#dumpling sobs

[obsessive-dumpling]

All I wanted was for them to be happy in the end... Horikoshi agreed. 🧡💚

[dietmimo]

🍰🎉.

[tecchous-thicc-buttocks]

Do you have any bsd headcannons you'd like to share? (literally anything, I just love learning about other peoples hcs)

OMG YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE IVE BEEN USING THIS IN MY DRAFTS AS A COLLECTION OF JUST ABOUT ANYTHING THAT GOES THRU MY MIND AND I'VE JUST DECIDED I'M GONNA POST IT ALR

chuuya's hat is so old (bc it keeps getting passed from person to person and he brings it with him everywhere obviously) and WORN OUT but he has no idea how to fix it. he treats it like his child but it's inevitable that the material will deteriorate over time, so he's been trying to convince himself to go to a hatter for ages and can't swallow his pride. he drunkenly told it to hirotsu once night while they were drinking, and hirotsu just sighed and got it fixed for him that night while chuuya was passed out. they never spoke about it.

dazai has met several women who actually did say yes to a double suicide. the majority didn't mean it and just wanted to toy with him, but ran when they realized he was serious. a few actually did mean it. he pulled strings and invited them to a romantic date, except that he sent therapists there instead of him, basically playing matchmaker. all those women are now doing better but ask him about it and he'll act dumb and say he knows nothing about it.

fyodor needs glasses. his eyesight definitely sucks and the hours he spends at a computer don't help. however, he manipulates himself into thinking that he's actually fine when he's not. nikolai also has shitty eyesight bc of his dull eye and the other one he's probably abused looking at the birds in the sky and thus the sun. they are literally the blind leading the blind. nikolai places his portal 2 meters from where he meant to put it and fyodor says "good job". it's incredible how they're feared terrorists.

sigma gets tired wearing heels all day. he wants memory foam but doesn't know it exists. give him his goddamn memory foam. anyways one of his employees saw him holding his feet in pain and offered him orthopedic shoe inserts. he hasn't been the same since. would give them a raise if he knew how.

tachihara used to get acne from having his bandage on his nose all day. so, he's developed an incredibly rigid skin care routine. his face is soft as hell. cheeks are smoother than you'd think.

kouyou made it her first demand as executive to raid her favourite shop where she gets all her kiminos and accessories. hirotsu led the black lizard battalion into the shop and the workers were so fucking confused. stole expensive silk fabrics and clothing of the highest quality because she doesn't settle for less, and in the process has gotten hirotsu more into fashion. they go shopping together.

speaking of shopping, kajii only goes thrifting. have you seen his clothes?? they're not his size and torn as hell but they're so damn cheap he can't resist. his sandals are so goddamn iconic. yeah he's blowing you up but his dogs are OUT like a mf psychopath. i maybe love him a little too much.

ivan has greasy hair. while doing his surgery thing wtv tf that was, fyodor was continually grossed out (ironic aint it). pushkin was then ordered to help ivan wash his hair and they died just a little bit. neither knew what the difference between shampoo and conditioner is, and they struggled with it for a long time. eventually when they came back for fyodor to do the surgery, ivan's hair smelled like flowers and was braided cutely because they gave up and went to a salon where the people working there fell a little in love with his hair and went overboard. pushkin's hair (if you can call it that...) was also in a little bowtie. they enjoyed their little adventure just a little bit. just a little ofc.

odasaku has no idea how to cook curry. he loves it and fears doing it wrong, so he just buys it from the same place over and over. considered asking for the recipe but never did because why change what is already perfection. dazai however is convinced oda has housewife abilities and can cook like a god. he never knew the truth.

fitzgerald can't do math. he pretends he's good at converting currencies but in his head it just doesn't add up. 20 000 yen? that's like.... 5 freedom eagles obviously. no biggie *throws a bunch of american dollars at the workers and just takes the item and leaves* he also doesn't give tips when it prompts on the machine, and instead prefers sliding a crisp bill to them directly. cried a little when his favourite shop told him they ran out of an item he wanted and they didn't budge after he slid them a stack of 100s (he has no idea how many were in the stack)

fitzgerald also owns an airline but he doesn't manage it personally ofc. his only interaction with it is that they provide him and the guild with a private jet to travel to japan. lovecraft did not get on. he swam??? who knows, but he did not get on that plane. lucy got sick and louisa freaked out every time there was turbulence. mark was snoring loudly the entire way and steinbeck had his nose pressed on the window looking outside the entire time the lil cutie.

agatha has the super power of drinking tea while it is still piping hot. she never burns her tongue and never complained about its temperature, except when it's too cold. the water was literally boiling once (her subordinates wanted to find out how hot she can go) and she gulped it all down without a single contortion of her face. incredible.

shirase doesn't understand english and keeps trying to learn it but every time he thinks he's getting the hang of it, someone throws cockney slang at him and he gives up.

adam finally figured out how to blow a bubble of gum, but keeps swallowing it. one day, it clogged his internal system (he's not supposed to be eating obvi) and he's been afraid of it ever since. thinks it's possessed by evil spirits his android brain can't understand. i also hc that he recharges thru solar panels integrated onto his skin and for this reason he goes to the beach to 'tan' often. HE'S SO PALE people get a little concerned for him when they see him not apply sunscreen and just lay down for hours at a time. one lady actually told him he could get skin cancer and he opened his eyes "ackshually 🤓👆" then began reciting every fact known to man about skin cancer. rip that lady

verlaine and rimbaud complain about france all the time. "fuck france i fucking hate the french this country goddamn sucks" then as soon as someone else says anything bad about it they give them death glares and threaten death for disrespecting their country.

wells has memorized a whole lot of things about quantum theory from her days studying to be an engineer because it was her favourite class. she cannot handle mechanical or civil engineering topics and physically ascends at the mention of anything to do with dynamics. i also think she's been hit on a lot while wearing disguises; she tells them she's actually a woman, they freak out, then she sends them back in time. this time, they do not approach her and thus she doesn't have to deal with the awkward rejection and doesn't even remember it.

jules verne has made little dolls and pretended that they were his friends and invented scenarios in which they hung out. i will not elaborate on this.

albatross sometimes interrupts conversations in order to listen to the engine of a vehicle passing by. tries to track them down, too. he'll be the type of guy to ogle at your car without making eye contact with you while you're still in the car. and when i say ogle, i mean ogle. checks out motorcycles more often than women.

the flags bully lippmann sometimes when he acts in a really cheesy scene. he's coming to hang out with them and they're all giggling and chuckling at him stupidly. albatross walks up to him, tucks his hair behind his ear and whispers whatever cheesy thing was said in a low voice before bursting out laughing (he usually starts laughing before he can even finish the sentence). pianoman slides it slickly into conversations, and doc 'fufu's at random moments when looking at him and he suddenly remembers the scene. iceman has not watched the movie and chuuya couldn't care less.

the first time he tried to take the train, ranpo loudly exclaimed and yelled at every turn and stop of the train. he went during rush hour too and got his entire body smooshed into the strangers next to him. he squealed when someone accidentally (accidentally) grabbed his ass in the crowded traincar, then asked loudly who did that. dramatic as hell. got his pockets picked and knew who did it, but couldn't do anything about it. he felt awful and slumped his way back home and collapsed into yosano's arms with a groan. this was the only time she'd ever willingly bought him a bunch of sweets and let him eat them in peace while he ranted to her about the atrocities

kenji is more notorious on the streets than he knows. he got recognized by some huge 200cm tall man built like a goddamn tank with tattoos all over his body who wanted to fight him. kenji was so flattered that he knew his name that he thanked him and burly dude was like. wtf. anyways they got beef ramen together afterwards bonded over cows and are now besties. he's told the agency about it but they think that by "friend" he means someone else his age.

