” No matter how well-behaved Jack was, he was still a child, and you could spot the tantrum that was close to exploding. It was fair, he had the right to be upset, but it was getting late and he needed to sleep.

“How about I tell you a new story tonight, would that help?” He perked up a little at that, nodding, and you used your thumb to wipe away the unshed tears from his eyes.

“Okay.” He sniffled, the kind children do when they’re pulling themselves together.

“Fantastic. Once upon a time,” you started, realising too late that coming up with a story on the spot was going to be much harder than you’d thought, “there was a superhero. He flew around, saving people that were in danger, and he had a son, who was a lot like you, now that I think about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, brushing some hair out of the boy’s eyes as they started to grow heavy, “So, one day, the superhero had to fight a really bad guy, and he didn’t make it home for dinner.” You didn’t mention that most of the time, ‘bad guy’ meant stacks of paperwork.

Jack’s eyes finally slipped shut, and you sighed in relief at the fact that you could start to wrap up the story, as you had been rapidly running out of ideas, and there hadn’t been many of them in the first place.

“His son was very sad that the superhero wasn’t there, and he struggled to get to sleep, since he missed his father so much. But the superhero felt bad, too, and in the morning he made his son pancakes to show him how much he loved him” Jack had started to snore, the small sound that came with hard nights like that one. You turned off the lamp, leaving his small nightlight on for if he woke up, and stood, careful not to wake him. You still held his book in your hands, placing the forgotten story on the bookshelf for another night.

Back in the living room, you tidied up the toys Jack had left out, the bright mess bringing attention to the neutral and minimalist nature of the rest of the apartment. Once all of the toys were put away in their box, you checked in on Jack, just to make sure he was still asleep, although you knew that if he woke up he would be out of his room and calling for you. He was asleep, and Aaron still wasn’t back, so you packed the dishwasher and wiped down the dining table that was still messy from dinner and anything else you could think of to fill the time.

You had circled back around to unpacking the dishwasher by the time the front door clicked open. Aaron dropped his briefcase on the table, slumping into one of the chairs, exhaustion etched into every line on his face.

“You don’t have to do that, I don’t pay you to be my cleaner.” He peeled off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair beside him, you did your best not to follow the movements too closely.

“I know, but you barely have time for yourself. Have you had dinner?” You already knew the answer was no, he was terrible at taking care of himself, even worse at admitting it.

“It’s fine, I’ll make something, go home, get some sleep.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“I’m saying you don’t have to stay.” His words said one thing, but the way he tugged at his tie, pulling it loose, had you thinking about everything but leaving.

“I want to. You look rough, it’s the least I can do.” You opened the cupboard, grabbing a bowl that you had only placed there a moment earlier.

“I really look that bad?” As far as you were concerned, Aaron Hotchner looking bad was physically impossible, unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say that to ease his mind.

“You look tired.”

“I’m going to check on Jack.” Kids, then. It was always kids. You finished unpacking the dishwasher as you waited for him to come back, then pulled out the leftovers from dinner. He walked back into the room, sitting back down as you scooped a portion of the pasta you had made earlier that night into a bowl.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“How was he today?” Aaron Hotchner for no. Sometimes you wondered if he thought that regular people couldn’t detect basic deflection, or if he just didn’t care about subtlety.

“He was good, we went to the park after I picked him up from school, let him tire himself out before dinner. We had pasta, which is what you’ll be having in a few minutes, and put him to bed. That bit was hard, he missed you.” You placed the bowl into the microwave, setting the timer and pressing start.

“Not too much trouble?”

“You know he’s an angel, one story and he was out.” He nodded, and you sat in silence for a second before you spoke up again, voice softer than before. “You’ve done a great job raising him.”

“No, I haven’t. You and Haley have done an amazing job.”

“You’re that boy’s hero, Aaron, that doesn’t come out of nowhere.” The microwave dinged, and you took the bowl out, placing it down in front of him, “Careful, it’s still hot.”

“I wasn’t aware, thank you.” You’d met a few of his coworkers, when Jack needed to be picked up by Penelope, or you took him for a playdate with Henry. You wondered if the rumours you’d heard about him having no sense of humour were true, or if they just didn’t understand it.

“Sorry, I’m still in kid mode.” You laughed, a breathy, nervous sound that echoed awkwardly in the quiet space, “I’m too tired for this.”

“Too tired for what?” Aaron spoke, an amused smile gracing his face, so different from how he smiled at Jack. It was new, unfamiliar, and you turned away at the sight of it because surely looking at it for too long would be bad for your health.

“I don’t know, talking. Interacting with people.” By ‘people,’ you really just meant Aaron; you weren’t even particularly tired, just too tired for him with his jacket off and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

“Then go to bed.” The smile on his face grew broader, switching almost imperceptibly from entertained to smug, and if you didn’t know better you would have wondered if he could actually read your mind. He couldn’t, obviously. Not because he wasn’t a good profiler, but because if he knew the things you thought about, you would’ve been fired years ago.

“Is that an order?”

“Just get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, not moving from your place as you rinsed out the few dishes you had created, minus the bowl that Aaron was still eating from.

“I mean it, you take care of Jack,” the ‘and me’ went without saying, “please take care of yourself, too.”

“Okay, fine.” You relented, finally setting down the dishcloth, the idea of your bed too tempting to let up. As you walked towards the guest room, Aaron’s voice called out, quiet and low.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You echoed back, stepping into your room for a moment before your head popped back out of the doorway, “It’s a Saturday tomorrow, you don’t have to go into work unless you have a case, right?”

“Right.” He nodded, taking a bite of pasta, and you smiled at how perfect he looked. Tired, stressed, sitting dishevelled at the dining table eating pasta that might have been in the shape of dinosaurs.

“Make him pancakes.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

Note

au where billy and mary were friends w a teen patrick wayne before everything went down in the 40's and they both think that bruce is patrick and that hes shy cuz hes a hero now

I think Billy, Mary, and Patrick’s dynamic would’ve basically been two little kids and the older kid who hang out. Patrick would also have no problem treating them like his little siblings and would casually give them money in exchange for them helping him with experiments. He’d rather just give them the money but they won’t just accept it for free so he’d resigned to making them do little tasks instead.

Patrick: “Alright, I need three fairy wings, dried unicorn blood, sixteen siren scales, and dryad bark! Go! Go! Go!”

Mary and Billy: *salute before running off*

You might be wondering what he needs any of that for. You’ll know later.

Anyways, as for how Patrick found out about Billy and Mary being Captain Marvel and Mary Marvel…

Patrick: *talking to someone in Fawcett and trying to get siren scales because his usual suppliers (Billy and Mary) said they were busy with something at the moment (meeting with magical delegates)*

Seller: “Boy, you do realize how difficult it is to get siren scales, right? As far as I know, none of the shops in Fawcett sell it. Who is your dealer?”

Patrick: “My friends?”

Seller: “Your friends?! You know kids your age going after sirens so you can get scales?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”

Patrick: “It’s dangerous?! I had no idea??? They never come back hurt or complaining??”

Seller: “They’re coming back unscathed?? Who are your friends???!?”

Yeah… so that’s how Patrick found out about Captain and Mary Marvel being his two little suppliers/siblings. It took much poking and prodding and bribing, but eventually the two spilled. After that, they were just forced to take the money from Patrick anyways. He wasn’t gonna send them on those trips anymore. No siree. Doesn’t matter that they have superpowers.

Anyways, time moves on and unfortunately, Patrick was eventually old enough to be drafted into the war. He said bye to the kiddos went and came back, kept in contact with the kiddos up until the sixties when the time bubble appeared. By that time, Patrick was at least 30 and the twins had strangely not aged at all, not that he minded because Fawcett was weird like that. Thomas was a toddler at the time of it appearing. The time bubble caused Thomas to have a rather unfortunate early childhood as his father was always locked up in his study researching and wondering what the hell happened to the town, to the people, and to his friends. Fawcett was just gone. Practically overnight. Eventually though, he gave up and started focusing on his family again. He died thinking everyone in that little down had been erased.

