#bsd writer

[takumifujiwarastan]

men who treat you wasting even a single drop of his cum like a sin. men who replace their cock with their fingers after blowing a massive load into you to stuff his cum in real good as it tries to seep out of your puffy cunt.

men who grab a fistful of your hair and make you lick his cum off of the bedsheets if you even dare to wipe the extra off of your hands.

men who collect the sticky substance on their thumb as it drips down your chin and stuffs his digit into your mouth, ordering you firmly to "suck."

his cum is like a blessing to you, and he makes sure you treat it as so. or he may have to stuff you even more full than you already are <3

TOJI, SUKUNA, gojo, nanami, EREN, LEVI, ryosuke, KEISUKE, DABI, tachihara, DAZAI, chuuya, F Y O D O R, +your favs!!

[riiwrites]

another thing I want to add to this : this post isn’t about me and who I want to follow me. personally i don’t care if you’re an adult and decide to follow me that is completely fine i have lovely mutuals and friends who are adults themselves. but if you yourself are uncomfortable with minors interacting with you but you decide to follow one or you’ve just turned a blind eye and followed without checking for some sort of age, that’s on you. i respect if you love and enjoy my works but im genuinely just asking you to check my page before you blindly follow, thank you 🩷

not trying to be rude in saying this at all but if you’re a person who writes smut and/or has “MDNI” in their bios/pinned post and you decide to follow me please can you check my pinned post before deciding to do so? i am a minor. it’s clearly stated im a minor and you’re basically just going against your own word

[pleucas]

nostalgic, for nothing [BEAST]

finally able to post the work i did for @skkangstzine! leftover sales are going on until October 10th, which you can find details for here <3

[calmlb]

Higuchi’s Unrevealed Ability

my theory on what it could be…

i think that Higuchi’s ability will be called “Takekurabe” (Growing Up/Child’s Play) after her most famous work, and i believe it might have something to do with reincarnation. here’s why…

in this official art she is featured with red spider lilies, which are symbolic of death, but are also thought of as a bridge between heaven & earth…a reminder of the “cyclical nature of life & death”

Takekurabe also explores themes such as how life is fleeting. & also abt being forced into a role that you didn’t want, or wouldn’t have chosen for yourself

(plus potential foreshadowing: in this official art, Higuchi is surrounded by pinwheels— which symbolize childhood, but also the cycle of life, & the buddhist teaching of reincarnation)

back to reincarnation…

after being told that Akutagawa may never wake up, she reached out to him & a glow appeared around her hand— like she was activating an ability— before pulling away bc she remembered that he didn’t want her (or anyone’s) help

but this means that she’s able to give help in this sort of situation

additionally, the fact that she almost always appears in official arts w Akutagawa indicates that she will probably use her ability on him at some point, which makes sense considering his terminal condition

(note the pulse in the background, his bright eyes, & her white suit)

because we have yet to see her use her ability, i’m assuming that she can only use it once, so she’d be giving up her life for Akutagawa’s (a life for a life— his reincarnation)

this would imitate irl Higuchi’s unfortunately short life— with her having died at only 25 years old. it also makes sense to give her such a powerful ability since irl Higuchi is such an important figure in japanese history— japan’s first professional woman writer of modern literature

now for a less likely, but fun theory…

i wonder if Higuchi’s sister has anything to do with her ability (in bsd she’s unnamed, but her irl sister’s name was Kuniko so that’s what we’ll call her)

according to Higuchi’s bungo episode, despite her literary genius, irl Higuchi was practically useless without her sister

Kuniko was the one who made what Higuchi did possible & kept things functional behind the scenes

so i think it’d be super interesting (& a cool irl reference) if Kuniko was involved in some way with Higuchi’s ability (i also just want to see more of her bc this sister duo is so cute :’))

bonus: when i watched this anime adaptation of Takekurabe, this was the ending scene & i wonder if it was harukawa’s inspiration for this official art 🥹

white lilies represent purity, & since they were off by the side of the road, they might have represented the character’s fleeting purity. white lilies are also used at funerals to represent a soul’s return to purity & its journey to the afterlife… which circles back to the reincarnation theme 👀

[naumala]

im sorry but i really wish a lot of you x reader writers would learn that afab/amab are not stand in words for "cis female"/"cis male".

