#looks like a kid wearing their parents clothes

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Countryboy!Young!Tony AU x Reader 

@dontwanttobeanamericanidiot

A/N- Disclaimer: He’s not like, a full fledged country boy, okay? Just read it and it’ll click

Precisely ten months, two weeks, and four days ago, Tony got himself arrested for possession of alcohol as a minor. Tony was a firm believer in the “it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you don’t get caught” philosophy, so he was rather disappointed in himself. And when his parents chastened him and he said he was disappointed in himself, he was being sincere. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed in himself in the way his parents figured he ought to be, but he was disappointed nonetheless. Not that it mattered much. They didn’t believe him anyway. 

To be frank, this was not the first run-in Tony had had with the law, or the first kind of major screw-up that he’d managed to get himself into. Was it getting harder to keep it from getting out to the press? Yes. Yes, it was. But the Starks had a lot of money and a lot of power, and anyone frightened enough certainly didn’t want to expose them. 

So Howard and Maria Stark came to the conclusion that it would be in everybody’s best interest if Tony were to go spend a year on a farm owned by a family friend. There would be a lot of manual labor involved, homeschooling, punishment for lack of manners, etc. Howard and Maria didn’t want to fix their son—they wanted someone else to fix him for them. Tony was sent off to a farm located in Coastal Plain, Georgia, to live with an older couple named Clyde and Dee on their farm for the next year. 

Of course, Tony hated the arrangement at first. There wasn’t too much technology for him to play around with, and that was probably the biggest loss. There were no longer bodyguards for him to escape, but the rules here felt stricter than they had at home. No elbows on the table, lights off at 9:30, get out of bed the first time you’re woken up, the list went on and on. But he grew to like Clyde and Dee a whole lot. He liked driving the tractor down the rural roads, and he’d gotten used to waking up at the crack of dawn eventually. He didn’t wear the clothes he used to wear at home anymore, but he kept the band t-shirts and jeans. One of the things that had delighted him about the circumstances was that, while his parents hated him wearing jeans and layering flannels over band tees, this was a generally accepted element of dressing etiquette. He’d taken a liking to wearing overalls, and often wore long sleeved white t-shirts with his coral beige overalls and a cowboy hat. 

The accent change had not escaped him. Tony had a tendency to talk “smart,” as Clyde would say. He was quick to jump in with a sarcastic comment, and Clyde was having none of that. Tony was always around Clyde and Dee, and eventually, some of the words they used, slang, and some of the ways they said certain words had slipped into his voice. He still had plenty of his own tone and vocabulary, of course, but he’d fallen in sync with them. And after ten months, two weeks, and four days of mainly hearing Georgian southern accents, it had become normalized for him. 

You were the niece of Clyde and Dee. You didn’t live on a farm, but you were far from a city girl. And every year, without fail, for two weeks, you went and stayed with Clyde and Dee in August. They loved you, and had talked up your visit to Tony for weeks. They’d told him anecdotes about you (like that time you’d accidentally kidnapped a duck, which they ended up keeping and naming Blaartholomew, or about how you used to be scared of goats as a kid, the list went on and on), talked about how excited they were for your visit, and how he was going to “just love you” when he finally met you. 

You showed up one afternoon in a beat up blue pickup truck, hair in a ponytail, wearing an open flannel shirt, jeans, and a Noah Kahan shirt. “Heya, Dee and Tony, take a look at what the cat dragged in!” Clyde called out to them in the house. Clyde stepped out onto the porch, Dee right beside him. Tony followed, not wanting to be left out, and also out of curiosity. 

The second you got out of the car, you ran towards Clyde and Dee and into Clyde’s arms. After you’d hugged him, you hugged Dee. “I missed y’all!” your cheerful voice exclaimed. “Hey, you’re Tony, huh?” You asked him, and he nodded. “C’mere, Tony, I don’t bite.” You hugged him briefly, then returned your attention to Clyde and Dee. “I just got my normal bag, I’ma run and grab it.” 

Tony’s heart stopped when you’d hugged him. You were a helluva lot prettier than he’d imagined. And you had some of the same charm that Clyde and Dee carried with them. Now, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen pretty girls in his ten months, three weeks, and two days of living here—Clyde took him into town often to deliver things like blueberries, pecans, peanuts and such—but now you were going to be here living with them for two weeks. He was both excited and concerned. Excited, because he wanted to get to know you, and concerned, because he highly doubted that Clyde and Dee wanted him to get too close to their darling niece. And he understood that. He’d been brought here because he was a “problem child,” but he still wanted to get to know you. 