Fast forward 50 something odd years and BAM the bubble pops! Billy and Mary are now in the present. They got to meet all of the new heroes, including Batman.

Marvel: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Batman Si- Patrick?”

Batman: “Pardon?”

Mary: “Holy shoot, Patrick really is you!”

Batman: “My name is not Patrick-”

Marvel: “You’re so…” *looks him up and down* “Youthful! Did you finally make that elixir thingy?”

Batman: “What?”

Marvel: “You know? The elixir you always talk about. It was an elixir, right?”

Mary: “Wasn’t it called the elixir of life?”

Batman: “No…? I haven’t worked on an elixir at any point in time.”

Marvel: “Yeah, you have. We saw you! You’d always read that little book and do a little experiments!”

Mary: “And then the experiment would fail, and then you’d come to us covered in ash because nine times out of ten it exploded. Then, you’d slap twenty dollars in our hand and ask for us to find more ingredients so you could do more experiments.”

Batman: “I’ve never done that in my life. I assure you I’ve never met you before this moment.”

Now you know what all those mystical ingredients were for. Patrick Wayne was casually doing Alchemy. Everyone in Fawcett is at least somewhat magical after all. He didn’t even know he was doing it too. He’d still worked on normal human gadgets though, which still allowed him to contribute to Wayne Enterprises.

Bruce later went to his study (once Patrick’s study) as he remembered one of the books on his shelves was related to Alchemy. When he eventually found it and pulled it from the shelf, a photo slipped out. It was a photo of a younger version of his Grandpa and two kids which he both had in headlocks. When Bruce flipped the photo over, scrawled on the back was a date. After getting sidetracked and deciding to dig up some information on his Grandfather, Bruce came to the startling realization that this was when Patrick left for the war. This was a commemoration photo. Interesting. It was also interesting that the other two people- children in the photo looked suspiciously like the Captain and his daughter. Was this Mary and another brother, one that didn’t dabble in heroics? It made sense now why the Captain and Mary talked to him like they knew him. They both must’ve thought he was his grandfather. Oh well, Bruce isn’t gonna spoil the surprise. He can find out more information on them if he lets them think he’s his grandfather.

Marvel: “The war really toughened you up, huh? Did you inhale chlorine gas and somehow survive?”

Mary: “No silly.” *elbows him* “He didn’t sound like this when he came back from the war so something else must’ve messed up his throat.”

Batman: “My throat isn’t messed up in any way, shape, or form.”

Mary: “It isn’t? So you talk like that on purpose…?”

Batman: *doesn’t want to give away he isn’t Patrick* “…Yes.”

Mary and Marvel: *share a look before pointing and laughing at him*

Any nearby Justice League member was visibly surprised that Batman didn’t glare at them. Bruce himself was surprised he didn’t as well.

Robin!Dick: *standing beside Bruce as Bruce works at a computer*

Marvel: “Oh Tommy! Wait, Pat, this is Tommy right?”

Mary: “Of course it’s not Tommy. He wouldn’t feed the elixir to him while he was a kid. But then again, you can be a little stupid…”

Robin!Dick: “Did you just call him stupid?” *sounds like he wants to laugh* “Also no I’m not Tommy.”

Marvel: “Then are you a grandson…?”

Robin!Dick: “N-”

Batman: “Yes, he is. This is Bruce.”

Robin!Dick: *extremely confused* “What?”

Marvel: “Oh cool!”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett comics #fawcett city #fawcett #mary batson #mary bromfield #mary marvel #batman #dick grayson #richard grayson #bruce wayne #patrick wayne

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kismetlotts · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.

876 notes · View notes

hauntsoul · 4 months ago

Text

— Beneath the Spotlight.

SYNOPSIS: You, a devoted fan, are thrilled when Park Sunghoon, a famous idol, slips a secret note into your pocket at his fan meeting. But as the days pass, you start to wonder if his fleeting attention was ever meant to last.

GENRE: 18+ (minors dni), toxic, angst, little fluff.

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

PAIRING: idol!sunghoon x obsessedfan!reader (sunghoon is pretty toxic)

WARNING: toxic dynamic, oral (f. receiving), fingering, overstimulation, no protection, bathing together, phone sex?, masturbation (f), choking, creampie, reader has no self respect. halfway through is not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: hello! this is my first ever post so i hope you all will enjoy it. this is actually based off a manga i read a while ago, so full inspiration from there. i hope you all love the story. <3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Park Sunghoon.

A name that tastes like honey on your tongue.

A name that echoes in your mind, sending you through spirals.

A name you’ve engraved into your heart.

His face dominates your world. His posters cover every inch of your walls, his piercing gaze watching you wherever you go. Your lockscreen? A candid shot from his last concert, sweat dripping down his jawline, his expression so intimidating it feels intimate. His voice? It fills every moment of silence, every song on your playlist filled with his songs, his melodic tone.

You’re obsessed. Not the dangerous kind, not yet, but close enough to feel the lines blur. You know him better than you know yourself, or so you tell yourself. For three years, you’ve followed his journey. From him starting his path on the ice rink, his movements elegant, to the idol on many global stages, with millions of fans following him. Including you of course.

Currently, he stands in front of you. Well, in front of thousands. The stage lights catch every angle of his sharp features, making him appear almost otherworldly. The microphone amplifies his voice: smooth, melodic, and commanding, as he speaks to the audience.

You’ve been to countless fan meetings before, how could you ever miss one? But no matter how many times you see him, the sight of Park Sunghoon always leaves you fascinated.

He smiles as he talks about the little things, the cheery moments he shared with his family during his break. The crowd laughs, cheers, and some even shout desperate attempts to catch his attention. And he rewards them with a polite smile, a small nod, or a fleeting glance.

But to you, every gesture from him gives you butterflies. His black hair falls effortlessly into place, framing his flawless face. His piercing eyes scan the crowd, and even though they never land on you, it feels like they do. The tiny mole near his eye, the way he smiles, it’s all too perfect, too intoxicating.

You can’t stop staring. You can’t look away.

"Now, it’s the fun part!” Sunghoon exclaims, his voice sparking excitement through the crowd.

The audience buzzes with anticipation, murmurs spreading around rapidly. Fun part? Your stomach tightens, a mix of curiosity and hope swirling inside you.

The stage lights brighten as staff members hurry onto the platform, carrying a small table with a large glass bowl resting on top. Sunghoon steps forward, his presence catching everyone’s attention.

“In this bowl,” he announces, his voice smooth and teasing, “are slips with seat numbers. If I pick your number, you’ll get the lucky chance to come on stage and take a photo with me.”

The crowd explodes into cheers and screams, the energy palpable. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Could it be you? Out of thousands of people, could you really be the one?

Sunghoon dips his hand into the bowl, the motion slow and deliberate. Your breath catches as you watch his fingers swirl through the slips of paper, your body tense. The air feels heavy, and every second stretches longer than it should.

Finally, he pulls out a slip, holding it between his fingers like it holds the secrets of the universe. The audience hushes, a sharp silence falling over the room. Your palms are clammy, and you press them against your thighs.

“B14!”

Gasps ripple through the crowd as heads twist, scanning for the lucky winner. You glance down at the back of your seat, where “G25” is engraved, and disappointment sinks in. Not you.

“It seems like B14 isn’t here,” Sunghoon remarks, his tone light. He reaches back into the bowl, his hand swirling through the papers again.

Your heart races faster, the hope creeping back in. Your fingers clutch the armrests, nails digging into the fabric. Time slows as he pulls out another slip, unfolding it with a teasing smile.

