#He's my special boy and he brings me such joy...

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, no labels

- “I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it"

The magic of Christmas was something special—something that could mend relationships, make adults feel like children again, and bring together those who had drifted apart.

Colorful ornaments adorned towering Christmas trees, hiding the gifts underneath just a little. And if Christmas was spent with family, it became even more beautiful.

The girl Paul was closest to had caught the last flight to Tallinn before heavy snow temporarily slowed down the flow of passengers at the Estonian airport. She had settled into the beautiful villa where the boys lived. She loved Christmas, the preparations that came with it, the wonderful smiles of children, and all the little things that brought her joy.

She was the kind of person who was content with very little, always smiling beneath the glasses she wore to avoid straining her eyes—the same eyes Paul never got tired of looking into.

They hated putting labels on themselves or talking about their relationship. Between them, everything was so simple that trying to define it felt like an unnecessary complication for something so pure and clean. They had met by chance and continued to see each other between video calls, with the occasional late-night message when one of them had fallen asleep and the other needed to talk.

And so, an extra place was added at the table that year. Despite her mind telling her to spend the holidays with her family, as she always had, her heart needed to enter that home and experience something new. Everything was new for her there, except for a few people who had grown accustomed to discovering new parts of her—and adoring every one of them.

Perhaps some would call it a bold move to invite her to something as important as Christmas with the family, but as everyone thought, there was nothing more transparent than the affection she had for the Estonian driver, his family, and their traditions—not to mention the huge smile that lit up her face when she saw the children. They were so blonde they looked like a little team of angels.

“I really, really want to help,” said the girl as she sliced bread on a wooden cutting board, ready to set it on the table. Margit, who wanted her to enjoy the evening without lifting a finger, tried to dissuade her.

“If I were you, I’d let her,” Paul chimed in, stealing a breadstick from the container as he walked behind the women of the house and Ralf, who was checking whether the evening’s first dish was cooking properly.

She turned, giving him an amused look, her hair tied back in a messy bun with strands of her bangs slipping loose onto her forehead.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Estonian said, crossing his arms and leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m not violent or anything, I swear,” she said, raising her hands in mock innocence toward the driver’s mother, who responded with a sweet, elegant laugh.

“I have something to say about that,” Paul teased.

“Have you decided you’re a pain in the ass?” Anna shot back, trying to chase her brother out of the kitchen by pushing and holding him by the arm.

“Everybody hates me. I’m done,” he declared, stealing another breadstick behind his back as he disappeared through the door to lift one of his nephews into the air. The child had been loudly calling for Uncle Paul.

The atmosphere was beautiful. From the kitchen island, Margit, Anna, and the family’s new addition could see the entire living room, where an explosion of joy brought color to an otherwise minimalist home.

All the children were seated around the tree, with one of the more distant uncles dressed as Santa Claus telling stories, while the Aron cousins worked on drawings that the kids would later sign.

Ralf had connected his phone to one of the speakers scattered throughout the house and started playing a Christmas playlist, making the girl wrinkle her nose.

But the best part was sitting down to eat together. The children sat at their own table, engrossed in a conversation about the latest cartoon to watch, while the adults discussed various topics.

One of the evening’s focal points was the girl herself. Sitting next to Paul, she answered an endless stream of questions from everyone. She was having fun, watching how Paul’s grandmother got emotional at every one of her answers while gently stroking her husband’s hand with her thumb.

“You’d make a perfect couple,” the elderly woman blurted out, pushing her glasses up her nose to get a better look at them. Both smiled, a hint of shyness softening their carefree expressions.

Paul passed her the dishes, asked if she’d like something to drink, and, when speaking with relatives in Estonian, would place a hand on her shoulder and whisper a translation before resting his chin on her head.

At Christmas, Paul changed a little. Amid the noisy table, he withdrew into himself, speaking only when spoken to, his gaze often fixed on the children’s table where they played. But that year, she had managed to make him an integral part of the group, encouraging him to open up and join the conversations with that radiant smile of hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked while Anna had already whisked away the dishes to prepare for one of their family’s beloved traditions.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, looking into his eyes.

He ran one of his large hands through her hair, letting it slide to her shoulders, and smiled back. The way she looked at him—it was what anyone would call “the look of love.”

After a few rounds of the family game, everyone got up and moved to the large living room, ready to open the first gifts with the children, all of them returning to a childlike state themselves.

The girl had ended up in an armchair near the tree, with one of Paul’s older brother’s sons on her lap, giving her a perfect view of the whole group.

The girls tore through wrapping paper, revealing dolls and dresses with tulle, smothering their relatives in kisses and tying ribbons around their wrists, pretending they were at a ball.

On the other side, the boys, more focused on messing with Paul and Ralf’s hair, patiently awaited their turn to do the same, while the boys’ father tried to figure out where Margit had hidden the gifts.

“Go and set the table for Santa,” Margit said with a smile, gesturing for the kids to grab the milk and cookies from the kitchen island.

“Come with us!” A dozen excited, slightly sleepy children grabbed the girl’s hands, making her wrinkle her nose in amusement as they led her to the kitchen island, where the older kids grabbed the bowls.

Paul, sitting on the couch with Anna resting her head on his chest, watched her from a distance.

Just as he always did.

He observed the way she moved, telling stories to the children, lifting them up to set the table where they couldn’t reach, giving them high-fives that made their tiny hands disappear in hers.

She was full of nostalgia—that was something he had learned.

And seeing her like this made him so happy that he couldn’t even express it, warmth spreading through his chest and his lips curving into a soft smile.

“Why do I feel like if I ever brought a girl home, you wouldn’t love her as much as you love her?” joked Ralf, placing his hands on their mother’s shoulders.

“We love everyone the same,” she said, stroking one of her son’s hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you enjoy someone’s company as much as hers,” Ralf continued.

“She’s a good girl, she is,” nodded the father of the Arons, making them smile as she returned to the room with a child in her arms and the others following behind.

She looked at everyone, letting them know the table was ready for Santa Claus, and then softly rubbed the back of one of Paul’s little cousins, who was just moments away from falling asleep.

The mothers took their children to bed, changing them into pajamas with little reindeer on them and making sure they were sound asleep before returning.

“Who’s in charge of Santa tonight?” asked Anna, stretching her arms as she got up from the couch.

“Paul,” said Margit, patting his shoulder as he stood.

“Yes!” whispered the Estonian.

Christmas Eve was the one night, besides the kids, where he had no desire to sleep at all, and staying up late to put Santa’s presents under the tree and do something special made him genuinely happy.

“Goodnight then, and Merry Christmas,” said the middle Aron sibling, giving everyone a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re staying up with me, you know,” Paul said to the girl as he approached her, a grin on his face, arms crossed as he looked down from his height of six feet.

“Why did I already know that?” she laughed, tying her hair back again as the rest headed to their respective bedrooms, leaving only Alpine’s reserve driver to follow her into her room.

They changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, finally bringing out the gifts they had hidden in plain sight.

In the chaos of earlier gift-giving, no one had noticed that the two of them hadn’t exchanged anything, so now they found themselves doing so in the intimacy of her dimly lit room.

“Do we open them now or later?”

“We’ve got hours before we have to set the gifts, so now works,” Paul shrugged, trying to hide how excited he was to give her his present. He couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

The driver handed her the box he held in his hands, scratching the back of his neck with the other as he watched her begin to unwrap it.

Behind him, one of the house’s large windows opened onto the illuminated porch and gave a small glimpse of the darkness that usually gave way to the forest.

The Christmas lights, a warm white, framed the window and cast a soft glow inside the room, highlighting her silhouette.

He, too, was opening his gift, wearing a loose white shirt with the Grinch on it, his curls lightly tickling his forehead as he pressed his lips together and carefully untied the bow.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

“I thought we were well past that kind of politeness.”

“Oh, I hate you,” she laughed, adjusting her glasses on her face.

And then she saw it. A certificate.

“I can’t read anything,” she said, turning her back to him to catch the light from the lamp on his side of the bed.

Paul took the opportunity to wrap his hands around her waist, pulling her to sit between his legs.

“The star with the following coordinates was renamed on 12/08 by Paul with the name ____.”

She read the inscription beneath the photo of a stunning star against a deep blue background, running her fingers over the thick paper of the certificate.

He had named a star after her.

And that was the most beautiful gift, the most heartfelt declaration anyone could have given her.

“I knew you’d make me cry,” she said, turning to face him.

“Don’t, or Santa won’t stop by,” he teased, wiping her eyes with his thumbs before pressing a playful kiss to her nose.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her chest as though he weren’t twice her size.

And he loved it when she hugged him like that, making him feel so warm and protected—something no one but his family had ever managed to do.

Maybe that’s exactly why she was there that night, celebrating with them, closer to him than people he’d known since he was a child.

“And, by the way, your gifts are beautiful too,” he said, running his hands gently along her spine.

They talked about presents again hours later, lying on the mattress and chatting about anything and everything, just like they always did, trying not to laugh too loudly at the silly memes on their phones.

Their hair sprawled across the pillows, the blankets keeping them warm, the scent of the room was one they both associated with rest days, holidays, and happiness.

It was that soft, cozy smell—a mix of fabric softener, love, affection, and genuine feelings.

Whenever a video was especially funny, he’d wrap his arms around her, trapping her between his biceps to muffle her laughter while trying not to burst out laughing himself.

And before they knew it, the hour of Santa Claus arrived. While he scoured the house for the gifts his mom had hidden somewhere, muttering in Estonian, she grabbed some powdered sugar and made boot prints on the parquet floor.

“There’s one for you and me, too,” said the Estonian, balancing five or six boxes stacked in his arms as he walked without looking where he stepped.

“Watch your feet, idiot,” she laughed, fixing one of the Santa footprints he’d accidentally smudged.

“I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it,” he replied, starting to arrange the gifts neatly under the glowing tree so the kids could easily find them in the morning before breakfast.

“Footsteps done.”

“Santa has to eat the cookies.”

“There’s a ton of them!” she complained.

“You should’ve taught the kids better,” he shrugged, stacking the gifts carefully.

A little while later, Paul joined her at the kitchen counter, biting into the carrot meant for the reindeer.

“Oh, I forgot you’re the healthy one.”

“As if you don’t like the fit version of me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ah! Got you. You said yes,” Paul grinned, winking as he washed down the carrot with some milk.

“Shut up, you’ll wake the kids!” she laughed, smacking his chest as she nibbled on a cookie.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

And after finishing the feast the kids had prepared for Santa, they walked past the Christmas tree, smiles on their faces and exhaustion finally setting in.

“You’re ruining all the footsteps,” she scolded, noticing that with every step, the driver’s foot came dangerously close to her creations.

He looked down, realizing how close he was, and in his attempt to avoid them, he lost his balance.

But she was there, placing her hands on his hips and helping steady him, even as she herself wobbled uncertainly.

And they laughed.

They laughed.

They laughed.

With powdered sugar on the floor, the taste of cookies still on their lips, and Christmas officially arrived, he cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks gently.

And in the window, they were now reflected too.

Looking at each other with the eyes of love, as the lights illuminated them.

