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#it's too warm in here
podcastwizard · 2 years
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sometimes i'm like "wow food is what connects us sharing a meal with my friends is a love language" and other days i'm like *looking at body* "you mean this thing is hungry aGAIN??"
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bluegiragi · 4 months
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christmas miracle.
early access + nsfw on patreon
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This comic was shamelessly inspired by tender by prettyunhinged on ao3. go ahead and leave the original author a comment and kudos if you haven't already!!
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ruporas · 8 months
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captain's warm hugs! (id in alt)
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inkskinned · 8 months
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they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?
they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.
you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.
you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.
mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.
you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 2 months
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Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#mdzs au#lan wangji#nie huaisang#Yungmeng Jiang training arc AU#This is the *first* part of what was supposed to be a much longer comic (LWJ's morning routine in full).#I'll finish the remaining part as a reblog to this post! I just think this is the funnier chunk.#Lan Wangji absolutely is the kind of person who has a perfect internal alarm clock for when it is time to get up.#He already has a dedicated sleep schedule. He is accurate within 10 seconds of 5am every day.#I think the Jiang disciples are most likely used to waking up around 6:00-7:00am#But the allure of having a guaranteed time keeper getting you up in the morning is worth the earlier hour.#I imagine they started outside lwj's door and slowly moved closer as the weeks went on.#Now LWJ has to cope with being way too warm in the night from all the extra body heat.#LWJ is not a fan of this but they scamper off immediately after he wakes up and they at least show initiative to follow routine.#NHS joins in only because he is a chronically heavy sleeper and needs this level of intervention to get up early.#His boldness would be a death sentence in the cloud recesses but here? Whole new game.#Yungmeng Jiang isn't a lawless land. It's just a land with different laws.#And one of those laws is to forcefully domesticate the catboy coded Lan boy through any means necessary.#Completely different tangent: I drew the thumbnail for this before I did comic 134. I then realized they had the same visual gag.#So I had to space this one out so it didn't seem like I repeated the waking up joke. That's my secret and all of you have to keep it.#And in my land the law is that snitches get itches (telepathically transfers hives onto your body)
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tubbytarchia · 2 months
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@mcyt-yuri-week Day 5, Rose/Thorns I never stop thinking about SL episode 8 never ever
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bakubunny · 4 months
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daddy katsuki x bunny reader drabble. it’s longer than i expected it to be, but it’s been on my mind for a little while now. i’m still very new to piss play and i’ve never written pet play so? here’s smth new ig. idk. >.< have some daddy kats food. i’ll see you with the next one. ♡
this lovely little fic by @neon-gothicc came to mind when i went back for some editing, so i wanted to share it!
tw: f!reader, aged up characters, daddy kink, heavy pet play, piss play, d/s dynamics, olfactophilia, sex toys, humiliation, pet names: sweetie, bunny, baby bunny, little bun, etc., katsuki swears a lot (ig), being a top pro hero means a top tier private office, sry this one’s out there
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thinkin abt daddy katsuki and his pretty pet he’s trained so well…. don’t be mistaken, you’re still a dumb bunny, you can’t do that much, being one so easily bored or distracted. but you’re obedient; he knows how how much his baby bun just wants to be good and please him.
instead of being on patrol, it’s a slow day in the office for him, and you’re lucky enough to be kneeling by his side. he’s been exceptionally generous today, giving you a soft princess pillow for your knees and kneeling stool to keep you comfortable as long as possible. your head is resting on his thigh as he types away, his hand drifting down to pet your head occasionally.
there was, however, one issue that had a cold sweat forming on your back. katsuki had you drinking water all morning with not a single chance to relieve yourself. you nudged his thigh with your nose. he looked down to see your pleading eyes.
“i told ya, after this report, daddy can take you to go potty. not til then,” he said.
the slightest whine left your throat.