Everyone sat down to have dinner at around 6 o’clock. Dee had made a casserole. “So, how have things been with you?” Clyde asked you as he dug into dinner. You all sat around a square table—you were across from Tony, and Clyde was across from Dee. 

“Pretty good,” you said with a smile. “Volunteerin’ at the library, school, and things. Y’all been busy?”

Dee nodded as Clyde began to answer. “Sure have. But this fella here’s been a pretty big help,” he patted Tony on the back. Tony smiled. 

“Tell me how you got about to gettin’ down here,” you said to Tony, trying to engage him in the conversation, as you lifted a forkful to your mouth. 

Tony laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “My parents wanted to get me into shape, I guess. Too much foolin’ around.” Your eyebrows raised only slightly, and you nodded. “Beer in the back of the car,” he shrugged. 

“He’s been doin’ pretty well here, though,” Dee said with a smile, trying to lighten up the conversation a smidge. “Real helpful. I don’t have to carry as much as I used to, what with all these animals we’ve gotta feed. He carries things ‘round for me, does chores and such, I like havin’ him.”

You grinned. “Sounds like you’re fittin’ right in,” you commented. 

“Yes ma’am,” Tony nodded with a playful smile. 

You laughed. “Don’t call me ma’am—I’m no older than you.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

The next day, Clyde needed to go deliver a couple cartons of blueberries to the market. You offered to do it, and he wasn’t surprised by this. You loved to drive the truck. “You sure about this though? Those cartons are real heavy,” Clyde warned. 

“I’ll take Tony with me then,” you shrugged. “C’mon, Tony! We’re going for a ride.” 

Tony looked up from his sheet of notebook paper (he had to do a little bit of homework over the summer—the details of the homeschooling arrangement his parents had created with Clyde and Dee were messy) and then looked over at Clyde, who waved him to the door. “Go on. You gotta help her carry the boxes. She wants to drive.”

Tony immediately got up and followed you out the door. The boxes were sitting on the porch, and the beaten up blue pickup truck was pulled up to the steps. “So…we’re loading the boxes?” Tony asked. 

“Yeah, and then we’ll unload ‘em there, give ‘em over to Mr. Ryan, ‘nd drive back,” you said. 

“Alright, let’s get to it.” 

Tony and you lifted all of the cartons one by one and loaded them into the bed of the truck. You closed it, then climbed into the driver’s seat. He got in on the passenger’s side. He watched as you pulled away from the driveway and began heading down the country road. 

“So, how long have you been coming here in the summers?” Tony asked you, trying to start a conversation. 

You shrugged. “Maybe since I was eight or nine. About seven or eight years, I guess.” 

“You like it here?” Tony asked. 

“I love it,” you answered, a hint of a smile in your tone. “I know everyone here, everyone knows me. It’s so different from home, but it feels like another home? I don’t know how to explain it. I like the accents, the roads, the food, the everything. I wish I was here more than I am, if I’m honest.”

Tony smiled. It was quite heartwarming to see you speak so highly of the place.

“What about you, how do you like it?” you asked. 

Tony exhaled, leaning his arm against the open window, letting the warm summer breeze ruffle his hair. "Y’know, if you’d asked me that about ten months ago, I’d have told you I hated it." He smirked a little. "Didn’t think I was built for the whole ‘early mornings, dirty hands’ kinda thing."  

You chuckled. "And now?"  

Tony tilted his head, thinking. "Now... it ain’t so bad. Clyde and Dee—they're real good people. And there’s somethin’ about this place that just slows everything down, makes things quieter. Gives you space to think."  

You nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you maneuvered the truck around a bend. "Yeah. That’s what I love about it too. Feels like the rest of the world don’t exist for a little while."  

Tony hummed in agreement. For a few miles, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the wind and the truck’s tires against the gravel filling the space between words.  

Then you grinned. "You’re startin’ to sound like one of us, you know."  

Tony scoffed, but his smile betrayed him. "Think so?"  

"Oh, definitely. The accent’s creepin’ in. Give it a few more months, you’ll be drinkin’ sweet tea and talkin’ ‘bout ‘fixin’ to go do somethin’ like you been here your whole life."  

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Guess there’s worse things."  

You turned onto the main road into town, and Tony found himself wishing the drive were just a little longer. It was easy talking to you. Natural. Like he hadn’t spent the last ten months trying to prove he wasn’t some rich city kid who didn’t belong.  

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he actually did.

A couple of days later, Tony was lying in his bed, trying his hardest to fall asleep when you walked into his room, laid down on his bed, and rested your head on his side with your arm draped around him. “C’mon, get up,” you whispered to him.