“G25.”

Your heart stops. For a moment, the world seems to blur, the only thing you hear is the pounding of your pulse.

Your seat number.

Your heart thunders wildly in your chest. You’re going to be up close with Park Sunghoon.

Slowly, you rise from your seat, your knees shaky, the weight of thousands of eyes falling on you. But it doesn’t matter, not when his eyes find yours. For a brief moment, Sunghoon stares, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that makes your breath hitch. The corner of his lips curls into a slow, deliberate smirk. He lifts a finger, motioning for you to come on stage.

And you do.

Each step toward him feels surreal, like you’re walking through a dream. The bright stage lights blind you for a second, but then you see him. Right in front of you. Closer than you’ve ever imagined.

He’s perfect… no, more than perfect. Up close, he seems almost unreal, his features sharper. The crowd murmurs, some fans letting out squeals of excitement, but all you can focus on is him.

Sunghoon extends a hand, his fingers long and steady. Tentatively, you place yours in his. His palm is warm, his grip firm, and it swallows yours completely. With a gentle tug, he pulls you closer, so close you can feel his breath ghost against your skin.

Then, he wraps his arms around you.

Your heart threatens to burst as he holds you, his embrace firm yet careful, like he knows exactly what this moment means to you. His scent: fresh and intoxicating, fills your senses, and for a second, the world disappears. You don’t want to move. You don’t want this to end.

A camera flashes, and Sunghoon tilts his head toward you, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Look at the camera, princess.” he whispers, his voice low, sending shivers down your spine.

You glance up, dazed, and meet his smirking gaze as the camera captures the moment.

You plaster a smile on your face as the cameras flash, capturing the moment that feels too perfect to be real. But then, you feel it; a subtle movement, his hand slipping into your pocket. Your heart skips a beat. Did he just…?

You turn your head slightly to look at him, confusion flickering in your eyes. Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, only meeting your gaze with a soft, knowing smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes your knees weak.

Your heart flutters, the moment feeling surreal, almost too good to be true. His closeness, the way his presence dominates everything else, leaves you breathless. But as quickly as it began, it’s over.

The staff gestures for you to step down, and disappointment washes over you like a cold wave. You force yourself to walk off the stage, each step feeling heavier as the distance between you and Sunghoon grows. Your chest tightens as you return to your seat, the memory of his warmth already fading.

But still, you smile faintly to yourself. You got a picture with Park Sunghoon, not just a picture, the picture. His arms were around you, holding you like you mattered, even for a fleeting moment.

As you settle back into your seat, a strange sensation tugs at your memory. The pocket.

Your hand shoots down to check, your fingers brushing against a small slip of paper. Pulling it out, your breath catches. Written in messy handwriting are the words:

“Call me. +0 xxxx xxxxx xxx”

Your heart stops, the paper trembling in your hands. You glance up at the stage, where Sunghoon continues to smile and interact with the crowd, as if nothing had happened.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed, clutching the small slip of paper in your trembling hand. Your eyes scan the number over and over, your thoughts racing uncontrollably. Is this a joke? Why would he do this?

Your heart pounds in your chest as doubt creeps in. Was he just playing with you? Or could this really be real?

Your other hand hesitates as it slips into your pocket and pulls out your phone. The paper crinkles softly in your grasp as you stare at the digits, debating with yourself. But before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers move almost instinctively, typing the number into your contacts.

You pause. Your thumb hovers over the screen for a long moment before you finally gather the courage to send a single message:

“hello?”

The moment the message delivers, you throw your phone onto the bed, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. You bury your face in your hands, convinced this is all some elaborate prank. Maybe he does this at every fan meeting. Maybe—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound jolts you, and your head snaps up. Your breathing falters as you reach for the screen, hands shaking slightly. With a swipe, the notification pops up:

“hello princess.”

Your heart freezes. The room feels smaller, like the air’s been sucked out of it. Staring at the message, you feeling your heart beat rapidly.

It wasn’t a prank. It was real.

And Sunghoon had just texted you.

“R u real..?” you type, your hands trembling as you hit send.

The response comes almost instantly, as if he was waiting for you.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I put my number in your pocket, after all.”

You stare at the screen, biting your lip. The words feel surreal, like something straight out of a dream or maybe a cruel joke. You sigh, still unable to shake the doubt crawling through your mind.

Before you can respond, another message pops up:

“By the way, I told you to call me, not text me.”

“So call me.”

Your heart races, the pounding in your ears almost drowning out everything else. For a moment, you just sit there, staring at the screen.

Could this really be happening?

Your thumb hovers over the call button, hesitation gripping you. But the curiosity, the chance that this might be real, pushes you forward.

With a deep breath, you press it.

The phone rings twice. Just twice.

Then, the other line picks up.

Your heart stops as silence falls between you, your hand gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turn white. You stay quiet, your mind scrambling for what to say, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank.

But then you hear it:

“Are you gonna speak to me?” His voice is smooth, teasing yet commanding, the kind that makes your chest tighten.

It’s really him. You’re actually talking to the real Park Sunghoon.

“H-Hello…” you manage to stutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly on the other end, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “You sound nervous, princess. Didn’t I tell you to call me? And here you are, all shy now.”

“I-I just didn’t know if it was really you…” you admit, your words tumbling out awkwardly.

“You doubted me?” he asks, his tone light but with a faint edge of amusement. “Do you think I go around giving random fans my number?”

“No! I just—” you stammer, but he cuts you off."

"Relax,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, more serious now. “I wouldn’t waste my time playing games like that. If I put my number in your pocket, it’s because I wanted you to use it.”

The way he says it... so certain, makes your heart race even faster.

“O-Okay…” you stutter, unsure of what else to say.

“Good.” He pauses, and you hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he’s getting comfortable.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of confusion and excitement talking to him.

"I’m sorry, but I just want to know… why did you want me to have your number?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly, unsure of how to phrase it. "I mean… isn’t this kind of dangerous for your reputation?"

He laughs, the sound low and rich, like it’s just for you. "Anything’s worth a risk if it’s with a pretty girl like you."

The words hit you like a wave. Pretty. Park Sunghoon just called you pretty. Your heart flutters uncontrollably, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. You can almost feel the heat spreading across your face as your mind tries to catch up with his words.

"Y-You think I’m pretty?" You manage to ask, barely able to form a coherent sentence.

"Did you think I was just playing around?" He pauses, a smirk evident in his voice. "I don’t give out my number to just anyone, princess. I gave it to you because I wanted to."

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath. The idea of him wanting you feels almost impossible, but his confidence, his voice, so sure of itself, makes it feel like nothing could be truer.

"You’re still quiet," he adds, his voice dropping lower. "You’re shy, aren’t you?"

"I’m not shy," you lie, but even you can hear the hesitation in your voice.

"Mm, sure you’re not." He laughs again, but this time, it feels more teasing, like he’s enjoying every bit of your nervousness. "You’re just nervous because you know I’m real. You can hear my voice, feel the heat between us already. Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you want me, too."

Your breath catches. The way he speaks, so sure of himself, like he already knows everything about you, makes your pulse spike. "I… I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. "Just listen, and let me show you how real this is."

Your heart beats faster, the line between fantasy and reality blurring with every word he speaks.

"Just admit it," he continues, his tone turning more seductive. "You wanted this. You wanted me to notice you. And now I have."

You can barely breathe, his words echoing in your mind. "I… I didn’t think it would be like this."

"Of course, you didn’t," he says, his voice full of confidence. "But now that we’re here, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it. Don’t pretend you don’t want more."

You bite your lip, your thoughts racing. How could you want anything else? He made it clear that he was interested in you, and the idea of it is too thrilling to ignore.

"Tell me," he presses, his voice low and husky, "do you want more?"

