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muntitled · 9 months ago

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Would you ever make a Rodrick Heffley (Devon Bostick) x black!fem goth reader?

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Rodrick Heffley x afab!reader

Summary: Sleeping with him hadn't been a mistake. Your only mistake was leaving the morning after.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Perv!Rodrick, Fluff, Insecurities, Goth!Reader, Rodrick is Whipped, Smut +18 (mdni), Make Up Sex, Praise Kink, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Needy Sex, Fingering

You were not a weak person, nor are you ever so overly emotional.

In fact, most of everyone who knew you ( admittedly a very small amount) would describe you as anything but weak

So what the hell is this?

"What do you think I should say when I get there?” Your voice is as rocky as a glacier and the sun is burning heavily through your fishnets. You could feel every heat ray seep through your long sleeved Black Sabbath shirt and your make up was feeling particularly cakey. Were it not for your best friend forcing you to face Rodrick, you would've been happy to spend the rest of your day huddled up in your listening, listening to the grave sounds of Bauhaus as you unplaited your hair.

The sun wouldn't normally be a problem for you. You'd wear these clothes if the sun was at your doorstep.

But right now, your senses are heightened. The stares you get wouldn't normally bother you, but this friday afternoon, they're piercing all over you.

"You look constipated," your best friend says as she clutches her glitter covered notebook to her chest. "Stop that-" her lips stained in hot pink pull into a downwards smile.

In contrast, your black stained lips are pulled in a very obvious frown while the dread consumes your face. You walk side by side towards the boys dorm and usually the juxtapositioning doesn't bother you, but a great many things bother you today. You feel like a dark cloud beside her quirky pink perfumed self. Her hair is long and reigned in with a pink bow while your black braids were constantly tied back with a black knitted scrunchie. The juxtaposition didnt bother you.

This afternoon, you’re just hyper-aware of all the boys peppered outside the dormitories. And all their eyes are looking through you. As if you were nothing but a spectre.

Everyone except Rodrick seemed to look through you. When you had met him, it was as if a veil was lifted and suddenly you were thrust into the light.

You had been wall-flowering at a party in your first year of university. Your best friend, lost among the crown while you dug your earbuds in.

If it weren't for the shadow that had fallen over your frame, you might have fallen asleep right then and there, to the sound of Ghost’s instrumentals blasting in your eardrums.

You noticed him waving frantically at you, having yet to remove your earbuds. You didn't know what to make of his thickly applied eyeliner or his messy-on-purpose head of hair. But back then, you didn't really trust this university setting.

For all you knew, his Joy Division shirt was a means to trap unsuspecting weird girls into sleeping with him.

And so with a very unimpressed frown you had shaked your head and said, “Sorry, I dont have any change,”

He threw his head back in laughter at that.

He liked you even more now.

Sure you were the only girl at this party he could ever imagine exchanging saliva with but now he realised you had a personality too? He was a goner.

“I’m not homeless,” His voice reached your ears and you soon realised that he had forcefully removed one bud, “Just wanted to ask you what you were drinking,”

“Why?” Your eyes scanned from his face, to his worn out boots, “Are you planning on messing with it?”

“Jesus,” He cackled, “I should've mentioned that I’m very clearly not a member of any sort of frat.” He raised his hands and said, “I come in peace,”

“I’m not planning on sleeping with you,”

“I dont need to drug you to get you to sleep woth me,” He leaned awkwardly against the wall and said, “I’m in a band,”

“That doesnt work on me,”

Except it had, and that very evening you and Rodrick had exchanged saliva in a very long make out session that carried you to his on-campus dorm room.

The very building you are currently navigating, in search of his room.

“I can feel my heart beating out my ribcage,” Your best friend stops in front of a door, one of many down a very long hall.

“It's fault for ditching the guy the morning after,”

“I didn't ditch him,” You murmured, staring at the floor in shame,

“I'm sorry,” she says, “but the walk of shame story I keep hearing from the football boys about the girl dressed in black fleeing the halls can only be one person-”

“Just go talk to your boyfirned,” You had grumbled.” The door swung open. Your best friend pushed you in the direction of room 7112 as she said, “And you go talk to yours,”

Before you left, you quickly asked, “So, I like… look okay?”

She shook her head, causing another nauseating wave of anxiety to flood your system. “You look like you crawled out of a cemetery.” She says, assessing your very plain and incredibly boring black long-sleeve shirt and your ripped black skirt worn overy ripped stockings.

“Which is how you usually look,” She says, causing your heart to lessen its alarm, “All that black lipstick will send the Freakshow into an absolute spiral,” She winked before sending you on your merry way.

When Rodreick Heffley hears a knock on his door, he almost immediately assumes it's for his roomate. Then he remembers he’s a third year, with no roommate in sight. “Uh-What is it!?” Is all he screamed at the door, hoping that whoever it is would leave him alone. He hadn't been too close, the actress on his laptop screen was far too loud, and far too… perky. He knew that if he closed his eyes and just focused hard enough, he'd be rid of this horrible boner that had been plaguing him for weeks.

Since you left him.

“Don’t do that,” Rodrick squeezed his eyes shut, “Do not think about she-who-shall-not-be-named.” The knock sounded again and he angrily paused his video as he stuffed his cock back into his jeans. Rodrick cursed as he wied his hand with some clothing item littering across his floor and his voice is less-than-friendly when he rips the door open.

“Uh-”

He has to take a moment to close his eyes. When he opens them, you are standing there, sheepishly raising your hand to wave.

“She-who-shall-not-be-named,” He says in an airy whisper.

“What?” You tilt your head questioningly.

Before you can get another word out Rodrick slams the door in your face. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying to get rid of a week's worth of masturbation material. Evidence of how badly you had affected him, how lonely he had been since you left. He even opened the curtains and when he opened the door again, you noticed he smelled vaguely like aftershave.

“W-What brings you back here?” He tries to be cold. He really does. But this is you. His heart is soaring at the very sight of you.

Beautiful you.

In your dark eyeliner and equally dark lips.

He looks away because he has to. You hadnt even said more than 5 words to him but his body was already having a very niticebale response to your presence.

He opens the door wider as he lets you in, “Did you forget something?” He all but sneers and you squeeze your eyes shut as you slide his door closed behind you. You were in this room again and the flashbacks were almost unstoppable. You remembered the way he kissed you. The way he prioritised your pleasure-

“I’m sorry,” You say, completely knocking the wind out of him, “When I left like how I did, I thought I was protecting myself… I didn't know if you wanted anything serious,”

“I would’ve told you I did,” He says, staring at the ground as he stands in the middle of the room, like a tall tree lost in the middle of nowhere, “but we were a little too preoccupied sucking face,”

You snort at that, and he smiles too.

He didn't wanna admit how terribly he had taken your departure. You were the first girl that liked him back. The first girl to actually like his presence. The first girl he could talk to about the things that made him smile. The sleepless nights bled into restless days. Days spent coaxing a jumpy knee under every table…

“So you missed me then?” A smirk flitted on his face as he folded his arms. You rolled your eyes as the cockiness reared its head, moving to sit down on his bed as you hid your smile.

“I didn't say all that,” You declared,

"Don't be like that," he says stalking towards you, his voice suddenly serious but a smile still present, "I know you missed me,"

The arrogance dripping from his voice escalates your blood pressure and sends all your inner systems into overdrive. As his shadow falls over you, you unconsciously lean further against the bed until you're lying supine. "You look like a whore," You can't help but say, eyeing his tight short sleeve shirt showing off a sliver of his waist.

He gasps, "Whatever do you mean?" Rodrick playfully lifts a leg up as he crawls on top of you. "Is the seduction working? Because yours is working on me. I’m trying incredibly hard not to eye-fuck you right now," He's made himself comfortable on his side but his eyes are the very juxtapositioning of 'relaxed'. They unapologetically scan your thighs, clad in your netted stockings

"Get over here," he rasps, "My patience is running incredibly thin," and so you do. You lift your torso and he hovers over you as you both meet in the middle. Rodrick murmurs against your lips, the kiss is furious and hurried and you don't know where to put your hands, "Everything about you is so fucking electric," if only he knew, the only electricity, in your mundane life was brought on by him.

With him, your life was a hazy sea of black eyeliner and a never sweet, loud music. He made you feel alive.

Rodrick’s lips push furiously against yours, scolding you for your absence, punishing you for your distance. "Crazy," he says as his lips drift to the side of your mouth, "I've been going fucking crazy without you,"

Your mind races with the sudden electrifying feeling of having him back. Rodrick’s hands slithered to the nape of your neck, as he eases your head onto the mattress.

Rodrick’s hand soon finds your breast, soft under the fabric as he groans against your skin. “Fuck, I might not last long,” He admits, already rolling his hips into yours.

“Me too,” You admit, causing another loud moan to leave his lips.

He silences you with another fervid kiss. You're completely lost in him. In the intense smell of weed and leather. The unmistakable sting of metal on your skin. His full and awfully skilled lips are far too eager to get to your breasts.

"This-" he rasps. You’re not even cognitively aware that he's lowered you onto the blanket, his teeth feel far too fucking good as they scrape along the material covering your breasts, "This shit," he hovers lightly above you, "This shit needs to come off."

"Are you asking for my permission?" You prop yourself up by your forearms, mouth swollen from his kisses as you smirk. "Since when did Rodrick Heffley ever ask permission for anything in his life?"

Your words send a warm string of pleasure straight through his cock and he audibly groans as he sits back on his haunches.

He sings in an awfully cherry voice: "Hands up now! Be a good girl,"

"You're fucking crazy," You whisper as you raise your hands, letting him undress you.

He watches you like a hawk, gauging your every reaction, to make sure you even wanted this- even wanted him at all. The moment your nipples, dark and erect, come into his field of vision, he knows he’s done. "This isn't gonna hurt," he whispers, feeling the need to reassure you. "I promise-"

"Rodrick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm begging you to fuck me,"

Every single part of your being was screaming for him since the moment you arrived. You had barely been able to keep a straight face throughout the entirety of your mindless conversation.

"You look so fucking hot right now," he says, lowering his lips to your ear, sending a plethora tiny, reassuring kisses, as if trying to distract you from your wrists meeting above your head, and the jangle of the metal joinging them together.

You look up and your heart rattles when you notice him binding your wrists above your head.

"You have no fucking idea how much I've thought about this moment," the usual rasp in his voice is somehow raspier, darker.

"You've thought about this?" You queried as he stripped your bottom bare, “Kinky, Kinky boy,” You say as your legs spread unprecedentedly. He sends an awed look at your legs before staring back at you.

"Fuck yes," he replies, "I've had nothing but my hand to-" he chuckles dryly, "fill the void,"

He tugs on the cuffs and you gasp, completely unprepared for the wave of arousal that washes over you. "These good?" He asks and you nod.

“Perfect," Rodrick lowers his head to your supine body once more, "I think you're fucking perfect,"

He drags a hand over your body, over the curve of your breast and over the softness of your belly until his fingers meet your exposed cunt. Your head is a wild cloud of braids against the blanket but you could hardly care. You couldn't care less about how completely needy you were for him.

"Jesus- Rodrick" his fingers slip through your folds, eager to spread the embarrassing amount of slick already accumulated there.

"I need you to promise me," Rodrick watches his hand disappear in your pants as he begins to set a steady, mind numbing pace.

"What're are you- Holy fuck, just there," your back arches off the blanket, eager for your clit to meet his fingers. But he relents.

"I need you to promise me you'll never disappear again."

There's an agonisingly slow build-up as Rodrick’s callused fingers tease your sensitive clit.

"You gotta say it, Babe, or the declaration is null and void-"

"Yes!" You reply with a quickness, "Okay? I-yes..."

There's a shit-eating grin that splayed over his face. "Now the fun begins,"

You're far too focused on bringing yourself to orgasm, but your entire plan crumbles when he slips his hand out of your pants. You glare up at him, dissatisfaction radiating off of you in waves.

"Don't be like that,” He teases. “I've got little Ole needs too." His quick in discarding his shirt, and as he does so, your anger dissipates for a few heavenly seconds. His tattoo is a glorious patch of ink splashed on an ivory wall. A mark any normal person would undoubtedly regret in their later life and see as the product of a dumb adolescent mistake. But Rodrick never regretted anything he did. He was as firm as the ground beneath you.

"I fucking-" His lips meet the inside of your thigh, "-can't believe this is a thing that's happening,"

"It's happening," You say, unable to curb your enthusiasm. Your own voice is thick with desire.

"I need you so fucking bad." He says, "I need to be inside you so fucking bad,"

Rodrick is quick to lower his jeans. He uncovers his hard cock, moving his hand along its length, as he stares at you in complete awe. "Hey, Babe?" You begrudgingly drag your gaze away from his hand to his face. "Try not to have the time of your life, m'kay,"

You're about to chide him but he slams his cock all the way into you. His movements are sloppy as they are hurried, and your eyes roll back from the intensity at having every single need met.

"Fuck yes, Rodrick!" Your wanton moans bounce into his ears, filling him with brazing satisfaction. Your hands cuffed above your head elicit another wave of pleasure. Youre utterly bared to him.

"You're never leaving me again, alright?" His forearm is beside your head, allowing him to watch you intensely as he pounds his cock further in. "You're never gonna pull that shit again," His angry thrusts punctuate his sentence, pushing every unsavoury sound out of your throat.

"I fucking promise- OH FUCK-" He sends a hand in between your intwined bodies, flicking your clit and having your cunt tighten deliciously around him.

"Are you gonna cum already?"

"Shut the fuck-"

"Don't worry," he buries his head in the nape of your neck. "I'm right behind you,"

Rodrick’s thrust deepens and his pace around your clit accelerates until you're finally pushed over the edge. Your vision sprinkles with flecks of light as blind as the stars above you as you cum. "OH JESUS-SHIT," Rodrick pulls out of your wet cunt. Hurriedly stradling your hips before shooting ropes of cum all over your stomach.

You don't mind.

You feared Rodrick could get away with anything.

"Holy fuck- I-Im so sorry,"

He quickly somersaults up from his overzealous fit of pleasure and peers down at you wide-eyed. "Jesus Christ I- I should get you cleaned up,"

You chuckle, as you watch the boy scramble to find the keys to the cuffs. "Don't worry- I could just rinse off in the later-"

His ears perk up at that. Rodrick looks down at his nail painted in onyx, “L-Later?” He asks shyly. That means youre staying.