And outside, snow had begun to fall.

~ been working on this one for a few days and if I might say so, it's really worth it. I'm kinda feeding myself my paul obsession, but hey, I didn't find him under my tree so I might as well gift him to you💫

[flopsxii]

tokyo revengers boys with their crush (aka you! <3) part two!

feat. shiba hakkai, sano shinichiro, kurokawa izana, sanzu haruchiyo, kakucho, haitani ran, haitani rindou && ryusei satou

note: part two as promised! ;P enjoyyyy mwah

hakkai shiba

ꪆৎ hakkai is shy generally around people (especially pretty people), that’s a known fact. i think the easiest way for hakkai to gain an emotional attraction to someone is if he sees them often. so most likely a classmate he sees in passing, his friends sibling or yuzuha’s close friend.

ꪆৎ he would probably start gaining feelings if you persevered with trying to have a conversation with him! even more so if you gush over him and help him clean up his wounds. oh! and he also loves a compliment here and there regarding his outfits or appearance.

ꪆৎ he’d be very shy around you but would make the effort to talk to you and spend time with you nonetheless! he’d push his feelings of anxiety away as much as he can, he just can’t help it; he can’t pass up an opportunity to spend time with you.

ꪆৎ he gushes about you to mitsuya all the time! any small interaction you may share, mitsuya has heard all about it. if hakkai needs advise about anything in regards to you, his good friend is always there to help and lend an ear if he just wants to rant about how amazing you are!

ꪆৎ also is the type to have dreams about all the stuff he wishes he could say to you but feels too shy to do so. such as finally telling you about his feelings… about how special he thinks you are… how he wants to take you on one million dates and have endless conversations! however, the last one would probably take a while due to his shyness.

ꪆৎ he’d probably come out of his shell a little more if he was around you plus either yuzuha or mitsuya. if you guys are alone, good luck getting him to stop blushing and stuttering.

ꪆৎ probably would confess if mitsuya advised him to as he always listens to him. or he’d probably persuade yuzuha to let it ‘slip’ to you and see what you do with that information.

sano shinichiro

ꪆৎ shinichiro is the type to have a crush on either a friend or someone he likes from afar. of course, if it’s the latter, he’ll do anything to get closer to you and know you better personally and not on a surface level.

ꪆৎ he thinks he’s good at flirting with you, key word, thinks. however, every single time you end up laughing until your chest hurts and shinichiro is red faced with embarrassment with his arms folded, facing away from you. he’s glad he can bring you joy, even if it’s at the expense of his ego.

ꪆৎ he’s the type to always offer you rides… and if he sees you when he’s riding his motorcycle, he’ll always stop and try and convince you! the determination in his voice each time he asks is what makes you say yes. “y/n-chan! wait up! i have my spare helmet… i can give you a ride home… huh? of course, it’s no problem! i want to!”

ꪆৎ he adores it when you spend time with his siblings, it just makes his heart grow even fonder. it makes him just want to sweep you off your feet and pepper your face with kisses! if only you knew how he really felt.

ꪆৎ he’s also always turning up at your house spontaneously, with no proper reason (not that you minded). he’s always bounding with joy when you invite him inside to either watch movies or just talk. any time he spends with you is precious.

ꪆৎ as for confessing, shinichiro thinks you already know he has feelings for you. so when he asks you to finally go out on a date, it’s a shock when you ask, “you like me, shinichiro-kun?” watch how his face distorts to shock, then confusion, followed by a sad face before ranting about how he’s showed you so many signs and you just had to know!

kurokawa izana

ꪆৎ he’s very flirty, that’s for sure. even on the first time that the two of you met, izana made sure you knew how beautiful he found you and how he just has to get to know you! you found the gesture cute, even though you had no idea how deep his feelings would begin to form for you.

ꪆৎ he spends a lot of time with you, visiting different places and seeing new things. he even introduced you to his older brother, shinichiro; which is arguably a very large step for him.

ꪆৎ he loves complimenting you, naturally he wants you to know how he views you in his eyes. however, he can’t help but get mad at you if you say anything negative about yourself. even more so when you ask why he’s so worked up seeing as you weren’t insulting him directly (which to him, you absolutely are).

ꪆৎ one of the most protective boys. izana has been looking after you without you knowing for a long, long time. that time someone shoved you in a store when you were accidentally in their way? they were forced to deal with izana even if they didn’t even remember shoving you in the first place. he never hurts them too much though, he knows you’d never approve of an act of violence in your defense.

ꪆৎ izana is also the type to assume that your friendship has naturally progressed and that there’s a perfect time to casually confess his feelings. “don’t act so shocked, y/n-chan. you knew i liked you this whole time.” he’d almost purr whilst you looked absolutely bamboozled.

sanzu haruchiyo

ꪆৎ he crushes on you from a far for a while until he finds unbearable going on without speaking to you and building a bond with you.

ꪆৎ sanzu is probably the only one who will confess his interest in you straight away, seeing no need to waste time. he’s a little disappointed when you remind him that you don’t know him well enough to begin a relationship. but he’s happy to settle to getting to know you until that day comes.

ꪆৎ he’s fiercely loyal to you, as anyone can guess from his loyalty to mikey. he’s formed an untreatable bond with you and he’s sure he’ll never feel the same way about someone again.

ꪆৎ you’re also one of the only people to embrace his scars and encourage him to finally let the mask go that mucho suggested he started wearing. you’d remind him that scars are natural and beautiful in their own way. i also think anytime you compliment them, his heart would grow two sizes just because of you!

ꪆৎ he’s always showing up unannounced, wether you’re studying, working or just chilling at home. he will be doing the most to try get your attention and he won’t stop until he gets it. even if it’s you telling him to shut up and wait till you’re free. (you know he means well.)

ꪆৎ much like izana, he’s very protective over you. if he hears about anyone disrespecting you and even worse, laying hands on you, be assured they’ll get a beating from sanzu. you’d never find out, of course. he has to maintain that pretty image he has in your eyes.

ꪆৎ there’s no need to confess, you already knew sanzu’s intentions from the beginning. your whole friendship was mainly you getting to know sanzu and him waiting patiently for the way you finally accept his confession from so long ago!

kakucho

ꪆৎ he doesn’t have a lot of people in his life, aside from izana. so i think it would be easy for kakucho to gain feelings for anyone who sticks by his side for a long period of time and actually shows they care about him.

ꪆৎ he’s always bright and lively around you too! there’s never been a time where kakucho has weighed down conversations with deep topics, he’s always interested in you. even if you do try and ask what’s going on in his subconscious, he’ll gently steer you away from that topic. he would rather not ruin the light of his life with unnecessary past trauma. but he appreciates your interest in him nonetheless.

ꪆৎ kakucho is also the type to only let you touch his scar and explain exactly how and why he got it. he’s not ashamed of it, per say, it’s more he doesn’t feel the need to talk about it with anyone else except you; in other words, he trusts you.

ꪆৎ he accompanies you wherever you go at the weekend, occasionally izana will join too. however, he prefers it when it’s just the two of you so he can actually share meaningful conversations.

ꪆৎ you would also need to confess. he has the silly mindset that if he confessed, it would ruin your friendship and he’d lose you entirely. that just happens to be the one thing he can’t lose, other than izana. besides you two, he has nothing left. however, if you were to confess, he would accept you straight away with a charming smile on his face.

haitani ran

ꪆৎ it’s very obvious that ran has a crush on you. it’s not very often that either of the haitani brothers approach people with any other intent than violence. so when they see the elder brother being so gentle and kind towards one specific person, it’s a blatant smack in the face that you’re the one who stole his heart.

ꪆৎ he’s also never once raised his voice at you or threatened you. this is also a key indicator that ran has deeper feelings than just platonic. he knows he’s being too subtle with his feelings but he can’t find it in himself to care.

ꪆৎ he always takes you shopping at the weekend, it’s a weekly ritual and if for any reason, he can’t be there, rindou will step in. speaking of the younger brother, he’ll try his very hardest to get the two of you to be friends. he’d love nothing more than to spend quality time with his two favourite people.

ꪆৎ aside from himself, you’re the only one allowed to touch and braid his hair. when you questioned the intimacy of such an act, ran will simply say that you’re the only one who does it right; even though he’s capable of braiding it himself.

ꪆৎ ever since getting involved with ran, your life has gone smoothly. no one disrespects you, in fact people are so nice to you now! ran adores that he can make you happy even without you knowing it.

ꪆৎ he’d confess when the times right. there’s not a specific reason why he can’t do it at the moment, he’s just waiting for that one time where it’s a ‘now or never’ kind of moment.

haitani rindou

ꪆৎ unlike his brother, it’s difficult to even know if rindou likes you as a friend. he’ll act like you’re a nuisance to him, grumbling responses to your excited questions. however, it’s ran that convinces you to persevere with your ‘friendship’ with his brother.

ꪆৎ even if he doesn’t say much, rindou enjoys being in your presence. if you ask him for help or for advise, on the outside he’s whining about ‘why it had to be him’ but on the inside, his stomach is doing somersaults because you chose him to rely on!

ꪆৎ he’s also the type to overhear you say you need something to your friends and then within the next 30 minutes, he’ll turn up with it and give it to you without a word or get someone else to deliver it for him. only because he knows he won’t be able to contain his raging blush when you thank him profusely. he learnt this from the first time he spontaneously brought you a can of sparkling lime that you were so called “dying for”.

ꪆৎ much like his brother, he takes care of you from afar. he doesn’t want to be overbearing or annoying so he’ll do these quiet acts of kindness without your knowledge. think of it as an act of love!

ꪆৎ he doesn’t confess. ran either forces him or ran flat out tells you how rindou feels when his little brother is right next to him. his face is priceless, he’s unsure wether to be anxious at your reaction or to kill his brother. it’s a funny sight to behold!

ryusei satou

ꪆৎ he asks you out almost every single day. he promises you the earth, the moon, the stars and hell, even the entire universe! however, you tell him no everytime, reminding him you only started speaking a week ago. he doesn’t let the rejections deter him, though.

ꪆৎ he’s definitely the type to give you his jacket or jumper if you as much as shiver once. if you try remove it, watch ryusei forcibly keep it on you, a pout on his lips as he whines that you’re offending him.

ꪆৎ he’s always pulling little pranks on you. only harmless ones though just to make you smile! especially if you’re having an awful day and need a little pick me up. he’s always right there trying to make you smile.

ꪆৎ he also tells everyone that you’re his partner, even if you aren’t. he’s humbled when you correct him, “we aren’t dating, ryusei.” he’d wink at you before adding, “yet.”

ꪆৎ he also always tries to share his lunch with you, doing fake airplane noises as he raises his chopsticks to your mouth. you accept because it’s easier to do that then have your ears go mute from his complaining. you always found it so endearing that he cares about your health so much!

ꪆৎ seeing as ryusei tells you about his feelings everyday, there’s no need for a grand confession. instead when ryusei once again tells strangers that you’re his partner, he awaits for rejection once again. until one day, you agree with a small smile before wrapping your arms around his middle. this is the only day in ryusei’s life where he’s lost for words.