tanizaki ran into kajii once at his favourite thrift shop. he recognized him and ran out freaked never to return. for this reason he had to keep wearing his same stanky ahh uwu girl clothes that don't fit and hasn't had a style update. actually, when doing his research for how to infiltrate the mafia, tachihara found out that there have been a lot of sightings of known dangerous ability users in the thrift store, and that's why he wears the same shirt as tanizaki.

tachihara dreads the hunting dogs meetings because they make him feel like the only sane one there. his back has become so chiseled from carrying teruko around all the time, and once - jouno thought it would be funny - he tripped on a wire laying down on the ground and almost dropped her. he had to use his ability to pick her up from the belt of the uniform to prevent her from faceplanting, and she looked like she was about to explode. he had to let her beat him up a little then she hopped back on his shoulders and nothing changed. he questions his life choices often

jouno can't handle cinnamon or ginger scents, they overwhelm him and he goes into a fucking sensory overload coma. odor orgasm. sinus sex. teruko got sick once and tachi made her the strongest herbal and ginger tea you've ever seen (learnt it from his brother rip the goat) and he collapsed on the ground with a moan. woke up a half hour layer with no clue wth just happened. tecchou eventually heard about it, placed a hand on his shoulder and said "it happens to the best of us" while nodding solemnly then never elaborated.

yeah fukuchi and fukuzawa used to steal food when they were younger but imagine them figuring out milestones together. "dude my armpits are itchy where is this hair coming from :(" "genichiro i don't need to know about that *scratches at his armpit subtly*" i think they were very goofy about it

speaking of puberty elise once freaked mori out by saying she got her period. dude was like. wtf. you're an ability. how tf. she insisted he got her a bunch of tampons n pads and chocolate and heating pads and the works, then once he (the underlings he made go do the shopping threatening their lives if they ever told a soul) bought everything, she looked at his confused and asked why he bought those things. she's an ability how could she have a period? mori cried a little that night.

bram is a swiftie for no reason other than i think it's funny. alternatively, i believe he listens to reggae for no reason other than i think it's goddamn FUNNY.

kunikida's old students sometimes run into him on the street and recognize him. they immediately straighten their backs, nod at him and quickly walk away in the most respectful way because they don't want to ruin his schedule. he nearly tears up from happiness every time.

natsume goes through 5-6 "here, kitty kitty!"s in a day when he's just vibing around. people try to feed him grass blades. people get WAY too comfortable rubbing his stomach. once, a girl saw him on her way back from school and started scratching a random spot behind his ears and he folded so quickly and just melted on the sidewalk. he wont admit it but he has that weak spot in human form too (i want to pet him so badly this is self indulgent ok). the girl was actually gin btw. she's an animal whisperer i dont know why i dont know how but she is.

[serandipity]

I’ve been learning to cook and I just set the fire alarm off making gyoza 🥲

[i-am-a-fan]

HEY! If you want to

send me something nice that happened to you today! or reblog this post and put it somewhere!

I’ll go first, I got off of work an hour early :>!

[justalildumpling]

NCT Dream HAECHAN & TBZ SUNWOO tiktok

[snail-day]

I fear my baby fever has taken over the past few days, so I present you with the JJK men as fathers headcanons.

TW: Babies, Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, slight yandere behaviors.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna

WC: 3k

a/n: I won’t get into the actual pregnancy details just yet—saving that for a later date (a rather soon date). Also wasn't expecting to yap so much about this. Enjoy!

Gojo Satoru

Oh dear. This poor man.

There are very few things in the world that can shake Satoru Gojo to his core. He has stared down curses beyond comprehension, fought battles that could wipe out cities, and held the weight of the world on his shoulders without so much as flinching.

But when he holds his baby for the first time?

Oh, he crumbles. Practically has to bite his lip to stop himself from outright sobbing, whole body stiff, breath caught in his throat, because how the hell is something so small, so warm, so unbelievably perfect? They’re not even cleaned off yet, and this man is already kissing their tiny head, his lips soft against their damp skin, murmuring thank yous like a prayer. To you, to the universe, to whatever god decided that he—a man who has lost too much—was allowed to have something this precious.

Don’t you worry, there will be a celebration. A sushi boat is being delivered as soon as possible (as if you weren’t already expecting that).

However, here’s the thing, Satoru was already clingy before.

Now? Now he’s unbearable. Words cannot describe how this man refuses to let you leave his eyesight for more than a moment. He adored you before, but now you’re the mother of his child. The woman who carried a piece of him inside her, who gave him something he never thought he could have. If you so much as disappear into another room? Satoru is ready to Hollow Purple the air itself.

Following you around like some puppy with his spawn that resembles him a little too much: ("Dumpling? Where’d you go?" "Satoru, I’m in the bathroom." "...Can I come in?")

Oh, and he takes such good care of you too. Sure, he teases—makes his usual dumb jokes, smirks like an idiot—but when it comes to postpartum recovery? This man is all in. You have to make that infamous diaper concoction after birth? He’s right there, handing you an ice pack for your bits, whispering, “I have never loved you more.” If you ask, hell, if you even hint at needing help with anything? He’s already doing it. Witch hazel wash? No hesitation. Helping you in and out of the bath? He’s got you. Bringing you food, making sure you drink water, physically tucking you into bed because you refuse to rest? He does it all. Yes, he will absolutely pick you up and put you back in bed if you try to do too much: ("Satoru, I can walk." "Oh, I know you can, but should you?" Cue him plopping you onto the couch with a smug grin, a fluffy blanket, and a kiss to your forehead.)

Now, as much as he loves his baby, he is deeply afraid of the newborn phase. Like, undeniably so. The idea of rolling over and crushing them in his sleep? A recurring nightmare. (Yes, he believes in skin-to-skin contact. Yes, he read a bunch of articles about it while out on missions. Yes, he panicked about every single one.) Trimming their tiny fingernails? His worst nightmare. And trust, your house is baby-proofed to the maximum.

But once they hit the toddler phase? Oh, he thrives. They're curious! They tell him the craziest stories, and he eats up every single one. He loves feeding them sweets, spoiling them rotten. He definitely brings them to the school with him, letting them color all over his mission logs (that he’s been avoiding anyway).

And when they start walking? Oh, this is where things get real.

Satoru Gojo is undeniably, unapologetically, shamelessly a leash dad. The first time his little one wobbles too far from him in public? Leash acquired. Not just any leash, oh no, it’s cute. He makes sure it matches their little outfits, maybe even gets custom ones with their initials embroidered on them (never their name, that's how they get kidnapped!) Safety first!

If anyone dares to give him a weird look? He dares them to say something. His sunglasses drop down the bridge of his nose as he grins, voice sickly sweet: "You got a problem?"

Unfortunately, probably gets one for you too. Just to be a menace of a husband, loops it around your wrist with a teasing smirk, leaning in close, "Can’t have my favorite person running off, now can I?"

("Satoru, take this off me." "Make me.")

Geto Suguru

Oh, Suguru, who definitely acts more like a mother than a father.

This man embodies nurturing (and controlling, but hey, he’s going to therapy… maybe). Sure, he technically runs a cult, but you and your twins? You don’t really need to know that. (His poor assistant, though, absolutely running damage control while he’s busy doting on you.)

From the moment you give birth, Suguru is relentless in his care. He follows every superstitious belief—some of them might be outdated, but he does not care. You will be sitting for a month. No cold foods, no heavy lifting. Okay, he’ll allow you to wash your hair, but standing in the shower? Absolutely not. Baths only. He’s drawing them for you, making sure the temperature is just right, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible.

If he weren’t a cult leader, he’d make the perfect stay-at-home dad.