you can literally just say "fem reader" or "reader goes by she/her pronouns" when writing fics that aren't smut and not describing genitals because using AFAB in place of that makes no sense and is incorrect.

even when writing smut people know that the majority of the time if you just say "fem/male reader" it's a cis reader, whereas saying "afab/amab reader" alone does NOT imply gender (unless stated otherwise for trans readers) which is why people usually pair and assume gn terms and pronouns with it.

pls I promise you don't have to use terminology you see on here if you don't know what it means

[venelona]

Dazatsu Month 2025 Day 23 - Writer AU/Actor AU

The troublesome production of BEAST

[chuunai]

Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

[welivetodream]

Atsushi: and besides nobody wants me! That's how it's always been. Nobody has ever wanted me.

Akutagawa: I want you

Atsushi (doki, doki): the fuck are you saying?

Akutagawa: when I close my eyes, I see your face, mostly your lips. I remember your words like lyrics to a song, they ring in my head all the time. I keep promises for you even if it means going against my boss. I feel sympathy for you when you think of your mentor. I let you wear my clothes, eventhough they are my armour. I follow your every movement. I am there wherever you are. I think of you while taking my dying breath. I have died for you and I want to live for you. Do you know why?

Atsushi: woa-hhh shakespeare calm down--

Akutagawa: I probably hate you that's why. I want to kill you, kill for you, die with you. All these feelings show how much I hate you! You are my ordeal!

Atsushi: W-What? You dumb--

Akutagawa: Jinko, I need you to live so I can live with this hatred!

Atsushi: did you hit your head as a child?

Akutagawa: even if the grim reaper or god took you, I'll demand that they return you back to me!

Atsushi: *blushing* you're so embarrassing---

*Yosano who over-heard the entire conversation*

Yosano, sipping tea: tch, tch gay kids these days...

[formiito]

i crave domestic chuuya doing simple things like running errands with his s/o or chores together. just daily life with him :(((

breathe (in the air) ; chuuya nakahara

synopsis : late night cooking with chuuya. aka chuuya's way of saying "stay with me" without saying anything at all. read on ao3

author's note: AAHSGEHGEJSHEJ i've been ignoring requests for so long because of medical exams but it's alright now bc exams are done yippie </3 this is short bc im working on like two soukoku aus and my fyodor fic at the same time but BEAR WITH ME i hope you like it ajdhejgedjhe

There is the smell of something that might be burning that you're not quite sure of yet. However, Chuuya seems to be looking at the oven as if it owed him money, hands on the top of it like that would somehow fix the dish. Once he opened the oven, he grimaced at the stiff mass of … something on the tray. He picked the solid, black mass of burnt food up, hitting the floor with it in frustration. It didn't break. Or chip. He wonders what the fuck happened in that oven to make this weird indestructible thing out of cookie batter. How do you even fuck up that bad? How does anyone fuck up that bad??

Soft footsteps resound in the hallway that leads to the kitchen, and he doesn't need to look back to know who it is. The rhythm of your steps memorized, the manner in which your hands instinctively go to wrap around his neck feels familiar, and he breathes an exhausted, content sigh.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Right. What was he trying to do again? Baking boxed cookie mix. Because neither of them had the energy to cook anything for dinner and had passed out the moment they fell on the bed, clumsily half-undressing each other before sleep pulled them over the line that separated reality and dreams. Still, he didn't think they'd wake up too. When he got out of the bed at that small hour, he made sure to be as discreet as possible. After all, you looked even more exhausted than him, and he'd hate to disturb you when you were worn to the bone. But draped over his back like this, he liked that too. He figured he just likes most everything you do.

"What's that?" Your eyes drift to the weird black thing on the floor.

"Cookies."

"…Cookies?"

"I mean. It's supposed to be. What the fuck went wrong…" Chuuya groaned, clearly irritated by his recent failures.

He might've cut a few corners here and there when it came to the recipe, but even then, it should be impossible to make what looks like a condensed mass of human misery out of cookie dough premix. He should've really just gone out to get something from the convenience store, but the thought of going outside in this kind of all too warm and sticky weather made him want to just give up and go back to bed.