[mrfoox]

I love Fabian so fucking much how... Lucky I am 🥺

[334iwatchshit]

unfortunately, they could never make me hate you Katsuki Bakugo

[thephantomsdream]

Let's be real for a second.

Ghost likes you a lil mean. Just enough. To him, to his mates, to everyone. He can fight. He will fuck anyone up who dares to react aggressively to you, so it doesn't matter if you're sassy, snarky, plainly put a little shit. He won't stop you, he's not gonna "tame" you, he's definitely gonna fucking eat it up and tease you, loving your remarks, clever, funny or straight up mean. The man will be smirking behind his mask (or straight up giving you heart-eyes at home). Don't be unnecessarily mean though, it's not a good look on anyone. Oh, god, and if your humor is dark? You got the man snorting and fucking giggling*(1), shoulders shaking and him trying to hold it in as you're plain roasting someone.

Be mean to him. He tests the waters, dropping one of his incredible and fantastic jokes for you to roll your eyes at him and tell him to rather wear a clown mask, since he's such a joke, and I swear he folds. Wants to pin you down and fuck you raw until you're a sobbing mess that knows nothing else but his name? Of course, and know he'd be mocking you, because where's that snarky mouth of yours, hmm? Oh, ya, busy sucking on his fingers. But until then, he's lowkey following you around dropping stupid joke after stupid joke until you're actually angry and amused. He got you smiling somehow? Gets him feeling like a young boy with a crush, silly butterflies and all.

Give him a bitch-face. Raised brow and unimpressed face at anyone and he's just eyes on you. Fucking hell, he's creepy too. Ghost is fucking intimidating as he is but if he just fixates on something, big brown eyes locked onto you and (big, awkward because let's be fucking for real, boy's actually fucking awkward) body frozen. Just 🧍‍♂️. (I'm fucking wheezing, he just 🧍‍♂️👁👁 and you know it!)

"Fuck are you looking at, weirdo?" That's bloody foken lovely!

And!

AND! He just (again, awkwardly) hovers and makes shit jokes but is so helpful to you in any way he can because in reality he's garbage with words but with actions he's much better. Regardless of where you met, he'll find a way in your life because you bring him joy and he just can't seem to let go. Simon tries to convince himself too that it ain't a good idea, that you're better off. Aha. Yeah, then you just look at him in a way when someone else says something absolutely fucking stupid and he just... Yeah, he's yours.

Be mean to him, then let him shove his face in your tits. Pull his hair a little but wrap your arms around him. Bite him and call him an idiot if you want, as long as you call him your idiot. That's Simon to you.

(But when you're nice to only him, he feels special. Make this man feel special, yeah? He needs it.)

(1): I actually imagined him in his barracks, him kicking his feet while he wears a pink robe, writing in his pink diary (with a pink pen with one of those fluffy balls at the end) "Dear diary, my lovie called me an asshole today. My heart is still racing. We shall mary in spring." and drawing hearts around his and your initials together.

[harrowharkwife]

did you guys know i have a poodle puppy. like have i talked about him enough on here

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[draconym]

As fellow bird parents my wife and I wish to extend support. Our chirp children bring us so much joy. Even when they are in full Gremlin Mode. Enyo is such a sweet boy. Thank you for sharing stories about him with everyone.

Thank you so much. Just about everyone who has met Enyo has commented on how bonded he is to me. He's been in my life for over 20 years. Being loved by a little bird is such a special and unique experience.

[onlyhereforthestories]

A Little Christmas Event (Mapi Leon x Reader)

Day 9. Sorry this is late I forgot to queue it! Also this title is shit but I couldn't think of one so.

The holiday season was in full swing, and this year, Mapi had been buzzing with excitement about the charity event the team was hosting. It was all she could talk about for weeks, her enthusiasm infectious. You were more than happy to join her, both of you ready to make it a night to remember for the kids and families coming to celebrate the season.

The event was held at a community centre decked out in holiday decorations. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, a giant Christmas tree stood in the centre of the room, and tables were set up with games, craft stations, and, of course, a Santa’s Grotto. Barcelona had pulled out all the stops, Mapi had been one of the first of the team to agree and had convinced a lot more to the girls to join too.

“Look at this place!” you said, glancing around as you took in the holiday decorations. “It’s like a Christmas wonderland.”

Mapi grinned, adjusting her festive green sweater. “I know, right? And I’m glad you’re here with me to see it.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to meet the kids and hand out gifts with you,” you replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

As the night began, families started trickling in, each one met with a warm welcome from Mapi and her teammates. She was a natural with the kids, her usually tough exterior softening as she bent down to greet them at their level, her smile wide and inviting. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as you watched her laugh and chat with them, her genuine warmth making each child feel special.

You and Mapi moved around the room, stopping to help at different activity stations. At the cookie-decorating table, Mapi immediately jumped into action, leading a demonstration for the kids on how to create snowman faces with icing and candy.

“Alright, everyone, this is where you show off your creativity,” Mapi said, grinning as she squirted a generous amount of icing onto her cookie.

A young girl beside her giggled, watching as Mapi’s snowman face turned into a gooey, delightful mess. “I think mine is better,” the girl said confidently, holding up her carefully decorated cookie, and Mapi burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, you’ve definitely got me beat,” she admitted, playfully bowing to the girl. “But that means you have to share your tips with me.”

As they compared decorating techniques, you felt a tug on your sweater. You turned to see a little boy holding out a handful of sprinkles, his face hopeful.

“Can you help me with my cookie?” he asked shyly.

“Of course! Let’s make this the best cookie ever,” you said, leaning down to help him. Together, you added sprinkles, a tiny frosting scarf, and a snowman nose, the boy’s eyes lighting up with excitement at each detail.

After cookies, it was time for gift-giving. The team had gathered donations and bought a wide variety of toys, from board games and art kits to soccer balls and dolls. Mapi led you to a small stage where the gifts were arranged, and you both began helping the kids pick out their presents.

Mapi handed a soccer ball to one boy, who looked up at her in awe. “Are you really Mapi León?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Mapi grinned, squatting down to meet his gaze. “That’s me,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You know, this ball has some of my power in it, so you’ll definitely score goals with it.”

The boy’s face lit up, clutching the ball to his chest as if it were the greatest treasure in the world. “Thank you!” he said before running off, looking back over his shoulder with an expression of pure joy.

“You’re like a superhero to them,” you whispered, watching the boy run back to his family.

Mapi chuckled, shaking her head modestly. “It’s funny. I think they give me more energy than I give them. Look how happy they are. That’s the real reward.”

You handed out gifts alongside her, each child bringing their own story and personality, their excitement filling the room with this energy that just couldn’t be matched. Some of them even recognized Mapi from her games and shyly asked for autographs or photos, and she obliged each request with genuine joy, sometimes pulling you into the photos as well.

“Come on,” she whispered to you at one point, tugging you into a picture with a group of kids. “They’ll have something to look back on and so will we.”

Toward the end of the event, the two of you found yourselves back by the tree, where a group of kids had gathered to hear a holiday story. Patri was reading aloud, and you and Mapi took seats on the floor nearby, listening with the kids as the story filled the room with a sense of peace and wonder.

As the story ended, Mapi glanced over at you, her eyes soft and a little tired, but happy. “I think this might be my favourite night of the year,” she whispered, leaning close.

You smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “Mine too. You’ve made such a difference here tonight, Mapi. Look at them.”

She looked around the room, watching as the kids and their families gathered their gifts, their laughter and smiles lighting up the space. The simple joy in the room, the sense of community, and the shared holiday spirit made every moment feel even more meaningful.

As the event began winding down, the kids slowly filtered out, waving goodbye to you and Mapi with sleepy smiles and tight hugs. You helped clean up, stacking chairs and tidying up decorations, before finally stepping outside with her. The night was crisp and clear, stars twinkling above as you both took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Mapi said, taking your hand as you walked toward the car. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

You squeezed her hand, glancing over at her with a smile. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Watching you with those kids… I feel lucky to be here with you.”

She grinned, pulling you into a warm hug under the starlit sky. “Well, you’re not getting rid of me now. You’re my partner in holiday charity events, for life.”

The drive back was quiet, both of you content and a little sleepy, but your hearts full from the warmth and joy of the night.

[tavolgisvist]

'Just call him on the phone'

Q: Aside from the millions you’ve been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels’s generous offer of thirty-two hundred dollars for appearing together on Saturday Night Live a few years ago?* A: Oh, yeah, Paul and I were together watching that show. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired. Q: How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together? A: That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him**, “Please call before you come over. It’s not 1956, and turning up at the door isn’t the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.” He was upset by that, but I didn’t mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day, and some guy turns up at the door … But anyway, back on that night he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there watching the show, and we went, Ha-ha, wouldn’t it be funny if we went down, but we didn’t. Q: Is that the last time you’ve seen Paul? A: Yes, but I didn’t mean it like that.

<...> Q: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— A: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty five kids and about twenty million records out — how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying, David Sheff)

*It was in 25 April 1976 **it was in 26 April 1976

Well, when I, when I was Just a little baby boy, Every night, every night I would call, Because your number, you know, Brought me such sweet joy. I've called your name, John, Every night since then But I ain't never, no, no, never Heard you calling me, My sweet, sweet babe, So, you know, you better call me back again, I call your operator but I still can't get through to you, Call me back again

(Call Me Back Again, presumably, 10 June 1976, Seattle)

Tell me, is she everything i see Or is she really not the one for me? We know, and though some may disagree But do they know the way we want to be? <…> Building something One thing made to last And holding something Special from the past And do I still believe in stories we've been told***? Are all the things she brings me worth their weight in gold? Oh yeah, (oh yeah) pure gold

(Pure Gold, Paul for Ringo, 1976)

***I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another.The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.'

(Paul McCartney to The Big Issue, Feb. 2012)

After you've gone And left me crying After you've gone Ain't no deny You'll feel blue You'll feel sad You'll miss the dearest pal that you ever had

There'll come a time And don't you forget it There'll come a time When you'll regret it****

Someday when you grow lonely Your heart will break like mine You want me only After you've gone After you've gone away

(After You've Gone, 1977, Paul's version - 'just for fun' as he said - of a 1918 popular song written by Turner Layton and Henry Creamer, and it's Frank Sinatra's (and Sophie Tucker!) version.

****the line 'Don't you forget it/When you'll regret it' reminds another old (not as old like After You've Gone but old) song -  I Love You And Don't You Forget It by Perry Como. The song, what our lads were singing in their early years so playfully:

Klas Burling: Tell us something about how you find a song… how you get the idea about a song, to write it down. John: Well, sometimes it's the words first, and then the music after. Klas Burling: Very often you've got a title, you know… Me and you, and everything like that? Paul: Yeah. We try to do that, to make it personal so it's… so we really mean it. When we sing a thing about 'I love you,' it's easier. John: (singing) 'And don't you forget it!' John & Paul: (singing together, jokingly) 'I love you and don't you forget it!' Paul: Well, you see, it's easier than singing something about the cat that lives on the hill, man. (laughter) Paul: It's a lot easier just to sing about what you feel yourself.