“Yes. Later.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick smut #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x black reader #diary of a wimpy kid #devon bostick #devon bostick x reader

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yuujispunches · 2 months ago

Text

Restless ~ M.F.

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x reader

Summary: Megumi suddenly wakes you up in the middle of the nigh because he can’t sleep and he needed someone to help him.

CW (content warning): mentions of nightmares, Megumi being absolutely emotionally constipated, some cursing, nothing else really, this is pure fluff pretty much.

AN (author’s note): so I was scrolling through Cai and ended up stumbling into a bot with this prompt, got carried away and here we are. This is the first time I’m writing anything Jjk related so I’m still trying to figure this out a bit. Also English is not my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes. I might have ended up getting a bit carried away with this one hahah. Hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think! :)

Requests for other jjk characters are open! Feel free to ask (you can check out the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You were sleeping soundly in your dorm room, tightly tucked in under your covers when, suddenly, the creaking sound of the door woke you up. What the hell? Was someone breaking into my dorm? Who could it be at this hour? You thought to yourself, suddenly feeling hyper alert.

That sound paired with the fact you couldn't really see anything made your senses go alert, and without thinking, you threw a pillow in the direction of my door. A quiet though was heard in the room, you had hit something.

"What the- hey, it's just me!" You heard Megumi whisper-yell in an annoyed manner on the other side of the room after he'd supposedly been hit by the pillow.

"I…” He trailed off, seemingly hesitating on wether he should say something now or just turn back and go back to his room. “I couldn't sleep." He ended up admitting quietly, scratching the back of his neck while his footsteps slowly approaching your bed.

“Fucking hell, you scared the living shit out of me Megumi!” You whisper-yelled back as you watched Megumi’ figure walking towards my bed. You clutched your chest, feeling your heart drumming inside as you tried to get you eyes to focus to the darkness of the room.

The two of you had been best friends for a long time, at the beginning he flat out ignored you when you first met, he was pretty aloof and always kept people at arms length but little by little you had managed to see through that and you became close. He was still terribly emotionally constipated, lacking some common social skills, and sometimes he still came off as cold and stoic but you knew he actually really cared about being a sorcerer, about his missions and about the people closer to him, despite being terrible at showing it.

“What happened?” You asked him as I sat up on your bed, moving closer to him when when the bed dipped slightly under his weight once he sat at the edge of it. He let out a soft sigh and paused for a moment before turning to look at me when you moved closer to him.

"Couldn't sleep again." He replied in a calm manner, looking down as he avoided eye contact for a moment. Then suddenly he looked up at you, his dark blue gaze meeting yours. "Are you mad I woke you up?" He asked, tilting his head to the side just barely as he spoke.

Your gaze softened at his question and you placed a hand on his shoulder gently caressing it. “No of course not” You quickly answered, not wanting him to feel bad about waking me up. Knowing Megumi it must be something really important if it had made him come here now. “You just almost gave me a heart attack, but it’s fine” You added in an attempt to make a light joke but it only got a half-assed chuckle from Megumi. Yeah there’s clearly something wrong.

The bags under his eyes were very noticeable even with the lack of lighting in room right now, he just looked plainly exhausted and the sight made your chest tighten.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him softly, your voice quiet as you shifted a bit, resting your head on his shoulder.

He hummed softly in response when you placed your hand on his shoulder, and his gaze softened slightly as he felt you gently running your hand over it. He exhaled quietly, and then shifted his position slightly to look at me directly.

Your head resting on his shoulder felt good, a reminder that you were there, that he was awake and no longer seeing his nightmares and he relaxed a little more, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist as he leaned back a bit. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

"I think talking... won't fix anything." He mumbled softly.

“Megs…” You whispered, the nickname falling off your lips almost unconsciously, at the beginning he had hated it, but as time passed and the two of you get closer he ended up growing fond of it. You were the only one allowed to call him that, so whenever he heard it it made him feel somewhat warmer inside. He had always been like this, he was absolutely terrible at opening up and talking about how he felt.

You let him pull you closer as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You knew that pressuring him into talking about whatever was on his mind would only make matter worse right now so you decided not to. “How long has it been like this?” You asked him quietly, the bags under his eyes were a clear indicator that he hadn’t been able to get a good sleep in a couple of days at least. God he looked terrible.

He sighed softly as he tightened the grip of his arm around you waist slightly for a moment, his fingers lightly drumming on the small of your back as he pondered how to answer the question. He couldn't even remember the last time he slept through the night without being woken up by a nightmare. The bags under his dark blue eyes showed the toll it had taken on him.

"A while." He mumbled in a quiet voice, almost as if it had taken him a lot of work to say that out loud his gaze averting from yours for a moment right after.

You sighed as he answered, a troubled expression on my face. Part of you wanted to scold him, tell him that he should have come to you sooner and that he was stupid for neglecting himself like this once again, but another part of you was just worried about him and wanted to comfort and hold him.

You sighed and pulled away for a moment, Megumi’s frown deepened at the gesture almost as if he was disappointed at the lack of contact but you didn’t say anything. Instead you just pulled back the covers of the bed, silently offering him the space to lay next to you.

He truly had felt a pang of disappointment when you pulled away from him, the loss of contact making him feel suddenly lonely and cold, but before he could even verbalize any protest, you were already offering him a space in your bed. He felt a slight flutter in his chest at the gesture, and without a word, he silently crawled into your bed, laying beside you.

He was a little flustered by the sudden proximity, but even more so when you pulled the covers over the both of you. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist once again, seeking your touch.

The room was quiet, only your breathings could be heard. At first Megumi was a bit tense, but as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer he seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“Do you want to watch something or do you want to try and get some sleep?” You offered him softly, knowing that despite being seemingly calmer now he was still clearly worried about something that kept him from sleeping.

Since Megumi was pretty bad at communicating and usually kept a lot of thing to himself you had learnt to read him really well by now and you were able tell that he was still hesitant about something, maybe even worried that he was bothering you because of the fact that he had woken you up for something so silly as having nightmares. He felt childish and reluctant to talk about it because of that.

He remained quiet, his gaze flickering up to meet yours momentarily when you spoke. There was still some uneasiness written in his tired eyes, but he was definitely calmer now that he had you by his side.

He sighed softly, his fingers gently starting to trace patterns on your back as he thought about what to do. He knew he was bothering you, how could he not be? He had woken you up at god knows what time in the night to dump his problems on you. But... he needed you. He needed the reassurance, the comfort that he only felt when he was around you.

I want to help to do something to help him but I don’t know what. The feeling of Megumi’s fingers softly tracing patterns on your back as he held onto you, only made it harder to concentrate as it made your chest flutter.

“If you can’t fall asleep I’ll stay awake with you” You stated, your voice was still soft but firm. “We don’t have to watch anything or even talk if you don’t want to.” You added as you moved your hand so you were caressing his face, both of you laying on your sides facing each other “We can just stay like this if that’s what you want”

You really wanted to reassure him, it didn’t bother you in the slightest that he had come to you at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night. You would gladly stay awake every night if he ever needed you to without a doubt.

He nuzzled his face into your hand when you started gently caressing his cheek, his eye closing for a moment as he took in the feeling of your touch. He sighed softly, a hint of gratitude crossing his face.

Hearing your reassurance brought a little bit of peace to him. He knew he could be difficult to deal with at times, but the fact that you were willing to stay up with him despite that made his chest feel warm.

He shifted a little closer to you, his hand still resting on your back."You... promise you won't leave?"

A small smile played on your lips as Megumi asked you to promise him that you wouldn’t leave him, as if that ever was a possibility.

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere” I whispered back, still caressing his face gently as you looked at each other. Megumi’s eyes were searching your face, looking for any sign that might have indicated that you were uncomfortable or doing this out of pity but all he was able to find was care and softness that made the walls that he had spent so much time building around him tremble.

He sighed softly as he looked into your eyes, his gaze softening further when he heard your words. A slight flutter was still present in his chest as he was reminded of just how much he needed you, how much he cared about you.

"Thank you..." He mumbled, his hand on your back sliding down to your waist as he pulled you a bit closer.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took in the moment. Just being like this with you brought him a sense of peace and comfort, something he desperately needed. You felt him relax even further under your touch, his expression finally softening up as you let him pull me even closer and rested his forehead against yours.

A small smile formed on your lips and you felt your heart skipping a beat. You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t the time to let your feelings out, Megumi needed you. He probably just sees me as a friend, nothing else.

“Besides, you came into my room, so I technically can’t even go anywhere else even if I wanted to.” You added, jokingly in an attempt to cheer him up even if it was just a bit.

This time, unlike the last time when he had first barged into your dorm, a faint, tired chuckle escaped his lips as you tried to joke with him. He knew you were trying to make light of the situation, and he appreciated it. That flutter in his chest only grew more intense as he silently acknowledged the fact that he felt so comfortable with you. He felt a bit guilty for having those thoughts, but deep down... he knew he was developing feelings for you.

"Right." He mumbled back, a slight smirk forming on his tired face. "So I guess you're stuck with me now."

“Exactly” I said amused, playing along, some sense of pride growing inside your chest at the sight in front of you.

The small smile that had formed on Megumi’s face, and even though it was small and tired smile it was still something and the fact that you had been the one that caused it made my chest flutter lightly. I wish he could be like this more often.

Megumi was still holding onto you, his fingers tracing patterns on your back “Oh who will save me from this torture?” You asked dramatically.

He couldn't help but huff out a small, weary chuckle at your dramatic response. The tiredness and strain in his eyes was still visible, but being with you seemed to be helping.

"No one will save you. You're stuck with me." He mumbled with a bit of amusement in his voice as he continued to hold onto you, the hand on your back still tracing patterns until he paused for a moment, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours. His expression suddenly looked a little more vulnerable as a thought crossed his sleep-deprived mind.

“Oh what a terrible fate” You whispered as you laughed a bit until you noticed.

You were about to say something else but then Megumi stopped moving his hand along your back, making you gaze up at his face, only to find him already staring at you, a look in his eyes you had never seen before. You just stayed there, not daring to move a muscle in case it would break the moment, waiting for him to do or say something. You could feel your heart pounding inside your chest. Is he able to hear it? Given how close the two of you were it was certainly a possibility.

You felt his fingers trembling slightly against your back as he stared at you, the expression in his tired eyes growing a tad more vulnerable.

He was tired. He was tired, and he didn't have the mental capacity to filter his thoughts like usual. The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them, the admission coming out in a soft, quiet, almost vulnerable voice. "...I don't deserve you."

You froze for a moment as you heard him, his voice unusually quiet and vulnerable. You looked into his eyes, searching for something, although you didn’t even know what. Your heart melted and ached equally at the sudden confession.

“Megs…” You whispered, his nickname falling off my lips as a breath once again.

You moved your hand that had been caressing his face, now running your fingers through his hair gently as you kept your gaze fixed on his. “I really wish you could see yourself like I see you”

His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, his head nuzzling slightly into your hand as he felt the gentle caress of your fingers in his hair. He leaned into it slightly, as if chasing the comfort it provided him.*

His expression was still vulnerable, his weariness clearly visible on his tired face. He slowly opened his eyes again, staring into yours as he spoke in that same quiet voice.

"You... make me feel things. Things I don't think I should feel."

With each word he spoke you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper, terrified of what this could lead to but also pained that he felt like that, like he was undeserving of love, of having feelings:

“Why?” You breathed out.

He let out a soft exhale, his expression turning a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty. He continued to stare into your eyes as he struggled with his thoughts, silently fighting against his own mind. It was taking all of his energy to keep his guard down, to be open and vulnerable.

"Because..." He paused for a moment, his voice growing softer as he spoke. "Because you're too good for me. You're too good, and I'm... I'm just... broken."

You could’ve never dreamed that he would also have some kind of eelings for you, you should’ve been happy about this but instead, it broke your heart to hear him speak of himself like that.

“You’re not broken Megs” You said, both your hands cradling his face, making him look at you. “Yes you might have some baggage but that doesn’t make you broken or undeserving of love” You stated and paused briefly, gathering your thoughts for a moment. It is now or never.

“You are incredibly infuriating, you always keep your feelings to yourself, you push people away and act as if you don’t really care and you make me want to strangle you most of the time. Getting to know you is probably one of the hardest things I have ever done.” A frown formed on Megumi’s face as he listened to you. “But you’re also the most loyal, unintentionally funny and caring person I have ever met.” You were pouring your feelings out and paused briefly to take a breath before adding something else. “You’re truly amazing Megumi Fushiguro and I’m in love with you.”

There it is, I finally said it. He listened intently as you spoke, his tired eyes fixed on your face as you held his face in your hands. He could feel his defences crumbling down as he took in your words, your confession making his heart beat faster in his chest.

As you finished speaking, he was left speechless for a moment, his mind processing what you had just said. Your words had left him reeling, his heart and mind in a turmoil of emotion.

"You... love me?" He managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

All you managed to do was nod in response. “I love you.” You repeated, even more firmly than before if it was even possible.

His eyes widened slightly as you repeated the words, completely caught off guard by your confession. He could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest as he struggled to process the fact that you loved him. Megumi was used to keeping people at a distance, he was used to being alone, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made his mind reel.

"You... love me." He repeated softly, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. Then there was silence.

“This is supposed to be the part where you say whether you feel the same or not Megs” You said, your heart was beating so hard inside your chest that you thought that it would burst out of it at any second now.

He stayed quiet, only making me more nervous m. Had I gone too far? Maybe I had misrepresented what he meant earlier, maybe I had just ruined our friendship forever. Your mind started spinning. “I uh… it’s okay if you don’t I just-“ Your nervous rambling was suddenly cut off by Megumi’s lips.

As your anxious rambling was about to escalate, he silenced you by abruptly pressing his lips against yours. It was a quick, impulsive action, born out of his need to shut you up and reassure you that you weren’t wrong. It was a bit rough and uncoordinated due to him acting on instinct, but the message behind it was clear.

He pulled back from the kiss after a few seconds, his tired eyes fixated on you once again.

"I love you too." He whispered softly, his voice still hoarse from fatigue and emotion.

