#took like 6 minutes to stop

[ratwithhands]

Read Right to Left (Manga Format)

I have returned to watching demon slayer after a year and it came up while I was having a serious late night talk with my big sister. I was talking about the relationship between Michikatsu/Kokushibo and Yoriichi and it turns out we both see each other in Yoriichi's shoes and ourselves in Michikatsu's place. Definitely surprising, but really relieving to know that we both worry too much and we are not so far apart in skill as we believe.

This is technically the first piece of fanart I've ever made for the characters in Demon Slayer, I have made OCs before but I never drew an actual character from the story. For context this is mostly just a fun "what if" scenario with them meeting in the afterlife. I like to think Yoriichi's love would reawaken Michikatsu's humanity.

[voidimp]

maybe now that i have adhd meds i can attempt Language again

[sugaroto]

The true islander going to university in land experience is finding out bus tickets are more expensive than boat tickets

[haysaprocky]

in my Taking Accountability era

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

why am i trying to convince myself to break down my assignment - like i don’t mind doing it all in one day i don’t need to break it up

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Cards and Casts

Part five of The Rain series

Synopsis: Ace and Deuce's visits to The Prefect in the infirmary after Ramshackle's collapse

TW: Aftermath of Ramshackle collapsing on The Prefect, Ace is out of it, Deuce is (more) all over the place than usual (in a trying to process things kinda way)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (here), Part 6, Part 7 (coming soon), . . .

The next person to come and visit you was Ace.

The moment the news had been announced, Ace was already booking it to sign up to see you. At the time, it hadn't yet been announced that the further up on the list you were, the sooner you'd get to see The Prefect; Ace was just desperate to sign his name as soon as he could. It was almost as if he thought doing so would in a way prove that he did care. That it would redeem him for not being there when you needed him. That it would make him feel less guilty.

A knock was heard from the other side of the infirmary door. You had been told that your next visitor would be ace, but Ace never knocked.

You rand the little bell next to your bed to tell whoever it was to come in (you had a bell because you couldn't yet raise your voice much).

An unfamiliar boy walked through the door. His hair was a ruffled mess, his clothes were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. It took you a moment to realize it was actually Ace who stood before you. He looked like a mess. He didn't even have his signature red heart painted on his face.

The smile he gave you looked strained, but you didn't comment on it.

You ended up having to beckon the boy closer after he had been standing in the doorway for a good five minutes. He dropped his shoulders and basically hobbled to your bedside. He nearly toppled over as he tried to take a seat, but caught himself at the last moment.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

"I. . .I brought cards."

And so, that's how you ended up playing a few games of Rummy with him. But he was still off. He was playing like an absolute novice. He was letting you win. He NEVER lets you win.

Eventually, you had had enough, and you set down your cards with a scuffed huff. He didn't even notice!

You carefully reached up a hand and pushed his cards down onto the bed and he just let them tumble.

"Ace." Your voice was gruff, but still somehow airy.

"Oh, uh, yeah?" Ace seemed to snap out of a trance. . .well, more like slowly drift out of.

You tried to meet his eyes, but he refused to look directly at you. You thought about asking if he was okay, but the answer to that question was pretty obvious. You didn't ask him what was wrong for the same reason. Instead, you took a deep breath and held it as you painfully shifted over in the bed. You did your best not to make a noise as not to worry the already clearly upset boy.

Ignoring your screaming body, you mustered your best smile (your bandages kept it from reaching your eyes though) and gently patted the space next to you on the bed.

Ace gave you a hesitant look, but you just patted the space again to tell him it was okay. He wouldn't hurt you simply by sitting next to you.

When he finally did sit next to you, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Neither of you spoke

Tick Tick Tick Tick

When the silence was finally broken it was with a single mumbled word: "sorry."

"Hm?" you coughed.

". . .I-I'm sorry." His voice wasn't much louder, but you could hear it this time.

You slowly picked your head up and looked at him incredulously "What for?"

"I wasn't there."

"You knew Ramshackle would collapse?"

"No, I-"

"If you were there, you would have gotten hurt too."

"No! I could have helped. . .I could have-"

"No. No, you couldn't."

He went silent and his face fell before tightening slightly in the way it does only when someone is on the verge of tears.