“keep it up, and you’ll wait longer, bun.”
katsuki pushed his chair back. he gave a sweeping motion of two fingers toward the open space. you left the comfort of your stool and crawled under his desk. he pulled himself back in, legs spread.
“rest.”
despite the discomfort filling your body, you obeyed, fingers curling tightly around the hem of the short skirt flowing down from your waist, the bottoms of your feet pressing into the fat of your bare ass. you nuzzled your face into katsuki’s soft, warm bulge, resting in the space he created. even through his pants, his scent was overwhelming, intoxicating as you breathed him in. he watched your eyes roll and flutter shut as he reached down to pet your head.
“‘s a good girl. gimme just a little more time,” he said. “n’ don’t you dare make a mess on this damn floor. you’ll regret it.”
you nearly jolted as the vibrator he’d left in your cunt that morning turned on again. another whimper escaped your lips. but katsuki was gracious.
“what did i just say, hmm? you can wait.”
your body felt so full as your head swirled with pleasure, spinning from the pressure of the vibrator inside and the fight you had with your body to keep from relieving yourself. after what felt like ages but was really only ten minutes, katsuki closed his laptop and pulled back once more, met with the same sad, glossy eyes.
“don’t look so pathetic. you’re fine. ass up,” he said.
not one to hesitate with release in sight, you crawled out and put your ass in the air, face pressed into the pillow before you as your skirt fell forward, exposing yourself fully to him. katsuki administered a few painful smacks to your ass as your toes curled, and you swallowed hard. you mewled as he pulled out the slick covered vibrator and dropped it by your face, a string of arousal clinging to it before it hit the pillow. your cheeks grew hot.
“tch. can’t tell if you need to piss or cum.” katsuki slid two fingers into your heat.
you bit back a cry as he fingered your cunt hard, feeling you clench around him erratically.
“‘s this what ya really wanted? want me to make you cum?” he asked.
the rough pad of katsuki’s fingers rubbed circles into your aching clit. a small trickle of piss escaped as your orgasm drew closer.
katsuki gave your ass a harsh smack. “what did i fuckin’ say about makin’ a mess on the floor, huh? answer me.”
“daddy i'm sorry, i needa go so bad,” you cried. “please, i wanna be good.”
“cum without pissin’ everywhere n’ maybe you can be,” he sneered.
tears streamed across your face. a quiet moan slipped from you as katsuki’s fingers curled a little more. a shudder ran down your spine.
“you can do it, show me you can be a good girl,” he continued. you could hear the smirk in his tone. “i’ll even walk ya to the litter box n’ hold your hand.”
heat flooded your face. you whimpered. your legs shook when his thick, callous fingers pumped deep into your cunt as his pace increased.
“c’mon baby bunny, cum for me. cum on daddy’s hand. lemme see you fall apart,” katsuki said softly.
your mouth fell open in a pant as you clenched hard around his fingers, orgasm washing over your body in wave after wave with his encouragement.
"that's it, such good girl..." he cooed as he carried you through your climax. "fuck, you're so pretty when you cum, little bun."
katsuki pulled his hand from you, sucking his fingers clean with a small groan. "tch. you’re fuckin' lucky i got shit to get done today, or i'd be throwin' ya on that couch."
as the pressure in your bladder grew once more, you shifted uncomfortably.
"fine, fine." he gave you a playful swat on the ass. "go on."
you crawled across the floor of his office as katsuki trailed behind you, staring at your body on display, to an oversized, lined litter box next to his office bathroom. you looked back at him hesitantly.
"hop in. ya can't piss on the floor," katsuki said with a smirk.
you got in and faced him in a squat, body exposed. as promised, he knelt down and held your hands with a grin as your cheeks burned hot all over again.
"'s okay, sweetie. you can let go." he gave you a kiss on the hand, then on the knee. "you're doin' so well. let daddy see."
you willed your body to relax. relief hit as your warm stream hit the plastic beneath you. katsuki groaned as he watched and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
"that's my girl... my good little bunny."