“Well, you get comfortable quick, don’tcha?” Tony teased. 

You gently slapped his arm. “C’mon, we’re goin’ out. You’re comin’ with me.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“We’re goin’ dancin’.”

The neon sign buzzed above the entrance of the bar, casting a warm glow over the dusty parking lot. Tony hesitated as you tugged him toward the door, your fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have two-steppin’ experience,” he pointed out, though he let you pull him inside anyway.

“That’s alright,” you grinned, leading him through the crowd. “I’ll teach ya.”

The place was packed, the wooden floor vibrating under the weight of cowboy boots tapping in rhythm to the music. A live band played on the small stage, the fiddle and steel guitar twanging through the speakers. The scent of beer, sweat, and warm summer air filled the space.

Tony glanced around, a little skeptical. This was a far cry from the sleek, high-end clubs he’d been used to back home. But then he looked at you—already swaying to the beat, eyes bright, completely in your element—and, well… maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“C’mon, city boy,” you teased, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him toward the dance floor.

He groaned. “You really want me to embarrass myself in front of all these people?”

“No one’s watchin’,” you promised, stepping in close. “Just follow my lead.”

You placed his hands where they needed to be—one on your waist, the other clasped with yours. Tony swallowed, suddenly a little too aware of the warmth of your body against his. “Alright,” he said, “but if I step on your toes, that’s on you.”

You laughed, beginning to move, and—miraculously—Tony found himself keeping up. It was simple at first, just a slow sway in time with the music, but then you nudged him into a proper rhythm, guiding him through the steps of a country waltz. He stumbled once or twice, but you didn’t let go, just kept smiling, encouraging.

“See? You’re a natural,” you teased.

Tony scoffed. “I think you’re just bein’ nice.”

“Nope,” you insisted, spinning under his arm before returning to him seamlessly. “You’ve got it in you. Just gotta stop thinkin’ so hard.”

Something about the way you said it made Tony’s breath catch for just a second. Stop thinking. Just be here. With you.

The music picked up, and suddenly, you were leading him into a faster spin, laughing as his eyes widened in surprise. But he caught on quickly, gripping your waist a little tighter as the two of you moved across the dance floor.

Maybe it was the music, or the whiskey-sweet air, or the way your smile lit up the whole damn room—but Tony Stark, the city boy who had never imagined himself at home in a place like this, found himself not wanting the night to end.

Retrograde… we’d shake the frame of your car 

Now I know your name, but not who you are

It’s all okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood

It’s all my love, you’ve got all my love 

And when the song slowed again, and you stayed pressed close to him, your head leaning against his shoulder, he realized something else:

He didn’t want to let go.

Over the course of the next week, Tony spent more and more time with you. Clyde and Dee had noticed for sure, but they said nothing. Tony had grown on them greatly and they adored you, so as long as there was no “funny business,” they were willing to leave you alone.

The last night of your stay, you were sitting out on the porch by yourself, enjoying a little of the summer night. Tony came outside and sat beside you. “How‘s it goin’, Stark?” you asked casually.

“It’s alright,” Tony answered. “Kinda sucks you’re leaving, but it’s fine.”

You chuckled. “I never wanna leave here.”

“I don’t either.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, looking up at the stars. 

“Stars are brighter here, farther from the city,” you said. “I can’t tell what the fuck constellations I’m lookin’ at either way though.”

Tony laughed. Why did he need to leave this little taste of heaven in Georgia? He loved this. He loved it so much. And he felt a helluva lot more loved here than he did at home. 

When Tony woke up in the morning, it was hell. He remembered you were leaving. Hell, you might already be gone. He sighed, and turned on the radio by his bedside table. 

We once sang… 

Retrograde, we’d shake the frame of your car 

It all came back to him in that moment. This song, your dancing, every moment he’d ever shared with you. God, he was going to miss you. He didn’t have an address to write to, a phone number to call, and he hadn’t even had a proper goodbye. Tony shot up out of bed, grabbed a flannel shirt and through it on. He’d slept in his jeans and a t-shirt. “DEE! I’MA LEAVE FOR A QUICK SECOND, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!!” Tony called as he ran out the door. 

Dee hurried after him. “Tony! TONY! Where are you going??”

“I HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE AND GET HER NUMBER!” Tony yelled and hopped into the tractor before steering it onto the road and driving as fast as he could (which was not very fast. The tractor was pretty slow in the grand scheme of vehicles).

Dee chuckled to herself. Clyde appeared beside her. “What‘s he yellin’ ‘bout now?”