Your heart stops at the question. But the truth is, you don’t even have to think about it. "Yes." The word slips out before you can stop it.

"Yeah, princess?" His voice is a low, teasing drawl, almost like he's savoring every moment.

You can feel your breath hitching, your nerves on edge, unable to believe this is really happening. Just a few hours ago, you were in the crowd, just another face in the sea of fans, and now your here, getting wet while he's on the other line.

You couldn't help it. The way he teased you, the tone of his voice, dominant and authoritative. You could feel your panties grow increasingly wet the more he talked to you.

You needed him, and you wanted him to know that.

"Sunghoon.." you murmur as you slowly slide your hand underneath your underwear, your fingers feeling your aching clit.

"Mm, I'm listening princess. I know what you want." His voice gets raspy, which only led to you to rub your clit in a faster pace. God, it felt so good. This wasn't the first time you've touched yourself to Sunghoon.

But this was different, he could hear you. He could hear your light whimpers as you rubbed your clit to his voice. You imagined his large veiny hands slowly going down on your aching wet cunt and fingering you till you couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly, he hangs up the phone.

You stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed and in disbelief. The call abruptly ends, leaving you in the sudden silence. Your heart pounds, a mix of confusion and frustration clouding your thoughts. Was that it? Did he just... hang up?

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to move. You stare at the blank screen, hoping he might call back. Maybe it was an accident, right? Maybe he had to go. But as the seconds tick by, you feel your disappointment kicking in.

You clutch your phone tighter, trying to calm your racing mind. Was he playing with you? Why would he do that? You thought everything was going well. But now... there’s only silence, and it makes your thoughts spiral.

"Did I do something wrong?" you whisper to yourself, unsure if you even want an answer.

Minutes pass. You’re about to convince yourself that it was all a mistake when your phone buzzes suddenly, breaking the silence.

It's a message from Sunghoon.

When you click on the notification, your shocked to see that it wasn't a message he sent, but a location.

Your pulse quickens as your eyes scan the address. It’s a motel, not too far from where you live. The realization hits you like a cold wave, leaving you both excited and nervous at once. What was he thinking? Why here?

You stare at the screen, your heart racing as your fingers hover over the keys. Is this real? You ask yourself.

But before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself typing a response, your mind still whirling.

"I’m on my way."

The ride to the motel feels like it takes forever, your thoughts bouncing between excitement and anxiety. You keep imagining what will happen when you get there, what he’ll say, what you’ll do. Your hands are clammy, your stomach doing flips with each passing minute.

Finally, you arrive, the dim lights of the motel casting long shadows over the parking lot. The nerves in your body are almost overwhelming, and yet, you feel a magnetic pull urging you forward.

You take a deep breath and step out of your car, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Every step feels heavy as you walk toward the entrance. Your heart beats faster with each step closer to the room.

You reach the door, and before you can even knock, it swings open.

There he is. Park Sunghoon. Standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the world around you seems to disappear.

"Come in," he says, his voice calm but holding an intensity that makes your pulse race.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should take the step forward, but his gaze holds you in place, pulling you in. You don’t say a word as you walk into the room, your breath shallow, your body tense with anticipation.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and you’re left standing there, face-to-face with him.

As you step into the dimly lit room, the door softly closing behind you, the air shifts. The space feels smaller somehow, as if the weight of what’s about to happen is pressing in around you. Sunghoon stands in the center of the room, looking at you with that familiar intensity, his eyes dark yet filled with something more.

He doesn’t speak at first, just watches you with a quiet sort of patience, as if giving you time to adjust to the moment. Your heart races, and you feel the familiar flutter of nerves settle deep in your stomach.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low, coaxing.

You hesitate for a moment, the air thick with the unspoken tension. You know what he wants, but there’s still something inside you that holds back, unsure of whether you should take that next step. But Sunghoon doesn’t wait for you to make up your mind. With a few slow steps, he closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

His touch is soft but firm, as if he’s grounding you, and you can’t help but lean into it. His thumb brushes over your skin in slow, soothing circles, and the tension between you builds, an electric current crackling in the space around you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his words so quiet you almost think you imagined them. But you didn’t. His eyes never leave yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crosses your face, as if he’s searching for something, something to pull him closer.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening at his words, feeling like they hold more weight than they should. There’s something in the way he says it, the way his voice dips, just turns you on.

The space between you seems to disappear in an instant, and Sunghoon leans in just enough to rest his forehead against yours. The proximity makes your breath catch in your throat, the tension between you almost suffocating, but at the same time, you can’t tear yourself away.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both of you just breathing in the same air, letting the silence stretch between you, heavy with anticipation. You feel like you’re on the edge of something, but you’re not sure what that something is yet.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want to be close to you.”

Before you can react, Sunghoon tilts his head just slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead in a light, lingering kiss. His breath is warm against your skin, and the softness of his kiss sends a flutter through you. It’s gentle, but the weight of it makes your chest tighten, a quiet but undeniable ache building inside you.

When he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes again, you can see it in his gaze, he wants you right now.

It’s your turn now, and without thinking, you close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a rough, intense kiss. It’s everything—the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with a quiet urgency. The kiss deepens, his tongue making way into your mouth. His free hand makes it's way under your shirt, as he manages to unclasp your bra easily.

You pull away from the kiss, looking at his piercing eyes. Sunghoon breathes slowly, staring right you with a smirk on his face. And just like a flash, you could feel him roughly pull up your shirt, causing your bra to fall in the process. Now you stood completely topless infront of him.

He stared at your delicate breasts, before lowering himself to lick your hard nipple. You bite your lips to hold back a whimper that dared to escape. He looked so fucking good. His eyes wander back up at yours before he latched his mouth on your entire nipple, sucking softly. You could feel yourself grow wet at his actions as you whimpered softly at the gentle pleasure Sunghoon was giving you. He slowly pulls away and gives small kisses to your breast before trailing it down your stomach.

"You're so fucking pretty. I need to taste that pussy princess." Sunghoon whispers before pulling down your skirt, revealing the cute pink lacy panties you wore, just for him.

He smirks at the sight of them, your stomach churned in embarrassment as he slowly pulled down your panties, a trail of your wetness sticking onto the pantie as it went down.

Sunghoon almost drools at the sight of your wet pussy. All you guys did was just kiss and yet your already this turned on? He felt himself getting hard just at the mere sight of you being this pathetic. He pushes you lightly against the wall, making you lean on it before spreading your legs slightly more open. Your whole pussy is now in clear view infront of him and the scent of your cunt is driving him crazy.

His lips make contact with the plush of your inner thighs, planting small kisses in different spots. His teasing only further driving you crazy and more needy. You let out a breathy whisper saying his name, and he just smirks while looking up at you.

His hands hold your thighs apart while he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, giving your clit more space. He brings his mouth closer to your cunt before licking a small stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, spreading your wetness alll over. That action alone leaves your stomach churning. His tongue starts to give your clit small kitty licks.

"Mpmh, oh.. fuck-" you whimper as you bite your lip to prevent any more noises from leaving your mouth.

Feeling riled up, Sunghoon starts to suck on your clit. His eyes never leaving yours, staring at you while his tongue works wonders. Your fingers fists his hair as he slowly brings his fingers up to cunt, inserting a finger in. You tug his hair harder at the sudden feeling of his long finger inside you, making him moan into your wet cunt. Your moans can't stop leaving past your lips, this only motivates Sunghoon to insert another finger inside, thrusting them at a quick pace.

"It's so fucking good Hoon!-" You cry out loud, his thick fingers feeling inside your warm walls, already having you see clouds.

“Taking it like such a good girl..” he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice stimulating your clit even further.

You could feel your stomach forming a knot, it was too intense. Your legs feeling weak and the only support being Sunghoon's hands that are gripping your thighs tightly. You couldn't take it anymore.