Oh, the birth itself? He refuses to trust non-sorcerers with your pregnancy. No hospital, no epidurals, no way. It’s a birthing pool, at home, the natural way. And the second those babies are in his arms? He is devoted. Just like Satoru, you’re not leaving his sight. Neither are those babies.

But the baby phase? He hates it.

Not the babies themselves, of course, but dear god, two at once is a nightmare. They’re constantly tugging on his dark hair, they somehow manage to unlock baby-proofed cabinets (how are they that smart already?), and the mess? The sleepless nights? The chaos? It’s almost enough to drive him insane. But even through his exhaustion, he’s never anything but soft with them. Always the nurturing, coddling one. Because even though this phase is hell, he still loves them more than anything.

But once they hit the toddler years? That’s when he shines.

Suguru is the epitome of patience, his voice always gentle, his hands always steady as he guides them through their little tantrums and misadventures. He isn’t a leash dad, he simply doesn’t need to be. His twins are always either in his arms or holding his hands, their little fingers wrapped around his own as they toddle beside him.

Sure, some people might call him a helicopter parent. But he’s raising two little girls. The world is a dangerous place, and he’s not taking any chances. Let someone even think about looking at them the wrong way—his smile might be soft, but his presence is terrifying. No one is getting near his babies. And if anyone dares to question his overprotectiveness? He simply tilts his head, that ever-calm voice carrying something dangerous beneath the surface:

"Would you rather I let them run loose? Hm?"

Suguru is a morning person, but not in the “up at dawn” kind of way. No, he savors the mornings, stretches them out as long as possible, slow and quiet, just the way he likes it. He wakes before you do. Always. Most mornings, he watches you sleep for a little while, fingers tracing slow patterns along your hip, your back, wherever he can touch (loves your stretch marks). Something is intoxicating about these quiet moments, the way you breathe so softly, the warmth of your skin against his. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, presses the gentlest kiss to your temple.

You belong to him. It’s a dangerous thought, but one he doesn’t fight.

The twins usually wake up before you do, one always stirring the other, little giggles or babbling voices breaking the silence. Suguru moves without a hint of hesitation, careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, padding softly toward their room. Suguru melts every single time. His girls, half-asleep, hair messy, rubbing their tiny fists against their eyes, reach for him instantly with little grabby hands. Lifts them with ease, one in each arm, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads before settling them against his chest.

"Did my little princesses sleep well?"

Cue sleepy nods, little arms clinging to him as he carries them downstairs. He makes breakfast with one toddler perched on his hip, the other playing on the floor nearby. Feeds them, cleans them up, all before you even wake up. He wants you to rest, wants you to have the luxury of a slow morning. By the time you stir, he’s already setting a cup of tea on your bedside table, pressing a kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

And if you dare try to get up? Oh, you better believe he’s scooping you back under the covers, lips ghosting against your ear as he hums, “You don’t want to upset me, do you?” Playful, teasing, but firm.

(Yeah, okay—maybe he’s a little possessive. But can you blame him? You gave him his whole world.)

Suguru is the definition of a doting husband. Not just in the classic ways. Sure, he makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’re taken care of, but it’s the smallest details that make it clear: this man worships you. He brushes your hair at night, fingers ghosting against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” a soft murmur like it’s an afterthought. Like he just has to say it. Absolutely loves watching you with the twins. The way your voice softens when you talk to them, the way you hold them close. He lives for it. (It does something to him, something dangerous.) Insists on tucking you in every night. Even if you’re already comfortable, even if he’s exhausted, he needs to make sure you’re safe, warm, and content. It’s his job.

When it comes to you leaving his sight? Absolutely not. You get up to leave the room? He’s watching you (on the cameras in the house, that you definitely aren't aware of). Someone dares to ask for your attention when he’s near? His hand is on your lower back before you even notice, a soft smile on his lips, but the grip is tight. God help anyone who thinks they can come between him and his family.

Because Geto Suguru might be soft with you, but for everyone else?

He’s still a damn curse user.

Nanami Kento

If there’s any man built for family life, it’s Nanami. Sure, he’s stoic. Composed. A man of few words. But when it comes to his child? Dear god, he is so soft. He loves them in a way that feels fundamental, as natural as breathing. Loves you even more for giving him something so precious. He doesn’t say it often, but it’s in every glance, every touch, every sigh of appreciation when he looks at you holding his child.

And when he holds them? He feels whole.

He savors every little moment, tiny fingers reaching for his glasses, drooly kisses pressed against his cheeks as he spoon-feeds them baby food. And no matter how messy they get, no matter how much mashed-up fruit ends up on his tie (his good tie, at that), he never complains. He just exhales, wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, and murmurs, "You're a messy little thing, aren’t you?" before pressing a kiss to their forehead, regardless of the applesauce smeared across it.

Because for Nanami, this, his family, his home, the life he’s built with you, this is everything.

Nanami is an early riser. He always has been. But the difference now? He no longer rushes out the door and only lives for his work.

Instead, he takes his time.

Tends to wake up before you, slipping out of bed with careful movements so he doesn’t disturb you. The first thing he does is check on your little one—peering into their crib, watching their tiny chest rise and fall with soft, even breaths. It’s the only time he allows himself to just stand there, quietly admiring, drinking in the sight of the most important thing in his world.

If they stir, if they so much as whimper, he’s immediately reaching down, scooping them up with ease, holding them against his chest as he rubs slow circles on their back.

"It’s alright, little one. I’ve got you."

Mornings are meant to be spent slowly, feeding them breakfast (with a bib, he learned his lesson the hard way), wiping their tiny hands clean, and carrying them in one arm as he makes coffee with the other. If you’re still asleep, he lets you stay that way, keeping the house quiet, and making sure you get as much rest as possible. Because Nanami knows better than anyone, that being a parent is exhausting. And if he can shoulder some of the weight for you? He will.

Nanami isn’t possessive. Not in the way that Gojo or Geto might be.

But is he protective? Absolutely.

Taking his kid to the park is a mission. He doesn’t hover, per se, but he’s always watching. Sitting on a bench, arms crossed, eyes locked in. The second his child starts running a little too fast? He’s standing. Someone else’s kid gets a little too rough? He’s walking over. And if his child falls? He gives them a second—just one—to see if they’ll get up on their own. But the moment he hears a wobbly inhale, sees that little lip start to tremble—he’s already there. Kneeling beside them, checking them over with careful hands, murmuring, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Just a little scrape.” And then, with the gentlest look in his eyes:

"Do you want to keep playing, or do you need a hug first?"

(They always choose the hug.)

Nanami adores you. But not in a loud way. Not in the way that Gojo teases or the way Geto smothers. No, Nanami loves you in a way that feels steady. Like safety. Like home. Always makes sure you eat first, even if it means letting his food get cold. Takes care of the night feedings if you’re too exhausted. Rubs your shoulders when you look tense, presses a kiss to the back of your hand just because.

And when the baby’s asleep? That’s your time. Some nights, it’s just the two of you sitting in quiet conversation, his hand resting over yours, thumb rubbing absentmindedly against your skin. Other nights, he just holds you, silent, warm... present. When the exhaustion is heavy in your bones, when you sigh in a way that sounds just a little too much like overwhelmed, he cups your face, tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"You’re doing an incredible job," he tells you, because if anyone deserves to be reassured, it’s you, and god help anyone who dares to make you doubt it.

Ryomen Sukuna

In a modern AU, if anything could fix Ryomen Sukuna, it would be a child. Not that the kid was planned, of course. But the moment he sees them—tiny, fragile, utterly defenseless—something inside him shifts. He won’t admit it, won’t say it outright, but watching his newborn slobber all over his hand while teething? Yeah, he crumples inside.

At first, he’s clueless. He’s never had to be gentle before. His hands, powerful and ruthless, were never meant for something so delicate. You have to show him how to hold them properly, how to support their head, how to not look at them like they’re a fragile piece of glass about to shatter.