(August 23 1963, interview with Klas Burling)

Was I just dreaming or was it only yesterday I used to hold you in my arms And now a baby, and a another on the way [Indescernable] in a farm Now must we be alone? If it don’t feel right, don’t do it If it don’t look right, look right through it If it don’t feel right, don’t do it Just call him on the phone

(John Lennon, Real Life, Feb 1977)

We'd had a bread strike over here***** and I rang him and I was saying, What are you doing? He says. I'm baking some bread.' 'Oh! Me too.' Imagine, with the stereotypes, John and Paul talking about baking bread.

(Paul McCartney, May 2001, interview for Mojo magazine)

*****a bread strike in England was in Nov 1978

Q: Do you regret that your life has become so public? A: I realized that a good fifteen years ago. I remember actually thinking when I went on holiday somewhere, ‘God I’d really better start thinking now about keeping a few countries aside where we don’t sell records. I won’t be able to go anywhere without being recognized.’ But now I think, ‘Really, I’ve reached the point of no return. There’s no going back.’ Even if I didn’t want to sing anymore, I’d just be like Greta Garbo or Brigitte Bardot. They both retired but you’d never know it. John said this to me a year before he died. He said, ‘Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true.’ That’s the way I look at it. I wished for all this and I got it. To regret it would mean I’d have to sit here and live with negative thoughts about it. I know that would only sink me. Even if I had feelings of regret my personality would not really let them out. ‘Look mate, you don’t regret it. Look on the other side,’ that’s me. Not to sink. I always used to do that instinctively, and not allow too many negative thoughts to surface.

(Paul McCartney, April/May 1982, interview for Music Express)

The couple of years after the Beatles broke up it was very touchy because I think we suspected each other of business manoeuvres. So anyone would ring up, it would be like, “Why is he ringing?” And when you put up the defensive like that it’s very difficult to say, “I’m not! Honest!” You just don’t know where to put yourself. So we had a lot of those ups and downs for quite a few years. But the favourite thing was that if ever we talked not business – and what we ended doing, actually, was make a rule not to talk business on the phone – and on those occasions, we had really good vibes, man. And it was great; we just talked kids, we talked family, we talked cats, we talked life, rather than, “oh, what songs are doing with x business affair?” And one of the great things for me, one of the consolation prizes after John was killed, the only thing– you know, you find yourself holding on to little bits of wreckage to keep yourself afloat. And with me it was the fact that our last phonecall was really one of the best we ever had together; it was really warm, we were really friends again.

(Paul McCartney, 1984, interview for CBS Morning News)

Q: Do you remember your last conversation with John? A: Yes. That is a nice thing, a consoling factor for me, because I do feel it was sad that we never actually sat down and straightened our differences out. But fortunately for me, the last phone conversation I ever had with him was really great, and we didn’t have any kind of blowup. It could have easily been one of the other phone calls, when we blew up at each other and slammed the phone down. Q: Do you remember what you talked about? A: It was just a very happy conversation about his family, my family. Enjoying his life very much; Sean was a very big part of it. And thining about getting on with his career. I remember he said, “Oh, God, I’m like Aunt Mimi, padding round here in me dressing gown”– robe, as he called it, ’cause he was picking up the American vernacular –“feeding the cats in me robe and cooking and putting a cup of tea on. This housewife wants a career!” It was that time for him. He was about to launch Double Fantasy.******

(Paul McCartney, Dec 1984, interview for Playboy)

******Double Fantasy released 17 November 1980

I was lucky. The last few wee... months that he was alive, we’d managed to get our relationship back on track. And we were talking and having real good conversations. Real nice and friendly.

(Paul McCartney about This One, interview with Bernard Goldberg for the TV series 48 Hours, 1989)

[hdmsbsna]

Hiii, me again 🙄

I thought of a Paul x wife, who already have a family, bone a daughter older than 4 years, and a 2-year-old son and a newborn baby🫶🏻

And if you also dare, to do something of smut, also of x actress reader, if you can, I'll leave that free, as you want 🫶🏻

REQUESTED: i wrote this up last night instead of doing my finals. it was also like 3:00 A.M so if this is shit bare with me😭 this is a really short one though soooo...

pairing: paul mescal x reader (fluff)

warnings: none unless you don't like happiness.

description: reader is managing life with three kids while her husband is gone away for shooting, one more week until he comes back...or so they thought.

word count: 1,499

title: beautiful creations.

paul was gone away at work again, he’s been working on this project for about six months now. it’s been about a month since he was last home, you were used to his crazy schedule having to deal with it for so long but…the kids? they were far from used to it.

you and paul had decided to get married about three years ago. it was quite a small wedding, only family and friends, your eldest daughter, kiara, was about two when the ceremony happened. everyone discouraged you to let kiara come to the wedding considering her age but you guys made sure she was there to share the special moment, she was a part of it after all. 

after a year of being married, you and paul welcomed your second child to the world…a boy. paul named him kieran, and although you weren’t a huge fan of the name at first, you admit it has grown on you. he is now two years old, and he’s such a funny little human. he is a perfect image of how his father is, when him and paul are together it’s pure chaos.

the last time paul was home was actually for the birth of your newest addition, another perfect baby girl. she was born the second week of paul’s stay back. labor with her was extremely difficult, it was unlike any of your other births. thankfully you were able to have paul by your side the whole time and about twelve hours into labor, amelia, your second daughter was born. no complications whatsoever, or at least not for her. 

in my honest opinion, i think being a father was paul’s destiny. those kids are his pride and joy and he is truly an amazing father to the kids, he knows just how to talk to them and care for them. it’s truly incredible and now with three kids you have found that it’s his most attractive quality. when he’s not around, it’s not the same. which is exactly why you’re having to deal with tears from your children at 6:37 in the morning.

“BUT MOMMY I WANT TO SEE DADDY!!” yelled kieran, he may only be two but that has never stopped him from expressing his big feelings.

“you stupid, dad’s working.” your eldest replies, understanding the situation a bit better.

“hey now, kiara. we don’t call people stupid.” you sternly say.

“then why do you call daddy stupid?” she quickly retaliates.

just as you were about to respond, you hear your newborn crying through your baby monitor. you quickly walk upstairs to go get her, you figured she would be hungry so you grab her bottle on your way there. she stops crying and starts fussing once she senses your presence, you pick her up and immediately put the bottle to her mouth. you then walk back out to the kitchen where the kids are still arguing over the absence of your husband. you immediately step in once you hear your daughter call your son a “little bitch”.

“okay okay, that is enough from the both of you!” you raise your voice. “kieran, honey, your dad is going to be back very soon. just one more week, only seven days. go bring me two pieces of paper while i talk to your sister.” kieran leaves with his little frustrated stomps, you then turn your attention to kiara. 

“now kiara, you know we don’t call people names especially not your little brother. what do i tell always say about working as a team?”

“sorry mommy..” kiara says with a small pout. “i just miss daddy so much” you aren’t going to  lie and say that didn’t break your heart a little. all of this arguing and anger because they miss their father, usually it’s never this hard on them. 

“here mommy.” kieran says as he hands you the pieces of paper.

“thank you, sweetie..” you grab the pieces of paper and you hand one out to kiara and kieran. “i want you each to write five things that you love about daddy, understood?”

“yes mommy” kiara responds.

“can i write more than five things?” kieran excitedly asks. 

“you can write as many as you want, as long as there’s five things on that list.” you respond.

“YAY!” kieran yelled. both of them start writing, kieran can’t write very well but he’s still trying. he’s even drawing pictures for the words he can’t write. you look down, almost forgetting your baby girl was still in your arms, her bottle is laying on her chest and she’s just staring at you. you flip her vertically and put a towel on your shoulder as you start to burp her. you roam around the house and up upstairs just walking down the hallway burping her. it’s been about five minutes and she’s completely out, you go into her nursery and lay her in her crib, you set up the baby monitor and decide to just sit there for a little. 

that was until you heard kieran and kiara laughing, you were interested in what they had gotten themselves into so you make your way downstairs. youre at the top of the stairs when you see paul tossing kieran up in the air, he catches your gaze and smiles. he sets kieran down back on the floor.

“hey baby girl, im home.” he says smiling. you start walking down the stairs and give him a hug, you slightly pull away to give him a peck.

“EWWWW!” your children yell in unison.

“what? am i not allowed to love your beautiful mom?” the kids just giggle and you pull away from the hug. you’re on the side of him with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“DADDY! LOOK!” kieran yells as he starts doing cartwheels around the kitchen and eventually going into the living room. “wow bud, that’s amazing!” paul says. kiara comes stands next to us. “i taught him how to do them daddy.” kiara looks up at her daddy, expecting some praise.

“well you did an amazing job sweetie” he says as he reaches down to pick her up, one arm still wrapped around you and the other holding kiara. 

eventually kieran’s cartwheels come to a halt and he’s found himself extremely dizzy, tumbling and falling as he heads towards us. you walk away from paul’s arms and go to pick him up, “mommy my head..” kieran says clearly not feeling well. “yep buddy that’s what happens when you do too many cartwheels” paul says as he goes to sit on the couch with kiara. you go ahead and sit on the couch as well right next to him, you sit kieran next to paul and he climbs onto his lap right where kiara is. both children is his lap, you admire them for a bit. 

all of a sudden, you hear a static cry coming from the baby monito that you set on the counter. “oop, look at that. she senses you’re here.” you say as you walk upstairs to go retrieve the last of the bunch. you walk into her nursery and pick her up from her crib, her crying immediately stopping. you walk downstairs with her and sit on the couch right next to paul, holding your baby in your arms. kiara moves off his lap and sits on the other side next to him. “here bud, im going to carry your little sister for a tad okay?” paul says, moving kieran to stand on the floor. he reaches over for his baby and you happily hand her to him. you outreach your arms to kieran so he can sit on your lap, he opens his arms and you grab him as he nuzzles his head into your chest. he’s clearly tired from all those cartwheels he had just done not but five minutes ago.

paul speaks “gosh we really did make some beautiful children, didn’t we?”

“the most beautiful.” you respond turning your head up to him, he looks down a perks his lip and you kiss him. you look over at kiara and she passed out on paul’s arms, all three of your babie now fast asleep. 

“you’re such an asshole, you know that right?” you tell him with a playful smile on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he says nonchalantly.

“the kids were having such a rough time without you.” you inform him.

“god, if only they knew how i was doing. i’ve missed you guys so much, especially you my gorgeous.” he says.

“i’ve missed you too, baby” you say resting your head on his shoulder, he reaches his lips down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head.

“i’m taking you guys everywhere with me from now on.” he whispers.

“that’s the best idea you've ever had, i love you so much.” you whisper back, letting a yawn out.

“i love you so much, baby girl.”

hope you guys enjoyed this, decided to keep it short and sweet. requests and dms are opened, feel free to get in touch. love you all!

[haikyu-mp4]

Mother's day

Your husband Suga recruits your son for a Mother's Day celebration, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @liquidcatt. word count; 519 – wife!reader

Oh boy, was Suga ready for Mother’s Day. The only thing Sugawara Koshi might love more than you would be the baby you two made, and even though he tried to show you just how much he loved you every day, he went all out for the special days.