The sound of you humming in thought breaks his train of thought that was steadily derailing into annoyance. Once you pulled away—to which he just sighed, irrationally wanting to chase the touch—he watched as you got up, looking in the cabinet for something easy to make. "We could cook something together, you know." That idea had crossed his head, and in truth he just did not want to bother, but it meant spending more time with you. So despite being still mad at his recent mishap, he nodded, looking into the cupboard as well. He let you pick what you wanted. Rice, dashi, wasabi and a few other things he watched you take out, over your shoulder—maybe you were trying to make chazuke. Seems simple enough. Maybe he should've done that earlier, but to be fair, he would've just given up halfway and gone to sleep. Since you were the one doing it though, naturally he'd help.

While the water is boiling, he puts in a random disk in the CD player, looking at the cover. Pink Floyd, huh. While he's never really been one for this sort of music, or ever thought that he'd somehow associate the warm sounds of psychedelic rock with home, he's grown to like it too. Much as the rest of your things that are scattered round the house, seamlessly mixing into the space that is far too big for one person, he's fond of the little reminders. He doesn't outright say it, but this place feels less colder now that you've made it your home too. He doesn't need to say what the both of you know for a fact. As the sounds of Dark Side Of The Moon filter from the speakers of the old CD player, he walks back into the kitchen, where he picks off two bowls from the dish rack. Don't be afraid to care, huh…

Not that at the end of the day there was anything else. After the blood was spilled and the bodies had dropped, there was little to do other than welcome themselves home with a bottle of alcohol shared between two and letting intoxication blur the lines between nightmares and blissful sleep, or never make it to the bed, the touch of soft lips replacing the comfort of the mouth of the bottle. The tolerance keeps increasing; perhaps one day these distractions will no longer be enough to keep their mind off their troubles. It never was in the first place. The need to feel something more, more than the thrill of the fight or the reminder of regret—that was what they needed. But even if it didn't not entirely do the job, these routines were easy to fall into, were they not? One more glass, one more touch. Spend one more night wrapped in shared safety while being ready to lose each other the next day.

It was easy.

And right now, so is existing with you. Under the soft glow of the lamp, your face; the artificial sparkle in your eyes where he knows all light has fizzled out—his head rests on his folded arms, looking at you, and it's all strangely pretty. Maybe its because between the two of you and the adrenaline rush that seems to sustain the day, peace was a luxury. Once the scent of freshly steamed rice filled the kitchen, he stood up, picking out two bowls and filling them with rice. Your hands poured the tea onto the rice, carefully topping it with wasabi and furikake.

Funnily enough that he doesn't usually wake up at this hour just to cook with you, and yet doing so makes it feel like he's actually home with you. Not simply a temporary place to rest before throwing himself full throttle into whatever job was lined up for him next. For the likes of Chuuya, home has always been people, but it is for that reason that the feeling of home had always been temporary. As if the moment things began to feel stable, the moment he began to feel alright, it would be ruined again. Like a bandaid ripped off too early on a wound.

You patch the cuts up.

Just a little.

Just enough for it to hurt a little less.

So when the night ends with finished bowls tossed carelessly into the sink, bedsheets crumpled by tossing and turning, and his eyelids fall with the passing of the clock hands—

No dreams tonight.

Or nightmares.

Only a sleepy warmth.

It's strangely peaceful.

[rougepearl]

SFW & NSFW Headcanons BSD Men

(Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai) MDNI

ᯓ★ Chuuya Nakahara

•Wine collection that dates back all the way to the 1920s

•Favorite season is fall

•Prefers to wear nice almost like dressing shoes

•Thinks older models of cars are nicer looking

•Would prefer to stay in and cook a nice dinner then eat out

•When someone is near his locked office, he'll have you stuff your mouth with his shirt that'll smell like his soft cologne while he fucks your tired pussy

•In bed he prefers to tie your hands with a tie he'll usually have around

•Around 5.6 inches, more girth than length

•Likes to bite your lip while he kisses you when he's going slow with you

•Probably has a small whip around in his room that he uses to slap your ass

ᯓ★ Fyodor Dostoesvky

•Definitely likes to keep flowers in vases around the house

•Likes to watch crime documentaries and criticizes where the person went wrong

•Seems like the type to have a small radio while doing some kind of hobby

•If he wasn't a psychopath, he'd wear a satchel around to carry his items such as books, personal items, etc.