And does he complain? Oh, absolutely. But he listens, he's trying.

Modern AU Sukuna is absolutely a CEO. And not just any CEO, a powerful, slightly (or very) corrupt one. The kind of man that has everyone terrified to breathe wrong in his presence. Yet, despite his intimidating reputation, there are certain days when his employees come to work to find something... unbelievable. Their ruthless, cutthroat boss—Ryomen Sukuna—sitting at the head of a massive conference table, looking utterly unbothered as his baby naps against his chest in a tiny carrier.

The first time it happened, his employees did not know how to react. The sight of their terrifying boss with a wobbly-headed infant suckling on his tie was so surreal that no one dared to acknowledge it. They just continued their meeting in absolute silence, stealing panicked glances at one another, unsure whether laughing would get them fired, killed, or both.

Sukuna however, oh, he knows what they’re thinking. He can feel the tension in the room, the way no one is making eye contact with him. So naturally, he makes it worse.

"If any of you wake them up," he drawls, voice dark and smooth, "I’ll fire you on the spot." Cue nervous sweating from every executive in the room. Despite his threats, you know he does this because he wants to give you a break. Of course, he acts like it’s no big deal, grumbling about how "You never shut up about needing rest, woman. If bringing the brat to work gives me some damn peace at home, then so be it."

(The truth is that he secretly enjoys it. The small weight of his child against him, the quiet little snores, the way their tiny fingers sometimes curl around his thumb mid-nap. Yeah… he might actually like this fatherhood thing.)

At home, Sukuna tries to maintain his usual cold, indifferent demeanor. But it’s hard when he’s got a wobbly toddler clinging to his leg, looking up at him with your eyes, babbling nonsense like he’s the most important person in the world.

Obviously, he can’t just ignore them. "Tch. What do you want, brat?" (Picks them up anyway)

You catch him napping on the couch with the baby on his chest, one hand protectively covering their back. If you so much as mention it, he glares at you like you’ve just committed treason. Bath time? He claims he hates it, but somehow, he’s always the one washing their hair, grumbling under his breath about how “You’re doing it wrong” as he takes over. If they cry? He’s terrible at comforting, but god forbid anyone else try to step in. That’s his kid, he’ll figure it out himself.

He’s not soft, he insists. Not in the way Nanami or Geto might be. But when he tucks them into bed at night, sitting on the edge of their tiny mattress, watching their little chest rise and fall…something inside him settles. Suddenly realized he’d burn the entire world to the ground for them.

[militaryapple]

sfw drabble — a happy caleb, who can’t wait to see his wife walk down the isle. this is all he’s ever dreamed about since he was a boy, since he had first laid his eyes on you. the poor little girl in EVER’s lab institute. the little girl who cried for anyone, anything, the little girl he had made giggle by making her toys float to ease her pain.

it was almost scary for him, when he saw you he saw the little girl who looked at him with such perplexing eyes. who gladly took him in their family with open arms. the little girl who asked him to make dumplings or fried chicken. then, looking away, he saw you again.

this time he saw a teenage girl. one who went to his basketball practices and cheered extra loudly at games, a teenage girl who cried whenever she lost a volleyball game; holding him with sobbing eyes. a teenage girl who was anxious for him waiting for his acceptance letter, a teenage girl who gave him a kiss during his graduation and screamed when he walked across the stage.

his eyes burned, his chest heavy, looking away from you. then his gaze floating back to you.

and there you were.

a woman.

the woman who welcomed him back into her world after everything, a woman who sobbed whenever he had to leave for work, and texted him whenever she had the time. a woman who called him to make sure he knew she loved him, and reassured him throughout everything. a woman who devoted her time to both him and work — you grew into a beautiful butterfly.

oh how he loved you. while it hurt knowing that the moments you both shared are long in the past, he remembered that there still was a future, a future with both of you in it.

he watched as you walked down the isle, your makeup almost coming undone while you tried to keep it together, he knew you were going to cry eventually. he watched as he lifted the veil, you looked up at him with your big bright eyes like you have done many years before.

it was sad, yet happy. a day where his emotions were scattered. yet he knew for certain that he loved you, and that he would always love you, because he knew that he loved you, a little more than you could ever realize.

[me-writes-prompts]

-:“Can we please just talk?” Post argument make-up talk prompts:-

(You know who needs this? YOU KNOW WHO NEEDS THIS?! AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY! *sobs*)

By @me-writes-prompts

"Look, I'm really sorry for shouting at you. I just...I just lost control. But it wasn't your fault, it was me. Please forgive me?"

"We really shouldn't have fought over a piece of dumpling, don't you think so?" "Yeah, that was rather a vague topic to argue over." (Vmin, anyone?)

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't in the right mind and vent it out on you."

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Can we talk?" "Yeah, yeah. Let's do that."

"I didn't mean to say you're not enough, okay? Because you are, but I am not. I am not enough to appreciate a person like you."

"I really wasn't thinking straight, now was I? I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to put up with my shit. I'll be better for you."

"Are you calm now?" "Yeah, sorry. Needed to take a time out."

Kissing as apologizing but then also expressing it in words.

Angry cuddles, because they are cold. Definitely not because they want the warmth their partner provides.

"That was a really silly argument we had last night, right?" “Hmm, yet we couldn’t stop the topic.” They try to joke.

[draconic-desire]

THE NAIVE DARLINGGGG

I can imagine darling crying into Sunday.. at first refusing going to home, expressing her insecurities. So when Sunday drags her back, she just pleads with Sunday. All darling wants to to serve at least some purpose to Sundays life. She begs Sunday to let her cook for him .. or in her sobbing fit shr muttered how even having Sundays baby would serve some usefullness.. Darling didnt want to seem like a burden to Sunday..

At the mention of babies, Sunday gets the idea of how sweet little children will tie darling to him forever

The baby will come out a lil skrunkly , in a cite way of course <3 a fat plump baby who looks like a dumpling with chicken wings attached to the back of its ear :"(

sunday would 1000% babytrap his darling at some point, you cannot convince me otherwise. but if YOU came to HIM about it? girl bye you’re done for

Yan!Sunday x Fem!Reader

warning: nsfw thoughts from sunday, mentions of pregnancy

After Sunday leads you back home, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to spiral again.

Walking through the halls of the spacious pavilion, eying the grandeur that is Sunday’s home, pondering his status as the head of the Family…you start to wonder what you bring to the table.

He claims he loves you, that you are unique and irreplaceable, but what does that really mean? You have no money, wealth, or fame, no notable skills that could contribute to the Oak Family lineage.

Well, except…

Your hand falls to your abdomen. It’s something Sunday has mentioned in passing, the need for an heir, the desire to expand his family, but you never thought he meant doing so with you. But perhaps…?

Your head shakes violently, and you turn to wipe away a stray tear. How foolish of you. Sunday doesn’t keep you around for that sort of thing. His hier will be delivered from a queen, befitting of the same status as him, and not some nobody like you.

Like always, Sunday is more attentive than you give him credit for.

He thinks it’s cute, how naive and oblivious you are sometimes. Except when he notices that this time, you are attempting to hide your crying behind the palm on your hand.

“(Y/n), my love, what troubles you?” He gently pulls your hand away from your face and instead turns you to face him.

Seeing him like this, his tender gaze trained on your form alone, suddenly makes you burst into tears.

“S-S-Sunday,” you sob, “please let me help! I’ll do anything!”

He blinks, confusion written across his features. “Help? With what? (Y/n), it’s been a long day, let me take you to bed—”

You clasp his hands in your own, looking up at him with (e/c) eyes brimming with tears. “Please, don’t throw me aside for someone else. I-I promise I’m not a burden. You need an heir, right? So please, let me carry that responsibility.”