The grey-haired man got up bright and early to sit in your son’s room, making sure to be there when he woke up so that you wouldn’t hear a single sound that might awaken your motherly instincts. He whispered his good mornings and lifted the toddler into his arms, bringing him to the bathroom to prepare for the day.

Suga bought matching outfits for him and his son, down to the panda slippers. He knows you love matching, so he also got you a similar outfit in your style, already laid out on the stool by your side of the bed.

Dressed up all nicely, he carried your bundle of joy into the kitchen and sat him in the high chair with a simple breakfast. He hesitated momentarily before deciding to put another shirt over the toddler’s nice clothes. “An elegant eater, you are not,” he mumbled to the kid, only to get the usual babble in return. “Not much of a talker yet either.”

“Papa!” he answered, which had coincidentally been his first word.

Suga grinned, getting distracted from the breakfast he was supposed to make. “Mhm, I’m papa. But remember what we learnt for today? Mama, say it with me.”

All he got was a fart, and sniffing that horrid smell also made him realise he burnt the first pancake.

“Shit!” he cussed, running over to get the food out of the pan.

“Ship!” your baby innocently repeated after his dad who pursed his lips in defeat.

He switched between looking at the burnt pancake and looking at the toddler a couple of times, only to conclude that “The first ones are never perfect, anyway.”

At one point, the romantic breakfast was ready with a plate of pancakes and a bouquet of your favourite flowers. Just as Suga was trying to wrestle the baby’s stained t-shirt over his head without spilling anything on the actual outfit, you curiously stuck your head through the door to the kitchen. “Are my favourite boys in here, perhaps?”

“In here, mama!” Suga announced even though you had already seen them, finally getting the overshirt off your son. “Good morning, my precious wife. Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Mama!”

You gasped, so audibly it made Suga pose proudly on command, side by side with his sidekick to show off the matching outfits and newly achieved vocabulary.

“He said, mama! That’s me!” you cheered, running over to embrace your two boys, making them jump in a circle with you while you cooed over the outfits as well. “I’m the luckiest mother in the world!” you announced and ran to get your camera.

And as Suga held up his hand for a high five that his son definitely didn’t reciprocate, he decided that this was another mission accomplished.

Mission make wifey feel extra loved, level one: breakfast.

masterlist

for the requester: thank you for the request, I love Suga<3

[buckyshoneybunny]

Their Babydoll

WinterWidow + Shy!Stark!Curvy!reader 

Summary- Bucky and Natasha take a liking to the shy designer. 

W.C.- 2212 

Warnings- Smut, fluff, cursing, unprotected sex, oral (fem, reader), cum eating, let me know if I missed anything. 

A/N- I hope you guys like! Sorry if the smut sucks, I was tired lol. I know these fics are usually Bucky x Reader x Steve but I would want Nat more. Anyway I already have an idea for a new series and it includes Biker Bucky! Not proof read, all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it my lovelies!  

Masterlist 

“Please Uncle Tony!” You beg for the hundredth time.  

“No,” he says, not even looking up from the device he was tweaking.  

“But-” 

“No,” he interrupts you.  

You stick your bottom lip out and give your best puppy eyes. It would always work when you were younger. Now though? 

“No”  

You groan and cross your arms. You smile to yourself. “You know, Aunt Pepper has been wondering what happened to her-” 

“Okay! Okay,” he sighs and pushes the protective glasses further up his nose as he looks at you. “There’s no need to bring Pepper into this.” 

You giggle and lean your hip against the table he’s working at. “You always were afraid of Aunt Pepper.” 

“I’m not afraid of her,” he huffs. “I just happen to have a healthy amount of respect for her.”  

“You’re afraid of her, Tony,” Bruce pipes up from across the lab.  

You giggle as Tony sends you and Bruce a glare.  

“Why do you even want to use the holographic interfaces?” Tony asks. 

“Because it would make designing floor plans so much easier! Using your tech would help me with the critical parts of my job.”  

“But you don’t even know how to use them.” 

“You could teach me.” 

“But I don’t hav-” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he huffs.  

You squeal and hug him. “Thank you, Uncle Tony!”  

He pats your arm, “Yeah yeah.” 

Most people didn’t know Tony had a sister; hell no one knew he actually had any siblings until you showed up with your stuff one rainy day. 

Freshly 19 and ready to make a name for yourself in the world of Interior Design, you’d moved to New York thinking this was the best place to do so. 

Your mother, Tony’s younger sister only by a few years, called to express her worry of you moving there and being alone.  

So, Tony being the ever so giving person he is, and a few not-so-subtle threats from your mother, told you that you could stay at the Avengers Tower. You were furious, ranting about how you wanted to make it on your own and didn’t need any help. But when he mentioned you’d get to meet and spend time with the Avengers, you quickly got over it. 

You were so excited to meet the Avengers, you’d always had a major crush on Bucky. You even wrote a paper about him for your history class in the 6th grade. His sparkling steel blue eyes taking you captive. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his shoulder length brown hair, hoping it’s as soft as it looks. And you can’t forget those full, pink lips that could make a gal melt like butter on hot asphalt.  

But he was taken, by your second favorite Avenger, Natasha Romanoff. You definitely had a girl crush on her. She was so strong and skilled, every womans idol. She was the reason you tried and failed at learning how to fight. So what if you were thicker than the other girls? Yeah okay, you had thick thighs, a pudgy, soft stomach and flabby arms, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn some moves like the other girls. To be fair though, that instructor was a womanizer. 

He said, and I quote, that you’d ‘never make it anywhere in life looking like that’. Boy did you prove him wrong. You were one of the best Interior Designers in New York, you had a special touch that other designers didn’t have. And you loved your job, you loved bringing peoples dreams to life and seeing the joy on their face.  

You enjoyed it, but it wasn’t always easy. The meticulous planning, writing up contracts, getting a crew for certain aspects in and out on time could be grueling at times, but seeing the looks on your client’s faces when they’d see the finished product was always worth it.  

You had been worried when you first got to the Tower, worried the other Avengers wouldn’t like you. It was all for nothing though because they absolutely loved you, you were a part of their dysfunctional family now and they had no plans of letting you go. Everyone had really taken a liking to you, especially Bucky and Natasha. 

When you introduced yourself to them with your cheeks flushed, hands nervously fidgeting behind your back, and your shy little voice, it made Natasha want to wrap her arms around you and protect you from the world.  

But, on the other hand, seeing your long thick thighs on display, juicy ass just barely covered by the shorts you wore, and your tank top that hugged your curves just right made her’s and Bucky’s mouths water. That body paired with your shy, innocent demeanor made them want to swallow you whole. 

They had been happy just the two of them, rekindling their love once they both were free. They never thought about having someone else in their relationship, never wanted anyone else, until you.  

One knowing look and desire fill conversation later they knew they had to have you. They just had to be careful so they wouldn’t scare you away, and make sure Tony didn’t find out and do something crazy. He was very protective of you. 

So, the next couple of years were spent with heated looks, lingering touches, and subtle hints thrown at you that you never seem to catch. They were tired of this game of chase, frustrated and on a level of horny so high that they couldn’t fuck down no matter how hard they tried. Bucky was this close to fucking up against the closest wall, Natasha not far behind. But they’d soon get what they longed for.  

You studied your reflection in the mirror again. The thin strapped, black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and had a slit going up your left thigh, hugged your body perfectly. You wouldn’t normally wear something so revealing but Wanda said this dress was perfect.  

She’d said you’d definitely be getting fucked tonight. She may or may not have read Bucky and Natasha’s minds and knew this dress would make them lose it.  

Tonight was Sam’s birthday party, although his birthday wasn’t for two more days, he’d be in Louisiana visiting his sister so Steve wanted to throw him a party before he left.  

Making sure your curls were perfect, you sprayed on some perfume and put some black heels on and headed down to the floor the party was being held at. 

Natasha and Bucky were sat at the bar area, formulating a plan on how to make you theirs. Natasha wore an off the shoulder, floor length, blood red dress that fit her just right, with matching lipstick and heels.  

Bucky had a tailor-made, black suit that showed his defined muscles. His face clean-shaven, displaying his sharp jaw and his hair tied back in that low, sexy bun he’s always sporting.  

Natasha was the first to see you, choking on her drink as she takes you in, causing Bucky to follow her line of sight. His cock rock hard instantly. She bit her lip and one shared glance; they knew tonight was the night and they had just the plan to do it. 

You lock eyes with Natasha and she beckons you over.  

“Look at you, firefly,” she grins and you blush.  

Bucky whistles and looks you up and down. “You’d give poor old Steve a heart attack in that dress, doll. You look amazing.”  

“You think so?” You shyly ask. 

“Definitely,” Natasha adds.  

You begrudgingly do a shot with them after the persisted you do at least one to help loosen you up, even though they knew you didn’t like alcohol. They didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, not that you minded, you loved being the center of their attention. They were waiting for the perfect moment to sneak you away, that moment came after the cake and presents, everyone having gone back to drinking and dancing.  

Natasha loops her arm with yours. “So, firefly,” she smirks. “Me and Bucky were thinking of changing up our room, think you could help us?” There a devious sparkle in her eyes that you miss. 

Your eyes light up. “Yes!” You smile.  

They lead you away from the party and up to their room. Once inside Bucky locks the door. You look around as Natasha comes up behind you and puts her hands on your waist. She runs her nose up the side of your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume. You freeze. 

“Nat?” You ask on a shaky whisper.  

“Yes, firefly?” She nibbles on your ear, causing you to shudder. 

Bucky stands in front of you and cups your face, tilting your head to make you look at him. His lips inches from yours. Your follow-up question gets stuck in your throat. 

“Do you know,” Bucky starts, leaning forward to nudge his nose with yours. 

“How long we’ve been waiting for you?” Natasha finishes, kissing your shoulder. 

“What?” You ask through the already forming fog in your brain. 

“We want you, firefly. Will you let us have you?” She slides her hands up to just under your boobs, waiting for your consent. You whimper and nod. 

“Words doll,” Bucky says. 

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.  

Bucky smashes his lips to yours as Natasha cups your boobs, squeezing them. You moan and grab Bucky’s forearms.  

He steps back and takes his suit jacket off, instructing Nat to take your dress off. She slowly unzips the dress and pushes the straps off your shoulders. It gets bunched around your middle, you blush, insecurities sneaking up on you. She just pushes it the rest of the way down. 

Your hands itch to cover yourself but stop when Bucky lets out a deep groan. He whispers a fuck and reaches down to squeeze his throbbing cock. You let out a whine. 

“Get on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs, doll,” he rasps. His eyes black with lust. Your bra and panties come off and you get on the bed, laying on your back and shyly spreading your thighs.  

Natasha moans. “Look at her Buck.” He hums and pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulder, revealing she had nothing on underneath. He groans and kisses her; she unbuttons his shirt. You whine, more slick coming out and coating your folds. They break apart and grin. 