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gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @kxtsxkii @katsuslover @nuttyunknowndetective @yooxverse @jjamiee21 @pastelbakugou
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odoraful · 1 month
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his smile?!!?!@$
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daftpatience · 8 months
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comp of my little smurchin sona (smurchin stands for sea urchin that u can smooch)
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rikkivoid · 1 year
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winter kiss
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theommin · 3 months
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oscar looks so good here i feel faint
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inkskinned · 10 months
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
#writeblr#warm up#my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky#i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles#yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help#for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT#and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen#than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say#''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help#i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.''#bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't#actually offer fair support to everyone#we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less.#and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help#bc i DID have it better than other people#and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help.#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn#instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself
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house-of-daena · 8 months
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al haitham is just Meant to take dick. he thought if he ever had sex with someone, he'll be the top, but when you came along with your massive arms that hooks right under his knees to pump him full with no way to escape, your massive thighs around his neck making him choke on the fat cock down his throat, and your filthy tongue whispering the most obscene things rigjt into his ears that he cant help but get so desperately turned on that he cums right away? the thought of topping gets thrown right out the window, he wants to be your pretty little pillow princess forever. he wonders how he got himself to this point, from being the cold, calculating grand scribe thats indifferent about most things and people to glancing at your lower half everytime you walk past and getting hard from just thinking about the risky things both of you could do in public space like this. how he donwgraded himself into a cock hungry whore, wanting to take you from every possible hole you can fit into. if it doesnt fit? he'll make it.
@pantalonte
IH MY GOD HI you just came out of fucking nowhere 😭😭😭 i am so normal about alhaitham .. why is he so.. fuckable to a fault...
nsfw utc
oh my god you have no idea how much i love idea of stripping him from his pride. like who would've thought alhaitham of all people would turn out such a whore for you,, people who notice wonder how you got the acting grand sage from this guy who's usually serious and cold to be looking at you with hearts in his eyes.
i like the idea of alhaitham watching you from the corner of his eye, then when you walk out of sight, to somewhere more private with a smirk on your lips, he just knows what you want, and he'd be stopping whatever he's doing, following you to where ever you went.
i hc that alhaitham has terrible oral fixation for your cock that if you don't let him suck on it for at least once a day he would go mad. he will be on his knees for hours on end, sucking your cock for all it's worth. he doesn't care if there's streaming down his cheeks, drool dripping down his throat and onto the floor, his thighs trembling, his lips all swollen and his jaw is aching. if you dont force him to stop, he will suck you until he can't anymore.
literally thinks about ur cock so much its not even funny,, like he's so addicted to it. sometimes he'd reflect on himself on how did he turn out like this, then he remembers every single filth that comes out of your mouth, and he's shamefully getting hard from it.
oh my god i bet he's read of so many books about how to take dick better. mostly so you can easily use him however you'd like. so don't be surprised for your cute lil scribe to have a plug up his ass when you bend him over his office desk :3
100% agree with you , he's just made to take ur cock no matter how much he tries to deny him :( also good i love imagining getting manhandled... yeah you're bending him in so many different positions as if he's nothing bc you just have complete reign on his body and he will never say no., he never fights it whenever you bend him like he's just some fuck doll >3<
make sure to degrade him when u fuck him! for a guy who is pretty prideful at times, his hole gets really tight when you call him your dirty little slut :3
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silkspunweb · 4 months
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A Gift from Santa
w.c.: 4.2k
it's just delusional fluff. husband!nanami x reader, papamin in his glory. a very late christmas fic.
a/n: As President of the Haitchverse Fanclub, thank you for all you do for us fellow kento/hiromi lovers @pseudowho ❤️
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School days were coming to a stop as the days ended sooner, the air was frostier, and the holidays got closer. You mentally scolded yourself for not ending class earlier this week so the kids could finally get some time off when you hear Itadori think aloud, "Ah, we only have a few days of school left before the holiday break, huh."