“Oh…” You let out, dumbfounded as your mind and heart were reeling from the kiss. “That’s good then” You chuckled awkwardly, your face surely blushing as you felt your whole body growing hot.

Megumi shook his head, adoring eyes looking at you as if you were the best thing he had ever seen which, to him, you were before leaning in again, his lips meeting yours once more.

That night neither of you really slept, but instead of nightmares, the night was filled with soft kisses, adoring glances and whispered ‘I love you’s.

tags: @fortunatelyfurrygiver

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added!

#jjk megumi #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #jjk fanfic #megumi fushiguro fanfic #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi x you

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heavypressure · 5 months ago

Note

There's a myth that drinking milk causes your boobs to grow. So imagine if you starting drinking a gallon a day to get some results.

Your belly gurgles and bubbles as you finish the gallon. You belch loudly while gently caressing your overtaxed orb of a belly. The pressure pushes it to be taut, mimicking a very overdue pregnancy. Powerful farts explode out of your backside as you waddle to the bathroom.

You measure your bust, waist, and hips, hoping this is going to pay off. Your digestion has been wrecked since you started this "diet". First your hips, which you know has increased due to your thickened ass. Then you waist, and you not sure if it's gotten bigger because it's already so massive and has been for so long. Then your tits and... it's gone up an inch! The plan worked, drinking milk until you look pregnant and fart uncontrollably has paid off. Now to keep this up until you go up a cup size or two.

How good would it feel to be overfilled with milk all of the time... My gut sloshing audibly (and probably visibly) from all of the liquid inside, skin stretched to the brim because how gassy i am... Knowing all of it is going to make my ass and tits bigger, so i must drink more every day!... It's gonna work eventually, right? Who cares if i got a bit over my head and regularly give myself two weeks' worth constipations because of my diet.. I'm sure that'll only make my tits grow bigger too! Maybe feeling my sides stretch every minute of the day because of the bubbling, fermenting chaos inside my guts is a bit distracting, but I'm sure it's all worth it in the end....

#bloated stomach #gassy belly #bloated gut #inflated belly #belly gurgles #belly noises #farting #hyper belly #constipation #breast expansion

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rosiebbydoll · 2 months ago

Text

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader - Chp. 8

Chp. 7 - Chp. 8 - Chp. 9

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies(ish) to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, found family, slow burn, fluff, explicit smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, manga spoilers?

wc: 10k

chp warning: fluff, angst, sexual content, tension, toxicity, mental health issues

a/n: enjoy! see you at the end :)

Everything has been slowly building up—Sukuna, Toji, the endless demands of life in general. It’s like the pressure has been mounting, brick by brick, until you’re not sure how much more you can take. There’s a point where it all just becomes too much, where your body and mind start to shut down from the weight of it all.

It’s been two months since Nobara got her stitches. She’s healed well, the stitches dissolved quickly, but you’re still hyper-vigilant, watching her every move. You hover, flinching every time she trips or tries something new. Now that she’s started jiujitsu classes, your anxiety has only gotten worse. You make Hiromi take her, unable to bear the stress of watching her spar and tumble. She’s probably fine, but your nerves can’t take it. So, you let that be a dad-and-daughter thing, trying to trust that she’s in good hands.

Toji has been… normal, or as close to normal as Toji gets. He apologized that night, and you didn’t say much in response. Instead, you’ve been showing him—in small ways—that you’ve accepted his apology. But you keep your guard up, cautious after how quickly he turned on you before. You understand why he lashed out, but it still hurt. Forgiving him is one thing, but pretending everything is fine is another. So you let him back in, but only at arm’s length.

And then there’s Sukuna. There’s literally nothing wrong with him. If anything, he’s been more reliable and helpful than ever—always there when you need something, surprisingly thoughtful in his own rough-edged way. But that’s what’s unsettling. You don’t know what to call what’s happening between you.

You’ve known each other for almost five months, and in that time, you’ve formed a bond you never expected. He’s helpful, attentive, and sometimes even gentle, and it all happened so fast it’s hard to process. After the bike ride and him sleeping in your bed with you—and Toji— it hasn’t helped your poor brain overthinking every single thing with him.

Not to mention, he actually tried to kiss you—like, a full on, movie scene kind of kiss. But, true to your life’s love for plot twists, you were interrupted. Not that you would ever complain about your daughter—you’re incredibly grateful she’s safe. You’re just frustrated that Sukuna hasn’t tried to kiss you again since then, and it’s really starting to annoy you.

With all this stress, plus work and being a mom, your immune system finally gave up. Now you’re sick—really sick. Stress sickness is the worst kind. Your head throbs, your sinuses are stuffed, your throat is raw, and you can barely keep anything down. You feel like you’re moving through molasses, every step an effort.

But what can you do? Life doesn’t stop for a cold, so you keep pushing.

Here you are, at work on an early Thursday morning, trying to hide the fact that you feel like you’re slowly dying from the inside out. You’ve taken every medication you can think of—throat spray, allergy pills, painkillers—but nothing helps. You’re popping throat lozenges like candy and drinking endless cups of tea, but the ache doesn’t go away.

Ino is a lifesaver. He took one look at you this morning—pale, glassy-eyed, bundled in a cardigan even though it’s warm—and immediately sent you to “organize.” You know he’s just trying to hide you away from visitors, but you’re grateful. He’s basically doing your job for you today, shelving books, helping people, and keeping the front desk running while you try not to collapse. You don’t know what you’d do without him.

You’re kneeling in the isles of book shelves, surrounded by piles of books and tissues, with your trusty keychain bottle of Germ-X clipped to your belt. You sneeze for what feels like the hundredth time, your head spinning. As you wipe your nose, you catch a glimpse of a tall figure passing by the end of the aisle.

You freeze. Was that Sukuna?

Panic rises in your chest. You immediately duck down, hiding behind a row of encyclopedias, heart pounding. What the hell is he doing here? You peek through the gaps between the books, watching him move through the sunlit library. Even when you’re sick you can’t help but notice how good he looks—the sunlight streaming through the windows casts a golden halo around him, making him look almost unreal.

Focus.

You tear your gaze away and try to distract yourself with organizing. But to your dismay, you hear Ino’s too-friendly voice echoing through the library. “Oh, I think she’s over here!”

You cringe as he gets closer, his footsteps loud on the old wooden floor. He rounds the corner and finds you kneeling on the ground, surrounded by your used tissues and your half-empty mug of tea.

“Oh hey, boss lady! This fine gentleman was looking for you,” Ino says, grinning as he gestures to Sukuna, who stands behind him, hands in his pockets, looking both amused and slightly concerned.

You stare up at Sukuna, mortified. He takes in your red nose, watery eyes, and the pile of tissues at your side, and lets out a low chuckle.

“You look like hell,” he says, stepping forward and offering you a hand.

You shake your head, voice thick with congestion. “I wouldn’t touch me if I were you. I’m sick.”

He raises a brow. “Why are you here, then?”

You huff, struggling to your feet. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

He frowns but helps you up anyway, his grip warm and steady.

“Sukuna, I said—” Before you can finish, Ino’s eyes widen in realization.

“You’re Sukuna?!” he blurts, looking between the two of you like he’s just uncovered a scandal.

You stare at Ino, mortified, while Sukuna just looks confused. “I am,” he says, then turns to you with a smirk. “Guess you can’t stop talking about me, huh, baby?”

Your cheeks flush hot, and you scoop up your stack of books in one motion. “Do not call me that. Ino, get back to work.”

You turn to Sukuna and raise a brow, “And sir, if you’re not here for anything the library offers, then please leave.” You sniffle, trying to sound stern, and stomp off to the library cart on the other side of the room, hoping the ground will just swallow you up.

You push the cart with more force than necessary, the wheels squeaking as you round the corner into the next aisle. Your cheeks are still burning, and you can feel Sukuna’s gaze lingering on your back. You try to focus on shelving the books, but your hands are shaky and your mind is still reeling.

You hear footsteps behind you and sigh, bracing yourself. He doesn’t say anything at first, just hovers at the end of the aisle, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

Finally, you turn and fix him with a tired glare. “Why are you here, Sukuna?”

He shifts his weight, suddenly looking almost sheepish—a rare sight. “I, uh… Actually, I was looking for a book.”

You blink, surprised. “A book?”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “It’s… the Harry Potter series. The boys haven’t shut up about it since we watched the movies together. Figured I’d see what all the hype is about.”

Your exhaustion melts away for a split second, replaced by genuine excitement. “You want to read Harry Potter? Sukuna, that’s awesome! Wait here—I’ll show you exactly where they are. We have all the editions, even the illustrated ones.”

He gives you a lopsided smile, but his eyes are still full of concern. “You should really go home, you know. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

You roll your eyes, stubborn as ever. “I’m fine. I just need to get through today and get some sleep.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a hint of admiration in his voice. “You’re impossible.”

Ignoring him, you lead him to the Teen section, pointing out the shelf with all the Harry Potter books. “Here they are. If you want, I can help you pick which edition to start with.”

He glances at the covers, then back at you. “Which one did you read first?”

You smile, remembering. “The old paperback ones. But honestly, the illustrated editions are beautiful. The boys might like looking at the pictures, too.”

He nods, picking up the first book and turning it over in his hands. “Thanks.”

You help Sukuna check out at the front desk, your hands moving on autopilot as you scan the barcodes. He decides to take the first two Harry Potter books, opting for the illustrated editions—your personal recommendation. You even set him up with a shiny new library card, sliding it across the counter with a little flourish.

You sneeze—loud and unglamorous—then give him a tired but genuine smile as you hand over the books.

“You’re really going to work the rest of the day like this?” Sukuna asks, raising a brow as he tucks the books under his arm.

“I sure am,” you say, turning away to wipe your nose with another tissue.

He hesitates, his concern obvious. “Do you need me to grab Nobara for you? I don’t mind.”

Your heart squeezes at the offer. “No, Toji’s picking her up for me. But… thank you, really.”

He gives you a small, crooked smile. “Of course. Well, thanks for all this. I can stop by later and help ya if you need it.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile. “I’m not five, Sukuna.”

He just shakes his head, grinning as he backs toward the door. “Could’ve fooled me. Get some rest, stubborn.”

You watch as he leaves, the bell above the door chiming softly in his wake. Despite how awful you feel, there’s a flutter in your stomach—thank goodness it’s butterflies and not nausea this time.

You shuffle back to your spot behind the main desk, sinking into your chair. Ino pops up from behind a stack of returns, eyes wide and mischievous.

“He’s hot,” he declares, not even bothering to whisper.

You deadpan, “It’s inappropriate to talk about loyal patrons, Ino.” But you can’t help the teasing smile that slips through.

Ino grins, undeterred. “You know, I’ve never been with a man, but if Mr. Tattoos-and-Piercings wanted me, I’d give it all to him.”

You stare at him for a beat, then both of you burst out laughing. The laughter quickly turns into a coughing fit for you, and Ino pats your back apologetically.

“Damn, sorry boss,” he says, handing you another tissue.

“I feel so gross,” you groan, blowing your nose and glancing at the clock.

“Just go home, seriously. If I really need something I’ll call you.”

You try to protest, but Ino is already packing up your tote bag and handing you your half-finished tea.

“Ino—”

“Go, or I’ll call Sukuna. We have his number on file now, you know.” He smirks, and you want to punch the smug look off his face.

“Fine,” you grumble and wave to him as you start to leave.

“See ya tomorrow,” you say with a cough.

“Get some rest!” He smirks and continues to type away on the computer.

You shuffle out to the parking lot, tote bag slung over your shoulder. Each step feels heavier than the last, your body aching in ways that have nothing to do with the flu. You unlock your car and slide into the driver’s seat, letting your head fall back against the headrest for a moment before you even start the engine.

The air inside the car is stale and warm, but you don’t have the energy to care. You just sit there, eyes closed, listening to the faint hum of the city outside. You’re so tired—bone tired, soul tired. You feel like you could sleep for a week and still not be rested.

You finally start the car and pull out of the lot. The drive home is a blur of stoplights and slow-moving traffic. You keep one hand on the wheel, the other clutching your tea, sipping it every now and then in the hope it’ll soothe your raw throat.

Your mind drifts, as it always seems to these days, to Sukuna. You replay every moment from earlier—his rare, sheepish smile when he admitted he was looking for a book, the way he watched you with concern, the way he offered to pick up Nobara without a second thought.

You wonder if he’ll actually get into the books, if the boys will crowd around him on the couch and beg him to read aloud. The thought makes you smile, even as you cough again and wipe at your watery eyes.

You pull up to your apartment building and just sit for a moment, engine idling, the exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. You know you should go inside, take a hot shower, crawl into bed and let yourself rest. But for a moment, you let yourself just exist—in the quiet, in the ache, in the strange comfort of knowing someone like Sukuna is out there, thinking about you too, in his own complicated way.

You finally gather your things and head inside, hoping tomorrow will be a little easier, and that maybe you can get some rest. You open your apartment door and, without even bothering to take off your shoes, flop face-first onto the couch. The cushions feel like heaven. Your eyes are so heavy you can barely keep them open. You just need to rest for a minute. Just a minute…

Suddenly, the front door bursts open and Megumi and Nobara come barreling in, their laughter echoing through the apartment. Before you can even react, they both leap onto you.

“Hi, Momma!!” Nobara yells, her voice ringing in your ears.

“Hi, baby,” you reply weakly, slowly pushing yourself up to sit. Your head is spinning, but you manage a tired smile.

Megumi plops down beside you on the couch and proudly hands you a small clay creation—something lumpy and colorful that you can’t quite identify.

“Thank you, my sweet boy,” you say, ruffling his hair and forcing yourself to stand up, even though your body protests. You sit in on the end table and turn to Toji.

Toji stands in the doorway, arms crossed, scanning your body language. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you say, but a sneeze interrupts you.

“Gross,” Toji says, wrinkling his nose. “Are you sure, pretty?”

“Yeah, just some allergies,” you wave him off, trying to sound convincing.

“Yeah, okay… What are you doing for dinner tonight?” He glances toward the fridge, and you follow his gaze with a groan.

“I’m definitely ordering something for us,” you admit.

Nobara cheers and grabs Megumi’s hand, the two of them running off to her room, already plotting their next adventure.