"H-Hoon- 'm close!" You babble out. Sunghoon continues to curl his fingers inside you at an even faster pace, his tongue pressed hardly against your clit making an '8' motion. The knot becomes too tight, and you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You finally let loose, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your legs begin to tremble as you grip Sunghoon's hair so tight, you almost felt like you were about to rip some of it off his hair. His tongue and fingers slowed down a little, helping you ride off your orgasm. You take heavy breaths, looking at him as he just smiles before starting to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace.

"Hoon- I can't take it-" Your choke out your cries as now he starts to overstimulate your cunt. Your legs start to shiver and kick around gently, trying to get him off your pussy.

"Be a good girl and stay still." His voice, raspy and dominant. He only looks up at you with a smirk as his fingers ram in and out of you, making you feel the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach again.

Not even two minutes had passed by since your first orgasm, and your already feeling your second orgasm wanting to unleash all over his fingers. Sunghoon curls his fingers, directly feeling your g-spot which sends you over the moon. And with that, you squirt all over his fingers. Making a sticky mess from your cunt to his fingers to the floor.

You look at him, still in a daze, your heart pounding relentlessly inside your chest. You were nervous—really nervous. You hadn’t done anything like this in forever, and now… with Park Sunghoon? The thought sent your mind spiraling as a bead of sweat trickled down your temple.

He seemed to sense your hesitation, his sharp gaze softening just enough to catch your unease. Without a word, his hand moved, fingers still dirty with your cum, and cupped your cheek.

“Let’s take a bath together, yeah?” His voice dropped, low and smooth. His lips curved into a faint smile. “We can’t have you all tensed up here.”

Before you could gather your thoughts, he straightened, turning with an almost lazy confidence as he headed toward the bathroom.

The warm water sunk you, soothing your tense muscles as you leaned back against the tub. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single light above the sink. You ran your fingers absentmindedly along the surface of the water, thinking about him.

A soft knock at the bathroom door startled you.

“You decent?” Sunghoon’s familiar voice called out, teasing but warm.

You managed a nervous chuckle, “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

The door creaked open, and there he was, his dark hair slightly damp from the steam, clinging to his forehead, his eyes catching the soft light. Without saying a word, he stepped into the room, letting his towel drop with casual ease.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks flushing as the sound of water shifted behind you. You felt the weight of him stepping into the tub, the water level rising as he sank in across from you.

The space between you felt both small and vast, the soft lapping of water, the quiet hum of his breathing. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging comfortably in the air.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said, his voice low.

“I just…” You paused, searching for words. “I’m still trying to process all this. It feels… surreal.”

He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his dark eyes studying you. “I get that. Believe me, I do.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Do you?”

“More than you think.” He let out a soft sigh, his gaze dropping to the water. “People always see me as… well, him. The idol. The perfect image. The untouchable Sunghoon.” His lips twitched into a bitter smile. “But that’s not who I am. Not really.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your chest tighten. You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on your knees. “Then who are you? Really?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, something raw and unguarded glimmering beneath the surface. “I’m just a guy. A guy who’s scared of letting people see the parts of him that aren’t perfect. The parts that don’t shine on stage.” He paused, his jaw tightening for a moment before continuing. “There’s so much I keep buried. So many things I’ve never told anyone.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing small circles in the water. “Because… with you, it feels different. Like I don’t have to try so hard. Like maybe, just maybe, I can be myself for once.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you felt your chest swell with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. He looked up again, his gaze softer now, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s scary, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the water. “Letting someone see all the messy parts of you. But with you… it doesn’t feel so scary.”

The weight of his confession settled between you, and you realized how close you’d leaned toward him without noticing. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his beneath the water.

“I’m glad you trust me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “It… means a lot.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, the intensity of his gaze making your breath hitch. “You’re special,” he said finally, his voice steady, resolute. “And I don’t say that lightly.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time since stepping into the tub, you felt completely at ease. The space between you... it felt safe.

The two of you sat there, the water cooling slightly as time slipped away, sharing stories and moments that no one else would ever know. And in that quiet, steamy bathroom, you felt a connection deeper than you’d ever imagined.

"It-It's too big.. fuck I can't-" you hiss out, your words coming out breathy as Sunghoon inserts his tip inside your wet hole. Of course, you both being naked in a bathtub together would lead to you being bent over the tub, his hands on your hips as he slowly inserts himself in.

"You can take it for me princess, be good and let me do the work." He says in a husky whisper.

Your walls suddenly feel full as he inserts himself fully inside your cunt. You led out a load moan, the pleasure overwhelming you. Sunghoon adjusted himself, gripping onto the flesh of your hips before starting to move.

He first moved slowly and carefully, putting just enough force to make his dick enter you all the way and make you feel completely full. His movements were perfect, the mixture of his precum and your cum from your previous orgasms creating the perfect lube for his dick. His hand on your hip tightened as he was feeling drunk every time your pussy swallowed his cock and he felt the warmth of your walls covering every inch of it.

"Fuck princess, you feel so fucking good. God, I love you and this sweet cunt of yours."

The sudden confession from your idol only makes you further clench around his cock, making him groan as he frees one of his hands from your hips to wrap them around your neck, lightly choking you.

“I-I love..- ngh-” you muttered out barely, “you..!” you emphasized that word really loudly, causing him to chuckle and to only quicken his pace, knowing the affect he had on you.

His cock twitched inside your pussy, making you understand that he's going to cum soon. You weren't getting any further from your orgasm as his movements became more rough. The sound of your guy's skins slapping each other and moans echoed throughout the bathroom. You could feel your chest burn up as he continues to quicken his pace, his balls hitting your cunt which vibrated towards your clit, giving you extra stimulation. His thrusts became more needy, and you could barely form coherent thoughts and the grip on your neck only become tighter, having you take quick breaths between each thrust.

“Hoon...!” you moaned out his name before you couldn't take it anymore. You could feel you wet yourself around his cock, causing him to let out a small chuckle as the scene got more messy. Sunghoon, no longer able to hold back, thrusted a few more times before he finally came. The sudden feeling of his warm cum filling you up inside made your legs twitch, Sunghoon groans from the feeling of satisfaction of the long needing orgasm. You both pant heavily as you both ride out your orgasms, before he pulls out, leaving your cunt empty with only his cum inside.

He admires the sight infront of him. You, bent over, with his cum dripping out of your pussy. His fingers grabs any cum lingering outside and brings it up to your hole before inserting his finger in gently, preventing anything from spilling out of your sweet cunt. His gentle action causing you to let out a small moan as he pulls his finger out of your sensitive pussy.

"You really enjoyed that didn't you?" He teases, making you turn your head to look at him and nod.

The two of you walked side by side, the soft hum of the city filling the silence between you. You clung to his arm, your grip firm as if afraid he’d slip away. The cool night air kissed your skin, but despite your closeness, something felt off.

Sunghoon’s focus was on his phone, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen. His brows furrowed occasionally, his thumbs tapping away with an ease that made it clear whatever he was doing held more importance than your presence beside him.

You glanced at him, your chest tightening with unspoken words. You tried to shake the creeping feeling of being invisible, telling yourself it was just nerves. After all, he had spent the night with you. That had to mean something, right?

“Did you have a good time tonight?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the hum of passing cars.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his eyes still glued to his phone. “Yeah, it was fine.”

Fine. The word stung more than you wanted to admit. You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping he’d elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, he typed something quickly and let out a quiet chuckle—clearly amused by whatever was on his screen.

Your fingers tightened around his arm as you tried again, forcing a smile. “It’s nice out tonight. The city looks so pretty at this hour.”

“Mm,” he muttered, nodding absently.

Your smile faltered, and you turned your gaze to the ground. Each step toward the train station felt heavier, the initial glow of the night dimming with every passing second.