"Hmm? Oh yeah," Kugisaki responded, "I was going to do some Christmas shopping."
"You're going to do it at peak Christmas shopping time??"
"Why not? Might as well get some shopping done for a new year wardrobe!" She snickered.
Noticing your curiosity, Fushiguro turned to you and asked, "What about you, Mrs. Nanami?"
"Me?"
"Yeah! What do you and Nanamin plan on doing for Christmas?" Itadori perked at the idea of his favorite teacher and favorite mentor doing mundane holiday things.
You responded without thinking much about the question, "I think we're going to work on dinner together and have some family over." Though, as soon as those words came out, there was a sense of deflation in the air.
"Ah, I see." They all shared a look, then Itadori spoke up, "I think this is my first time spending it without Grandpa."
"Now that you mention it, this is my first time spending it in Tokyo," Kugisaki shrugged.
"Usually, my sister plans dinner for us," Fushiguro said.
You could almost hear the lonely sigh they gave out as they tightly tugged their lips into a curt smile. Your heart went out to these kids. 'They're still so young. They shouldn't be spending Christmas by themselves in their dorms.' You frowned, trying to think of ways to spend time with them without making them think it was out of pity. There must be something their teacher can do. After all, what's closest to a parent figure than a teacher? Perhaps this was something your husband could solve.
Your husband. That's it. You quickly packed your bag, waving the kids off as they said their goodbyes and left the room. 'Would Kento oppose this?' You wondered, 'Nah, surely even he can't be that callous.' You headed straight for the door before pausing, "Ah, but he's definitely going to mock me for this."
You got home before Kento and sent him a quick message that you'd be preparing dinner. It was a little crazy, that idea of yours, but the craziest part would be if Ken would actually play along in your schemes (as he would call it).
"You know, you shouldn't poke your nose where it doesn't belong." You remembered him telling you that right before you took up the position to fill in as Gojo's substitute. "You're only going to get attached to them, Darling." Psh, what did he know? Only just about everything about you.
"I'm not going to get attached, Ken, I'm just doing a favor for an old friend. Besides, those kids are going to join us on the battlefield someday, maybe even tomorrow. They need someone to guide them properly, especially when Gojo's not around." You grumbled on the drive home, peering at him from the corner of your eyes as he chuckled.
"Sure love, whatever you say." He remained focused on the street before him,  "Ten dollars says you do, though."
"Nanami Kento," you faked a gasp," are you making a bet with me right now?"
"Nothing wrong with a little indulgence, is there?" You turned to him with a raised brow. There was a playful glint to his eye; he knew what he was doing here, baiting you into these childish games. There was no real prize here; the money would stay where it belonged, but he got the right to say he won.
You scoffed to yourself, 'No one would believe me if I said that my husband would partake in stupid bets like this.' You rolled your eyes at him, "Alright, ten if you win. But if I win, I want to change the color of our bedroom."
He raised a brow at you, "What's wrong with our bedroom color?"
"Nothing's wrong with it, our new room color is just going to be a reminder of my new victory."
"You're a little too confident here, don't you think," he chuckled.
Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. How dare he be right about everything. You felt the embarrassment on your face as you mixed the curry roux in the pot. Ugh, he was going to be so smug when he heard your stupid plans.
You could back down now, there was no reason you couldn't. Hell, maybe if it was a month ago, you wouldn't even think a second thought about these kids. But Kento, he just had to be good with children. You didn't think much of it when he came to pick you up from your mission with the kids last month. You didn't think much of it when he asked you and the kids if you guys ate yet. You didn't think much of it when he invited them to join you guys for dinner at home, seeing that it was late at night. You didn't think much of it when he offered them the couch and the spare bedrooms. You didn't think much of it when he told Itadori to eat his vegetables, handed Kugisaki a spare hair tie, and gave his seat to Fushiguro at the dinner table. You didn't think much of it when he told them to go relax, cool off, and that he would handle the dishes. But man, you saw the fond look in his eyes when he dropped them off at their dorm the next morning. You saw how happy he was to have them around, to occupy the spaces of your shared home, to relax and share a meal with these kids at the dinner table. Call it camaraderie, mentor-mentee relationship, or authoritative affections. Call it whatever you want, but Kento was meant to be a dad.