“Don’t run!” Toji calls after them, then comes over and sits beside you on the couch.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder with a heavy sigh. “I’m sick.”

“No shit,” he says bluntly, but there’s a note of concern in his voice.

For a moment, it’s quiet. You close your eyes, letting the silence settle around you. Then, without thinking, you blurt out, “Sukuna came by the library today.”

Toji raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Mhmm. He got some books for him and the boys.” You can’t help but smile a little at the memory.

Toji chuckles. “God he’s down bad for you.”

“What?” You lift your head and raise a brow.

“Pretty, I don’t think that man has read a book in his life.” He gives you a like like you should know what he’s insinuating.

You frown, rolling your eyes. “Oh, shut up. Doesn’t he have that Yorozu girl or whatever?”

Toji shakes his head. “I thought he already told you they ain’t nothing.”

You hesitate, your mind spinning. You’ve never actually met Yorozu. You only saw her that one time, but you were so drunk and pissed it’s all kind of a blur at this point. You didn’t even get a good look, but you remember the way she carried herself, confident and sharp. And, of course, you remember hearing her and Sukuna together—loud and clear. The memory makes your stomach twist.

“Yeah, but you never know—” you mumble, not meeting Toji’s eyes.

“Do you not trust him?” Toji teases, a sly grin on his face.

“It’s not that. I mean, you’ve known him longer than me. Why won’t you tell me what they are?” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion.

“And why do you care so much?” he presses.

You glare at him, then sigh. “Fuck off, Fushiguro.”

Toji huffs, but his tone softens. “I know, you like him.” And he doesn’t hide his aggressive eye roll.

Your eyes snap open and you stare at him, caught off guard.

“I’m not one to tell people’s business. I don’t know how they met or what they ever called themselves, but Sukuna has never treated her the way he treats you.”

You sit up again, listening intently.

“There’s something that happened between them, that’s for sure. But I don’t know what it is. I never asked, and he never brought it up.”

You nod, sniffling as you grab another tissue.

“She came up to him the other night at the bar and he was beyond pissed. I’ve never seen him drink that much. He only kept talking about ya and was the one who had the bright idea to annoy ya in your bed.”

“Oh yeah because you were so hard to convince.” You roll your eyes and laugh.

You think back to that night—how weird Sukuna was acting, how tight he hugged you, the look in his eyes that lingered long after the moment passed. It felt different. Like that hug meant something more, but then again he was drunk.

Fuck I’m going to overthink this.

You sigh and start to order dinner for you and Nobara, your fingers moving on autopilot. You just want to disappear into the couch, let the world go on without you for a while. Everything feels heavy—work, parenting, your own feelings, all the things you’re too tired to deal with.

“Are you and Megumi staying for dinner?” You ask scrolling through the options of food.

Toji shakes his head. “Nah, we’ve got leftovers at home and I don’t wanna get sick.”

You nod, understanding. Toji calls Megumi in to leave. Before he goes, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t overthink it,” he whispers, and you roll your eyes.

Nobara gives Megumi a hug goodbye, and you say your goodbyes at the door one last time. Once they’re gone, you close the door and let out a long, tired sigh, the apartment finally quiet again.

You stand there in the silence, just for a moment, letting yourself feel everything and nothing at once. You wish you could just stop thinking—about Sukuna, about what any of it means.

What if there’s something he’s not telling you? What if you’re just a distraction, a passing interest? Why does it matter so much? You’re not even together. You’re just… what? Friends? Something more? Something less? You don’t know, and the uncertainty makes your chest ache.

“Momma, are you okay?” she asks, fiddling with her Tamagotchi.

You sigh. I still need to get her Game Boy fixed.

“Yes, baby. I ordered some KFC,” you reply, trying to sound cheerful. Nobora’s eyes light up with excitement—ordering out is a rare treat in your house, and she knows it.

As you both wait for the food to arrive, Nobora chatters animatedly about her day. But she’s perceptive, and it doesn’t take long for her to notice something’s off.

“Momma, are you sick?” she asks, her voice suddenly serious.

You try to sit up straighter and wave off her concern, but a cough escapes before you can answer.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix you!” she declares, already dashing toward her bedroom.

“Careful, baby!” you call after her, but she’s already rummaging through her things.

A moment later, Nobora returns, her arms full—she’s brought the stack of medical books you let her borrow from the library, and the toy doctor kit her dad recently bought her. Ever since her head injury, she’s become fascinated by the medical field, and you’re amazed by how quickly her interests can change. Still, you’re glad she’s found something that excites her.

Nobora sets her supplies down beside you and pulls out the plastic stethoscope, slipping it around her neck with a look of determination. She opens one of the books and flips through the pages, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, Momma, I’m going to check your heartbeat,” she announces, pressing the cold plastic stethoscope to your chest. She closes her eyes, pretending to listen intently. “Hmm… I think your heart is beating a little too fast. That means you need extra cuddles and maybe some chicken nuggets.”

She then takes out the toy thermometer, sticking it under your chin with great care. “Let’s see if you have a fever,” she says, waiting a few seconds before dramatically announcing, “You have a tiny fever, but don’t worry! Dr. Nobora is here.”

She flips through her medical book, pretending to read a diagnosis. “It says here you need to drink lots of water, eat your favorite food, and rest on the couch while I watch cartoons with you.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Oh, of course, Dr. Nobora.” She beams with pride, already packing up her kit as if she’s just saved the day.

As the doorbell rings and your KFC arrives you slowly stand and take the food from the delivery driver and make sure to tip them extra.

The smell of fried chicken fills the apartment as you set the KFC bags on the coffee table. Nobora practically bounces with excitement, her little hands already reaching for a drumstick.

“Momma, can we watch Ponyo while we eat?” she asks, her eyes shining.

“Of course, baby,” you reply, managing a weak smile. You settle onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap. Nobora snuggles in close, balancing her plate on her knees.

You start the movie, and soon the room is filled with the magical music and bright colors. Nobora munches happily, giggling at Ponyo’s antics and the beautiful world unfolding on the screen. She licks her fingers clean, completely absorbed in the movie.

You try to eat, but your stomach turns at the thought of food. After just one bite, you set your plate aside and focus on sipping water, hoping it will help the ache in your head and the heaviness in your chest.

Nobora doesn’t notice —she’s too busy watching Ponyo run across the waves and shouting “Ham!” at the TV. But as the movie goes on, she starts to slow down. Her eyelids droop, and soon she’s leaning against your shoulder, her breathing soft and even.

You glance down and see that she’s fallen asleep, her little hand still clutching a half-eaten chicken strip. A wave of tenderness washes over you, but the thought of getting up feels impossible. Your limbs are heavy, your head is pounding, and every movement feels like wading through thick mud.

Still, you can’t leave her on the couch. With a deep, shaky breath, you gather every ounce of strength you have and scoop her up into your arms. She’s not heavy, but tonight, she feels like she weighs a thousand pounds. Each step toward her bedroom is a monumental effort—your knees wobble, sweat beads on your forehead, and your vision blurs at the edges. The hallway seems to stretch on forever, and you have to pause, leaning against the wall, just to catch your breath.

Finally, you reach her room. You lower her gently onto the bed, tucking her in and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She stirs only slightly, mumbling something you don’t really understand. You manage a weak smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Dr. Nobora,” you whisper.

The walk back to the living room is a blur. You see the mess—half-eaten chicken, empty boxes, crumbs scattered across the coffee table, and the TV still playing the Ponyo credits. Normally, you’d tidy up, but tonight, you simply can’t. You don’t even care. The only thing you can think about is sleep.

You shuffle to your bedroom, not bothering to change or even turn off the lights. You collapse onto your bed, letting exhaustion swallow you whole. The mess can wait. Right now, all you need is rest. Within moments, you’re asleep—grateful for the brief escape, and for the love of a little girl who tried her very best to make you better.

The next morning, Sukuna is jolted awake by a frantic, rapid knocking at his door. He squints at the clock—it's not even seven a.m. yet. With a groggy sigh, he drags himself out of bed and pads to the door, wondering who could possibly need him this early.

When he opens it, he finds Nobora standing there, her cheeks streaked with tears and her tiny fists balled at her sides. Her eyes are wide and panicked.

“Hey, pretty girl. What’s wrong—” he starts, but before he can finish, Nobora grabs his hand in both of hers.

“Mommy won’t wake up!” she cries, her voice trembling with fear.

Sukuna’s stomach drops. Without another word, he rushes past her, crossing the hall and bursting into your apartment. He doesn’t even bother to close the door behind him as he sprints down the hallway to your bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest.

He throws open your door, half-expecting the worst. Relief washes over him when he sees you breathing, eyes open, but you’re sprawled weakly on your bed, looking pale and exhausted. You haven’t even managed to sit up.

“Nobora, why did you get—” you begin, your voice hoarse, but you’re cut off as Nobora breaks down into sobs.

“Momma, you’re sick! You wouldn’t even get up! You’re always awake before me!” she wails, her small body shaking with emotion.

You look at her, guilt and exhaustion mixing in your expression. “I know, baby. But I’m fine. I just need—”

“No,” Sukuna interrupts firmly, his tone brooking no argument. You glare at him, trying to muster some sass, but your voice comes out weak and raspy.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re staying home today,” he says, crossing his arms.

You scoff and make a feeble attempt to stand. “No, I have work, and I have to take Nobora to school—”

“Momma, please stay home and get better!” Nobora pleads, walking over to your side with watery eyes.

You meet her gaze, your resolve crumbling. With a sigh, you relent. “Fine. But let me take you to school.”

“No, Momma. Uncle Sukuna can,” she insists, turning to Sukuna, who nods in agreement.

You frown, feeling outnumbered. “I don’t like you two ganging up on me.”

They both laugh, ignoring your protest. Sukuna helps Nobora get ready for school, and soon Yuji and Choso show up to check on you before they all leave.

“You look like a ghost!” Yuji blurts out, eyes wide.

“Yuji! Be nice!” Choso scolds, giving him a gentle nudge.

Nobora comes back in, her backpack slung over her shoulder. She walks to your bedside and pats your head with all the seriousness of a little doctor. “You are to rest, have fluids all day, and be comfy! Dr. Nobora’s orders,” she declares.

You manage a tired smile. “Yes, ma’am. Have a good day, you guys.”

“Come on, brats,” Sukuna calls as he opens the front door. The kids chorus their goodbyes, and Nobora blows you a kiss before heading out.

You sigh, letting your head sink back into the pillow. The apartment is quiet now. You fumble around on your bed until you find your phone and type out a quick message to Ino: “I’m sick so I won’t be there today.”

Before you can even set your phone down, Ino calls you, concern clear in his voice. “I knew you were worse than what you were saying!”

You groan. “Well, I’m staying home today. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Mmkay. Get some rest,” he says before hanging up.

You toss your phone onto the bed, close your eyes, and finally let yourself drift, grateful for the chance to rest—and for the people who care enough to make you do it.

After dropping the kids off at school, Sukuna pulled out his phone and dialed Toji’s number. The line barely rang before Toji picked up.

“She’s sick as fuck, man. She couldn’t even move out of bed,” Sukuna says, not bothering to hide his concern.

Toji sighs, sounding tired already. “Damn. I’ll try to swing by and check on her later. I got a few inspections I gotta do first.”

Sukuna hums, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He can hear the hesitation in Toji’s voice, but Toji finally gives in. “Alright. I’ll see ya later.”

Sukuna hangs up and heads back toward the apartment complex. On the way, he swings by the store and grabs all the essentials— some medicine, ginger ale, soup, crackers, some Gatorade, and even a cheap bouquet of flowers, because why not.

When he walks back into your apartment, he stops dead in his tracks. The place is a disaster zone—empty KFC boxes, crumbs everywhere, dishes stacked in the sink. You never let your apartment get like this. Not since he’s known you, anyway.

He just shakes his head. “Damn, you really are sick,” he mutters, rolling up his sleeves.

He gets to work, picking up trash, straightening the couch, putting everything back where it belongs. He does the dishes, takes out the trash, and even mops the floor. By the time he’s done, the place actually looks decent again.

Finally, he heads to your room and knocks before coming in. The lights are all off, and you’re still buried under the covers. He gives you a little nudge.

You squint up at him, your voice scratchy. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

He just nods and holds out a glass of water and some medicine. “Yeah. Here, take this.”

“Sukuna, I can take care of myself—” you start, but he just lifts the glass to your lips, shutting you up real quick.

He starts unpacking the medicine and drinks, not even looking at you. “And what, you’re gonna make me leave?”

You stare at him, half annoyed and half grateful. “No, but I need a shower.”

He grins, not missing a beat. “We can take one together—”

You swing at his arm, but you’re so weak it’s basically a love tap. He just laughs.

“Weak ass,” he teases.

“Fuck off,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

Sukuna raises a brow. “C’mon,” he says, scooping you up out of bed before you can protest. You have to bite back a gasp—he makes it look easy, but you feel like a sack of potatoes.

He just smirks. “Let’s get you cleaned up, drunky.”

And honestly, you’re too tired to argue.

Sukuna helps you into the bathroom, steadying you with a hand on your elbow. He turns on the shower, letting the water run until steam curls up from behind the curtain.

“Holler if you need me,” he calls over his shoulder, smirking, “or if you want me to join.”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “In your dreams,” you mutter, closing the door in his face.

You step into the shower and let the scalding water pour over you. The heat seeps into your bones, easing the ache in your muscles and making your sinuses finally start to clear. You stand there for longer than you probably should, just letting the water melt away it all.

Eventually, you drag yourself out, wrapping up in a towel and pulling on some clean, soft clothes. You twist your hair up in another towel, and when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost look alive again.

Your legs feel steadier as you make your way back into the living room. The blinds are up, sunlight streaming in and illuminating the now spotless apartment. You blink against the brightness, squinting as Sukuna looks up from where he’s lounging on your couch.

“Feel better?” he asks, giving you a lazy smirk.

You nod, still blinking at the sunlight. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“It’s better to let some fresh air in,” he says, as if this is some ancient wisdom.

You glance at the open window and shiver. “It’s gonna get cold as hell.”

Sukuna just deadpans, not missing a beat. “Let the apartment air out all the gross sickness. You can chill at mine for a bit. I’ll even let you have the good blanket.”