When you finally reached the platform, the faint rumble of an approaching train filled the air. You stopped walking, turning to face him. He didn’t notice at first, too busy scrolling on his phone, but you gently tugged on his sleeve, catching his attention.

“Sunghoon,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable as he slipped his phone into his pocket. For a moment, you thought you’d see the same warmth he’d shown earlier, but his face remained calm, distant.

“I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” he said, his tone light but firm.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you nodded, forming a smile “Okay.”

The train screeched to a halt in front of him, and he took a step back, creating just enough space between you that it felt like miles. He gave you a small nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, then turned to board the train.

You raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, watching as the doors closed behind him. The train pulled away moments later, leaving you standing alone on the platform.

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days of silence that chipped away at you, piece by piece.

After that night, after the promises whispered between breaths, you had waited. You’d replayed every moment, every touch, every word, trying to hold onto the warmth of him. But as the days stretched on, that warmth faded, replaced by an icy void in your chest.

You had convinced yourself that he was just busy. He was an idol, after all. His life wasn’t like yours. He had schedules to follow, appearances to make, fans to please. But even those excuses began to crumble under the weight of the silence.

At first, you’d kept it casual.

"Heyy! Did you make it home safe?"

"How are you?"

But when days passed with no reply, you became more vulnerable.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Please, just let me know if you’re okay."

Each message went unanswered, some marked with the cruel sting of seen, others left on delivered, hanging in the void like a conversation with yourself.

The realization crept in slowly, like a shadow swallowing the light. He had used you. What felt so real to you—his touch, his whispered words, the way he’d held you so close—had been nothing more than a fleeting moment for him. A single night. You were just another girl to him.

And yet, even as the bitterness settled in your heart, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go. You couldn’t delete the messages you’d sent. You couldn’t bring yourself to block his number. A part of you still held onto the foolish hope that he’d text back, that he’d tell you it wasn’t what you thought, that he cared.

When you received the email reminder about his next fan meeting, your stomach twisted. The ticket had been booked weeks ago, back when the idea of seeing him again filled you with joy instead of dread. You debated not going, but the ticket was non-refundable, and deep down, you couldn’t resist the thought of seeing him again. Even if it hurt.

The day of the fan meeting came, and you moved through it like a ghost. The outfit you’d chosen weeks ago: a perfect blend of cute and casual now felt heavy on your body now. The usual excitement you felt while waiting in line, surrounded by fans buzzing with energy, was absent.

When Sunghoon finally stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted in cheers, screams, and tears. You looked up at him, your breath hitching for a moment. He looked just as perfect as you remembered, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his smile as radiant as ever.

But as you watched him laugh and interact with the crowd, you felt none of the joy you used to. Instead, it felt like watching a stranger. The man who had held you, who had whispered promises in your ear, felt so far away now.

Your eyes followed him as he scanned the crowd, his gaze briefly landing on yours. Your heart leapt despite itself, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. His expression didn’t change. There was no flicker of recognition, no smile, no warmth. He simply looked away, moving on as if you were just another face in the sea of fans.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it refused to go away. The rest of the fan meeting blurred together, the moments dragging on painfully. By the time it ended, you felt relief—relief that you could finally leave, that you wouldn’t have to keep pretending you were okay.

You stood up, clutching your bag tightly as you made your way out of the venue. The noise of excited fans filled the air, but it all felt muffled, like you were underwater.

As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, your phone buzzed. You paused, your heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, you pulled it out, expecting it to be a notification about the event.

But it wasn’t.

His name flashed across your screen.

Your breath caught as you opened the message, your fingers trembling.

“Same place. Tonight.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Deep down, you knew you’d go.

For a moment, you felt like the world was spinning too fast, like you were losing control. And maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

Because even though you knew better, even though every part of you screamed that this wasn’t love, you stayed.

And he knew you would.

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shiroxichigo · 6 months ago

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Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #hollow ichigo #zangetsu #bleach anime #bleach manga #bleach tybw

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winterarmyy · 2 years ago

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Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks.

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #winter soldier!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fluff #bucky fluff #nickfowlerrr's writing event

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txttletale · 2 years ago

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so many people in the notes of my post about how it's outright dangerous to advocate for increased parental control over kids' internet usage saying 'well obviously the Good parents should have control over their kids' internet usage and the Bad ones shouldn't' and it just absolutely baffles me how people can think like this without their heads exploding scanners style. like 'abolish the family' is an ambitious political goal i'll give you that but at least it's a goal that could be executed in the real world

#tattletxt

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anoonimthepoorchad · 7 months ago

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You know, the story of that family in Lviv, who were hiding in the stairway of their building during the air raid... the father only survived because he went to get some water from their flat. While everyone else stayed in the place considered more safe than apartments, and got buried under debris when the stairway fell apart from the missile attack.

And I understand how far away and distant this story is for people living in safety. You can't imagine the sounds of the air defense and missiles exploding, because you haven't heard it before. But your heart really stops at this rumbling sound, it stops and then rushes so fucking hard, you want to run away anywhere safer. We hide in the hallways, because the closest shelter is not close, and you cannot get ready in time before the missiles are already around your city. Even if you prepare your clothes and wake up the second the air raid sirens go off.

When the explosions get loud and the house starts rumbling itself, I feel scared and I grab my dog's collar and think of getting down to the first floor by the stairway. They were hiding there. They were doing everything right. They were doing everything to ensure their safety. I would do the same! It's so uncanny you can't stop feeling nauseous. What am I going to do the next time there's a big air raid? Can I ensure safety for my family at all?

And the worst part, I fell asleep as soon as the missiles turned from my city towards Lviv tonight. I was so exhausted, I didn't wake up until the very morning. I didn't check the danger at all tonight, and if russians decided so, I could have woken up from the sound of explosions, or not wake up at all anymore. It's fucking real, it's here and it's just a pure destruction.

Kharkiv, Kherson, Dnipro, Kryviy Rih, Sumy, countless cities, towns, suburbian houses, villages, even cities as far from the frontline as Lviv, everywhere danger is to be expected. I'm lucky to have people protect me and my city, but fuck, one fucking stray missile or drone and there's no me anymore. I didn't think about this before like this. I was just distracting myself, like there's no me at all, and it wouldn't make a difference if... you know... but it is real, and as far as I feel like I exist, while writing this post on my phone during an air raid, I feel how real this danger is after all.

#ukraine #war in ukraine #stand with ukraine #russia #russia is a terrorist state #fuck russia #proud to be ukrainian #vent post #russian war crimes

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d-z20 · 2 days ago

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I'd Hit That (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Being a professional wrestler means you're used to putting on an act, playing a part, and following a script. Surely, surely the tension you feel with Agatha is purely because you're rivals, right? Right??

-OR-

Staying at the same hotel after the fight can mean only one thing: it's time for a booty calllllll (but it's soft and sweet and stuff)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, switch Agatha, switch Reader, 'making love' sort of smut, very quick rivals to lovers if you squint, scissoring/tribbing, aftercare (from fight and sex), non accurate wrestling events

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Bruh the extent of my knowledge of wrestling before writing this fic was limited to the film 'Fighting with my family' and seeing people horny post about Rhea Ripley putting her opponents in a mating press 😅😂 Requested fic this request takes me back to one of the first I did :')

AO3 | Masterlist

The roar of the crowd was deafening, an electric pulse surging through the packed arena. The promo package had played moments ago, a dramatic montage of the months-long rivalry between you and Agatha—steel chair attacks, stolen victories, scathing words exchanged under the harsh glare of the cameras. Every segment, every promo, every carefully orchestrated brawl had led to this.

You stood in the ring, microphone in hand, pacing like a predator. The championship belt—your championship belt—rested snugly over your shoulder.