You smiled at the pot of curry in front of you. You knew he was going to mock you, but you couldn't help but wish that you were making this dinner for five right now instead of two. You knew that even though he was going to tease the hell out of you for feeling this way, the feelings were mutual and he wanted them around too. So, you sucked in a deep breath when you heard his car pull up in the driveway, turned off the stove, and made towards the door to welcome him in.
You opened the door before he could even pull out his keys, throwing yourself into his arms as he walked in.
He leaned in, putting his face into the crook of your neck, “Well hello to you, too.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, taking in the little things that made his home whole. 
“Welcome home,” you pressed your face into his chest, unwilling to let him see the look of defeat evident in your eyes. 
He pulled away to look at you, your eyes downcasted and a slight puff in your cheeks. “What sort of trouble did you get into this time?” He mused. 
“I need your help, Kento.” He quirked a brow at you as you suddenly helped him take off his winter coat and scarf. “There's something bothering me at school.” A light tug to loosen his tie, “It's been killing me all day,” another tug, “and I just don't know what to do.” You glared at the offending piece of fabric as if it was the cause of your demise. “Will you help me?” 
“That depends,” he hummed, “what's got you so worked up that you need my help at school?” You gave out an exaggerated sigh, walking back into the kitchen to plate him his dinner. He followed, washing his hands and setting up the table. “Is this about the kids?” He doesn't even look at you, knowing you'd do anything to deny it. It was childish, you both knew it, but you couldn't help the heat creeping up your back. How does he always know? There was a pause, then another. You placed two plates onto the dinner table, sitting down without another word, red staining your cheeks as you flushed in embarrassment. He sat down and chuckled, “I'm right, aren't I?” You scrunched your nose at him, debating to deny it or admit your grievances. “Darling,” he reached his hand across the table for you to meet his in the middle, “is this about the kids?”
Another deep sigh, “Yes Kento, it's about the kids.” You rolled your eyes, slipping him a ten dollar bill across the table. 
He chuckled, “You know that's not what I wanted in the first place.”
“Ken, really?” You frowned at him, placing one hand on top of his. His brows quirked up, making you run your other hand through your hair. “Alright, alright. You were right. I grew attached to the kids. I said I wouldn't, but I did. You warned me and you told me so. Now stop being a butt head, and help me with this.”
“I was going to tell you to say, ‘please,’ but this'll do too,” he gave a gentle squeeze. “Now, what did you have in mind?”
“I need you to dress as Santa.”
“No.”
“But—
“Absolutely not.”
“Ken—”
“Nope.” He met your offending glare with indifference on his own face. “Why on Earth would I dress as Santa.”
“It's for the experience.”
“You think I should experience wearing red velvet and a—”
“No, not for you! The experience is for them.” His face deadpanned. “I'm serious, I think you should dress as Santa, like when dads pretend to be Santa for their—”
“They're not our kids.”
“You don't mean that.” 
“Of all things you want me to do—”
“It'd make a fond memory for them!”
“To put me in a big red coat and that ugly—”
“You wouldn't even have to wear the beard!” He gave you a pointed look. “Okay, the beard would help a lot, but Ken—”
“No.” You opened your mouth in protest, “Absolutely not.” A pout formed on your face, cheeks starting to puff in frustration. He gave out a big sigh, “I'll get them gifts to open for Christmas. Won't that suffice?” He poked one of your inflated cheeks. “We can even head over to celebrate with them if it'll make you happy.” You refused to look at him at this point, disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for your plans. 