You sigh, weighing your options, then glance over at the kitchen counter. There, in the middle of the newly clean space, sits a cheap glass vase with a bunch of flowers—bright and a little awkward, but undeniably sweet. Your heart does another weird little flutter.

“Did you get me flowers?” you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sukuna turns away, but not before you catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Don’t read into it. Supposedly having natural stuff in your house helps you get better or whatever,” he mutters, busying himself with gathering up a couple of drinks for you.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his lame excuse. “Sure.”

He rolls his eyes, but you see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He grabs a couple of bottles of Gatorade and nudges you toward the door. You follow, moving slowly but feeling a bit lighter.

Together, you walk next door to his apartment, shoulders brushing as you go. For the first time all week, you feel like maybe you’re actually on the mend.

The day fades as you and Sukuna hunker down on his couch, surrounded by a fortress of pillows and blankets. The last Harry Potter movie, Deathly Hallows: Part 2, is playing, and the room is littered with empty mugs, snack wrappers, and a couple of half-eaten bowls of soup that neither of you bothered to finish. The TV flickers with the chaos of the Battle of Hogwarts, casting dramatic shadows across the living room.

Sukuna, who started the day pretending he didn’t care, is now sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the screen. You can see the gears turning in his head as the story unfolds, every twist and revelation pulling him deeper in.

Suddenly, as Snape’s memories play out in the Pensieve, Sukuna turns to you, his expression a mix of disbelief and grudging respect. “Wait—so Snape was in love with Lily this whole time?” he says, taking a swig of his drink like he needs it to process the drama.

You nod, a tired grin spreading across your face. “Yep. And Dumbledore? He ain’t shit. He knew everything and still let Harry suffer.”

Sukuna lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “What a piece of shit.”

You both laugh, the sound a little rough but genuine. It feels good—normal. The movie barrels toward its end, and Sukuna is fully invested, muttering under his breath as Harry faces Voldemort and the fate of the wizarding world hangs in the balance.

By the time the credits roll, your eyelids are heavy and your body feels like it’s made of lead. Sukuna notices immediately—of course he does. He stands up, stretches, and then, without warning, scoops you up from the couch.

“Sukuna, put me down—” you mumble, but your protest is weak at best.

He just smirks, carrying you down the hall like it’s nothing. “You’re sleeping in my bed. I gotta go get the kids.”

“No, I feel bad. You’ve been taking care of me all day!” you try, but he just rolls his eyes.

He lays you down gently on his bed, tucks the blanket around you, and flicks your forehead. “Don’t care.”

Before you can argue, he’s already out the door, keys jingling. You’re left cocooned in his sheets, the echoes of the movie and your laughter still hanging in the air. You finally give in and let yourself relax, drifting off to sleep with the faintest smile on your lips.

You wake up to darkness, the room heavy and silent except for the distant hum of the television. For a moment, you’re disoriented—sweat clings to your skin, and your heart pounds as you try to remember where you are. Panic bubbles up until you realize you’re in Sukuna’s bed, wrapped in his sheets.

You stumble out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake off the fog of sleep. The apartment is dim except for the glow of the TV in the living room. The air is thick with the comforting scent of herbs and pepper.

Sukuna is sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in an episode of Game of Thrones. He glances over when he hears you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, you. Feel better?”

You blink, still trying to get your bearings. “What time is it?”

He glances at his watch. “Like 9 PM—” he starts, then checks again. “Scratch that. 9:46.”

Your eyes widen. “You let me sleep all day?”

He shrugs, not looking the least bit guilty. “You needed it.”

You glance around, suddenly worried. “Where’s Nobora?”

“She’s crashed in the boys’ room. She came in earlier, gave you a kiss, and drew you this.” He points to the coffee table, where a colorful drawing of a flower field sits, Nobora’s name scrawled across the bottom in big, careful letters.

You pick up the drawing, a smile tugging at your lips. You look up at Sukuna and sigh, “I’m sorry you had to take care of her while I was alseep.”

Sukuna just grunts, waving you off. “Don’t apologize, idiot. You’re sick. I would take care of her any day if you needed me to.”

You smile and give a soft nod. “Well, thank you, asshole.”

He smirks, tossing a throw pillow at you. “You’re welcome. Now sit down. I made dinner—well, soup and toast, but it’s edible. You hungry?”

“I’m not hungry right now, I’ll probably eat in the morning. Can you help me get Nobora—?”

Sukuna cuts you off, stretching out on the couch. “Just sleep here tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “On the couch? I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

He raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Then sleep in mine.”

You give him a look. “What about you?”

He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “Who said I wouldn’t be sleeping with you?”

Your eyes widen and you gasp,. “Sukuna!”

He just laughs, rolling his eyes. “Relax, baby. I wouldn’t do anything. You know that.”

You snort, biting the inside of your cheek to hide a smile.

Yeah, a tragedy, really.

For a moment, you’re quiet, the reality of the situation settling in. “What are we gonna tell the kids?”

Sukuna glances at you, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

You fidget, glancing toward the hallway. “Won’t they think it’s weird? Us…sleeping in the same bed?”

He just shrugs, completely unbothered. “We’re having a sleepover. Like them.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

He’s not wrong.

“Besides, I’ve already slept with you,” Sukuna says with a cocky smirk, pushing himself up from the couch and stretching his arms overhead.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the way your heart skips at his words. “Doesn’t count. Toji was there, and you were drunk as hell,” you shoot back, but your voice is softer than you mean it to be.

He just chuckles, that low, lazy sound that always seems to get under your skin. “Are you gonna sleep here or not?”

You hesitate, staring at him for a moment too long. This shouldn’t be weird. You’ve crashed at friends’ places before—hell, Sukuna’s crashed at yours. But this feels different. He’s done so much for you today—cleaned your apartment, made you food, took care of Nobora. Why would he go to all this trouble if you’re just friends? But then again, Toji would do the same.

Fuck.

Your stomach twists, uncertainty gnawing at you. You let out a shaky sigh. “Okay,” you finally say, trying to sound casual.

You both head into his bedroom, the silence between you suddenly thick. Now you’re starting to panic. This is weird. But you’re not gonna take a chance to spend more time with him even if it is going to bed together.

What the fuck does this mean?

Sukuna flops onto his side of the bed, making a point to leave a wide, safe gulf of space between you. You usually sleep in just a big T-shirt and your underwear, but for obvious reasons you’re keeping on your sweats tonight. You slide under the covers, acutely aware of every inch of distance—and every inch that could be closed.

“Night, drunky,” he teases, already sinking into the mattress.

“Night,” you reply, but your voice is barely above a whisper.

Within minutes, he’s out cold, snoring obnoxiously loud, completely at ease. You, on the other hand, are wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing.

You should be grateful—he’s taken care of you all day, fussed over you the way a lover would, making sure you had everything you needed. But then, he just told you—point blank—that he wouldn’t do anything, that you’re just a friend. The words echo in your head, sharp and confusing. Is he just being respectful, or is he drawing a line? Is all this just friendly concern, or is there something more? You can’t tell, and it’s driving you insane.

You turn over, trying to get comfortable, but your thoughts won’t let you rest. You wish you could just ask him how he feels, or better yet, blurt out how you feel and get it over with. Maybe then this stupid, persistent crush would finally let go of you.

But you don’t. Instead, you lie there, caught between hope and dread, listening to his insane snoring in the dark.

Sometime in the early hours, exhaustion finally drags you under, but even then, your dreams are full of him—of what you wish you could say, and what you’re terrified to hear.

When you wake up, you still feel a little crappy, but there’s a new lightness in your chest, like the worst of your sickness is finally leaving your body. The room is quiet and a little chilly, sunlight peeking through the curtains. You roll over, reaching for the other side of the bed, but Sukuna is already gone.

A strange pang of disappointment hits you. Why am I sad he’s not here?

You push yourself out of bed, stretching as you shuffle into the hallway. You can hear faint clattering and the sizzle of something on the stove. When you step into the kitchen, you find Sukuna standing at the counter, flipping pancakes with a focus that almost makes you laugh. The smell of breakfast—eggs, syrup, and a hint of coffee—fills the air.

This is happening way too often.

You watch him move around his kitchen like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Sukuna glances over his shoulder, giving you a soft, “Hey. You’re up.”

You mumble a sleepy “Morning,” and head for the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders. Before you can even get comfortable, the kids come barreling out of the boys’ room, their faces bright with excitement but still cautious around you.

Nobora is the first to reach you, her eyes wide. “Momma, did you stay here too?” she asks, climbing up beside you.

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, we had a sleepover.”

Yuji, already munching on a piece of toast, grins. “Like us!”

Choso, quieter but always observant, looks between you and Sukuna and nods approvingly. “Sleepovers are the best.”

Sukuna sets a plate of pancakes on the table and smirks. “Yeah, but she snores pretty loud.”

You roll your eyes and gasp, “Do not! You’re the one that shakes the entire apartment!”

The kids break out in laughter as they head to the table to eat. You follow and sit down right across from Sukuna and your stomach growls. Your appetite is finally back. You take no time to scarf down your food while you listen to the kids talk about their sleepover.

The rest of the day drifts by in a haze of comfort and easy conversation. The kids turn the apartment into their own little kingdom, running wild between rooms, building elaborate pillow forts, and erupting into laughter that echoes down the hallway. You and Sukuna claim the kitchen table, sipping coffee and catching up on everything that’s been piling up in your lives.

Sukuna updates you on his shop, telling you how business is booming and he’s thinking about hiring more people just to keep up. You can see the pride in his eyes, but also the stress that comes with it.

“It’s wild,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I never thought I’d be complaining about too many customers. Might have to put up a ‘Help Wanted’ sign soon.”

You nod, understanding completely. “The library’s the same way. We’ve hired a bunch of new people, but training them is exhausting. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even making a dent in the chaos.”

Sukuna grins, “You are. You always do.”

You smile back, “Thanks, Sukuna.”

After talking for a bit longer, you decide to go get comfy on the couch while the kids play in the other room. You bundle up with every blanket you can find because, if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past 24 hours, it’s that Sukuna’s apartment is cold as fuck.

And you had the audacity that opening the windows would make your apartment a “little chilly”.

From the kitchen, Sukuna glances over at you while he’s picking up dishes, eyebrows raised as he watches you shiver under your mountain of blankets. He scoffs, clearly unimpressed. Without missing a beat, he grabs his black hoodie from the hook by the door and chucks it straight at your face.

“Ow.” You tug the hoodie off your head, shooting him a glare.

“I can hear your teeth chattering from the kitchen,” he says, eyebrows furrowed like always..

“Turn up your heat then, asshole,” you fire back, voice muffled by the blankets.

He doesn’t even look up from the sink. “Put on the damn hoodie.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already pulling the oversized hoodie over your head. It practically swallows you whole, sleeves hanging past your hands, and it smells like Sukuna—cologne, detergent, and something you can’t quite place but is definitely him. You settle back into your blanket pile, finally starting to feel your toes again.

Around noon, there’s a knock at the door. Sukuna glances at you from the kitchen, where he’s rinsing out your mug, and you both know it can only be one person. Toji lets himself in, Megumi following quietly behind.

Toji surveys the scene, a wry smile on his face. “Well, look at you. Spoiled rotten, huh?”

You manage a tired grin. “I’m milking it while I can. Sukuna’s actually a decent nurse.”

Sukuna snorts from the kitchen. “Don’t get used to it.”

Megumi hovers by the doorway, glancing between the adults and the sounds of laughter coming from down the hall. You smile at him, patting the couch. “You can sit if you want, Megumi.”

He shakes his head. “No. Dad said your gross and sick.”

Sukuna and Toji burst out in laughter and your mouth falls in shock. “You’re meaner than your dad.” You say with a fake pout.

Megumi just shrugs and disappears down the hall, and soon you hear the muffled giggles and the thump of feet as the kids start up a new game.

Toji drops onto the armchair, stretching out with a sigh. “Sorry I didn’t check in last night. Work was a mess. I barely made it home before midnight.”

You raise a brow, “Are you sure it wasn’t because I’m gross.”

Toji shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, but you wave him off. “It’s fine. I was out like a light anyway.”

He looks you over, concern flickering in his eyes. “You look a little better. Sukuna must be doing something right.”

You laugh, propping your head in your hand. “He’s been giving me medicine and making sure I actually sleep. I think he’s secretly enjoying bossing me around.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but sets another mug of tea on the table in front of you. “You’re a terrible patient.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a surprisingly good caretaker,” you tease, taking a grateful sip.

Toji chuckles. “We should get you a cute little nurses outfit.”

Sukuna glares and you chime in, “Oh yeah! The sexy ones for Halloween that will really show off your legs.”

You and Toji start to bust up laughing and Sukuna flips you both off, unamused.

The afternoon drifts by in a comfortable haze. You all hang out together, talking about anything and everything—work, the kids, the latest neighborhood gossip. Sukuna sits beside you on the couch, his presence warm and steady, while Toji sprawls in the armchair, occasionally tossing out sarcastic comments that make you laugh.

Around three o’clock, your body starts to betray you again. Your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch. The warmth of the sun, the comfort of Sukuna’s hoodie, and the quiet rhythm of the afternoon all conspire to lull you toward sleep.

You try to stay awake, not wanting to miss a moment, but eventually your head droops and your thoughts begin to blur. Toji notices first, nudging you gently. “Hey, if you need to crash, just do it. We’ve got the kids.”

You mumble a thanks, barely coherent, as you let yourself sink fully into the cushions. The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the sound of Sukuna and Toji bickering quietly as they head to the kitchen.

Toji looks at you and lets out a sigh, “How about I take the kids down to the park while she reats for a bit? You wanna come?”

Sukuna glances at you, then shakes his head. “I need to shower and get this apartment in order. You sure you can handle all four brats?”

Toji laughs, rolling his eyes. “They can’t be that bad.”

Sukuna chuckles, “Choso will help you out if ya really need it.”

Toji grins. “We’ll be fine. C’mon, kids! Shoes on, let’s go!”

The kids cheer, scrambling for their shoes and jackets, their excitement echoing through the apartment. Choso helps Yuji tie his shoes, while Nobora and Megumi help eachother. Sukuna stands up, stretching his arms over his head as Toji herds the kids out.

“We’ll be back in about an hour or so,” Toji calls, giving you a quick wave.