He inhales sharply, his amethyst pupils dilating.

…Did he hear you correctly?

You want to have his child?

Sunday momentarily forgets how to breathe.

Oh, how he has fantasized about this very scenario; it has taken all of his willpower to hold back, to fool you into believing his charming, domestic mannerisms, when he truly wishes to claim every part of you, to brand himself upon every inch of your flesh. Lovely, beautiful, naive little you would never expect the dark desires hidden beneath the surface.

In reality, the thought of you begging for his seed permeates his waking and sleeping dreams. He’s lost track of the amount of nights spent with his hand around his cock, picturing your tight cunt wrapped around it instead.

Never would he have imagined you in this position willingly, practically on your knees for him, desperate for his cum, for his child growing in your belly. The idea arouses him more than you can ever know, and he has to shift to hide his growing erection.

Instead, he scoops you into his arms and nuzzles his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent. Oh, how lovely you’re going to smell when you’re glowing and round with his heir! He imagines how adorable his Halovian child will be, and how he wishes to pin a pair of wings behind your ears as well—a matching set for father, mother, and child.

The wings are, of course, the very ones ripped from your own back—you’re just too entranced by Sunday to notice it was he who plucked them from you to begin with.

And now, Sunday is through with holding back. You’re going to be fully and irrevocably his, tied to him forever. Like a fly landing on a venus trap, your own actions seal your fate. You don’t have a moment to react before the jaws of the predator swallow you whole.

“How could I deny you, my angel?” he coos, pacing towards the bedroom as he begins to pry at the buttons of your top. “And what better time to begin than the present, hm?”

[obsessive-dumpling]

Is it just me or can you see each other's names on their lips?

"Kacchan"

"Izuku"

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #11

Danny Fenton did not plan to be adopted by the Scarlet Witch. It wasn’t even on his list of top ten weirdest things that could happen in his afterlife. Then again, after falling through an interdimensional ghost rift and crash-landing into a cult ritual mid-WandaVision finale, Danny realized the universe hated him and this was its love language.

He’d barely had time to wipe the ectoplasm off his face before Wanda Maximoff locked eyes with him, levitated, and declared, “You poor haunted creature. You’re mine now.”

Danny blinked. “I—I what?”

She hugged him. Mid-air. While glowing. “Don’t worry, dragul meu. I’ll protect you.”

Danny, held like a traumatized kitten, tried to process the rapidly shifting situation. Somewhere, a witch disintegrated. A fake town crumbled. A grief-born reality collapsed. And Danny Fenton—half-dead teenager from Amity Park—accidentally became Wanda Maximoff’s emotional support poltergeist.

He didn’t even try to resist. It was honestly kind of nice.

Because unlike his real parents—who were actively trying to vivisect him for science—Wanda made him soup. Sokovian soup, no less. Which kind of tasted like regret and paprika. But it was warm. And for once, someone looked at him like he wasn’t a freak but something precious. Like a haunted doll or a cursed Fabergé egg.

She called him pet names in Sokovian. Îngeraș when he tried to sneak out at 2 a.m. to fight a ghost. Puiule when he accidentally exploded a toaster. Scumpul meu when he sobbed uncontrollably after seeing a “Family is Forever” sign at Target. It was the most love he’d ever gotten outside Jazz buying him discounted Halloween candy.

Speaking of Jazz.

Danny mentioned her once. Casually. Offhandedly. In the way someone might mention, oh, by the way, I have an older sister who looks like you but taller and with clinically concerning rage issues.

Wanda’s eyes lit up like she’d just been told kittens could talk. “You have a sister?”

“Yeah,” Danny said, eating a pierogi shaped like a ghost. “Her name’s Jasmine, but we call her Jazz. She’s super smart, real protective, and tried to fight my teacher once.”

Wanda stood. “We must get her.”

“Wait—what?”

“We’re getting your sister. My daughter.”

Danny didn’t know whether to be touched or terrified. But forty minutes and three death threats to the GIW later, Jazz Fenton was dragged through a portal and deposited into a reality-warped Sokovian living room, blinking and armed with a baseball bat.

Jazz, understandably, had questions.

Wanda just wrapped her in a shawl and gave her a plate of dumplings. “Welcome home, copilul meu.”

“Am I being kidnapped?” Jazz asked, eyes wild.

“Adopted,” Danny corrected. “It’s honestly an upgrade.”

Jazz accepted this surprisingly fast. It helped that Wanda let her redecorate the entire library, gave her free reign over a magic grimoire collection, and, perhaps most importantly, stabbed one of their shared enemies in the chest with a glowing dagger while humming a lullaby.

“I like her,” Jazz said, sipping tea made from herbs that maybe glowed.

Things escalated from there.

The next addition to the Maximoff Household of Misfit Ghostlings was Danielle—Dani for short—Danny’s chaotic, sticky-fingered clone who had been couch-surfing across dimensions since she ran away from Vlad Masters, Danny’s psychotic billionaire godfather and man-shaped midlife crisis.

Wanda met Dani after the girl tried to rob her of a magical artifact.

Instead of obliterating her, Wanda gave her a forehead kiss and said, “You steal like my brother when we were your age. Absolutely perfect.”

Dani burst into tears.

“I’m not a mistake?”

“You are a miracle.”

Danny watched this exchange with a bowl of popcorn. “This is insane.”

“You’re just mad she didn’t say you were a miracle,” Jazz muttered.

“I exploded her car once.”

“You turned it into sentient spaghetti.”

“It was a Tuesday!”

And then came Dan.

Alternate future version of Danny. Older. Meaner. With trauma so dense it had its own gravitational pull. He arrived via ghost vortex, mid-breakdown, screaming something about the end of all things.

Wanda calmly offered him a cup of rosehip tea and called him suflet pierdut. Lost soul.

Dan, raised on fire and suffering, had never been spoken to like that before. He agreed to stay for dinner and accidentally started crying into a bowl of goulash.

Now, technically, the timeline said Wanda should have vaporized him. Dan had, after all, committed multiversal crimes and tried to erase existence. But instead, she put a red scarf around his neck and declared, “You’re clearly just misunderstood.”

“He killed his entire universe,” Danny pointed out.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Wanda replied, feeding Dan a pastry like a wounded war veteran.

Dan became her second favorite.

“This isn’t fair!” Danny protested.

“You were less traumatized than him. He needs me more care.” Wanda said.

Danny sulked for three days.

It was around this point that Wanda decided paperwork was for cowards and declared all four of them legally Maximoffs. No documentation. No court. Just raw magical energy, ancient Sokovian rites, and an extremely intense group hug.

“From now on, you are my children. We are going to fix everything.” Wanda said.

By everything, she meant their deadbeat parents. Jack and Maddie Fenton tried to sue for custody. Wanda turned their lawyer into a tree.

“I will kill them,” she muttered, eyes glowing red.

Jazz had to talk her down using a whiteboard, a magic inhibitor, and a pie chart labeled “Fenton Emotional Neglect: 200%.”

Then came Vlad Masters.

He tried to get Dani back by showing up in a giant mech suit made of ghost goo and Apple Watches. Wanda incinerated him with a look and then cursed his bloodline to sneeze every time someone said the word “plasma.”

“He’ll never know peace again,” she said sweetly, spooning paprika stew into Dani’s mouth.

The GIW, naturally, got involved. Tried to declare Danny a weapon of mass destruction. Wanda made their building and people disappear. Not explode. Not collapse. Just—gone. Like they never existed.

Danny laughed so hard he passed out.

The Avengers had questions.

Strange came to investigate. He left with a black eye and a sense of foreboding. Wong stayed for dinner and gave Jazz his number.

Sam Wilson tried to talk to Danny about “superhero responsibility.” Danny dragged him into a ghost fight and said, “Cool. Let’s see you responsibility your way out of that.”