•Likes to sit on public benches in nice areas and read his book or enjoy the scenery

•He likes to tie you up and eat your pussy out while he also watches you squirm

•Likes to wrap his hands on your hips and hold you down on his dick

•Teases you the entire way through it, then degrades you at the same time

•Likes to watch you play with yourself while he watches through the hidden cameras around your room

•Will have you keep your gaze at him and him only when he's thrusting into you

ᯓ★ Nikolai Gogol

•While liking magic tricks, he dosent know that many himself

•Most likely has a silver cigarette case even if he dosent smoke, uses it for collected items

•Is actually paler than Fyodor, considering he is anemic too. Results to him having a redder nose during winter

•Isn't actually white-haired, naturally is a level 9 to 10 blonde, but tried dying his hair very light purple during his teens years, and accidently neutralized it

•Has a thing for knitting sweaters

•Shows absolutely no mercy when going down on you, would cover your mouth and almost have you suffocate yourself with your own moans

•With his ability he would try to tease your inner thighs while he was just next room, but only when you were on a call with someone else

•Sucks the soul of your neck collarbone and upper chest, leaves very dark marks that wouldn't leave for the next days or so

•Favorite position is classic missionary, because he'll make you think it's vanilla for one night but then flip you over and onto the next position and the next

•Likes it when your juices mix with his while he's deep inside of you

[scrimblyscrorblo]

This is how he found out btw

[tinkerleaf]

Not a Bother

a/n: I'm gonna be so real with you guys, this is kinda ass. I haven't written anything in forever, so my writing is apparently reflecting that. I did try to motivate myself to put something out, so I'm hoping this will get me to continue and improve a bit. genre: fluff, angst if you squint warnings: cursing, mentions of possible stalker, protective dazai, etc. w/c: 750ish synopsis: fyodor might have sent a stalker after you, and you try to hide it from dazai to keep him from stressing too much

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The heat of the mug in front of you warms your hand as you sit across from Osamu at the cafe. The conversation dulls as he continues to drone on about his last mission until he notices your lack of attention on him.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You nodded, which was mostly true, but he couldn’t help but stare right through you. It felt like he was scanning you, looking for something that he knew you wouldn’t tell him.

The buzz of your phone rips you from your thoughts. You knew what it could be and refrained from looking at the message. You had been receiving cryptic texts and voicemails for a couple of days now, and you were beginning to grow paranoid. Any other time, you’d tell Osamu immediately, but ever since Fyodor came into the picture, he’s become increasingly stressed. He doesn’t always show it, but you’ve known him long enough to see right through his calm exterior. You don’t want to push something else on him to worry about, especially not for your sake.

Your phone buzzes again, and you flip it over, beginning to grow annoyed. His eyes don’t leave your face.

“Looking for something?” you inquire in annoyance, taking another sip of your coffee.

His eyes narrow when another message hits your phone. He doesn’t fail to notice you purse your lips. “Someone’s popular~.”

You sigh. “It’s probably Kunikida looking for the case files from this morning.” Another buzz. You’re silently praying it isn’t who you think it is.

“Then why don’t you answer it?”

“…I don’t want to-”

“Why not?” His gaze pierced into you. You hated how calm he was when he interrogated you. It gently reminded you of how he obtained information in the Mafia.

“I don’t answer work-related messages on break.”

“Then I guess you won’t mind me reminding him of that, right?” He fishes through his coat pocket.

You pale. “Wait, don’t-”

Another buzz. His arm shoots for your phone. You try to grab it, but you fail to reach it before he does. You don’t even try to take it back because you know you won’t succeed.

As he searches through your texts, he sees the strange number that’s been harassing you the past few days. He skims through a string of threatening words as his expression becomes more and more serious. “Who the hell is this?”

You shook your head. “Not a clue.”

He scrolls to the top to find timestamps. “You've been getting these for three days? And you just didn’t even bother to talk to me about it? Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

“Because I can handle my own prob-”

“Fuck off! If that were the case, this would have been handled by now!” He somewhat raised his voice, and you were happy to be the only ones in the cafe at the moment. “I swear if this is more of Fyodor’s bullshit I’m gonna lose my mind.” He scoots over to get out of the booth, your phone sinking into his pocket. “Get up.”