Getting up to clear your dinner, you grumbled as you walked past him to the sink, “They don't have anyone to go home to like we do. I just want to give them something happy to remember.” Your words hung uncomfortably in the air as he stared down at what was left of his dinner. He heard the tap turn on, then off. You left him to simmer in his thoughts. Another big sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, he quietly pulled out his phone and made some orders online. 
“They're not our kids.” Why did he say that? He knew you saw how happy he was whenever the kids were over for dinner. 
“You don't mean that.” You were right. He didn't mean it. He loved every minute of it when the kids stayed over, even if dinner time was rowdier and messier than usual. Even if he had to give up some of his comfort and private space to have these kids around. Even when he had to scold them for something as miniscule as eating their vegetables out of his work hours, for goodness sake. “I just want to give them something happy to remember.” He frowned. This could've been a happy memory for you, too. After all, it was just one day, probably not even the entire day in a stupid red suit. So what if he thought it was ugly, that dumb suit could've really made his wife happy. He groaned, opening his phone once again to make another impulsive purchase. He may have won your little bet, but it seems like you won something else after all. Even if you didn't know it yet. 
After he cleared his own plates, he made his way to get ready for bed so he could return to you. He walked through the bedroom door, disappointed to find you facing the other way. You weren't even sparing a glance at your husband nor making any cheeky comments about how wet he looked and how low that towel hung around his waist. Nothing, zilch. He sighed again, throwing on a pair of checkered pajama bottoms before making his way next to you. He had his arm over your waist, testing the waters, and a little glad that you hadn't shaken him off. 
“Good night,” you grumbled. 
He pressed his own “good night” into the crown of your head. 
You woke up a little earlier than usual with your husband's arms around you tighter than it was last night. With one arm across your chest and the other around your waist, he had your hips flush against his. It was so pleasant, you almost forgot why you had your back facing him to begin with. You blinked the sleep away, mentally at war with yourself to either stay or to forcefully peel away from his embrace. You shouldn't, ‘He doesn't deserve it,’ you pouted. ‘Even if I reaaaallly want to, I should be firm about this.’ You tried to reason yourself as you felt him shift from behind, only pulling you in closer, tighter. His face was in your hair, his puffs of breath tempting you to go back to sleep. You mentally screamed, ‘Damn him! I need to— ugh. It's so comfortable.’ You wanted to cry. This was the ideal morning, but you had to get up now if you wanted to work on setting up the classroom for the kids. Time was of the essence, and since somebody denied you of some good, fun Christmas spirits, you just had to make up for the non-participating party's lack of enthusiasm. 
You willed yourself to pull away from your husband as you slipped out of the comforter, not making it far before he had his arm around you again. “Stay.” You didn't realize he had sat up when you tried to sneak off. If not for the arm that wound around your belly, you would've mistaken his low morning voice for something else. It was something akin to dark chocolate and warmed honey, running deep and slow; it woke you up in the morning. You wanted to whine at how unfair he was being. How affectionate and cuddly for someone so stern and callous last night. You shook your head and quickly pulled yourself out of his arms and into the shower. 
‘I have to stay strong,’ you repeated to yourself under the freezing water. After getting dressed, you went to the kitchen where you found your distracting husband in just his checkered pajama bottoms. ‘Oh, dear lord, I am not your strongest soldier.’ He gave a soft smile, his hair sticking to one way and the other. You wanted to run your hand through it so bad, but if you got any closer, you might not leave as early as you had hoped. 
“G’morning.” There he goes again. Him and his stupid, perfect face, and his stupid, perfect— “I made you tea and breakfast.” Oh no. 
You forced yourself to grab the coffee pot instead, “No thanks, I plan on leaving to work earlier today.” You didn't even bother with the cream and sugar, needing the bitter taste to jolt you out of this domestically inviting scene. Nope, nope, nope. You grabbed a piece of toast, gave him a quick peck on the cheek for good morning, and rushed to the door before he could stop you from leaving again. He blinked at the whirlwind that was his wife, frowning when you slammed the door. The door opened again, “I'll be a little late today! Don't wait up!” His frown deepened at the second door slam. Knowing you, you were probably going to set up some lights and a small tree in the classroom or at the dorms just to make it a little more festive for the kids at school. 