Eventually, the Maximoff household functioned like a chaotic sitcom.

Wanda would be floating upside down while teaching Dani hex theory. Jazz would be dissecting the latest government conspiracy in a conspiracy-board-filled sunroom. Dan would be brooding in a velvet cloak like a rejected Dracula. Danny would be stuck in a ceiling fan.

“Family dinner!” Wanda called one night.

“We’re in the middle of a ghost invasion!” Danny shouted, firing a thermos at a skeletal goblin.

“You can’t save the world on an empty stomach!”

They ate around a magically reinforced table, surrounded by summoned protective wards, and discussed whether or not to curse Danny’s English teacher with mild diarrhea.

It was perfect.

It was dysfunctional.

It was home.

Wanda made them all matching red sweaters with little “M”s on them. Dan refused to wear his until she got that look in her eyes, and then he wore it for three weeks straight.

Sometimes, Wanda would look at them with a strange, soft expression. Like they were her salvation.

“You saved me,” she told Danny once, brushing his white hair back.

“I fell on your lawn during a reality collapse.”

“Exactly. My savior.”

Danny smiled. Because honestly? Maybe she was right.

She gave them love. Stability. Curses. A home with infinite rooms and zero vivisections.

And in return?

They gave her family. A real one. Weird. Dead. Half-dead. Emotionally unhinged. But hers.

Wanda Maximoff had lost everything.

And then the universe, in its cosmic chaos, dropped four glowing, traumatized, half-ghost disasters into her arms.

She cradled them like stars.

And this time, she didn’t lose them.

Because if anyone tried to take her children?

She would burn the multiverse to the ground.

[vrystalius]

I was watching Sanemi's training episode and thought about this ask."Sanemi was training the hunters,his wife called him and all the hunters to have lunch with the delicious food she made,but when the hunters saw Sanemi's wife they were enchanted by her beauty and kindness,how would Sanemi react to seeing the hunters enchanted by his wife's beauty?" (Sorry for my bad english)

❕Sanemi’s reaction to his trainees being enchanted by you

You were kind enough to prepare meals for Sanemi’s students after a long and gruelling training session. They absolutely adore you! How will your husband react?

Note: Thank you so much for requesting. Your english is very good, don’t worry! I have another request in my inbox I’m planning to write and publish today. Sorry for not being very active today.

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

— Sanemi has been letting his assigned slayers suffer. He beat their ass with the wooden training katana until it broke, or until the slayer passed out. If the wooden katana broke before the trainee did, Sanemi made sure to continue with his fists. Is this even proper training anymore? Striking or even coming close to this maniac seemed impossible!!

— You knew that your husband is not holding back with his assigned slayers, and so you prepared beforehand: You had a fully stocked pantry and medical closet. You made sure to grab extra medicine and bandages from the butterfly mansion even before the first slayers arrived, wanted to make sure everyone is surviving Sanemi’s training.

— While Sanemi was taking on his trainees, you were cooking some veggie miso soup with a side of steamed dumplings. While that was brewing, you were making a small batch of ohagi just for Sanemi. It’s also very tiring for him, and you’re sure he’d want something sweet to eat during his break.

— Shortly after pouring the soup into the bowls and arranging the dumplings on side dishes, the first starved and badly bruised slayers arrived. Well, they more likely crawled towards the scent of food.

— While they wolfed down their bowls of veggie miso soup, you carefully tended to their wounds while they were distracted. You dabbed on an ointment and wrapped some bandages around their torso’s, arms and legs, speaking encouraging words to them. After the slayers ate and managed to rest up for a while, they actually realised from who they got all this caring attention from.

“Mrs.Sh-Shinazugawa! You’re an angel! Our saviour!”

“Can I have another bowl of soup? Pleeeaase?”

“My shoulder hurts, can you massage me a little? Pretty please, Mrs.Shinazugawa!!”

— But one question lingered on their minds collectively: How the hell did Sanemi find such an angel of a woman like you?! And how the hell did you agree to marry him? Were you forced? Paid? Beaten into submission?!

— Regardless, more and more of Sanemi’s poor trainees showed up crawling, sobbing or being carried/dragged across the dirt by their mates. They desperately needed nourishment and tending to their wounds, or there will be fatalities. You didn’t know if you were supposed to laugh or cry at the sight.

— Sanemi noticed how more and more of his slayers disappeared. Are they seriously hiding from him? Idiots. He started stomping through the training ground, following the smell of green tea and miso soup. That’s where he found you and almost all of his slayers.

— You tended to almost every single slayer personally, patching them up and giving them encouraging words. Some of his trainees even started following you around, trying to help you out and leave a good impression. Maybe you’ll give them extra portions of food or kind praises? Your voice sounded like a healing melody in comparison to Sanemi’s constant yelling and insults.

— But the peaceful atmosphere of you giving out some leftover miso soup and holding some light conversation with the trainees here and there was interrupted by Sanemi’s yelling.

“You’re all useless!! Ya think hiding behind my wife is allowing you to skip training, hah?! Back to the training grounds, shitheads!!”

— Yes, Sanemi is incredibly angry about his slayers hiding from him, especially crawling to you for safety and respite. But he’s more angry about the fact how they were all trying to get your attention and affections. Sanemi doesn’t mind when you interact with other people, or even men. He gets slightly jealous when men get too comfortable and start flirting with you,but Sanemi trusts you. He will interfere if things get too much though, just like now.

— Sanemi is feeling very jealous right now. He saw how you tended to the slayers. Your fingers were wrapping bandages around their wounds and bruises, and you were being so incredibly gentle and soft. You were blushing at their compliments and thanked them gracefully when they help you out.

— Your gentle touches should only be reserved for *him when you patch him up after a long night. Your hands should only touch *his skin with such carefulness and gentleness, and only Sanemi is supposed to make you blush with his* praises. Not these… good-for-nothing slayers.

— You are not oblivious, and you realised why Sanemi was really shooing them away. That’s exactly why you prepared the small batch of ohagi, just to show him that in the end, he’s the only one that received special treatment and affection from you. Although Sanemi only stops grumbling and complaining to you about his assigned trainees’ behaviour once you give him at least one kiss and some reassurance. But he still gave out severe punishments afterwards.

“Their annoying asses are getting on my damn nerves. I’m gonna have a fucking headache in the evening… soo… cuddles? Later?”

💠

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Anways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[jymwahuwu]

Lately I’ve been thinking about Yingxing wanting a sweet little spouse and keeping them in the house… You need help rubbing bubbles on his back… a traditional husband >_<

CW: yandere, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome (a bit), (implied but not described) dub-con

Blade is more open-minded… He basically follows the Stellaron Hunters through various galaxies, takes care of each other with the members, and has witnessed countless cultures and stories... But Yingxing? A weaponsmith. A proud weaponsmith, obsessed with forging those miraculous weapons. What Yingxing needs is more…traditional. A sweet spouse, waiting for him at the door. Prepare bath water of suitable temperature. Cook food and keep it warm. Taking care of some of his…needs. Keep the little house tidy. Sleep together at night.

The place where Yingxing lives is not considered luxurious in Xianzhou. Even though he was already famous in Luofu at that time… orders and commission inquiries flew into his electronic workbench like snowflakes in the sky. He doesn't need a gorgeous house, practicality is the most important. Basic packages. Room, living room, kitchen, bathroom, work room, small garden, weapon forging station. He doesn't know much about dating… Baiheng jokingly teaches him the skills of dating and starting conversations. He still doesn't quite know. You look frightened. He's getting more and more frustrated… He doesn't mean to scare you. Yingxing just wants to start as a friend and then develop into your lifelong spouse.

Locking you in a house was not part of the plan. it's not like that.