“Young love,” Dee replied with a smile. 

Tony pulled the tractor into a parking spot in the train station. You’d rented a car when you came here, and he knew you’d take the train home. He ran into the building, frantically searching around for you.

At last, Tony’s eyes led him to your relaxed form, sitting on a bench, waiting. He ran towards you. “Y/N! Y/N. Hi. I…” his breathing was a little heavy from all the adrenaline. “IreallylikeyouandIwaswonderingifIcouldbychancegetyourphonenumber.”

You looked at him perplexed. “What did you say?”

“I…” Tony stared at you for a moment. “I really like you and I was wondering if I could get your phone number.”

Your face lit up. “Hell yeah.” You gently took his hand and scribbled your phone number on it. 

Tony smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You nodded. “‘Course.”

The two of you watched as the train pulled into the station.

“That’s me.”

“Yeah.”

You pulled him to you and kissed him, on his lips, right in front of everyone at the train stop. When you pulled away, you smiled at him and said, “Bye, Stark.”

Tony was half in shock, but he managed to smile back and say, “Bye.”

You picked up your one bag and boarded the train, and Tony watched as it pulled away. In that moment, he’d never been more grateful the cops had caught him with beer in the back of his truck. 

[brooklyn-house]

aphrodite cabin headcanons

valentina diaz likes to sew! she wants to be a seamstress. she really enjoys designing clothes and often makes her friends and siblings wear her designs or serve as mannequins for her to pin mock-ups onto

lacy rosenfield wears braces!

she also likes to wear those plastic-jeweled rings you'd get from like a magazine for girls or something

drew, while being a year-rounder at chb, still goes to school in brooklyn (BAG), along with lacy and sadie kane. it's on the good word of her father, who sponsors chb. argus takes them in the van every morning

mitchell looooves his starbucks. whenever he can, he loves to make a starbucks run and order the most excessively complicated drinks

lacy definitely writes everything with glitter pen exclusively

drew has some staples to her style, namely a pearl necklace she always wears, and all of her jewelry being silver. she always wears things i can best describe as a subset of the "coquette" aesthetic. pink, frilly, fitted. she has clothes that are only from high-end brands and designers and wouldn't be caught dead wearing something cheap. she just genuinely considers it degrading.

lacy and drew, while technically not related, come from closely intertwined family backgrounds. drew's father and lacy's father had been close friends for many years, and spent a few years having an affair with aphrodite. drew and lacy are effectively much more sisterly together than their other siblings. their fathers are still on good terms with the goddess, and she pays them a visit every so often.

(that also lead to lacy and drew going to the same school together)

valentina will spend hours on end hyperfocused on her latest sewing project, and her siblings will often have to tear her away from her work to get her to eat something

mitchell's mortal mum (what, you think there's any way that guy comes from a hetero background?) is stunning. gorgeous. knew her son would be bullied for being gay ever since she heard his accent and decided to raise him the best way she could. (they'd have movie nights)

mitchell definitely did choir as a kid

drew definitely owns a y2k pink flip phone with heart shaped rhinestones and a little charm attached

they probably have a burn book or like an equivalent of it in the cabin. drew writes into it about sadie like it's her fucking diary

the rest of the cabin just kinda stand around her like 🧍🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️🧍🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ "does she know?" "does she know that's gay?" (drew, of course, is fully aware that she's sapphic, she just doesn't realize that this particular instance of her behaviour also falls under that)

it's a joke that makes a comeback every once in a while that on wednesdays they do wear pink. sometimes they decide to take it very seriously and all of them get all dressed up

drew's dad is a wealthy businessman, probably from at least two generations old money

lacy's dad is also quite wealthy, but his wealth is much newer. he probably made it himself, or his parent did.

point is that it showcases the different approaches they have to their wealth. drew, while peacockish by nature, does have the undeniable basic, but quality made pieces she owns, and carries herself with a sort of poise. lacy loves shiny things and would probably be called tacky by many people

when annabeth was redesigning the cabins, drew probably bothered her (tried to charmspeak her and then probably screamed at her) until she gave them extra space (the other cabins don't need to house nearly as many extensive wardrobes)

they are goofy and materialistic, but they also find ways to bond. in their own little ways. like playing dress to impress together, or sharing stories with the younger campers, or giving each other style advice. i think it's a type of love and looking out for each other that most of the other cabins wouldn't get.