“Agatha Harkness,” you called out, your voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “You’ve spent months running your mouth, jumping me from behind, stacking the deck in your favour. But tonight? No more games. No more sneak attacks. Just you and me. And I promise you, when that bell rings, you’ll learn exactly why I’m the one holding this title.”

The crowd erupted, a symphony of cheers and jeers blending into a chaotic soundscape. Then, the familiar beat of Agatha’s entrance music thundered through the speakers, and the energy in the arena shifted.

She sauntered onto the stage, wrapped in a deep purple robe lined with silver, her signature smirk fixed firmly in place. She exuded confidence, but you knew her well enough to spot the flicker of something darker beneath it—excitement, hunger, the same fire that burnt in your own veins.

“Sweetheart,” she purred as she climbed into the ring, stepping dangerously close, “I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. You may be carrying that belt now, but don’t get too attached. By the end of tonight, you’ll be looking up at the lights while the ref raises my hand.”

You scoffed, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. The fans screamed for a fight, for blood, for one last war before this feud reached its inevitable conclusion.

You wouldn’t let them down.

—

The moment the bell rang, Agatha struck first, catching you with a sharp elbow to the jaw. The impact rattled your skull, but you barely had time to register it before she followed up with a ruthless Irish whip, sending you crashing against the turnbuckle. The crowd gasped as she wasted no time, sprinting forward and driving her knee into your ribs with brutal precision.

Every strike and every manoeuvre was planned, but the force behind them was all too real. The pain was real. The sweat trickling down your spine, the adrenaline flooding your system—it was all real.

She hauled you up for a suplex, but you twisted mid-air, countering into a neckbreaker that sent her sprawling. The arena exploded with cheers as you pushed yourself to your feet, chest heaving.

“You’re slowing down mama,” you taunted, wiping the sweat from your brow.

Agatha smirked even as she winced, rolling her shoulders. “Keep talking, champ. Let’s see how cocky you are when I put you through that table.”

And she damn near did.

Minutes later, she lifted you onto her shoulders, positioning you dangerously close to the announcers table. The commentators shouted in alarm as she launched you forward, the wood splintering on impact as your body crashed through it.

White-hot pain exploded across your back, your breath leaving in a ragged gasp. Through blurry vision, you heard the count starting.

One…

Two…

Three…

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself onto your elbows. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you refused to stay down.

Four…

Five…

You dragged yourself toward the apron, using every ounce of strength left in your battered body.

Six…

Seven…

By eight, you were on your feet. By nine, you had slid under the ropes.

Agatha’s expression flickered with something dangerously close to admiration. You locked eyes across the ring. Both of you were battered, breathing hard, sweat slicking your bodies under the arena lights. The crowd was on their feet, screaming for the climax. Agatha grinned devilishly, wiping blood from her lip.

“Still standing?” she taunted.

You rolled your shoulders, feeling the bruises settle in. “You’re gonna wish I wasn’t.”

She stomped toward you, but this time, you were ready. You ducked her clothesline, spinning on your heel and catching her flush on the jaw with a devastating superkick. She crumpled, her head snapping back against the mat.

This was it. The moment the script demanded.

You climbed the ropes, every muscle burning, and launched yourself into the air. Your finisher connected squarely with her chest, driving the breath from her lungs.

The referee dropped to the mat.

One!

Two!

Three!

The bell rang, and the arena exploded.

You barely had the strength to lift your arms in victory, but the sight of Agatha sprawled beneath you, sent a different kind of thrill down your spine. She laid there, chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, just a moment, you thought she might actually be mad. But then—she laughed. A deep, breathless chuckle that sent a thrill down your spine.

“Damn,” she muttered, rolling onto her side, looking at you with something unreadable in her dark eyes. “Guess I’ll have to hit harder next time.”

—

The energy backstage was calmer, but the electricity of the match still crackled in the air. You sat on the bench in the locker room, a towel draped over your shoulders, the sting of sweat and lingering adrenaline keeping you wired. Your championship belt rested beside you, proof of your victory, but your body ached with the price you’d paid for it.

The door creaked open.

Agatha stepped inside, still in her ring gear, damp strands of hair curling against her flushed skin. Bruises had already begun to bloom along her ribs, dark and angry, a testament to every hit you’d landed. But she carried them with the same confidence she always did, like they were just another part of the game.

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over you in that slow, unreadable way of hers.

“Made me work for that one,” she finally said, voice even but laced with something heavier.

You smirked, tilting your head. “Would’ve been too easy otherwise.”

She huffed a laugh, pushing off the door and striding toward you. “You’re lucky I like a challenge,” she grumbled, reaching out and grabbing the edge of your towel. She didn’t pull it away, just toyed with the fabric between her fingers, staring at the ground, like she was debating something.

Your body stayed still, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering beneath your skin.

Her gaze flicked up, sharp and knowing. “The fans are losing their minds right now,” she mused, voice lower now. “They think we despise each other.”

You exhaled through your nose, smirking despite yourself. “Let them think what they want.”

For a second, neither of you moved. Just heavy breaths, aching muscles, and something simmering beneath the surface—something neither of you ever acknowledged for long.

Her grip on the towel tightened for just a second. Then she let go.

She took a step back, that smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Get some rest, champ. Wouldn’t want you falling apart before our rematch.”

You watched as she turned, as she left without another word.

You should’ve let her go. Should’ve focused on your title, on the next fight.

But instead, an hour later, you found yourself standing outside her hotel room.

The hallway was quiet this late at night, save for the distant hum of vending machines and the muffled voices of a television from a nearby room. You knocked once.

You didn’t have to wait long.

Agatha opened the door, already changed into something looser, her damp hair pushed back from her face. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—

“Figured I’d find you nursing your pride with a drink, not answering your door,” you teased, arching a brow.

Agatha leaned against the doorframe, eyes dark and knowing. “Why would I need to nurse my pride when you’re here, proving I still have something you want?”

The air between you was thick. The kind of thick that came after months of fights, of near misses, of every time you almost let yourself give in but didn’t.

But there were no cameras here. No crowds. No script.

She didn’t invite you in. She didn’t have to.

She just stepped back, leaving the door open.

And you followed.

—

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both inside the quiet dimness of the hotel room. The air-conditioning hummed softly, a sharp contrast to the raw heat still lingering between you from the match—and everything else unspoken.

Agatha moved first, stepping past you toward the mini-fridge. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was thick, charged. She pulled out a reusable ice pack, pressing it against her ribs with a small wince before tossing another onto the bed near you.

“You’re worse off than me,” she murmured, nodding toward the deepening bruise along your shoulder.

You scoffed. “You didn’t seem to feel that way when you were throwing me into barricades.”

Agatha smirked at that, but it was softer now—more knowing. She walked toward you, her fingers grazing the hem of your shirt. Not in invitation, not yet. Just testing.

You didn’t move, didn’t stop her when she carefully pushed the fabric upward. The motion was slow, almost methodical, revealing fresh bruises—some from the match, some from all the ones before.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Not quite regret, not quite apology. Just an acknowledgment.

Her fingers were warm, careful, as she traced the bruised skin along your ribs before pressing the ice pack against it. A sharp inhale left your lips. She didn’t tease you for it, just held it there, watching you.

“Sit,” she said, voice quieter now.

You obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed as she grabbed the small first-aid kit from her bag. She knelt in front of you, flipping the lid open with practiced ease.

Your fingers twitched when she uncapped a tube of ointment. You should’ve done something—said something—to break the moment, but the way she looked at you, focused and unwavering, well, it kept you still.

“This might sting,” she muttered, smoothing a layer of the cool gel over a scrape near your collarbone.

You didn’t flinch. Just exhaled slowly as her touch lingered, fingertips brushing against your skin longer than necessary.

Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the tension that had been simmering for months threatened to snap.