“I must've really messed up,” he scratched the back of his neck, “No use in moping about it now.” He sighed and eyed the unwanted cup, then went to check his phone.
You were quieter than usual for the next couple of days, not so much as being upset with him, but more distracted with your thoughts. You already had the lights up to the kids’ surprise that one morning and promised them that the tree will have more ornaments the next day. They tried to wave you off, saying, “No need ma'am, you already do enough for us,” and “Really, we're fine, it's just Christmas.” You hushed them, something about ‘the presents are already wrapped’ and you ‘already mailed Santa for them’. You knew they were old enough not to believe in some merry folklore, but you wanted them to look forward to something this week. You checked your phone to see if the surprise was going to arrive on time. 
‘Today's Wednesday, and the package is going to come tonight. Then break starts…Friday?’ Your brows furrowed, ‘Would I have time to get dinner for them too? Ugh, I should've told Kento to prepare food instead of wearing a Santa suit or something. That would've been smarter. Ah! What about the second years? Did I buy their gifts yet?’ The day ended, leaving only two days left for you to prepare, so you hurried home to think of gift ideas for the others. ‘Socks are only cool when you're in college and realize you need to appreciate useful things, like parents who provide socks,’ you scoffed to yourself. ‘What would high schoolers even like? Are CD albums still cool? But what do they listen to? Do they even listen to TommyHeavenly6 or L’Arc-en-Ciel? Oh god, am I outdated now? Are Scandal still cool??? Ah, focus! Now’s not the time. What would these kids like for Christmas?”
You pulled up into your driveway, making your way to your front door, brows still furrowed as you nearly walked into your husband, “Oomph.”
“Welcome home,” he said warmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he helped you out of your work shoes. “How was work?”
You eyed him momentarily before speaking, “It's going well, I think. The kids are…Well, they're losing focus now that break is just two days away, so it's hard to get them focused on the lesson. Itadori nearly ran into the door this morning because he forgot about doors.” You chuckled fondly, “Though I suppose that's my fault for putting up all those Christmas decorations. I probably got them excited and whatnot.” You tiptoed ever so slightly to kiss him on the cheek, “What did you do today?”
“Had a mission that ended early, so I made dinner,” he said. It wasn't a total lie, he did make dinner, but instead of a mission, he actually drove around town, picking up what you missed on your not-so-secret Christmas plans list. He knew it wasn't going to fully make up for his harsh words, but you were going to appreciate it either way. 
Dinner went smoothly. Better actually, now that you were both hip to hip at the sink, washing dishes together. You two were back to your usual routine; he connected Bluetooth to your phone, and you got to play music that made you nostalgic for your teen years again. He rolled his eyes when you blew sudsy bubbles at him, “Real mature,” he hip bumped you before flicking water onto your glasses. His heart swelled seeing you look at him, like it was his first time again, seeing how your smile widened the slightest of increments or how your eyes darkened a little more with mirth. With another nudge, he insisted you showered and got ready for bed, “I can handle the rest,” he waved you away. 
After you showered, you went to bed, tucking yourself underneath his chin, and pressed a kiss to his sternum for “good night.” He could've melted right there and then under your touch, but instead held you close, hoping the next few days were going to be to be easier for the both of you. 
Thursday went by fast, and all of a sudden it was Friday. ‘D-Day’ as you'd called it in your head. ‘Kento’s gonna be at work, so he probably won't make it to see the kids open their gifts.’ You frowned as you remembered the shaky handwritten cards you wrote for the second years, embarrassed that you had to stick to gift cards in the end. Nothing wrong with gift cards, but you would've liked to be as personal with their gifts as you were with the first years. 