[holmesoldfellow]

Sherlock Holmes bear by Gabrielle Designs (1987)

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Like the majority of society I’m obsessed with Nimona

And I rewatched it a million times and one thing always sticks out to me 

There are moments when Ambrosius is surrounded by light like a little protective bubble 

That keeps him away from the man he loves more than anything 

[metropoliswhite]

does anyone else feel as devastated by this as me?

[the-words-we-sung]

I finally received my Omar tour tee shirt and I'm incredibly disappointed...

I took a Small one and it's just gigantic. The tee shirt is really really large and long (it even makes the logo on the front looks very very small). It's not gonna be wearable for me at all. I'm disappointed AND annoyed because the website says "no return" since it's supposedly made at the time of the order...

I can't even verify if they sent me the right size because it's written nowhere on it.

For comparison, here is my Cirkus tee shirt, also a Small size:

The difference is crazy. The material is very different too: the new one is very thick. And I find the printing of a way lesser quality.

I'm very mad I spent so much money for it >< Not sure what to do now...

(Sure it says "mens boxy tee" but that's a very big boxy, it would look big even on a man a bit bigger than me ><)

[hootybal-lecter]

Y'all I bough a vest and a suit jacket with a slight plaid pattern yesterday

Hannibal is a terrible influence

[inrainbowscd]

is it THIS fucking HARD to make oversized t-shirts for short ppl? why do they even market it as oversized if it's just big and long...... that's just. a big size, not really an oversized model

[sammansonn]

I don’t understand how so many people Love law and order svu like that’s your Comfort show??? I have never watched a more depression show in my life every episode ends on the saddest moments that will never be resolved I don’t get ittt

[jackass-jones]

Had a very bad day Gotta eat gravel

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[meo-eiru]

Day 6 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Micah

Micah is an only child with a mother and a father

He grew up in a small town and his parents were upper-middle class in town standards

They were very religious and paid a lot of attention to always appearing proper. They wouldn't wear the same outfits two days in a row and made sure their clothes were always perfectly ironed

His dad was quite strict with him, not allowing him to play outside and crease his clothes, and made sure he attended church regularly

Micah was never really interested in playing with the other kids so he didn't particularly care about the rules

Even as a child he was aware he was prettier and smarter than most kids around, he was also very apathetic towards others. He didn't particularly care about them but enjoyed when they praised and looked up to him so kept the good boy act

His one joy was growing flowers, because unlike humans flowers are not annoying. If he takes good care of a flower it'll grow up and bloom like planned, it won't betray his plans. Its life is on his hands, if he decides to cut it it'll die, and if he decides to stop watering it it'll shrivel

His parents weren't very into the idea of him taking care of their garden but after seeing he wasn't giving up and that he actually made it look prettier they gave in

He was later on sent to the capital to further his education, joining the cathedral and quickly becoming a high priest

Even away from his parents he continued to live following their teachings. He would wear clean and well ironed clothes, he usually preferred loose fitting ones that didn't show much skin

He also started growing his hair to the possible displeasure of his father, he enjoyed taking care of it and keeping it clean. He naturally had very thick strands but his hair was still very soft

He also quite enjoying coffee, especially with some light sweets accompanying it. Thanks you that he ended up being quite good at brewing coffee and baking low sugar cakes

He was popular with men and women alike thanks to his angelic appearance and polite personality, receiving letters of affection not only from people inside the cathedral but those who simply came to visit it

Soon enough he was more well known than the actual bishop amongst the common people

He didn't really care about ranking up more and taking on the bishop role, he actually enjoyed the fact that he was better liked even as someone of lower status which made the actual bishop quite furious

He was eventually sent to work at a church in a nearby town by the bishop who did not enjoy seeing him around, not that Micah cared. The town was small but clean and well taken care of, he could just live quietly while being adored by those around

He was greeted with many cheers upon his arrival to the church, his fame traveling ahead of him

He greeted everyone and introduced himself, not caring to pay too much attention to the stuff they told him

Around his third day at the church, as he was passing by the inner garden he heard the sounds of giggling

Two nuns in training, seemingly enjoying a conversation between themselves

Micah could hear what they were talking about but somehow it all felt like blank noise, not registering. The weather was nice, he could feel a warm breeze flowing through his hair. The sunlight was just right, making his skin warm and fuzzy but not to the point of making him sweat. He could hear the chirps of birds mixing with their giggles. Everything was so nice, so nice and so clear, and Micah was just standing there. He was just standing there and looking at the nun he seemingly had never noticed before. Was the sky always so blue and full of life?