While Bucky finishes taking his clothes off, Natasha comes beside you and starts to play with your breasts, pinching and tugging your nipples causing you to moan. Bucky, now naked, kneels between your legs, taking in the sight of your soaked pussy.  

“Already so wet and we’ve hardly touched you babydoll,” he taunts. You whine, the feeling of his hot breath causing you to shudder. 

“Don’t tease her Buck,” Natasha says as she takes one of your nipples into her mouth.  

She nips lightly at the bud as Bucky presses his tongue to your clit, you let out a high-pitched moan and grip his hair. As she teases your nipples, Bucky eats you out like a starved man, mumbling out how good you taste in between slurps and gasps of breath. 

Bucky can’t handle it anymore and stands up before you can cum. “I gotta be in you, doll, fuck.” He gets in between your legs and lines his leaking tip up with your entrance.  

He slowly slides in and your eyes roll back. He gives you a second once he bottoms out, letting you adjust. Natasha rubs your clit as he starts to move. 

“How does she feel?” She asks 

“S’fucking good, so tight, shit” He groans and pounds into you. 

Natasha oscillates between making out with you and sucking you breasts and leaving hickies. She keeps rubbing your clit. You grip the sheets, panting and moaning. Bucky angles his thrusts just right and you scream as he hits that spot inside of you that causes you to see stars. 

“I-I’m go-....gonna...” You can’t even finish your sentence. 

He speeds up his thrusts, “Cum, doll, soak my cock.” 

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you squirt, soaking his balls, thighs, and the bed. His hips stutter as he cums unexpectedly, he rides out both of your highs, his cock not softening at all.  

Natasha motions for him to pull, when he does, she immediately gets between your legs and eats you out, moaning at the taste of your slick and Bucky’s cum. He groans and starts to fuck her. 

This goes on for hours, both of them pull orgasms out of you. By the end of it, you lay cuddle between them, exhausted. They say that they want you to be a part of their relationship, you agree, feeling like you’re dreaming. The two people you’ve had the biggest crush on actually wanted you to be with them, you couldn’t have been happier. 

When Tony finds out he whacks both Natasha and Bucky in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper. He also now carries a spray bottle with him for when y’all get a little too handsy.  

All in all you’re living your dream and you couldn’t be happier.

[crypticsketchpad]

uhhhhhhhhhh emotion ocs. bcuz why not. going back to my cringe ship kid roots /lh

first is Excitement (she/her; Joy x Anxiety)! as her name suggests, she is very energetic and enthusiastic, always looking forward to the future and all the fun things it will bring.

hyperactive, overly excitable, and driven by adrenaline; will often act without thinking

anxiety is typically the one to reel her in and keep her in check

loves theme parks, thrill rides, field trips, and just generally getting to go out and have fun

i think her voiceclaim would be like. kristen schaal or something lmao. might change that but i think it fits

these guys are less developed but i like them so i'm sharing them anyways! here's Paranoia (he/they; Fear x Anxiety) and Restlessness (he/they; Ennui x Fear).

Paranoia specifically represents the feeling you get after watching a scary movie and beginning to think there's a monster in your house, leading you to check behind every door for things lurking and whatnot. (or maybe that's just a me thing..? idk SGDSKHSLKLSDH)

mouth can open VERY wide. gator boy

is it hair or antennae? the world may never know. theyre basically like what Fear has going on with his singular hair(?) strand

very jumpy and jittery, often has trouble sleeping; will most likely scream if disturbed in literally any situation

specializes in worst-case-scenario projections, which often turn out to be on the more outlandish end

transmasc!! hell yeah

Restlessness is physically incapable of sleeping, which tends to cause problems for the rest of the mind when he's in charge of the console. they tend to take over on days when Ennui, Fear, or Anxiety are the most active emotions.

paces a lot; leaves trails of glowing footsteps wherever he walks that get brighter the more he walks in one place (they do fade away eventually)

one of the tallest emotions, around Embarrassment's height; has a habit of constantly tilting their head back when standing, so their nose makes them even taller

hair coils and uncoils passively as if it has a mind of its own; will coil up tightly when he's stressed, and mostly straighten out when calm (a rare occasion)

Paranoia 🤝 Restlessness = the insomnia brothers

also transmasc. we love to see it

*you might already have seen Restlessness in this post by @ronniesbizzareblog!! go check it out it has great IO artwork

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 IN PAPER RINGS AND PICTURE FRAMES!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai has never been a true believer of murphy’s law, not until today at least. he swears the world is out to get him, all he wanted was to give you a nice valentine’s day... and maybe something a little extra special. (wordcount: 6.7k; sfw; very brief mentions of dazai's attempts, fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: valentine's day fic for my sweetest boy

“What do you mean I can’t have the day off?” Dazai cries out, staring down at his phone in abject horror. A pillow is flung at his head and Dazai sputters out an apology to you before lifting his phone back to his ear, making a point to lower his voice as he says, “Kunikida-kun, it’s Valentine’s Day. Not even you can be this heartless.”

“Dazai!” Kunikida says, voice stern and sharp, and Dazai knows that the man is serious because he’s not spitting out insults about Dazai’s laziness and lack of drive to do anything but lounge around and avoid work. “Trust me. It brings me no joy to make you come in today—not for your sake, but for her’s. But we have to finish up the final preparations for Tanizaki and Atsushi’s upcoming mission before they leave for Kyoto tomorrow morning. Get to the office now.”

“Kunikida-kun,” Dazai complains, feeling a bit more panicked, “but I-”

“Maybe if you had actually done your work the past few days, I could’ve covered for you,” Kunikida spits out angrily. “But we have double the workload to finish by tonight because you’ve been slacking off the past week. Anyway, you shouldn’t be calling the day of asking for a day off. Be to the office asap.”

Kunikida doesn’t even wait for Dazai’s response, hanging up the phone and leaving Dazai standing in your apartment staring at his phone with parted lips and wide eyes, unable to comprehend what just happened. A noise escapes his lips, something caught between a scoff and a whimper, and Dazai thinks he might cry. He feels like a wounded puppy as he turns his attention over to where you’re still curled up in bed, eyes barely cracked open as you watch him with furrowed brows.

“Bella…” he pouts, making his way over to you so he can sit next to you on the bed. “They’re making me go into the office.”

You only roll toward him, eyes heavy with sleep, barely able to hold them open, and Dazai’s chest feels tight and warm with a lovely feeling that he’s only ever experienced with you. He reaches out to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing your skin—your lashes flutter as your eyes droop back shut, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of someone seeking out his touch, trusting his hands as if they aren’t rotted and blood-stained.

“Then go,” you say with a yawn, leaning into his touch and pulling the dark comforter back up around your shoulders from where it had slipped down your body.

Dazai pushes his lip out even more. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I wanted to spend the day with you. You took off today too.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him and Dazai wants to tell you that it is decidedly not okay but he can’t tell you that because you’ll ask why and he can’t tell you without ruining everything. “I’m tired anyway. Someone decided to keep me up half the night.” 

Dazai can hardly even muster the vulgar smile and dirty joke that should have come to him with ease, and evidently, that’s proof enough to you that something must be seriously wrong because you crack your eyes back open and peer up at him, concern slowly eclipsing the tiredness. Another thing he’ll never be used to: having someone genuinely worry over him even over the smallest things. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask him softly, yawning again as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. The comforter slides down from around your shoulders again, revealing the smooth skin of your bare shoulders and collarbone, and Dazai wishes for nothing more than to slip beneath the sheets with you, wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your chest.

Instead, he lets himself lean into your touch for a moment, eyes falling shut as he basks in the feeling of your fingers carding through his dark locks, nails gently scraping his scalp. He thinks he could stay in this moment forever, but alas, the serenity is utterly shattered when his phone starts buzzing again.

Dazai lets out a heavy exhale, dark eyes dragging from you to where his phone is laying on the bed next to him, seeing Atsushi’s name flash on the screen—surely having been told by Kunikida to follow up and make sure that Dazai is actually going to show up at the office. 

“I just wanted to spend the day with you,” he says, a bit of a white lie, but he can’t tell you the real reason why he’s so disappointed. “He’s had it out for me ever since we got together. He’s jealous. This is his way of getting one over me.”

You smile lightly at him, pulling his face down a bit so that you can press your lips against his. Dazai sighs into your mouth, eyes sliding shut again as he kisses you, hand coming up again to cup your cheek as his lips move against yours. The kiss is slow and intimate, but far too short for his liking. You pull your lips away from his and Dazai gives you a wounded look when he tries to chase your lips only for you to dodge with a giggle. 

“Go, Osamu,” you tell him and Dazai lets out a groan, letting his head drop to your chest. You toy with his hair and Dazai wants to tell you that doing that is only going to make him want to stay even more but he also doesn’t want you to stop so he decides against it. “The faster you get there and get your work done, the quicker you can come home.”

Home. Another word he might never get used to, his chest feels warm and fluttery as he tilts his head to the side so he can peer up at you. “Or I can just not go in at all and deal with Kunikida’s righteous fury tomorrow.”

“No,” you say firmly, tugging at his ear and making him yelp. “Go, Osamu. Don’t be ridiculous. Let me sleep.”

Dazai sighs, rising to his feet and letting you curl back beneath the covers. He wants to tell you that it’s not that simple and that he has a whole plan and he needs to follow it strictly otherwise he’s scared that everything will go wrong, but there’s no way of explaining that to you without having to tell you why which would ruin everything. Lamenting to himself, he shrugs his coat onto his shoulders and leans down to press his lips between your brows as you start to doze off again, brushing your hair behind your ear and letting his eyes linger on your face, skin glowing gently beneath the early morning sun. 

It takes all of his willpower to step away from you and make his way out of your apartment, the ring in his pocket weighing more heavily with every step he takes.

•••

Dazai is really trying his best not to let his frustration spoil the night. The sun has already long set. What should have been a short day at the office finishing up paperwork ended up with him working overtime because of an emergency mission on the far side of the city concerning an ability user who could mimic appearances. Everybody else is still at the office trying to finish up preparations for Tanizaki and Atsushi’s upcoming mission in Kyoto but the President had taken one look at Dazai’s abysmal expression and told him to go home and be with you.

And Dazai should appreciate that, honestly, otherwise he’d be stuck at the office until god knows when, leaving you at home alone all day and all night on the one day he was planning to spend the whole day with you, but he’s so bitter that he can’t even summon the appreciation he should feel. You’re taking it in stride, of course, telling him that it’s okay and you’re not mad even though Dazai insists that you definitely should be. He called you while on the train with Kunikida, curled up in a seat pouting as he shot his partner dirty looks and mourned his shitty luck because of course this would happen on the day he was planning to make the biggest decision of his life, and yours.

Not that he could tell you that part, obviously.

Kunikida had been rightfully guilty, apologizing to Dazai for the day taking as long as it did and continuously shooting him ashamed looks, but Dazai couldn’t even bask in the knowledge that Kunikida is actually apologizing to him for making him work because he’s so frustrated about how the day has gone compared to what he had planned.