Your fragile lips quivered, tears streaming down your cheeks, still wearing the same clothes you had before you were taken away. At the door is a lock forged from space materials. Can't open. You asked him, pretending to be relaxed, when it was time to go home. And Yingxing just uses cutlery to put the dumplings into your bowl. He thought delicious dumpling fillings might comfort you.

And you interpreted it as "shut up".

Those Xianzhou suspense novels and TV shows can’t be forgotten in your mind. What’s next? You're scared, this weaponsmith might scold you, be mean to you, punch you in the face… No one knows. No one saves you. In those first few weeks, you were always frightened, sobbing to sleep because of these assumptions, and having nightmares one after another. The list of chores displayed on the screen on the wall is truly insane. You're not his spouse or anything.

One night, this speculation reached a critical point. Yingxing arrived home later than usual. He's going to pull out a weapon and bury you. You think, just outside in the little yard. The storm begins to gather in your eyes, blurring your vision-

A wrinkled flower, the petals at the corners have been ravaged. Yingxing pressed the petals straight with her fingertips and thumbs, but they still bounced back. Like a little awkward. He sighed. "…Sorry���I heard people like to receive gifts on dates…"

You stretched out your hand, picked up the flower, sniffed and complained. "Squashed. Insincere."

"I will pay attention next time and bring you new flowers tomorrow."

Yingxing found that you have gradually integrated into the life at home and started to do housework. Although you still cross your arms to show that you don’t want to do certain chores or sit on his lap. You start to put in warm and moderate bath water. Cook some food. When he opened the door, your eyes lit up and you unconsciously moved closer to him. Not perfect. You still complain, especially after not being able to get permission to step out of the house. Getting permission to walk around the yard and the forge was a concession.

Yingxing takes a cat home. It was a kitten that he found clinging to his side while he was working. Creamy white and orange hairballs. She stretches her limbs, says hello, takes a nap, and plays with a ball of yarn.

The two of you decide to raise her together.

[ghostybbarnes]

𝑨 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕...

𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝒃𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕: 𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 k 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

It was a rainy and late spring night in the middle of Atlanta, Georgia, and Bucky had just gotten back from a mission with Sam. And he offered to drop Bucky off at home afterwards.

“We’re here, Buck. Wake up…” Sam said without looking at Bucky before gently tapping his shoulder, watching him jolt awake in the passenger seat.

“We’re here…” Sam repeated while watching Bucky rub his eyes.

Bucky yawned and looked over at Sam, clearing his throat before saying, “I told you to stop calling me that…”

“Too late, I already did…” Sam said playfully, though his voice sounded tired.

“But seriously, Bucky,” Sam continued, “go and get some rest. You’ve had a long day. Oh, and, try and work things out with your wife. And I mean it, you both need to stop arguing.”

“Thanks, I will.” Bucky said with a smile before Sam patted his shoulder.

They both said goodnight to each other as Sam watched Bucky step out of the car and into the rainy night, shutting the door behind him as he walked towards his shared house with you.

You were in the master bedroom after putting his favorite plum dumplings in the oven, but scared for his safety because he wasn’t home yet, watching the rain droplets patter against the window as you heard the front door unlock and open with a soft creak.

You sighed in relief as you heard him walk step inside, but you didn’t move the slightest bit out of bed, still upset from the constant arguments you both had.

Bucky walked in through the front door and immediately smelt the nostalgic scent of the plum dumplings as he walked into the kitchen, his clothes and hair dripping wet from the rain outside.

He always loved when you made his favorite dessert, even when he has been acting like a asshole lately

“Babe?” He called out after a moment—no answer.

“Babe?” He repeated, but still—no answer.

Bucky sighed heavily as he realized you might be still upset from the night before’s argument, knowing he had to apologize.

But then, a faint sound he heard from across the house snapped him out of his thoughts.

It was you. You had started crying as you remembered the arguments you two had, waiting for him to walk inside the bedroom so you could ignore him as usual.

Bucky sighed again before turning off the oven and taking out the plum dumplings with his metal hand, knowing they would’ve burned if he didn’t.

He then took off his shoes and jacket before quietly approaching your shared bedroom, hearing your sobs getting louder as he stopped in front of the door.

He knocked gently with his metal fist before whispering in the lowest voice possible, trying to open the door to find it locked as he spoke, “Hon? You alright in there?”

You tensed up as you heard his voice through the bedroom door, but you still didn’t respond to him, acting quiet and stubborn as usual.

Bucky waited patiently for your response, but when you didn’t say a word, he spoke softly through the door, “Baby, please. Talk to me. Or at least let me come in?”

“Apologize first…” You finally spoke after a few moments of tense silence.

“For what?” He responded with a soft sigh, trying to act confused, though he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You know what, dumbass…” You snapped, clearly still upset at him, though you were already considering forgiving him

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh at your irritated tone, but he pushed his anger down and spoke with a softer voice, “I’m sorry, okay? Now, please…open the door.”

You sighed in defeat before getting up out of bed to open the door, taking a deep breath before unlocking and opening the door, your eyes red and your cheeks still glistening with tears.

As soon as the door slowly opened, he noticed your tears immediately as he pulled you into his arms.

You tensed up again at the sudden hug, but you quickly melted into it, your tears returning at full force and soaking his already soaked shirt.

Bucky let you cry against his chest for a good 5 minutes, his own guilty tears dampening your hair.

You pulled away as soon as your sobs subsided, wiping his tears and your own with the back of your hand, watching him close his eyes and lean into your touch.

“Are you really sorry, Bucky?” You asked as his eyes opened back up.

“Of course I am, sweetheart.” He replied with a smile, trying to stop more tears from coming.

“Then kiss me. Show me how sorry you really are.” You said softly, enjoying the way his face lit up with surprise and lust.

He froze for a moment at your words, but a sly grin spread across his face, leaning in to kiss you passionately, the kiss filled with apologies and promises for no more arguments.

As he kissed you, both of his arms snaked around your waist, his hands moving under your oversized shirt.

You gasped and arched your back as his metal fingers brushed against your bra, watching his fingers slowly working to remove it.

He pulled away from the kiss just enough to look at your face before whispering, “Baby, I wanna do so much more to you. Can I?”

“Yes, just…no sex. It’s been too long and I’m kinda scared…” You said nervously.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on doing that always. I just wanna make you feel good. And make you relaxed after all the stress with your bakery.” He responded sweetly, not realizing you two were still standing in the bedroom doorway, his clothes still soaked from the rain.

You smiled gratefully as your tears returned for a brief moment before slowly disappearing.

You leaned in to kiss him again as he managed to get your bra unhooked before taking off your shirt.

He finished removing your bra completely and let it drop to the floor along with your shirt, admiring your breasts for a moment before he gently lifted you up off your feet, carrying you deeper into your shared bedroom.

He laid you down on the bed before breaking the kiss again to gently kiss and nibble on your tender breasts, enjoying the soft sounds that escaped your lips.

“Oh, Bucky.” You moaned breathlessly, “Feels s-so—ah—good…” You trailed off to remove his own clothes.

He noticed you removing his own clothes as he smiled and said, “Good. I’m glad I’m bringing you pleasure, pretty girl.” He whispered huskily against your breast as he continued down your body.

He stopped at the waistband of your shorts before looking up at you and whispering, “Can I take this off, gorgeous?”

He waited for you to nod before pulling down your shorts along with your lacy panties, watching you finish removing his own clothes

You shivered as the cool air of the room hit your bare pussy, your pink folds glistening from the moonlight through the window.

“So beautiful…” Bucky whispered admiringly as he slowly spread your legs, the cool metal of his fingers making you shiver again.

You watched as he kissed your thigh lovingly before moving closer to your center.

Your thighs trembled nervously as he moved even closer, keeping them open with both of his hands.

“Nervous?” He mumbled against your inner thigh while looking up at you.