But instead of acting on it, you reached for the ice pack still clutched in her other hand.

“Your turn.”

She arched a brow, like she was going to argue, but she didn’t. Just sighed and sat back as you took her wrist, gently guiding her onto the bed beside you.

You peeled back her shirt, moving slower than necessary, your fingers skimming over the bruises that lined her ribs.

The ice pack met her skin, and she hissed, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. Your hand stayed steady, applying just enough pressure, your palm resting lightly against her side.

Neither of you dared to speak, afraid of breaking the moment.

Your fingers lingered against Agatha’s ribs, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch, the slight hitch in her breath as the ice pack warmed between you. The air between you was charged, and before you could stop yourself, you dipped your head and pressed a featherlight kiss to her bare shoulder.

It was soft. Fleeting almost.

But the way she inhaled sharply, the way her muscles tensed beneath your lips, made your stomach twist with something molten and dangerous.

You lifted your gaze, heart pounding, to find her already watching you.

Something unreadable flickered in her eyes. Not surprise—she’d felt this tension between you just as much as you had. No, this was something else. A quiet challenge. A question.

And then, as if pulled by gravity itself, your lips found hers.

The first kiss was slow—uncertain in a way that sent heat curling low in your stomach. Her lips were warm, softer than you expected, moving against yours with a hesitant deliberation, like neither of you were ready to cross this line but neither of you could stop.

Your hands found her waist, fingertips pressing into bare skin, feeling the taut muscle beneath. She sighed into your mouth, tilting her head, deepening it just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Then it shifted.

Hesitation gave way to hunger, slow to something deeper, something desperate. Agatha’s hands tangled in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp as she pulled you closer, as if the distance between you was unbearable.

Your breath stuttered as she pushed forward, guiding you onto your back against the mattress, her weight settling over yours in a way that made heat pool between your thighs.

You didn’t just let her take control. You met her movement for movement, rolling so you hovered over her instead, lips ghosting along her jaw, her throat. She arched into you, fingers gripping your hips, urging you closer, and the friction sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body.

You barely registered how your clothes disappeared or how you kept switching positions—only the feeling of her hands dragging fabric from your skin, the way your own fingers traced the newly exposed planes of her body, memorising every dip and curve.

She was breathtaking.

The air between you crackled with something electric as you moved together, lips seeking, hands exploring. Every touch was slow but deliberate, teasing but firm, each sensation unravelling the other piece by piece.

Agatha’s lips left yours, trailing a path of heat down your throat, each kiss softer, slower, as if savouring the way your breath hitched under her touch. Her mouth lingered at the base of your neck, a flicker of teeth sending a shiver down your spine before she continued lower.

She traced the curve of your collarbone, then lower still, her tongue flicking out just enough to tease. Her breath was warm against your skin, the contrast of her lips and the cool air leaving goosebumps in her wake.

When she reached just below your navel, she paused.

Your breath caught as she glanced up through dark lashes, her expression unreadable but undeniably smug, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

Before you could say anything, before you could even think, Agatha shifted, her body aligning with yours in a way that sent anticipation buzzing through your veins.

One of her legs slid over yours, while the other slipped beneath, her hand gripping your thigh and pulling it over her hip. The shift brought you flush together, her clit pressing into yours, her warmth, her weight, surrounding you completely.

Then she moved.

The first slow roll of her hips sent a shockwave through you, the friction delicious and unbearable all at once. A gasp left your lips at the sensation, sharp and involuntary, swallowed by Agatha’s low moan.

She did it again.

A deliberate, languid grind that had your fingers curling into her back, nails digging in as heat coiled low in your stomach.

Agatha’s movements grew more desperate, each grind of her hips sending sparks of heat pulsing through you. The rhythm was intoxicating—a perfect push and pull that had your breath catching with every press of her body against yours.

The friction was exquisite, every brush of her soaked pussy against yours sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your nails pressed into her back, searching for an anchor as the slick warmth of your mixed arousal between you made every movement impossibly pleasurable.

A breathy moan spilled from your lips as she rolled her hips just right, the pressure hitting where you needed it most. Agatha’s own gasp followed, her grip on your thigh tightening as her rhythm stuttered for a fraction of a second before she found it again, more determined now.

“Fuck you feel so good,” she groaned, voice rough with pleasure. “So warm—so perfect against me.”

You couldn’t answer—at least not with words. So instead, you tilted your hips up to meet her, pushing harder into the delicious friction between you. The reaction was instant—a sharp inhale from Agatha, a shudder that ran down her spine and into you.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, pleasure mounting with every slick roll of her hips against yours. It was maddening—teetering on the edge, neither of you willing to slow down, to let the other escape this unrelenting rhythm.

Agatha was unravelling just as much as you were. Her breaths turned ragged, her movements becoming more desperate, less controlled. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her lips parting against your skin as a soft, broken moan escaped her.

The sound of it—the way she lost herself for just a moment—sent you spiralling.

Heat exploded through you, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your back arching as your body tightened around the feeling of your orgasm, chasing every last pulse of it. Your moan mixed with hers, tangled in the air between you, and Agatha wasn’t far behind—her rhythm stuttering, her breath shattering into something desperate as she ground into you one last time, biting harshly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, before giving in completely.

The aftershocks left you both trembling, locked in each other’s arms, breathless and undone. Neither of you dared to speak again, but this time it was because a whole other reason, because this time you didn’t need to; not when every shiver, every lingering touch, said everything.

—

When the adrenaline had finally ebbed, leaving behind only exhaustion and the dull throb of bruises settling into your skin, the dim glow of the hotel room cast soft shadows over Agatha’s body as she stretched out beside you, her breathing still uneven, a quiet hiss slipping past her lips when she shifted the wrong way.

You smirked, propping yourself up on an elbow. “Still hurts, huh?”

Agatha huffed a laugh, rolling onto her side to face you. “Oh, don’t act like you’re any better, champ.” Her fingers ghosted over the mottled bruise forming along your ribs, her touch featherlight but knowing. “I’ll give you credit, though. You really made me work to cause each of these.”

You leaned into her touch, sighing as the tension in your muscles began to settle. “Oh please, it’s not like you could actually beat me anyway

Her smirk deepened. “Is that what you think?”

Before you could answer, she moved—quick as ever—rolling on top of you in one smooth motion. The sudden shift knocked the breath from your lungs, and before you could react, her hands found your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. The familiar press of her body against yours sent a thrill down your spine, though it was tempered by the playful glint in her eyes.

"One...” she purred, lips brushing your ear, her breath warm against your skin.

You arched a brow, amusement flickering beneath your exhaustion. “Really?”

“Two…” Her voice was silk, dripping with satisfaction as she pressed you further into the bed, her grip firm but teasing.

You weren’t about to let her finish, you shifted your weight, using the last of your strength to twist your bodies. In a blink, she was beneath you, wrists trapped against the sheets, your knees bracketing her hips. Her breath hitched, a flash of surprise flickering across her face before it melted into something reminiscent of pleasure.

“Not this time, sweetheart.” You grinned, leaning in until your noses almost brushed.

Agatha let out a breathy chuckle, her eyes half-lidded as she relaxed beneath you. “Damn. Can’t even let me have this one, can you?”

You smirked, leaning down just enough that your noses brushed. “What kind of champion would I be if I did?”

Her breath hitched again, and then she closed the distance, her lips pressing softly against yours.

The fight, the aches, the exhaustion—it all melted away for a moment, leaving only the warmth of her mouth against yours, the slow, deliberate way she kissed you.

You let yourself sink into her, into the quiet intimacy, knowing that whatever came next would always bring you right back to this.

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'author doesn't know fuck about wrestling' probably should probably be a warning for this 😭 I'm so sorry for any inaccuracies they are all entirely my fault :P

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6stolenangel9 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

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