It’s still salvageable, he reminds himself, glancing down at his phone. The reservations he placed for the restaurant aren’t for another hour and a half. He has plenty of time to walk back to your apartment and change so he can take you out for the night, and the thought of taking you out for the night makes all of the frustration he’s feeling absolutely disappear, entirely overshadowed by the giddiness tingling through his limbs and the nerves that tighten his chest. 

Tonight.

He twists his hands in front of his body, eyes catching on a convenience store at the corner of the block, a wide range of chocolates and flowers on display at the main window. With only a moment’s hesitation, he speeds up his pace, flinging open the door to the convenience store and beelining right to the dwindling Valentine’s Day display, weathered down by other frantic partners who were late to get their beloved gifts.

He lets out a relieved puff of air when he sees that your favorite flowers and chocolates are still available, although he’s a bit irate because the flowers aren’t as healthy as they should be, but he supposes it’s his own fault. Of course they're not going to be in perfect shape after being on display all day—if he wanted perfect flowers, he should’ve bought and brought them to you first thing in the morning.

Which he could have done if it weren’t for Kunikida, he thinks bitterly, deciding to place all of the blame on his coworker instead.

He drops the flowers and chocolates at the cash register, where an older man is working, and Dazai pulls out his wallet, flipping through to grab a few yen and place them on the counter.

The older man lets out a bit of a chuckle as he scans the chocolates and the flowers. “You’re a bit late, aren’t you, boy?” he notes. “Can’t have a happy lady at home, I know mine is angry as a bull. Hope you have more than this to appease the girl.” 

Dazai winces and then mutters, “She’s not angry, I got pulled into work. She understands.” 

It sounds pathetic even to his own ears. The man finds it amusing, evidently, from how he has to smother another laugh as he gets Dazai his change.

“Mine said she was fine with it too,” he says, “but I know I’m coming home to the cold shoulder. They never say what they mean, son.” 

Dazai’s mood falters again, the giddiness and nerves slipping away into something colder because he’s feared since he left this morning that you would be bitter over him having to go into work today. And he knows deep down that you’re not like that, that if you say it’s fine, it really is fine most of the time, but a part of him can’t help but wonder if you’re only saying it because you don’t want to stress him out even more, because he’d made it abundantly clear this morning that he wasn’t happy. 

“There you go,” the older man passes over his change and the flowers and chocolates. “Good luck.”

Dazai can barely even bring himself to give the man a proper thank you, making his way back out of the convenience stores with the flowers and chocolates in hand. His eyes flicker down to his phone again, catching the time before he continues down the street—the pit stop had only taken a few minutes, but Dazai is doubly anxious to get back home to you now. Not just because he’s worried that you’re not quite as okay with it as you’ve made yourself out to be, but also because he misses you and just wants to get back home to you, this day has been too long and it’s been especially hellish and jarring because he woke up this morning thinking he’d get to spend the entire day with you.

He’s ready to get home to you. He’s ready to take you out to dinner. He’s ready to take you down to the gardens and he’s ready to-

God, he’s ready to propose. After all of these damn years, he’s finally ready and he will not let a shitty day at work ruin that for him. He still has the whole night, and that’s what’s important because…

He stares at his hand, where a droplet of water had splashed against his skin. A dreadful feeling arises, dark and slithering as it spreads through him. He turns his gaze up to the dark sky—dark because the sun has set, yes, but he realizes now, with a pit in his gut, that it’s also because storm clouds seem to be gathering above the city. He hadn’t even noticed them in his pitiful spiral, nor had he noticed the way the wind had picked up. 

He hardly has time to react before the rain comes down. Hard. Torrential. He stands on the sidewalk, too riddled with shock and disbelief to even move for cover. He stares ahead, wondering just how much more terrible this day can get. He’s never been a believer of Murphy’s Law or any of those other dubious, paranoia-induced “laws of nature,” but he’s severely starting to question his standing on it because of all days, of course it’s today where it seems that the entire universe must be against him.

He stares at the drenched flowers he had just bought you, crumpled and ruined from the force of the rain—he can’t even bring himself to feel frustrated, if anything he’s starting to feel a bit numb with exhaustion, half-certain that there’s a god up there sabotaging him. He tosses the flowers in a nearby garbage can along with the soggy box of chocolates in his other hand, and almost robotically, he makes his way to stand under an overhang, pulling out his phone to call you.

You pick up after the first ring, you always do.

“Osamu?”

“Can you pick me up?” Dazai asks, voice hoarse and empty.

“... Of course. Where are you?”

•••

The car ride has been damningly silent and Dazai feels bad because you’ve tried to make conversation with him but he can’t bring himself to speak. You’ve given up by now though, resorting to just focusing on the road, occasionally sparing him concerned glances. His head is starting to hurt and he fears that if he says something his voice might crack, so instead he just leans his head against the passenger seat window, letting the cool glass spread through his brain and ease the pain as you intertwine your fingers with his. 

“We’re never going to make the reservation,” Dazai finally decides to speak up, voice sounding cold and distant even to his own ears. He nearly flinches—he would’ve preferred it to crack than sound so frigid and aloof. 

The rain pouring down is torrential, lightning webbing across the dark sky and wind howling outside. Already, there’s been road closures, the twenty minute drive from the Agency to your apartment has taken twice as long as it usually takes and you’re still stuck in bumper to bumper traffic trying to take the long way around to the complex. The reservation is set for forty minutes from now, and it’ll take nearly as long to get to your apartment at this rate, and then Dazai still has to dry off and change from work, and then you have to drive to the restaurant which would've taken another twenty minutes without traffic. 

Not that it matters anyway, the storm has already destroyed his plans for after dinner, which was the whole point of the dinner anyway, but still, he would have at least liked to bring you to a nice dinner for Valentine’s Day.

He wonders if this is all meant to be a sign, and the thought makes his chest ache because of course when he finally thinks he’s ready to take the next step in his relationship with you—one that he knows you’ve been waiting patiently for four years now but his own hangups about himself have stopped him from ever doing anything about it—this happens. And you’ve never pressured him about it, you’ve never even brought it up to him because you know the topic makes him uncomfortable, but he’s seen the way you look at all of the happily married couples who come into the cafe when you meet him there for his lunch break and he’s seen the way you sometimes glance down at your own empty finger and Dazai thinks he’s ready. 

Against all odds, he thinks he’s ready—he bought you a ring, he planned out the whole proposal. Anxiety has been eating him alive all week as the days led up to this and now that the day is here, everything just goes wrong. He was going to bring you to the aquarium, because he knows you love to watch the dolphins and the penguins but that was ruined because of work. He was going to take you out to dinner at Le Normandie in Naka, because he’d seen you looking at the menu all longingly a few weeks ago, but that was ruined because of the road closures and traffic. And then he was going to bring you down into Yamashita Park, over to the flower gardens where there was supposed to be a band playing, because they always do on Valentine’s Day, and he wrote up everything, a long and flowery speech about how you’ve shown him what it’s like to really live, what it’s like to be human, but that was ruined by the storm. 

All the preparations he made, all of the plans he had, all of it gone to ruin. Just like that. 

And now he’s doubting how ready he actually is.

He really does wonder if this is a sign, a warning, even—higher powers telling him not to condemn you to a life with him because what sort of sane person would want a future with someone who’s spent most of his life trying to kill himself? Dazai has more issues than he’s worth and he’s still half-convinced that you don’t know what you’re getting into even though you’ve been with him for four years and have seen some of his most egregious lows. You’ve had to cut him down from the noose, fight him for the blade he held against his skin, and Dazai doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to fully free himself of the dark thoughts tearing apart his brain. 

And you deserve better than a future with someone who’s fickle about living and unable to effectively combat the dark thoughts that plague his mind. This is the world’s attempt at reminding him of that before he makes a mistake.

You draw him from his spiraling thoughts as you squeeze his hand gently, lifting his hand to press your lips against his knuckles and Dazai feels even worse because why are you comforting him when he’s the one who ruined your Valentine’s Day. 

“Let’s order takeout then,” you say easily, giving him a warm smile that should have made him feel more at ease but instead it only makes him feel worse because you shouldn’t have to settle for takeout on Valentine’s Day, especially when he planned such a nice day out. “I’m craving pizza. We can curl up on the couch and watch a movie instead.”

Dazai is unconvinced.

“Don’t give me that look,” you complain, but you’re still smiling and Dazai is finding it hard to keep up his sullen attitude with you looking at him like that. “There’s a new horror movie I wanted to watch, it’s available for streaming now.”

“This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go,” Dazai murmurs, finally intertwining his fingers with yours, rubbing a circle with his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“Let’s make the most of it anyway,” you tell him, giving him another radiant smile, and Dazai feels a bit like a fool—he’s never listened to the warnings from higher powers before, so why the hell should he now? When you give him another reassuring squeeze as you rest your joined hands back down on the console, turning your attention back onto the road, his chests lighten and the creeping doubts start to trickle away. 

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all work out anyway.

•••

It takes less than an hour for his slim hopes to be crushed yet again.

Dazai stares at the food in front of him, too numb to even think to go chase after the delivery driver and tell him that he got the order wrong. You’re standing somewhere to the side, looking even more concerned—not because of the food, because of him, and Dazai knows that he should reassure you and tell you that everything is fine but he can’t even muster the strength to speak the words. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, reaching out to grab his hand. He doesn’t even intertwine his fingers with yours, but you’re undeterred, clutching his hand tightly, and he knows he’s being unfair to you but he just doesn’t even know what else to do. “Osamu, it’s fine, really. It’s just some food.”

“You don’t even eat any of this food,” Dazai says, voice tight and more than a bit frustrated. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take, the morning had started off so nice waking up to you fast asleep on his chest and every passing second since then has just gone further and further downhill. “Not one thing has gone right today, and they can’t even get one order done correctly. It’s not fine, I-”

Dazai’s eyes flutter shut when you reach up to cup his cheeks between your hands, squishing his face gently before leaning in to press your lips against his. He sighs against your lips, the frustration slowly starting to dissipate as you rest your forehead against his, stealing one, two, three more kisses before finally pulling back a bit to speak.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him again, and Dazai thinks he should be the one reassuring you because it’s your Valentine’s Day that has been utterly ruined but he only relaxes into your touch, soaking up all of the comfort you offer him. “I have pizza bagels in the freezer, we can throw them in the oven. Honestly, I’ve been tempted to make them all day, anyway, but I wanted to wait for you. It’s not a big deal.”

“... Yeah?” Dazai asks quietly, and you give him that soft, soothing smile that always puts his nerves at ease. He lets out another puff of air, nodding. “Okay, I’ll put them in.”

He steals another kiss from you, and then another, and the tension in his shoulders finally begins to melt when he feels you giggling against his lips, shooing him away to go put the pizza bagels in the oven.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, that maybe the night is still salvageable, he reaches for the door to your freezer and as his fingers curl around the handle, the power goes out. Thunder shakes your apartment complex, lightning webs the sky outside, and the wind outside becomes even more treacherous. And with it, the ability to use the oven to make the pizza rolls you want disappears.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he. Dazai thinks it should be comical at this point but he can find no humor in it, his throat tight and clogged with a million unwelcome emotions. He swears there must be someone up in the heavens laughing at him, finding entertainment in his misfortune and misery, and maybe he deserves it for all of the sins he’s committed in the past but he wishes that they wouldn’t drag you into this. 