“Bye, Uncle Sukuna! Love you!” Yuji shouts as they disappear down the hallway.

“Love ya, brats,” Sukuna calls back, smirking as he shuts the door.

With the apartment suddenly quiet—kids’ laughter replaced by the low hum of the fridge—Sukuna finally turns his attention to you. You’re barely awake, eyelids drooping, fighting a losing battle to keep your eyes open. The couch is way too comfortable, and the warmth from his hoodie and the pile of blankets isn’t helping your case.

You barely notice him cross the room until he’s kneeling by the couch, his presence close and grounding. He gently tugs the blankets higher around your shoulders, tucking them in like he’s done this a thousand times. His hands are warm, careful. You feel a stray hair brush across your forehead, and then his fingers are there, brushing it away with surprising tenderness.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than you’re used to. “You feeling okay? Need anything?”

You shake your head, managing a sleepy smile. “Just…wake me if the world’s ending.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

You let yourself sink back into the couch. Sukuna lingers for a moment, watching you sleep. There’s a softness in his eyes that he’d never admit to, a rare glimpse of something gentle. After a moment, he pushes himself up and heads to the bathroom, finally taking the shower he’s been needing to take for hours. He leaves the door cracked, just in case you need anything.

Time slips by. You blink away the last traces of sleep, the world coming back into focus. The sky outside has deepened to a dusky blue, painting the apartment in a soft, muted light. The living room glows with the golden haze of evening. You hear the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen.

You sit up, the blankets slipping off your shoulders and pooling around your waist. Sukuna is at the sink putting away the dishes, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips—dangerously low, honestly.

His hair is still damp from the shower, wet pink strands sticking against his forehead. The sight is enough to make your heart burst. You quickly look away, swallowing hard, trying to play it cool and holding your chest like your life depends on it.

You push yourself up from the couch, stretching out the last bits of sleep. All of the blankets fall to the floor and you slip off the enormous hoodie, taking in one last sniff. “Need any help?” you ask, aiming for casual, though your voice is a little rough from your nap. You watch him stack the plates in the cabinet, muscles shifting beneath his skin, and try not to stare too obviously.

He glances over, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No, don’t worry about it, baby.”

You wince a little at the nickname. It’s never really bothered you before, but right now, it lands differently. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the swirl of emotions you’ve been trying to ignore. You can’t stop thinking about what he means to you—or what you mean to him. The uncertainty is starting to gnaw at you, bubbling up inside like something you need to spit out before it chokes you.

The air feels thick, heavy with words left unsaid. You’re not sure if it’s just you, or if Sukuna feels it too. For a moment, you consider just crawling back onto the couch and pretending to sleep, but the urge to say something—anything—won’t let you rest.

Instead, you slowly pad over to where he’s standing at the sink. You hover awkwardly at his side, hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, searching for the right words and wondering if you’ll ever find the courage to say them.

“Did you actually want to kiss me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words trembling in the space between you.

Sukuna freezes mid-step, a plate still in his hand, eyes widening with surprise. For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decide if he heard you right. “What?” he says, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity, the usual confidence stripped away.

Your heart pounds, but you press on, emboldened by the silence and the raw honesty hanging in the air. “You know, after our date. Before we ended up at the hospital.” You search his face, desperate for any flicker of what he’s really feeling—hope, regret, anything.

A slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his lips, the surprise fading as his usual bravado returns. “Oh, so it was a date?” he teases, his eyes glinting with mischief, but there’s something softer beneath the surface—something vulnerable.

You frown, rolling your eyes, suddenly feeling exposed and foolish for even asking. “Forget I said anything,” you mutter, turning away, wishing you could take the words back.

But before you can escape, his hand wraps around your wrist, firm and possessive, grounding you in place. He pulls you back, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of his soap still lingering from his shower. His gaze is intense, hungry, and it pins you in place.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice rough and honest in a way you’ve never heard before. “I did.”

Your breath catches. You meet his eyes, your heart in your throat, and then your gaze drops to his lips. He’s doing the same, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

“Do… do you still want to?” you ask, your voice trembling with nerves and something deeper—desire, hope, fear all tangled together.

He hesitates for only a heartbeat, eyes dark and searching, then closes the distance in one swift, decisive motion. His mouth claims yours, urgent and hungry, and the contact sends a shockwave through your body. It’s not gentle—he kisses you like he’s been holding back for years, like he needs you more than air.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, and when the cool metal of his tongue ring grazes you, a shiver races down your spine. You gasp, lips parting, and he takes full advantage, sliding his tongue past your teeth with a deep, possessive groan. The taste of him—spiced, intoxicating—makes your head spin.

His hands roam everywhere, rough palms gliding over your waist, tracing up your back, then sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing with intensity. He pulls you closer, erasing any distance between your bodies. His grip is unyielding, fingers digging in, making your breath hitch.

Without warning, he bends and slides his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. You gasp, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, legs locking around his waist. The movement brings you flush against him, your bodies perfectly aligned, his hard cock straining against you.

Sukuna’s mouth breaks from yours only long enough to blaze a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw and down the sensitive column of your neck. His teeth graze your skin, sharp and teasing, sending a jolt of sensation through you before his tongue follows, slow and deliberate, soothing the sting and making you arch closer, desperate for more. He finds that tender spot just below your ear and latches on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, pulling a helpless, breathless moan from your lips.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. He responds by grinding his hips into yours, the friction making your whole body thrum with need. His free hand slides up, tracing the curve of your side, then boldly brushes over your chest, his thumb circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and wild, lips swollen from your kisses. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he growls, voice low and rough.

You don’t even have time to answer before he claims your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second. The world narrows to the heat of his body, the taste of him, the way his hands explore you like he’s memorizing every inch.

Then, just as you’re losing yourself to him completely, a sharp, insistent knock at the door shatters the moment.

You both freeze, breathless, faces still inches apart. Sukuna’s jaw clenches in frustration, and you can’t help but let out a shaky, exasperated laugh.

“Seriously?” you whisper, your forehead pressed to his.

He groans, reluctantly setting you down, his hands lingering at your waist. “It’s probably Toji and the kids.”

You nod, still breathless, and brush your fingers over his jaw before he puts you down and you both turn toward the door—hearts pounding, bodies aching for more.

He yanks the door open with a scowl. “What the fuck—?”

You follow, curiosity and adrenaline swirling in your veins, still breathless from what just happened. As you peek around Sukuna’s broad shoulder, your eyes widen in disbelief.

Wait… is that Yarozu?

summary: AHAHAHAHHA hello everyone!! I just want you all to know that was my first time writing like a in depth steamy scene?? I’m ashamed to admit how long it took me to write it. but do not fear I’m practicing writing much more detailed scenes (I have plans for these two).

anyhoo! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! these two are finally getting somewhere lmao. and I just want you all to know if I could draw (well) I would draw sexy nurse sukuna🙂‍↕️

I hope you all have an amazing rest of your week. I will be pretty busy for the rest of the week, but I will try to update again soon! I love you all, and as always please let me know how you liked this chapter!

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @megumuro @puran-poli @emochosoluvr @poopooindamouf @tojiswifeforlife @bookfreakk @withtanxp

@pandabiene5115 @fava-boi @not-aya @jkslvsnella @saltypuffin1040 @777pluto @blueemochii @zeppelid

@miakxn @iseeyouuu @storiesbyparadise @flowerpot113

@kunasthiast @mullermilkshake @nessca153 @bestwomanalive @bunbun444

@yourfalletedfish @drymayonnaise @shartnart1 @odysseusmom @your-mum3000 @caught-the-feels @jamangos

@book0fdr3ams @hoohoohope @satorrruuu

#jjk #sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujitsu kaisen #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #sukuna fic #dividers by @enchanthings - a

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energ00n · 6 months ago

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Hey, Jazz anon here. Before I begin, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I was way too confrontational in my original ask because I was angry at the time, and as such I think it muddied my original point about tactness I was trying to make lol.

I'll try to keep this as short as I can, but I'd also like to go in more depth than my original ask so that I hope my point is better understood.

The point I was trying to make is that the writing choices we make in our narratives will always be indicative of the real world since we are real people writing from our own experiences. It doesn't matter what the setting is, or that "they're robots!," especially if we are dealing with a character that has parallels with the real world like Jazz. As such, it's very easy to fall into stereotype pitfalls when writing since everyone has been exposed to media that pushes stereotypes. I think we should ask ourselves why we are putting an unequivocally black character in a situation that is similar to real-world stereotypes of black men being used as an obstacle or road block in a relationship.

That is to say, I don't think you're racist. At all. I don't know why you said that I accused you of racism since even in my original spiteful anon I specified that I didn't think you were intentionally leaning into negative connotations about a black character. I just wanted to make you aware, but I admit, it was a poor explanation.

I'm going to address a couple quick points here that I have seen:

-"you just don't like jazzop!" No? Jazzop is unironically one of my favorite ships right now, which is why I want it to be portrayed well.

-"the AU isn't about racism" That's true, it's not. But that doesn't take away Jazz's blackness either, so I don't really see why the setting would change that.

- "Why did you not bring up Megatron?" I originally considered doing that in my original ask, but I was mainly too lost in the jazz sauce to include it in my original ask. But you said it yourself: Megatron is black, and as such, we should also be writing him with the same tact that Jazz deserves. I could divulge into the way that black men are similarly written to be hyper possessive in fiction, which also rubbed me the wrong way, but my ask is getting way too long and I think that it all ties back to educating yourself on common harmful tropes directed at black people.

I really hope this doesn't come off as pretentious because that was the furthest thing from my intention. Also sorry if I scared you with a freakishly long ask, I just wanted to have a dialogue properly. Thank you

I just woke up and my brain my be straying but I do commend you for coming back to expand upon your point. However you’ve still yet to answer my question: What tempting Jazz did to Orion?

If you’ve read my work beyond a few words, you’d know by now that this “love obstacle” doesn’t exist. Do you see your partner/crush having friends as an obstacle? Are you projecting? Jazz doesn’t “steal Orion’s away” (Doesn’t count if you turn off your brain and read everything through 3-word tropes). Not once did he take the initiative. It’s Orion who understandably wanted to hangout and catch up, it’s Orion who wanted to borrow the visor and took it before Jazz answered, and it’s D who suddenly views Jazz as an opponent upon sight. The whole thing wasn’t about Jazz being a home-wrecker, it’s about D and his emotional constipation, his insecurities.

Now that you actually mentioned Megatron, it’s extra ridiculous. Megatron, not TFO Megatron, MEGATRON, has been perceived as an angry possessive mf for years before TFO came along but the only thing you got out of it is this how we’re badly portraying black men. At this point I have to ask why are you so obsessive with racial stereotypes to such an uncomfortable degree? Did you think the movie was racist for making Megatron so aggressive and eventually became the villain too? You had to have because I’d start thinking you’re playing pick and choose.

I think I’m slowly seeing how you view things anon and it’s… pretty gross. You view them as their races before they’re characters. You diminish characters’ personalities, motivations and values just because they’re black-coded, you wouldn’t have a damn issue if I flip the table and draw SG!Orion being grossly possessive. To your own logic, black-coded characters should never be intense or have strong emotions, they should all be mild-mannered and I think that has a much more disturbing implications.

I want to clarify there’s a time and place where characters can really be used to harm folks of the minority group, like shit, I’m Asian, I know how it goes. But is this really the one? Really?? This AU? This AU even before I actually delve into its actual topic of racism in the story?? Dang.

I’ve said it a hundred times and I’ll say it again, I do not like cheap tropes, leave alone racist stereotypes. And you’re sitting here accusing me of not only tactless writing but also indulging in this ugly thing that’s not even a part of my culture. It’s not fun. You didn’t directly call me a racist but really, if you can conclude that Jazz was being portrayed as a picture of racial stereotypes from the handful of time he’s actually appeared, I can easily take how the previous ask pinned me as someone ignorant to my racism. Easily.

I think it’s high time we parted ways, anon. Clearly my story isn’t for you and I personally don’t want you around. I hope you’ll find a different media you’re more comfortable with

#ask ene

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tryingtofindava · 1 month ago

Note

yooo it's me again, may I request an ashlyn banner × fem aligned reader one shot where [name] and Ashlyn are secretly in a relationship?

i have some possible ideas for how they could be found out but you don't have to use these :D!! Ashlyn's parents find out when they find the two in her bed together cuddling and scrolling through social media on one of their phones? And the rest of the group finds out another way but they never really expected them to end up together.

thank u for reading my requests i love the sillies

-🎲🎲

──GIRLFRIENDS?!

{[Ashlyn Banner x Fem! Reader]}

: ̗̀➛Back to source

How her parents and the gang discover your two’s relationship!! Hehe very cutesy.

Ashlyn Banner wasn’t the type to let people in easily. Her expression nearly always cold or deadpanned, fiercely independent, a loner if you will, and just a little emotionally constipated… Yeah, the whole crew knew her that way.

Except for you.

The version of Ashlyn that was always sneaking glances at you, sent sleepy voice notes in the early hours of the morning to check in with you after shifting out of the phantom realm, and let you braid her hair when she needed it it done for ballet or just the day in general.

It took awhile for you two finally get together. She wanted nothing to do with you at first, friendships were just simply not her thing.

Until the golden gates opened for you with the opportunity of getting to group with her for the Savannah!!

Of course this didn’t go as planned when you’re group took the empty reservation at the Sorrel Weed House and started getting hunted every night at 12:00AM for 7 hours in a different dimension by terrifying creatures…

But every relationship starts somewhere, right?

It started with you protecting her every chance you could get in the phantom realm, listening to her so intently during group meetings. It’s not a slow realisation for her, it’s an oh shit moment. Like, one day she sees you laugh at something dumb Aiden says, and it hits her like a truck. Suddenly she’s hyper aware of how close you’re sitting. How nice your smile is. She’ll act like nothing’s wrong, but inside she’s spiraling a little.

So she comes clean, she’s not one to hide how she feels. She didn’t want unsaid feelings to get in the way of the groups mission to leave the phantom dimension for good. She was pleasantly surprised when you admitted you felt the same.

Which brings us to this Saturday morning.

You woke to the smell of Ashlyn’s shampoo and the warm presence of her beside you, bodies pressed closely together, her arm draped over your waist. She was always funny with physical affection, but you made it so easy for her.