“What are we doing?”

“Going upstairs to see if Ranpo can trace this number down.” He looks back at you. “You’re coming with. I’m not letting you out of my sight until this guy is dead.”

You follow him through the doors and back up the stairs to the hallway just before getting to the office. Before stepping closer to the agency’s doors, you tug him by the sleeve, catching his attention.

“Wait.”

“Hm?” He quirks a brow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

His shoulders release a bit of their tension at your words, “I know.”

“You don’t know why, though.” You sigh. “I just don’t want to bother you with stuff like this when we have plenty more to worry about right now.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not a burden to me-”

“But you’re beyond stressed out. I don’t want to do that to you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, as if he's thinking about what you said. As if maybe the sweet tone of your voice is what has Fyodor so interested in you. Or maybe the kind look in your eyes. If he had the chance, he’d lock you away in a heartbeat just to keep the rat and his men away from you.

“I mean what I said. You’ve never been a burden to me. Ever.”

And with that, he opened the office door, ready to handle anything that put you in harm’s way.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[keithbutgay]

What do you mean the irl Edogawa Ranpo was gay. What do you mean he traveled with his boyfriend researching the history of homosexuality in Japan. What do you mean they had a competition on who could find the most books about gay sex. WHAT DO YOU MEAN-

[mikhardwheat]

Even after so many years of reading fanfiction, it still amazes me how if you're dissatisfied with the amount (or type) of interactions between the characters, you can always just go and search them up on ao3 to get more and for free.

[soukokuforthesoul]

when chuuya finds his car in flames, in pieces, no longer discernible as a vehicle, it feels like a message of sorts. that something else is burning down. so when a meeting is called, and mori informs them of dazai’s departure, he can’t find it in himself to be properly surprised. because of course that’s what happened, what else? he ends up running his fingers over the bottles of wine in his collection, pausing at a particularly expensive one at the end of the row. the rest of the night is lost in the way he drinks straight from the murky-green glass, tipping it into his mouth and drowning in what he calls celebration.

[ksnzuy]

OMG PLEASE CAN U DO A CHUUYA FIC

Basically where they have 4 kids (genders your choice) but the youngest wants to be an older sibling (idk why but I just see Chuuya wanting a lot of kids anting to start a BIG family) but chuuyas into the idea BUT reader isn’t saying how her shops closed

Idk I just want something funny nothing sexual just a fluff and unhinged fic:p

If your not feeling up to it no problem <3 it would be nice to see u write it BUT NO PRESSURE I understand you have a life out of tumblr :)

🩷🩷🩷

୨ৎ Fours A Crowd.

୨ৎ auth: Hihi, I’ve been busy with stuff for my upcoming birthday which is in a week, soo sorry for delays in posting!! Sorry yall had to see a baddie almost get political will NEVER happen again

୨ৎ Summary: Having four kids is enough as is, but when your youngest wants to be an older sister and INSISTS on you having another child(and your husband feeding her little head) one can genuinely feel insane.

୨ৎ: one shot | fluff | Children | maybe slight unhinged | meant to be funny(my humor may suck to some)

୨ৎ Characters Included: Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya Nakahara has fought in underground wars, stared death in the face, and drop-kicked mafia scum in three-piece suits without breaking a sweat. He’s led operations in the rain, in suits worth more than some people’s rent. He’s survived Dazai.

But what he can’t survive?

Parenting four gremlins under the age of ten.

Especially when the smallest one starts talking like she’s got reproductive rights over your uterus.

⸻

It starts over breakfast.

The kitchen is chaos, per usual. Orange juice is on the floor, someone (probably Kaito, the third-born and certified feral) is trying to use the toaster to heat up a Hot Wheels car, and the oldest—Kyouko, your pre-teen with the attitude of a tired single mother—won’t stop yelling that this house is a social experiment. All while Chuuya’s trying to sip his coffee and pretend it’s not a war zone.

And then there’s Hana. Your five-year-old. Your baby. The tiniest terrorist in a frilly pink tutu and a juice mustache.