It wasn't too hard finding more about you as you were on good terms with most people around. He quickly learned that you were a faithful child of god, that your family was quite poor and that you wanted to become a nun in hopes of earning money to help your family

The day he first approached you was an exciting day for you. He's THE Micah after all, anyone would be excited. He was so nice and so easy to talk to, before you knew it you were crying about your struggles and pains as he gently hugged you

You really liked him, he would always listened to your problems so patiently and offer you solutions. With him you felt so seen

At first it started small, Micah bought you the dress you've been eyeing for so long. Then it started getting bigger, he would sometimes directly give you money, telling you to go buy whatever you need

He was like an angel, truly a good person. You thought he must be a savior sent by god to make your pains go away

And so you trusted him, how could you not? He was such a good person, and everyone knew just how good he was. And you continued trusting him when he called you to his chambers late at nights, you trusted him when he locked the door behind you, you trusted him when he was being just a bit too close for your liking

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Micah didn't care about how many weeds he had to cut off to make one flower bloom the way he wants it to bloom. At the end of the day it's the flower he wanted, and his flower has the prettiest petals when he holds it in his hands

[justevelynnnn]

Drabble for a protective logan of a pregnant!reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, a bit of feral logan, childbirth..

A/N: ive had this prompt on my mind for a whileee however i don’t think this will have a follow up cause i got kinda lazy towards the end

- He knows before you do honestly. Strong sense of smell and all that jazz. But also he senses your heart rate slightly increase even though you’re not doing anything

- You smell different..almost…sweeter? At least to him.

- A week after he noticed you tell him how you missed your period and he just just looks at you and nods like “duh, you’re pregnant…”

- You still go to Jean to get an ultrasound and what do ya know, there’s a bun in the oven!

- Immediately after it’s officially confirmed Logan forbids you to go on anymore missions or really do…anything..

- Going out with Storm? Where? Why? No, no, no stay here it’s too dangerous out there..

- He didn’t let you lift anything, do chores, cook…

- Nope nope nope just stay there.

- As time goes on you get a bit annoyed but you’ll admit it’s cute seeing him like this.

- He cuddles with you every single night, arm protectively slung around your belly. He kisses it every night and then your forehead. He’s so soft with you..

- As your bump started to show he just couldn’t stop looking. He was surprisingly very excited to be a father. He was gonna raise this kid right. Protect them from any harm as much as he can. You included.

- He’s always been protective over you but now?

- One day, You were trying to reach something and Scott comes by, noticing you need help and walks over to help you reach whatever you want. Unfortunately for him, Logan saw this from around the corner and also saw how Scott gently touched your side as he helped you.

- Logan saw red. He snarls and then lunged at Scott and damn near bites him. Scott jumps back a bit, startled by the sudden feralness.

- “Don’t. Touch. Her. Again. Got it, Summers?” Logan growled angrily.

- Scott just nodded and then quickly left.

- You scolded Logan immediately after but Logan ignored you and just looked at you for any “marks”

- So after that no one was to ever touch you unless it was Jean doing a check up. Or another mutant if she couldn’t.

- Logan didn’t care. In his mind he was keeping you 100% safe. From harm..germs…whatever

- He’d make you wear his clothes so his “scent” would be on you and also because your clothes were getting too tight

- Whatever you craved, he’d get it.

- If you wanted water at 4am, he’s up and going to get it immediately, like he wasn’t just sleeping moments before

- Back hurting? He’s now a licensed massage therapist.

- Someone’s cooking food that’s making you gag? He’s going into the kitchen and scolding whoever’s cooking.

- That one was a bit embarrassing but they never really minded and understood you were pregnant

- After a while you started to become more and more out of breath so now you reallyyyy couldn’t do anything. You had to beg Logan to at least let you get some fresh air or something because staying in bed all day was not the answer even if your feet were swelling and you back was killing you.

- He’d walk with you outside as you talked about your day and he just listened. He’d ask about the baby and how you felt and how he felt about becoming parents

- He was more cuddly when you neared the end of your third trimester. Hugging you more, kissing you more, talking to your now huge stomach and rubbing it and feeling when the baby kicked

- You both didn’t know if the baby was gonna be a mutant or not or the gender or anything but just knew it was healthy and that was honestly enough

- You decided to deliver at the mansion because well, the hospitals nearby did not like or tend to mutants at all..

- You started getting braxton hicks here and there and you knew the baby had dropped. It was getting hard to move and the mansion was on edge. Logan especially.

- He’d pace around you as you groan and winced in pain but told him, “False alarm honey…just another hick..”

- But was it? What if it’s time? What if you two ignore this and then it’s too late? What if something is wrong and and-

- There was alot of calming Logan down now..reassuring you’re fine

- A week before you were due, you were thrown a baby shower.