He casts a miserable look in your direction, unsure if you even notice because you’re already at work trying to fumble to light a few candles, and Dazai is so tired that he thinks he might die. All he had wanted was to take you on a nice day out, ending the night with dinner and a stroll through the gardens at Yamashita before finally gathering the nerve to get down on one knee in front of you, showing you the ring he’d been so nervous buying and-

And then he pauses.

Where is the ring?

The thought dawns on him so damningly that he feels physically ill, realizing that he hadn’t felt the familiar weight in his pocket earlier when walking home from the Agency, nor had he noticed it when he slipped his jacket off and laid it on one of the kitchen chairs. He rushes over to where he had left his jacket, panic spreading through him so intensely that he can hardly think straight, ignoring how you call his name, worried.

His chest tightens, blood running cold as he fumbles through the pockets of his jacket trying to figure out which one he left it in only to realize that it’s not snugged safely in any of them. Dazai thinks he might throw up, wondering if it had fallen out when he took his jacket off at the office, or if it had fallen out while he was walking to work, or when he stopped at the convenience store and pulled out his wallet, or when he was walking home. If it was the latter three, the ring is gone and he’ll probably never see it again, and he probably should take that as a sign from god to not condemn you to a life with him.

“Osamu?” you ask, voice soft and cautious as you make your way over to him, obviously sensing his distress. 

Dazai wants to cry. Or maybe he wants to laugh. He can’t tell. He leans his elbows onto the counter, hiding his face in his hands, and then he decides to laugh, or maybe he’s crying, he’s not sure honestly, but his shoulders are shaking and you’re wrapping your arms around his waist. Dazai wants to melt into you and he wants to tell you just how abysmally terrible this day has been but he can’t without telling you what he had planned and that only makes him more miserable. 

You coax his face out from where it’s hiding against his hands as you stroke his hair, pressing your lips to his shoulder, and then his temple, and as soon as he turns his face to you, you’re cupping his cheeks in your hands, thumbs wiping away the wetness streaming down his cheeks, and he realizes distantly that he must’ve been crying. God, when was the last time he cried before this? He doesn’t even remember. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, keeping your voice soft as if to not startle him. 

He doesn’t want to answer, so he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into the crook of your neck, hiding himself from view again. As always, you take it in stride, wrapping your arms around him, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head and hold him close, lips pressing against the top of his hair. And Dazai is still so frustrated—he’s so frustrated and upset with himself and upset with the world, but as soon as he’s wrapped tight in your arms, it becomes increasingly hard to remain focused on all of the negative thoughts.

“I’m so tired,” is all he can say, voice hoarse and cracking, blunt nails digging crescents into your back as he clings to you desperately. 

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. He’s so tired. He just wanted this to be a nice day, and he wanted to finally push himself into giving himself to you entirely, because it’s what he wants. It’s what he wanted. He wanted to be yours and he wanted you to be his. Officially. But if the world really is trying to warn him against it, he’s thinking that maybe he should heed its warnings for once—for your sake, because he’s sure that anyone tied to him must be cursed. 

“Let’s go lay down,” you tell him softly, carding your fingers through his hair gently. The motion is so soothing that it nearly makes his eyes droop shut, exhaustion seeping deep through his bones. “Os-”

There’s a harsh knock at your door. 

Dazai’s eyes slide shut again, frustration coming back tenfold because he can’t even have a single moment with you without it going horribly wrong. You sigh as you break yourself free from him and Dazai longs to be back in your arms instantly, the weight of the day bearing down on him twice as heavily without you there to share the burden with him.

“I’ll go get the door,” you tell him, leaning up on your toes to press your lips to the corner of his. “Go lay down, I’ll join you in a second.”

“No,” Dazai says, capturing your lips in a real kiss briefly before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll get the door. You go change into your pajamas.”

“You sure?” you ask him, concern clear in your eyes as you look up at him.

Dazai only nods, pressing his lips to your forehead before ushering you off into the bedroom. You cast him one more worried look but Dazai shoos you away pointedly before making his way over to the door, frowning a bit because who the hell is showing up at your door this late? He thinks that if it’s the restaurant that sent the wrong food, then Dazai might just slam the door in the delivery man's face because the damage has already been done and Dazai is feeling petty.

But no. It’s not the delivery man standing outside your apartment with the right food this time. Rather, it’s an anxious looking Atsushi and a stressed Kunikida. Dazai’s eye twitches a bit—as if his day hadn’t been ruined enough with work, he swears to god that if they're about to bring even more to him on top of dragging him away from you all day, someone might die. 

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi sounds absurdly relieved at the sight of the man but Dazai’s expression doesn’t budge, waiting for them to explain why they were interrupting his night with you. “We were just leaving work and-I wish I’d seen it sooner, I’m sorry-I would’ve come sooner but-I mean we tried to call and text but-”

Dazai has no idea what Atsushi is talking about, so he drags his eyes from the anxious boy up to Kunikida, waiting for a proper explanation. Kunikida’s lips twist when Dazai looks at him and Dazai thinks the man has no right to look at him that way after being the root cause of how awful his day.

Suddenly, Dazai catches sight of the familiar velvet box sitting in Kunikida’s hand, and he’s not sure what amalgamation of emotions rocks his body—fear, relief, apprehension—but he doesn’t like it, reaching out to snatch the box from Kunikida and cradle it to his chest, watching the two of them uneasily.

“You moron,” Kunikida snaps, careful to keep his voice low, but not low enough because horror shoots through Dazai when Kunikida continues with, “why didn’t you say you were-”

“Lower your voice,” Dazai says, panicking, casting a glance back toward where you’re still getting changed in the bedroom.

“Why didn’t you say you were proposing?” Kunikida finishes in a whisper, voice still a sharp hiss. “If you’d mentioned that I would’ve-”

Dazai feels flustered, and he does not want to answer and admit that he hadn’t thought it would make a difference. Luckily—or maybe unluckily, he concedes—he doesn’t have to answer because he hears you making your way out of the bedroom.

“Osamu?” you call curiously, “Is that Kunikida-kun and Atsushi-kun?”

Dazai’s eyes widen when he realizes that he has nowhere to hide the ring as you come around the corner from the hall. He promptly slams the door in both of his coworkers’ faces without even the sparest thank you, ignoring their surprised yelps as panic begins to spread through him, doing his best to hide his hands behind his back when he turns around to face you.

And then-

Then he hesitates. 

The excuse on his lips about last minute mission briefing or Dazai having to sign off on a time-sensitive report dies when his eyes fall upon where you’re standing, dressed in your fuzzy pajamas with your arms wrapped around your waist and a confused expression painted on your face. The only lighting in the room is the few dim candles that you set up once the power went out, and the soft ambience casts an ethereal glow over your face. He thinks, not for the first time, that you might be heavenly, an angel sent to guide him on the path of good because how could he ever allow himself to fall back into his old, tainted habits without tarnishing you as well, and tarnishing you is simply unacceptable. 

All of the doubts that have risen throughout the day wash away as he looks at you, and he wonders, briefly, how he could’ve ever had any doubts? Dazai, for all of his insecurity and fears of commitment, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He does. He knows it so thoroughly that he can feel it in his bones; he doesn’t want anyone else, he doesn’t want to be alone, he wants you. He wants to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night, he wants to lounge around on the weekends because you’re both too lazy to get out of bed and do something productive, he wants to be there for your lows when you’re so overwhelmed with work that you can hardly think straight much less properly take care of yourself and god, against all odds, he wants you there for his too, when he feels like he’s being consumed by his own thoughts, spiraling down a dark and never-ending train that might not be as dark and never-ending with you there as a light to guide him out of it. 

“Marry me,” he says, breathless, voice laced with desperation.

You stare at him, eyes wide. He stares back, frozen, unsure of what to do because this was not how this was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be extravagant, romantic, like you deserve, not some half-assed spur of the moment proposal. The words hang heavily in the air between the two of you, but he forces himself to push forward, too far in deep to back out now. 

He fumbles as he tries to shift the velvet box into one hand to bring it in front of him and show you. He drops it. Of course he does. Everything else has gone wrong today so why not this too? But still, he pushes forward, kneeling down to scoop up the ring box and prop himself up on one knee in front of you, throat swollen and tight as he opens up the box to show you the ring inside of it. He’s holding it backwards. Of course he is. So he fixes it promptly, swiveling it around with trembling fingers, waiting anxiously for you to respond. Or even just react. 

You haven’t budged from where you’re standing a few feet away.

What if you say no? God, the thought hadn’t even crossed his head but now his heart starts to sink from his chest down to his feet because you’re not moving and you’re not saying anything and he doesn’t know if you’re just processing his words or if you’re trying to figure out the best way to reject him. 

He starts to fumble out words. “This was not how this was supposed to happen,” he admits, speaking so quickly that he can barely understand himself. “It was supposed to be a nice day, we were gonna go to the aquarium to see the dolphins and penguins, dinner at Le Normandie and then go down to the gardens at the park, and there was supposed to be a band and flowers and I had a whole speech ready and it definitely was not supposed to be like this but everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong, but I want to marry you and I don’t want to wait anymore, and I’m sorry that this is a shitty proposal, you deserve better than this. And I’m probably making it worse, I should have just waited for another day, but-”

But please say yes, he wants to say, but he can’t force the words out; he can only stare at you, expression more open and vulnerable than he thinks he’s been in his entire life. And he realizes, a bit horrified, that you could ruin him right now—he’s laid his heart out on a platter and it’ll only take one swift motion for you to crush it in hand and he thinks he’s terrified but-

All of the air is ripped from his lungs with a harsh oof. In an instant, his back is to the floor and you’re on top of him and Dazai is staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, trying to figure out what exactly happened.

“You’re so stupid, Osamu,” you cry out and to Dazai’s horror, he realizes that you’re crying, hands propped up on his chest to brace yourself up, tears pooling in your eyes and streaming over your cheeks and dripping onto his own face. “Is this what you’ve been so upset about all day? I don’t need any of that, all I need is you.”

Oh. Dazai can’t breathe, and it’s not because you’re on top of him it’s because your words are processing and he’s realizing that-are you saying that-

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you idiot.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, a puff of air that he does not have in his lungs, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling—elation, relief, exhilaration, all of the above—but he does know that he’s never felt anything like it before and he doesn’t want it to go away. Ever. Dazai swears he sees a flash of a camera from the window, and he swears doubly that he hears Yosano let out a hoot of a cheer and Kunikida hushing her, dragging her away, but he can’t even bring himself to care. 

 Yeah, Dazai thinks to himself, eyes sliding shut as he rests his head back against the floor, the first genuine smile of the day tugging to the edge of his lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, clutching at his shirt, sniffling and hiccuping over each breath. He wraps an arm around your waist, using his free hand to slip the ring out of the box and slide it onto your finger. You cry harder. He kisses the top of your head, wondering how he could ever have any doubts or hesitations. 

He could definitely spend the rest of his life like this.