She hops onto a chair, slams her little palm on the table like she’s starting a family meeting, and announces:

“I WANNA BE A BIG SISTER.”

The entire room goes silent. Like; Hot Wheels-car-melting, yelling, cereal-flying silent.

You blink at her. “Come again?”

“I WANNA BE A BIG SISTER,” she repeats, louder. “Kyouko gets to be one. Kaito and Kenji too! It’s MY turn.”

Kyouko looks up from her phone. “You are a big sister. We’ve talked about this.”

“No, I mean a BIG BIG sister. Like, someone littler than me. I wanna boss someone around. I WANNA HOLD A BABY.”

You sip your coffee. “Get a doll.”

She gasps, offended. “DOLLS DON’T POOP. I WANT A REAL ONE.”

“…What kind of sales pitch is that?”

But Chuuya? That traitor?

Chuuya’s just standing there, smug smirk tugging at his lips, doing that thing where he leans against the counter like he’s on the cover of stupidly priced magazine and says;

“Well, we have talked about a fifth, babe.”

You freeze mid-sip. “We have not.”

He shrugs, sipping his coffee way too casually for someone who just got betrayed by his own sperm. “We have, though. Kinda. That one time. Remember? After Kaito got his head stuck in the railing and you said, ‘we’re not ready for another yet’ and I said, ‘yet?’ and you glared at me? That’s basically a convo.”

“That was not a conversation. That was a threat. And the answer is no. Absolutely not. Shop’s closed. The bakery’s burned down. My oven is out of commission.”

“You’re not even thirty! The oven’s still fully functional.”

“Oh my god, stop calling it that. I am not making another tiny version of you.”

“Why not?” Hana pouts, now tugging on your pajama pants. “You make cute babies.”

“Stop complimenting your way into a sibling,” you snap, putting down your mug. “Chuuya, please tell her no.”

Chuuya lowers to Hana’s level, all dad-voice and soft smiles. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s just tired. It’s a big decision, y’know?”

You glare daggers. “You make it sound like we’re debating on getting a puppy.”

“I mean,” Kaito mutters, still trying to microwave a Capri Sun, “puppies don’t cry for three months straight.”

Kenji, the calmest middle child ever, chimes in thoughtfully: “Babies also poop on your lap. Again.”

“EXACTLY!” you gesture dramatically. “We’ve been in the trenches already! I have served my time! I want peace! I want quiet! I want to be able to sneeze without worrying about bladder betrayal!”

Hana’s lip wobbles. “But… I already picked the name…”

You narrow your eyes. “What name.”

“Pickle.”

You blink. “Like the.. the food?”

“Yeah. Pickle Nakahara. Isn’t it cute?”

Chuuya chokes on his coffee, wheezing. “It’s got a ring to it, honestly—”

“Do NOT encourage this..”

“Pickle would be the best baby ever,” Hana insists, now on a full-blown campaign trail. “She’d wear bows. I’d teach her how to hold a spoon. I’d share my gummies, except the red ones, and I’d be nice! For one whole week!”

“That’s a lie,” Kyouko mutters.

“YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE.”

Chuuya wipes a tear from his eye from laughing. “You gotta admit, she’s persuasive.”

You cross your arms, exasperated, staring down your husband like he just suggested naming your fifth child Brine Jr. “This womb is done, Chuuya. Over it. On strike. If you want more kids, go split like an amoeba.”

“But babe—”

“No.”

“Baby—”

“Nope.”

“What if I do all the night feeds this time?”

“You said that the last two kids and still fell asleep face-first in a diaper.”

Hana gasps, now looking at her father like he’s a fallen soldier. “You lied to Mommy?!”

Chuuya’s panicking now. “I DIDN’T LIE I WAS JUST—!”

Kenji holds up his hands. “I don’t think babies are a good idea. You guys yell a lot.”

“We are passionate,” Chuuya argues.

“About Pickle,” Hana whispers dramatically.

Kyouko rolls her eyes and stands up with her cereal bowl. “I’m gonna start packing now for college. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.”

“I am never giving birth again,” you hiss, grabbing a banana and dramatically peeling it like it’s an act of war. “I’ve earned my freedom.”

“…So you’re saying there’s a maybe?” Chuuya grins.

You chuck the banana peel at him. “I said no.”