Her alarm clock buzzed from where it was perched on her nightstand, but neither of you moved to grab it. Your legs tangled together under the blanket, her thumb lazily scrolling through your TikTok feed on your phone as your head rested against her shoulder.

Ashlyn’s room was still dim, the curtains pulled shut, casting the whole space in a bluish gray hue. She lay tangled up in the covers with Y/n, both girls curled around each other in the most domestic, sleepy kind of way.

Everything felt calm.

Until the bedroom door opened.

“Ashlyn, do you want pancakes-” Mrs. Banner froze. Emma’s eyes flickering between the two.

Ashlyn jolted up at the sound of her mom’s voice, but Y/n stayed frozen in place, wide eyed like a deer caught in headlights, still halfway tucked against Ashlyn’s side.

Mrs. Banner blinked once. Twice. Took in the blanket. The closeness. The fact that Ashlyn wasn’t even try to move away.

“…I’ll give you two a minute,” her mom said slowly, closing the door with the careful horror of someone who’d just walked in on something she definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Ashlyn groaned, arm still draped over you. “Well. That was subtle.”

Y/n laughed, burying her face into Ashlyn’s hoodie. “You think she’s going to tell your dad?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Time jump to Mike and Emma celebrating Ash getting over her ‘I don’t need friends or partners’ phase!!! Though, her parents did want to have a word with you though.

The conversation went surprisingly well, all things considered. Her parents weren’t mad, just shocked. Apparently, they’d had a running bet about whether Ashlyn even liked anyone. Her mom won. They also made a point to remind you that if you ever, EVER upset her in anyway, they knew almost every form of self defence.

But it was a whole other conversation when your friends found out…

You and Ashlyn weren’t exactly good at hiding your relationship. Sure, you kept the PDA to a minimum, but someone was bound to notice the way Ashlyn looked at you like you hung the moon, especially when she thought no one was watching.

So when Tyler caught her sneaking a kiss to your cheek while you were grabbing soda from the mini fridge you guys kept in the bus, it was over.

“Oh my god,” he’d scoff, not at all surprised. “You two?!” The whole group whipped around. Aiden and Ben looked up from their phones, invested immediately. Logan just blinked. “Wait. Since when?”

Ashlyn groaned. “Does it matter?”

“YES,” they all chorused. You laughed, burying your face in her shoulder as Ashlyn muttered, “I hate all of you.”

Taylor giggled, “You two are so cute together!!” She fan girled.

Logan nods his head, adjusting his glasses, “Didn’t see it coming, but it makes sense.”

Ashlyn’s hand found yours under the table.

Yeah. It did.

AHHH THIS HAS BEEN DUSTY IN THE DRAFTS FOR AGESSSSS

Pls tell me this fandom is still alive.

#sbg x reader #school bus graveyard x fem reader #ashlyn banner x reader #sbg ashlyn x reader #aiden clark x reader #sbg Aiden x reader #sbg Tyler x reader #tyler hernandez x reader #taylor hernandez x reader #sbg Taylor x reader #ben clark x reader #sbg Ben x reader #logan fields x reader #sbg Logan x reader

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byhuenii · 2 months ago

Text

Romcom 101 w/ Reluctant Super Soldiers

CHAPTER 0 – “For Optics” → The Setup

(Word Count: 4,600)

(Warnings) Bucky, fake marriage, mr tall broody, stupid idiots who like eachother, mentions of romcoms, semi-tower fic but theyre all watching this mission play out, lots and lots of teasing! lmk if i missed anything, ALSO NO MENTION OF NAME

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The mission was supposed to be simple. Pretend to be engaged. Blend in at a diplomatic summit. Make sure no one tried to poison the Latvian prime minister.

But Nick Fury, being Nick Fury, had a flair for chaos. So instead of sending seasoned SHIELD agents with an actual romantic history, he sent Bucky Barnes—the most emotionally constipated man alive—and you.

"You'll be fine," Fury had said with a dismissive wave. "Barnes is broody, you're charming, it's believable."

That was all it took. No planning. No detailed cover story. No psych evaluations or compatibility testing. Just forged marriage paperwork, a diamond ring with a price tag that could fund four years of college and a decent first apartment in Brooklyn, and a room key.

Just you and Bucky, thrown into a luxurious suite in Vienna courtesy of Stark.

When you both stepped into your shared suite for the first time, the tension was high—so high, it might've had its own gravitational pull.

It was awkward. Painfully so. The tension hit harder than a gut punch from a super soldier under Hydra’s control. Bucky dropped his bag wordlessly by the dresser, his eyes scanning the room like it might be booby-trapped.

Of course. One bed.

You glanced at the hyper-aware soldier. "Rock paper scissors for the floor?"

He blinked slowly, face unreadable. "I’ve slept on concrete for seventy years. I’ll be fine."

"You’re willingly taking the floor?"

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the closet with the kind of precision that deserved a jazz soundtrack.

"Less complicated."

You sighed and opened your suitcase, filled with gowns tailored perfectly to your measurements. "We can share the bed. I call the left side."

All you got was a grunted acknowledgment.

Great.

Sharing a bed with a man who once assassinated JFK but couldn’t make eye contact while you changed into your pajamas.

Gentleman? Maybe.

You hoped so.

Back at the compound, chaos had already erupted.

Sam Wilson had laughed for a solid five minutes when he saw the fake engagement announcement on the mission board.

"This is gold," he choked out between wheezes. "Barnes? Romance? I give it two days before one of you throws a pillow at the other."

Peter Parker was thrilled. "Oh my God, is this like—Mr. & Mrs. Smith?" he'd asked with way too much excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Do you get spy gadgets? Matching disguises? Oh! You should totally get matching tattoos."

Kate Bishop added with a snort, "If either of them blows up a mansion, I’m calling dibs on the security footage. And the explosion angles. I’ve got a whole highlight reel in my head already."

Steve had been confused. Disbelieving. "Bucky? Seriously? He hates holding hands. He physically recoils when people breathe too close to him."

Natasha had leaned in close to the screen and smirked. "Maybe the threat of poison will loosen him up. Or maybe this'll be the mission where he finally learns how to flirt without looking like he wants to escape through a wall."

Tony had already started taking bets.

"I give it three days before she snaps and murders him. Or vice versa. Either way, entertaining. Friday, start the office pool. Put me down for 'awkward sexual tension implosion' on Day 5."

Clint just whistled. "Guess I gotta move 'Mission Baby Shower' from December to next year."

Yelena cracked her knuckles with glee. "Can I be godmother? Even if it’s a fake baby. Just give me a fake baby. I want to test its espionage potential."

The earpiece teasing started almost immediately.

"Barnes, if you don’t compliment her dress, I swear to god, I will," Sam's voice buzzed in Bucky’s ear as you descended the hotel stairs, shimmering in a sleek navy gown. "Don’t make me call dibs."

Bucky grumbled, "You’re not even on this mission."

"Don’t need to be. I got the livestream."

You smiled faintly, aware of Bucky’s silence. "Is Sam threatening you again?"

"He’s threatening you, technically."

Yelena's voice chimed in, all fake innocence. "James, you look very... tense. Maybe she should give you a massage. For cover. For the mission."

"Not helping," Bucky muttered, ears tinting pink.

"Oh, but I’m excellent at helping," Yelena replied. "I helped Kate dye her eyebrows once. Only burned a little."

Peter added in a whisper-shout, "Guys! He just looked at her like she invented breathing. I’m writing this down."

Tony: "I better get at least a five-act romantic arc or I’m cutting funding."

Bucky was quiet.

Then he looked at you, slow and deliberate, and asked, "You okay with this?"

You nodded. Something in him settled. Maybe.

Day one already felt long, and the gala hadn’t even started.

It was a mess of security walkthroughs, earpiece tests, rehearsed interactions, and learning which fork went with which entree. Bucky didn't speak unless he had to, and when he did, it was clipped and functional. You filled in the silences with charm and diplomacy, making Peter laugh over text, and trying to ignore the way Bucky flinched every time your shoulder brushed his.

The ring was beautiful—sterling silver, classic cut, not too flashy. You slipped it on and felt the weight of it. Too real.

Bucky adjusted his tie and muttered, "You sure this looks okay?"

You stepped closer, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. His eyes dropped to your hands.

"You clean up alright, Barnes."

He looked up. Something unreadable passed between you.

The summit was held in a grand hotel ballroom, chandeliers glittering overhead. You and Bucky were introduced as "James Barnes and fiancée." That word sounded strange in your ears.

"Annnd fiancée," you drawled. "I’m going to start introducing myself as Fiancée Barnes."

Bucky chuckled—light, airy, almost out of character. That was strange too.

Even stranger when he placed a hand on the small of your back, warm and possessive. You thought it would be hard to make him act like he loved you. God, this already felt natural.

You didn’t have to fake the shiver.

You passed diplomats, smiling, nodding, sipping wine you hated. Bucky played his part with quiet grace, moving like a shadow at your side. When someone asked how you met, he surprised you by weaving an elaborate, entirely made-up story about a coffee shop and spilled books and rainy afternoons.

He smirked when he saw your face.

"What?" he murmured. "Figured I’d contribute to the fantasy."

Back in the surveillance van, Tony clutched his chest.

"He’s improvising! Our boy is growing up!"

Clint mimed wiping away a tear. "It’s so beautiful."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Idiots."

Sam: "Wait, did he just adjust her necklace for her? I swear Barnes is going to combust."

Yelena: "Let it happen. Combustion is very romantic."

Peter: "Do you think they’ll kiss by Day 6? I have a theory."

For the first day it was stiff, silent, and filled with the kind of micro-interactions that would make a body language analyst cry from secondhand embarrassment.

You fumbled with your earpiece while Bucky stood in the corner like a brooding gargoyle. When it came time to descend to the gala, you slipped into a sleek navy gown and caught him watching you—not staring, just... noticing.

"Barnes, if you don’t compliment her dress, I swear to God, I will," Sam’s voice buzzed in Bucky’s ear. "You’re not even on this mission," Bucky grumbled.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “Just... didn’t expect that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect what?”

“That color. Looks good on you.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment? From Bucky Barnes? Sam’s voice crackled in your ear from comms. “He’s evolving. Give the man a sticker.”

"Don’t need to be. I got the livestream."

You smiled faintly. "Is Sam threatening you again?"

"He’s threatening you, technically."

The gala was a blur of forced smiles and champagne. You looped your arm through his. His was solid, warm, unmoving. People asked questions. Where did you meet? How long had you been together?

"Coffee shop," he said smoothly. "She dropped three books on my foot." You turned, wide-eyed. "It was raining," he continued. "I offered her my umbrella. She told me to get my own."

The man could lie. And worse—he could lie well. He even smirked at your shocked expression. "What?" he murmured. "Figured I’d contribute to the fantasy." Tony, listening from the surveillance van, clutched his chest. "He’s improvising! Our boy is growing up!"

Back in your suite that night, you lay side by side but a safe foot apart, both staring at the ceiling.

"Day one down," you said quietly. "Yeah," Bucky replied. "You snore."

Day Two was a little looser, a little less like you were two strangers playing house. The mission was still the priority, of course—but the details got blurrier.

By morning, something had shifted—imperceptibly, like the temperature rising just one degree. He handed you coffee before you could ask. Black, just the way you liked it.

You blinked. “You remembered?” “You said it yesterday.” You hadn’t realized he was listening.

During your daily romantic walk, meant for optics, Bucky offered you his arm. You blinked.

"It’s for the cover," he said stiffly. "People are watching."

Later, walking the manicured palace grounds for ‘optics,’ Bucky offered you his arm. No warning. Just extended it stiffly like it was procedure. You took it without hesitation, ignoring the way your heart thudded against your ribs.

“People are watching,” he murmured.

“You say that like you’re not enjoying it,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, but his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist once. Soft. Unintentional, maybe. But it lingered.

At brunch, you stole bacon from his plate.

“You’re going to start a war,” he muttered.

“You could’ve stabbed me. You didn’t.”

“I’m evolving,” he deadpanned.

Sam: “Ohhh, he’s learning. Next up: eye contact that lasts longer than three seconds.”

Yelena: “Wait until he accidentally brushes her hand. He’ll short-circuit like a toaster.”

Later, you helped him adjust his tie before a security debriefing. You were close—too close. The knot was slightly crooked. Your hands stilled on his chest.

“Hold still,” you said.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly.

Neither of you moved.

That night, in bed, he rolled onto his side, closer than the night before. Not touching, but nearer. Intentional.

“You don’t snore,” he said softly.

“You lied?”

“I wanted you to stop talking.”

You laughed into the dark. “It didn’t work.”

You both laughed—soft and tired. His shoulder brushed yours. Neither of you moved away.

Day three started with a near wardrobe disaster.

You had exactly 12 seconds before your zipper betrayed you, and your communicator crackled with static as you wrestled with it.

"Uh, problem," you muttered.

Bucky, dressed and brooding by the minibar, looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“This damn zipper. It’s stuck, and I’m not showing up to the ambassador’s brunch half-dressed.”

You turned your back to him, exposing the rogue zipper. He hesitated, like you’d just asked him to dismantle a bomb. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped forward.

His metal hand brushed the small of your back.

And then—

Sam (over the earpiece): “Easy, Romeo. That’s a zipper, not a detonator.”

Nat: “Use the thumb, Barnes. Gently. She’s not a nuclear device.”

Yelena: “If he rips her dress, I get to pick the next one. Leather. Black. Combat-ready.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he zipped you up in stiff silence. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin like sun-warmed steel.

“There,” he mumbled.

“Thanks.” You turned to face him, trying very hard not to notice the proximity.

Clint: “Can we get a little less eye contact and a little more moving toward the door, lovebirds?”

Peter: “I bet they stared at each other for five whole seconds. Classic pre-kiss energy.”

Kate: “Let them build tension, damn. This is peak romcom pacing.”

Later, during a stroll through the ornate gardens for your daily “fake romantic walk,” Bucky offered you his arm.

You blinked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s for the cover. People are watching.”

Right. Sure. The hand he offered was warm and steady. You looped your arm through his, ignoring how your heart stuttered.

Sam: “Ohhh, he’s learning. Next up: eye contact that lasts longer than three seconds.”