- It was Rogues idea and everyone gave you a little something. Diapers, Toys, bottles…

- They had all your favorite foods from your pregnancy, even the super weird cravings

- You cried.

- Logan got mad when he saw you cry. “Who did this?? Why is she crying? Was it you, Summers? Why i outta-“

- You tell him you’re just very happy and emotional right now and not sad. And, no, Scott did nothing wrong so please put him down oh my gosh…

- It’s true you were very emotional and hormonal the whole time and you were so ready to be done

- A week later, in the middle of the night you got up to use the bathroom for the 5th time. Not wanting to wake up Logan over and over just to walk to the bathroom, you went alone, waddling to the door.

- The second you got there though there you immediately started leaking. And you would’ve been embarrassed of you didn’t immediately have the worst braxton, no….this wasn’t that…this was more…

- “Logan. Logan!”

- Logan jumped up and and ran over to you asking what happened and what’s wrong..

- You start to tell him and suddenly you’re hit again with another contraction

- It was time.

- Logan woke up everyone he could after getting you tot he medical room.

- He left the students be but it’s not like they couldn’t hear you yelling anyways

- He stood by you the entire time as you squeezed his hand and cried in pain. He almost growled at Jean hooking you up the machines but he knew it was to monitor if you and the baby were okay.

- He was so focused on you that he didn’t care for everyone crowding also but when it was time to push he barked for everyone to get back even Jean

- He let you squeeze the life out of his hand as you pushed and encouraged you the whole time and wiped your forehead

- And after several minutes of this chaos…

- “Congratulations…you guys are now officially parents!” Jean says as she holds the crying newborn baby.

- As she helped lay the baby on your bare chest, you and Logan just smiled at your child.

[prosypepper]

“parenting class” with kei tsukishima

this is part six of my kinktober event :3

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nsfw, timeskip tsukishima, breeding, talks about pregnancy, tsukki is maybe a little bit bad!, finishing inside, unprotected p in v. 18+ mdni!

notes: who tf was gonna tell me pregnancy scares are real

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

kei tsukishima didn’t know what had come over him.

personally, he blamed that stupid parenting class that was required, for some reason. kei thought it was idiotic, but he needed it to graduate. and they absolutely doomed him when they put both of you in class together.

there was something about you, his sweet, beautiful and kind girlfriend that had already won his heart a million times over, doing things that a mom would do. of course, they provided those dumb dolls that cried and stuff—but you seemed to be able to calm the robot baby down instantly. the smallest appearance of a smile came over his face when you’d bounce the doll in your arms, or feed it the fake food.

god forbid when they made you wear that horrible pregnancy vest, because it gave your boyfriend terribly amazing imagery of what you’d actually look like carrying his child. maybe he was weird for it, but after the few weeks of that class was over, kei couldn’t stop himself from only thinking about one thing;

getting you pregnant.

he hadn’t ever been the dad type, until now.

“do you want kids?” tsukishima had asked you, all the while focused on a homework assignment. the question was one you hadn’t talked about before. it took you by surprise, obviously, and you wondered if it was something your tsukki wanted, too.

“if you want them, yeah.”

and that reply is what led kei to his current position, deciding between two ways the both of your lives could go. but as you laid there in his dorm room, trapped under his arms, all the excuses he could make for what he was about to do ran through his head. both of you were adults, set to graduate college in a few months, along with jobs lined up the second you got your diplomas. he already had a ring for you, he’d decided he was going to marry you a long time ago—

what did he have to lose?

“are you okay? you seem out of it, tsukki,” you say, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s blond locks. you had been waiting for a few minutes now, and all kei was doing was staring down at you, the look in his eyes gradually shifting over time.

“mhm.” is the only reply you get out of him, but he finally starts to move his eyes up and down your face, skimming over your lips and soft cheeks. kei felt like he could moan aloud when you wrap your arms behind his neck and lean up to give him a small peck.

he loved how sweet you were to him, a stark contrast in his own personality. he was never one to show affection in many ways, but you made up for it with the amount of affection you gave him. you had kei wrapped around your little finger, and boy, did he know it.

wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull kei in impossibly closer, the warmth in between your legs now was prodded at by the tent in your boyfriend’s boxers. kei harshly sucks air through his teeth at the pressure, absentmindedly rutting against you, feeling your panties and the dampness behind them, absolutely soaked. kei could tell.

“i don’t have a condom,” he remarks, subtly watching how you’d react.