It was a bit before lunch that you decided to give them a short break, and quickly made your way to the bathroom to change into your outfit. It was a silly oversized red coat, and you realized why Kento had been so stubborn about wearing such a thing. You laughed at yourself in the mirror, ‘Okay, I get it, it is ugly.’ You made a beeline for the staff room, imagining Kento’s reaction to you and the hideous outfit, but nothing could've prepared you for what you saw next. Your husband, the love of your life, the most stubborn man on Earth, stood before you in the same exact outfit. You could've sworn you were in the soda can commercial with how cold and stiff his face was. 
“Kento.”
“Yes?”
“What on Earth are you wearing?”
“I could say the same to you,” he raised an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down. 
“I thought you didn't want to,” you trailed off, not sure if you should be pointing and laughing or crying over your husband in those ridiculous clothes. 
“I didn't.”
“Then why are you—”
“You were right.” You stared at him with your mouth wide open, “The beard does help a lot.” He offered a taut smile and you jumped into his arms, happy enough that you could have married this man a second time.
“I can't believe you,” you buried your face into his neck, “you silly, silly man.”
He let out what sounded like a small laugh, “Let's go before I change my mind about this outfit.” He gave you a peck on the forehead and went to pick up the bags off the table. 
“You got them gifts???” He raised his eyebrow once more, opening the bag to show you the contents. Your face fell at the trays of food, “Really??”
“Hey, these kids are big eaters, and besides, you left food off your list.”
“Ah! You saw that?” You flushed, unable to contain the smile growing wider on your face. 
“Of course I saw it, it was the only thing you looked at all week,” he rolled his eyes, taking your hand in his free one as you both walked back to the classroom. 
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“Dunno, but next time, how about you don't reject my—” 
A water bottle fell to the floor when the door opened. 
“Na-nanamin?”
“Why are there two Santas?” 
There was a camera shutter click. “I'll send this to you guys later,” Kugisaki smiled. 
“But seriously, what are you two wearing?” 
Kento sighed, “There was a little mix up. Mrs. Claus here almost left some of the gifts back at home, so I'm here to deliver the rest of the presents.” 
You smiled at him before turning to them, “You should go call for the second years, tell them to come inside for lunch.” 
The kids immediately rushed outside to bring the upperclassmen in. Something about, “Hurry up,” “Food’s here,” and “Forget the food, hurry before he changes out of those clothes!”
No one understood why Kento was dressed as Santa. After all, he wasn't technically their teacher. Sure, they’d had dinner with him a few times, but did that really warrant buying them presents and helping them celebrate with a Christmas meal? Or maybe he lost a bet? No, Nanamin would never take part in bets. Then what was it? They weren't exactly sure. All they knew was that the way he smiled at his wife was the same as when he sat at the dinner table with them at home. The Nanamis sure love Christmas, they joked. You watched all five kids lean in towards your husband as Kugisaki whipped her phone out for a selfie with Santa. It reminded you that you ought to capture the moment while Kento was still willing to participate. With another click of a shutter, you took the picture of your smiling husband and your kids. 
“Darling,” he gave you a warning glare. 
“Oh, c’mon Santa, lighten up,” Maki joked and the others giggled. 
You poked his side, “Yeah, Santa, who knows when I'll get to see you like this again.”
Nothing could have prepared you for his response; he gave you another flat look, then replied, “Probably when we have our own kids.”
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credits to @cafekitsune for the beautiful Christmas banner
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stonesandpeaches · 3 months
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flowers and ink ☀️🌻💚
ink -> comyet
sketches, flower names and closeups under the cut hehe
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In order:
Paeonia tenuifolia
Dictamnus albus var. purpureus
Tragopogon pratensis subsp. orientalis
Cichorium intybus
Salvia nemorosa
I particularly chose these since theyre plants found in my country
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gomzdrawfr · 6 months
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Im going to be quite busy since uni started and I have to do my placements and research papers, so I won't be doodling as much as before </3 but today I bring you this :)
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