Yelena: “Wait until he accidentally brushes her hand. He’ll short-circuit like a toaster.”

You squeezed his arm playfully. “You're getting good at pretending.”

He glanced sideways. “I’m not pretending as much as I probably should be.”

Your breath hitched. You weren’t sure what to say to that.

Luckily—or unluckily—you were interrupted.

Tony: “Heads up, kids. Possible security breach in the south hallway. Eyes sharp.”

Bucky stiffened. His whole demeanor shifted into soldier mode, the warmth fading into stone.

You touched his arm gently. “Hey. You’ve got this.”

He gave a short nod. "Stay close."

The breach turned out to be a glitchy security drone—nothing dangerous, but it had thrown everyone into high alert.

That night, exhausted and a little shaken, you found yourself brushing your teeth beside Bucky in awkward silence.

Your pajamas were mismatched—Stark’s branded t-shirt and plaid pants—and Bucky was in a henley and sweatpants, somehow looking like a sleepwear model anyway.

He spit into the sink and caught your eye in the mirror.

“You drool in your sleep.”

You squinted. “You’ve been watching me sleep?”

“You talk, too. Something about… pancakes and fighting a goose.”

“That sounds accurate.”

You both laughed—soft and tired—and your shoulders brushed as you leaned over the sink.

Nat (deadpan): “If you kiss right now, I swear to God I will make you both run sparring drills in full formalwear.”

Sam: “You think he’s that brave? Barnes would faint.”

Yelena: “I vote, we place bets. If they kiss within the week, Peter owes me churros.”

Peter: “What? I didn’t—fine, but only if it’s on the lips.”

By Day Four, the ease between you and Bucky had settled into something strange and wonderful.

You had inside jokes. Shared routines. A rhythm.

He always poured your coffee first. You always stole the blanket. He grumbled, but didn’t take it back.

At breakfast, you caught him staring—not in the creepy way. In the you-had-no-idea-you-were-doing-it way.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He looked away, ears pink. “Nothing.”

Yelena: “That wasn’t nothing. That was ‘I wonder what she looks like in my hoodie’ eyes.”

Kate: “He’s definitely thought about that. Multiple times.”

Tony: “He’s doomed. She’s doomed. Everyone’s doomed. This mission is a romcom masquerading as a diplomatic op.”

That night, after the gala, you were tipsy from champagne and barefoot in the kitchenette, eating strawberries from the minibar.

Bucky leaned against the doorway, watching you.

"You’re not making this easy,” he said, voice low.

“Easy?”

“This is supposed to be fake.”

You blinked. “And?”

“I’m not doing a great job pretending.”

Your heart stopped.

He stepped forward. One slow, deliberate step at a time until he was close enough to touch. Close enough that you could smell his cologne—earthy, clean, too expensive for someone who still used flip phones.

You swallowed. “Then don’t.”

He leaned in—and just as your breath caught, he pulled back.

“We’re still on a mission.”

Nat (over the earpiece): “…You absolute coward.”

Yelena: “Throw a chair at him.”

Sam: “He’s gonna regret that for the rest of his unnatural life.”

You turned away, chest tight. “Right. Of course.”

But Bucky didn’t move for a long moment.

Neither did you.

Day 5 was like watching the whiplash movie, its like there was a switch flipped in bucky.

You woke to find Bucky already awake, perched near the window with a book in hand, sunlight cutting across his cheek. His hair was damp from a recent shower, curling just slightly at the ends. He looked peaceful in a way that made your heart ache

A lazy morning and too many strawberries. You padded barefoot through the suite in one of his T-shirts because yours was in the laundry.

He saw you and just... stared. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“It’s just... you look comfortable.”

You shrugged. “Should I not be?”

“No,” he said. “It’s good.”.

"What are you reading?"

He lifted the cover. "The Hobbit."

You blinked. "You're reading Tolkien?"

Bucky shrugged, almost sheepishly. "I like the world-building. And the maps."

"You're a secret nerd."

"Wasn’t much to do in cryo. I read a lot."

Peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece. "Wait, wait, Barnes reads The Hobbit? I knew he was cool. I knew it."

Sam added, "Bet he's got a Gandalf quote tattooed somewhere."

"One book does not a nerd make," Yelena chimed in. "But if he starts quoting Elvish, we riot."

You rolled your eyes and grinned. "You know what? You should watch Game of Thrones next."

He gave you a long, skeptical look. "That the one with the dragons and... everyone dies?"

"Basically."

He turned a page. "Alright. I’ll give it a shot."

Later that night, while reviewing the security layout, Bucky mumbled, "So what’s a Lannister again?"

You choked on your water. "You're actually watching it?"

He smirked. "I said I’d give it a shot."

That evening, he surprised you even more. You were rambling about a diplomat who couldn’t pronounce ‘Latvian’ when Bucky cut in dryly:

"Maybe he thinks it’s a kind of cheese."

You burst into laughter, nearly dropping your earpiece.

Sam’s voice cracked through. "DID HE JUST—DID BUCKY BARNES MAKE A JOKE?"

Natasha chimed in, amused. "Mark the day."

Bucky looked satisfied. "I like hearing you laugh."

You paused. He didn’t meet your eyes, but his words lingered.

Day six felt like a real fantasy.

It was the final day of the summit. The atmosphere was electric and draining all at once.

Just before the summit dinner, the entire team was monitoring the ballroom through comms. You and Bucky had split up to schmooze the various delegates—at least on paper. In reality, you were sneaking glances at each other across the room like teenagers with a crush.

That’s when Sam’s voice crackled in your ear again.

“Hey, Barnes. If you keep staring at her like that, the Latvian prime minister’s gonna think he’s your type.”

You nearly choked on your champagne.

Yelena hummed. “Honestly, I ship it.”

Bucky covered his mouth to hide the smirk.

Natasha chimed in smoothly, “I give it two more flirtatious remarks before one of you combusts.”

Clint: “My money’s on Barnes.”

Then Steve’s voice, smooth as ever, broke through the static:

“Welcome back, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky visibly froze, one corner of his mouth twitching, like he wanted to grin and groan at the same time. A blush crept over his cheeks, and he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck like a kid caught passing notes in class.

You caught his reaction and grinned. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he muttered quickly.

“Oh no, no. That blush is something. What’d Steve say to you?”

“Nothing important.”

You tilted your head. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

He blinked. “Did you just—?”

“Say you’re cute?” You shrugged. “Yeah. What, shocked I find you attractive now that you’re letting your 40s flirt game show?”

He gave a soft chuckle, voice low. “I’m not even at full power yet.”

“Oh no,” Sam said in your ears, “he’s back, and he’s flirting. World, prepare yourself.”

Peter whispered dramatically, “This is better than the ending of descendants 2.”

You wore a dark green gown that hugged your frame, matched with gold accessories. Bucky was already dressed when you stepped out. His eyes flicked up and down once, then stayed on your face.

"You keep dressing like that, and I’ll forget how to speak."

You blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

Your breath caught, because this time he wasn’t flustered. He was smooth. Almost cocky.

"Barnes, are you flirting with me?"

He gave a sly half-smile. "Might be. You gonna report me to HR?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re the worst."

"And yet here you are, still holding my hand."

Your fingers were laced together. You hadn’t even noticed.

Throughout the night, Bucky dropped more of those subtle jabs:

"Careful, you keep looking at me like that, I might get ideas."

"I’d offer you a drink, but I already make your head spin."

"We’re married, technically. I’m allowed to be obsessed."

Each time, your face warmed. Each time, your heart thudded a little harder.

During a slow dance, he leaned in close.

"Still fake?"

You swallowed hard. "I don’t know anymore."

Over the earpiece, Yelena whispered, "God, finally."

Sam sighed dramatically. "My ship is sailing."

Nat: "They’re disgustingly cute."

Peter: "Can I be the flower boy? I have glitter cannons."

You both laughed.

Day seven came and went, that also meant it was the end of your play pretend marriage.

The mission wrapped. No explosions. No gunfights. No poisoned desserts. Just a hundred photo ops and a thousand half-smiles.

That morning, you found Bucky asleep beside you. Fully on the bed now, one arm sprawled across the pillow between you. His copy of The Hobbit lay open on his chest, pages crinkled.

You picked it up carefully and bookmarked the spot.

He blinked awake slowly, eyes meeting yours. "Morning."

"Morning. I think Bilbo’s about to meet the dragon."

He smiled. "Good part."

You watched him stretch, muscles flexing, hair a glorious mess.

"You’re not making this easy," you whispered.

He looked over. "Easy to do what?"

"Forget this was fake."

The night before you left Vienna, you and Bucky took one final walk around the quiet city. The summit had wrapped. The threats were neutralized. The diplomats had all gone home, and the cobblestone streets glistened under the glow of old-world lanterns.

Your arms brushed as you walked.

Neither of you spoke.

Eventually, you found yourselves on a small bridge overlooking the river. The air smelled like rain and blooming jasmine. He leaned on the railing beside you, his shoulder just grazing yours.

You turned to him, quietly.

“This whole week…” you started.

He didn’t look away. “Yeah.”

“Feels weird to take the ring off.”

He swallowed hard. “Feels weird to pretend none of it meant anything.”

You stepped closer.

His hand reached out, almost involuntarily, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your cheekbone, calloused and gentle. You looked up at him.

His eyes searched yours.

You swore he was leaning in.

You leaned in too.

Then he froze.

He stepped back, jaw tightening.

“We… we can’t. It’s not real,” he said, voice low but tense.

You blinked. “Right.”

The air snapped like a rubber band. The moment dissolved.

You straightened, quietly crushed, nodding even as your throat burned.

Comms exploded.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Tony bellowed. “You didn’t kiss her?! You were right there! That was a million-dollar moment! Do you know how much money I’ve lost on this stupid betting pool?!”

Nat groaned: “They’re both hopeless.”

Yelena: “I am embarrassed for them.”

Sam: “One job, Barnes. You had one job. You just had to lean in.”

Clint’s voice cut in, sharp: “Break her heart and I break both your kneecaps.”

Peter, heartbreak in his tone: “This is just like 10 Things I Hate About You. Kat finds out Patrick was paid to date her... then she cries in English class... I’m not okay.”

And then Wanda’s voice joined, lilting with sarcasm and judgment.

“Oh please, Barnes. Do you want me to bend reality so you did kiss her? Because that’s the only way this is going to feel less tragically awkward.”

Bucky groaned audibly. “Wanda…”

She laughed. “You’re telling me, Mr. Flirty-1943 suddenly forgets how to close a three-inch gap? I have seen you take out Hydra bunkers with more confidence.”

You tried not to laugh but failed—shoulders shaking silently as Bucky rubbed his face in embarrassment.

Wanda: “This is coming from a literal witch, Barnes. There are hexes for this kind of thing. I’m tempted to use them.”

Tony again: “God, even Maximoff’s fed up. Do something, Barnes. Before Clint and Yelena form a vigilante group.”

Fury’s voice returned, a growl now: “I’m going to destroy this comm system myself. With a hammer.”

Click. Silence.

You let out a soft breath and glanced at Bucky. He was still red in the ears, jaw tight, clearly rattled by all of it.

You tried to smile. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Bucky stared at the ground, fists clenched at his sides.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I know.”

He muttered, “I liked it better when I was just the guy reading Tolkien.”

You smiled, and despite it all—despite the nearly kiss, the tension, the sudden cold feet—there was a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

The walk back was quiet. Not tense—just full of things unsaid.

When you got to your suite, he held the door for you. His hand hovered at your back but never touched you.

That night, he slept facing the wall.

You stayed awake a while, staring at the ceiling, the ring cold on your finger.

When Fury checked in that afternoon, you and Bucky were side-by-side on the couch, feet tangled beneath a ridiculous fur throw Stark had insisted made the room “romantic enough for Europe.” You’d both been laughing—soft, quiet laughter over nothing important—when Fury’s face appeared on the screen.

He stared at you both for a long beat.

Fury sighed. “You two are too good at this. Almost makes me believe you idiots are in love.”

Sam immediately jumped in. “We told you.”

Yelena: “Kiss already.”

Natasha: “They’re too stubborn. Bet they’ll need another mission to figure it out.”

Clint: “I give it a week.”

Peter: “I HAVE A PLAYLIST. It starts with Can’t Help Falling in Love. I’m emotionally invested.”

There was a loud click as Fury cut the comms with what could only be described as fury.

You and Bucky stared at each other in the silence that followed.

The warmth in your chest dimmed slightly.

“We’re not really in love,” you said softly, barely louder than a breath. There was a hesitation in your voice you didn’t bother hiding.

His fingers brushed yours.

His face was unreadable. He just stared, eyes flicking to your lips and back to your eyes. There was something warring in his gaze—something fierce and afraid all at once.

Then he looked away.

The moment slipped again.

When you returned to New York, everything about the mission felt like it evaporated the second your feet hit Brooklyn pavement. You unpacked in silence. The diamond ring went into a drawer, buried under spare socks and tangled phone chargers. The dresses went back to their Stark Industries garment bags. You didn’t even look at the photos.

But the silence was too quiet. Your bed felt too cold.

And you missed him.

Three days later, there was a knock.

You opened the door to find him there.

Hoodie. Sweats. Hair tousled like he’d slept terribly. A Tolkien bookmark poked out from his pocket—crinkled from being carried around too long.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Then he held out the ring.

"You wore it better," he said.

You blinked, heart doing something very unhelpful.

You took it slowly. Your hand lingered on his.

He didn’t leave.

And neither did you.

It was supposed to be fake.

But the warmth of his hand, the way he looked at you—not as a soldier, not as a partner, but as a man who had chosen to be here—felt more real than anything in Vienna.

He sat beside you on the couch.

You sat in silence for a moment before you reached into your drawer and pulled out The Hobbit.

You nudged it toward him.

He smiled. "Read it to me?"

"Start of something real," you murmured.

He leaned his shoulder against yours. And maybe, next time… You’d finish The Hobbit together.

(You've got mail!) Honestly let me know if i made any mistakes but also heyyy i hope you guys liked the first chapter well..introduction chapter. I honestly had to rethink all this and be like uhhhhh i have no clue if this is good since this is my first bucky fanfic. CHAT IM SCAREDDDDDDDDD

(Tags) @bbsbrina @captainnnatheweirdo

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