“oh—um, it’s okay,” you reply almost instantaneously, “i’m on birth control, tsukki.”

damn it.

tsukishima nods his head, leaning up to allow space for the both of you to strip away the clothing that was keeping him from being inside of you. scooting back on the bed, you allow him room to join you. kei climbs up on the mattress with you, slotting himself between your already spread thighs, cock immediately pressing against the warm wetness of your cunt. you whine at the teasing, though it isn’t intentional, and kei hushes your noises with a sweet kiss.

as your lips lock and your skin becomes warmer at your lover’s contact, kei’s slender hands come to grab under your thighs, situating you in a rather unexplored position—a mating press. his head draws back again, just to take in the sight of you; in his shirt, and rather everything else completely exposed to him. the small light coming from his desk lamp illuminates you perfectly, shows off how soft you are to kei, the perfect body to carry his kids—

“kei,” you whine, “are you sure you’re okay?” your question is half concern and half desperation, wanting him to either move or tell you he isn’t horny; though, the raging erection he has would say otherwise. “if you don’t wanna do it, we don’t have to—oh!”

your rambling is cut off by a harsh thrust inside, kei wasting no time to completely insert himself into you. he was never one to be too rough, maybe a little erratic, but never completely silent and impatient. you can tell there is no patience left in your boyfriend, with how he immediately begins a grueling, fast pace, slamming his length into you with unrelenting force. your pretty little brain, usually so sweet and composed, has no time to think about what’s got him so worked up, because he has you yelping out within only a few seconds.

“kei—kei!” you chant his name, it’s falling off your lips like a routine prayer, stuck on loop like a broken record.

kei’s knees dig into the fabric of his sheets, his thighs completely straightened, and it feels like he is using every bit of strength to wind his hips up and violently slam them back into you. becoming so fond of this position, you can feel him in new depths, as the slit of his cock taps – no, angrily impales – your cervix. he’s no longer calculated, or sweet, whatever had gotten into kei had made the man completely animalistic.

syrupy, soaked walls clamp around his length ridiculously tighter with every meeting of your hips, and you mewl. the first remnants of sweat creep on your boyfriend’s hairline, his glasses are beginning to slip down his nose, he’s almost silently panting. when your eyes aren’t squeezed shut, you can see the blank, mean expression settled on tsukishima’s features; it wasn’t a softened version of his face like normal.

“feels s’good, tsukki!” you manage to stammer out, arms flailing to the pillow you rested your head on to hold.

“yeah?” followed by a grunt is the only reply, the only words tsukki has given you the entire interaction. he usually liked to tease you, or have more remarks when you babbled on about how good he felt. but no, not now. not when he could feel himself getting closer from the death grip your pussy has on him, not when he can feel himself about to knock you up. “look at me.”

your eyes shoot open, despite the signals from your body telling you to keep them closed, lose yourself in the pleasure. you wouldn’t dare to disobey your boyfriend, not like this. so, of course, you lock your eyes with his, his cock still bullying its way deeper into you. kei savors the scrunched up, dirty look on your face, that of one he hasn’t seen before.

were you enjoying this that much? even if you didn’t know his intentions, were you finding pleasure in the thought of getting pregnant now, by him?

“i’m gonna finish inside,” kei states, and it’s not a request, nor a demand. it’s a simple statement, something he is going to do. you’re able to notice the passion, the need in his voice. and you think, for just a moment, that you understand his intentions.

however, the rough pounding he’s giving you leaves no time for thought.

“mm—finish in me, tsukki,” you motivate him, trying your damnedest to maintain the eye contact with him, “m’gonna cum too!” your voice pitches higher, and kei’s sure whoever’s trying to sleep on the other side of the wall probably hates him right now. but he doesn’t really care, no. he’s determined.

“yeah? close, hmm?” tsukishima teases, finally, in between heavy pants. you nod your head pathetically, not even asking for permission as you clench around him again and cum all over his cock. he’s learned you so well, he can tell when you cum, and he only speeds up the pace of his thrusting to fuck you through it.

at the sound of your pretty noises, kei loses himself, letting the feeling inside snap. thick, white ropes of his cum fly out and stick to your insides, you can feel the extra warmth from it all—it’s hotter than your insides, somehow. even as his pace slows, the thrusts remain just as hard; fucking into you all the way, he’s overstimulating the both of you. all for his greedy, reckless desires.

something had gotten into kei tsukishima, and he knew what it was now. it was all an insatiable, needy scratch inside his brain, only to be helped when in a few weeks, you take that plastic test in the bathroom of his dorm, and those two pink lines show up. he’d only be helped then.