He waited for you to nod as his gaze softened even more, understanding your nervousness.

“It’s just…it’s been so long since we’ve done anything like this, babe. I kinda forgot what it feels like.” You said quietly and felt your tears returning, clearly guilty for ruining the moment.

“Hey, don’t cry. And don’t you dare feel guilty. I’ll be gentle, okay?” Bucky said before waiting for you to nod again, gently wiping away your tears.

And as soon as you did, his tongue finally made contact with your wet folds.

You gasped at the sensation, your hips subconsciously arching towards him, feeling him smile against you as he continued.

His tongue lapped at your clit as he tasted you gently, his tongue hitting all the right spots.

You could feel his fingers join his tongue as he fingered you as well, his hands continuing to keep your thighs open, making sure they were spread wide open for him.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He mumbled as he felt you getting closer, his metal fingers curling against your g-spot.

You nodded in response, unable to form words as you were lost in pleasure.

With a few final flicks of his tongue and movements of his fingers, you saw stars behind your rolled back eyes as you came on his face, almost blacking out from the intensity of your orgasm.

He waited until you came down from your high before pulling away from your pussy, his mouth and chin dripping from your juices.

“You alright, hon?” He asked after a moment, watching you pant heavily.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.” You managed to say after catching your breath.

Bucky smiled at your satisfied expression before leaning back down to kiss you gently, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled away again before saying with the same smile on his face, “You did so well, you know that?”

You smiled back before a slight pout appeared on your lips as you realized he was gonna be gone again the next morning for another mission with Sam.

“Baby, you’re pouting again. Something wrong?” He asked before pulling you into his arms.

“You’re going on another mission tomorrow, aren’t you?” You said as your pout grew larger, clearly about to cry again.

You watched him nod and hold your hands.

“Come on, don’t be sad. I’ll be back before you know it.” Bucky said in response with a pout of his own.

“You always say that, but you end up home late at night.” You said and let a few tears escape.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do it again. Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” He said with an apologetic look before gently wiping away your tears, his arms still wrapped around you, his metal fingers caressing your back while his flesh ones gently ran through your hair.

“Okay, fine. But I’ll be right back. I think the plum dumplings are still sitting on the counter.” You responded before getting up.

“Okay!” He called out as he watched you walk out of the bedroom while still naked.

You walked into the kitchen and put the plum dumplings into a plastic container before placing it in the fridge.

You walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later before climbing back into bed with him.

He pulled you closer again before whispering against your hair, “Tired?”

You nodded again in response and mumbled a soft ‘I love you’ as you closed your eyes.

Bucky smiled and mumbled the same three words back before mirroring your action, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

You two soon fell asleep together in your shared bed, the blanket wrapped around your naked body, hiding the evidence of your passionate encounter earlier.

[writingforstraykids]

Hello, how are you doing? ^^

I recently posted about wanting to find platonic felix x reader fics, and a lovely anon told me about you! I know your—wonderful—works are focused on romantic relationships, but would you be willing to write something platonic as well? I totally understand if you don't vibe with this idea, but if you would, I was thinking about fem reader and felix having a sleepover after an exhausting week, painting each other's nails, trying disastrous recipes, filming embarrassing tiktoks, y'know, the usual magic of being best friends ^3^

thanks in advance ✨

The Art of Doing Nothing

Pairing: Felix x fem!Reader

Word Count: 884

Warnings/Tags: fluff, platonic, besties

A/N: Thank you for the request, I hope you like it🫶🏻🖤☺️

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You don't knock: There's no need. Felix had sent you a picture of his living room earlier with a blanket fort halfway constructed, a bowl of popcorn on the floor, and the caption "Get here before I eat all of this." So you barge in with your duffel bag, pillow, and the weight of the week hanging heavy on your shoulders.

“Emergency,” you declare, dramatically collapsing on his couch.

Felix sticks his head out from the kitchen, face smeared with chocolate, spoon in hand. “Emergency as in you didn’t bring snacks?”

“Emergency as in I might actually lose my mind if we don’t do something mind-numbingly stupid in the next ten minutes.”

He grins. “Oh good. That’s my specialty.”

-

The first hour is spent on the floor with your heads poking out of the pillow fort, watching bad reality TV and yelling at the screen like you’re paid to do it.

“You would never survive this show,” you tell him, pointing at the overly manicured influencer sobbing in a jungle.

“Excuse me,” he scoffs, “I have emotional resilience and three whole skills. That’s more than half of them combined.”

“You cried when your slime melted.”

Felix gasps, clutching his heart. “That slime was a part of me.”

You throw a pillow at him. He throws two back.

-

By the time the sun dips low enough to send golden streaks across the carpet, you’re sprawled on your stomachs in the kitchen, trying to recreate a three-ingredient mochi recipe from a TikTok Felix had saved with a confident: “We got this.”

You absolutely did not have this.

The microwave beeps. The bowl inside looks like a war crime. “What,” you whisper, peering in, “what have we created?”

Felix lifts it out with oven mitts, poking it like it might fight back. “This… is glue. This is literal glue.”

“You said it was foolproof!”

“I didn’t know we were advanced fools!”

You’re both crying from laughter when the whole thing splats on the counter. Neither of you bother cleaning it up for a solid ten minutes.

-

You settle on air-fried dumplings and leftover cupcakes. Felix paints your nails next - badly. He's not even pretending to be good at it, humming some silly tune while dabbing color all over your cuticles.

“I’m making art,” he announces proudly, blowing on your fingers.

You squint at the mess. “You’re making something.”

He holds up your hand. “It’s abstract. It’s bold. It’s… probably gonna need three rounds of remover.”

“Cool,” you sigh, watching him reach for the glitter. “My nails look like a horse threw up on them.” Felix cackles.

You paint his nails with more focus, tongue sticking out as you try to make them look decent. Halfway through, you start telling him a story about a customer who tried to return a coffee because it was “too wet.”

“Too wet?”

“Too wet.”

“…Was it a sponge?”

“No. It was a latte.”

-

At some point, your cheeks hurt from smiling. It’s the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t sting - it just lingers in your bones, wrapping itself around your limbs like the weighted blanket you two are now sharing on the floor. The fort is complete. The fairy lights are blinking softly.

You’re both curled up with face masks on - his is green, yours is pink - and you're recording a TikTok where you each take turns reading dramatically from your old middle school journals.

“No, read that part again,” he wheezes, tears in his eyes. “‘And then he looked at me and I KNEW he was my soulmate because he let me borrow his ruler.’”

You throw a sock at him. “You said no judgment!”

“I’m not judging,” he hiccups, “I’m inspired.”

You record five more videos. None of them will ever see the light of day. That’s not the point.

Later, when you’re both lying side by side under a mountain of mismatched blankets, Felix is the one to break the silence.

“You okay?”

You blink at the ceiling. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You were quiet during the last TikTok. And that’s saying something. You’re usually narrating your own life like it’s a Netflix documentary.”

You snort. “That’s because my brain’s running on fumes. I think if I say one more word, it’ll be an accident.”

He nudges you with his foot. “You don’t have to talk. Just… y’know. I’m here.”

And you know he means it. Not in the obligatory way people say I’m here for you - but in that solid, dependable, Felix way. Like a pillow that always smells like vanilla. Like a cup of tea left waiting on the kitchen counter, just in case. Like someone who knows you don’t always need to be fixed, just heard.

You roll over to face him. “Thanks for this.”

“For what?”

“For being the person I can be this weird and tired with.”

Felix grins, sleepy and warm. “You’re welcome. But next time, you’re painting my nails first. I want sparkly little bats.”

“You got it.”

-

The clock ticks past 2AM.

Felix is half-asleep, one hand curled around a plushie, the other reaching for yours without really thinking. You lace your fingers through his, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you.

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