Ok but: How would the Punk!Codys (Jim, Xavier, Michael and Duncan) react to the reader telling them she‘s pregnant? And how would they be during the pregnancy?
Ooft punk!Codys and breeding kinks at the same time?! I CAN’T BREATHE 🥵 If you’d like to see any oneshots with these boys, holla at ya girl!
As you can expect, Punk!Michael is overwhelmed with emotion like a kid at a Black Flag show when you sit him down to tell him he’s going to be a daddy, and he’s already planning the rest of your lives together the moment you hand him that much-anticipated positive pregnancy test. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother,” he coos, snaking his arms around your hips and planting his heavily-ringed palms over the currently-flat plane of your stomach. “Can we take our son on tour when he’s old enough?” A little vanity never hurt him, and he’s prioritising your image when your bump inevitably grows out of your customised skin-tight band tees. “Babyyy,” he calls from the hallway, shaking a vintage Dead Kennedys shirt in the air as he veers round the doorway. “Now you’re showing, would you wear my shirts?”
Punk!Xavier, if it were at all possible, is twice as enthusiastic as his normal counterpart, jumping around the room like he’d just bagged tickets to Bad Brains. “Seriously?! I can’t believe I knocked you up!” He repeats and repeats like a Ramones chorus for a good few hours after you break the news of his impending fatherhood. “Which time do you think got you pregnant? Behind the girl’s cabin? On Margaret’s desk?” He’s desperate to know the particulars so he can brag to the boys... the smug glow that exudes from him for the entire nine months would be almost unbearable if it weren’t for the times you catch him gazing adoringly at your bump, wordlessly thanking you for giving him a purpose.
Punk!Jim can’t believe his luck when you sidle into the bedroom with that positive pregnancy test. Beside seeing the original Misfits lineup reunite without murdering each other, having a baby is his biggest dream in life. “You mean that? We’re having a baby?!” He scoops you up in his arms, totally oblivious to the spikes on his jacket (that he punched on by hand over a 3-week session, as he reminds you daily) stabbing into your shoulders until you let out a tiny yelp. “Oh fuck I’m so sorry baby girl,” he cries out, placing you down carefully and dropping to his knees to kiss your non-existent bump. “I promise I’ll look after you, little one. I’ll be there to protect you at the show tonight, your mommy isn’t going anywhere near the circle pit.”
He’s a sucker for commitment, so the mere mention of starting a family with Punk!Duncan sends him into fatherly overdrive. It’s no real surprise you fell pregnant after a particularly rough fuck backstage in a dirty punk club, especially when he husked into your ear all night: “Gonna knock you up real good, princess,” and “You’ll look so fucking beautiful when you’re pregnant with our baby.” He’s the most considerate expectant father, forever offering to cook and clean while you put your feet up and look after your child, which turns more into an order than an offer. Over nine months, he’s written nine songs about every aspect of your experience, including watching you and your baby growing and realising that in a few years he’ll have a little girl to put on his shoulders at shows.