"Nobody could have stopped it after it started. Nobody could have made it out in time either." Your voice reduced to a croak, but you continued. "You didn't know the dorm would collapse. It's not your fault-"

"Still!" His voice raised and a waver in his tone became apparent "If I was there, I-"

"Would have gotten hurt too. Then I would be too worried about you to do any healing myself." You could tell your voice wouldn't hold out much longer, so you said one more thing: "It's not your fault. You're doing all you can now by being here and being safe. Thank you."

Tears dripped steadily from the boy's face, but he didn't make a sound.

You lightly took his hand in yours, and you sat like that for hours. Together and safe.

Deuce walked in not long after Ace left.

He walked into the room silently and took a seat next to your bed.

"How are you doing?"

You were about to grab the notebook and pencil next to your bed to write a response as your voice was shot, but she spoke up again before you got the chance.

"Wait, no! That was a dumb question!"

Before he could start further rambling, you shook your head and began to write: 'I'm doing much better. I appreciate you asking.'

Deuce sighed and began fiddling with his hands. "Does. . .does it still hurt?"

You took a moment to think about whether or not you should answer his question truthfully, but ultimately decided not to lie. 'It still hurts, but not as much."

Deuce frowned, but nodded.

'I bet I'll get some cool scars! Like battle scars. We'll match!' You scribbled out sloppily as you weren't exactly able to properly hold a pen with your hands looking like a mummy's. It was meant as an attempt to cheer him up, but he only frowned further.

"You shouldn't have scars. You're a good person."

It was you're turn to frown. 'You're a bad one?'

Before Deuce could reply, you tapped the space next to you: telling him to sit.

Similarly to Ace, he hesitated, but you eventually got him to sit next to you on the bed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off again. This time you did so by dragging his arm closest to you onto your lap and grabbing a marker off of the nightstand. You uncapped the marker and rolled up his sleeve.

Deuce was too stunned and confused to say a word as he watched you scribble little pictures on his arm. The pictures were cartoony renditions of various times he'd done kind things for you. When you were done he finally snapped out of his daze.

"Wait! I should be the one cheering you up! First I let you get hurt, and now I can't even comfort you properly! I-I can't do anything right!" Deuce's head falls into his hands and you watch as tears fall onto the sheets.

A marker slips into Deuce's hand and he looks over at you with confused, tear-filled eyes.

You point to the cast on your leg. A blank slate. 'A drawing from you on my cast would make me happy'

"But. . .I can't draw-"

You cut him off by basically shoving the notebook in his face. 'Doesn't matter. Anything you draw will remind me of you, and thinking of my friends will make me happy.'

He ends up doodling a flower and an endearingly poor depiction of him, Ace, Grim, and you together and signing his name.

For the rest of his visit, you take turns doodling different things in your notebook and adding funny little details to each other's drawings.

When Deuce finally leaves, you let out a breath you had been holding. Your face contorts in pain and a soft whimper leaves your throat.

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[aureatelys]

red light kiss

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c. : 4k a/n: the vest stays on

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, porn no plot, blowjobs in car!!!, newly established relationship, d/s undertones, some dirty talk and degradation, one hint of sir kink, reader has hair?, no y/n, size kink if you squint

summary:

You haven't had sex in a week, you're stuck in the car with your new boyfriend/boss, and he's wearing that damn Kevlar vest. How could you resist?

read below or on ao3 here <3

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You watch with dread as the train inches to a stop several feet in front of you. It was already going horribly slow for the past 15 minutes, taking so long that Hotch even took his foot off the brake and put the car in park. There’s been a line of cars piling behind you, a median on your left, and a field that goes nowhere on your right, so it’s not like you could escape even if you wanted to.

The team was currently in a small college town in Texas investigating a string of murders happening on campus, leaving the entire population of less than 5,000 on edge. You and Hotch were on the way to question a professor that lived only a couple blocks away from the campus with an old rap sheet a mile long. You honestly hoped that he would be good for it so you guys could go the fuck home.

“Relax,” Hotch murmured, putting a comforting hand on your knee while he called the rest of the team at the station to let them know you two were going to be stuck for a while and to have another pair go out to the professor’s house.

You understand that Hotch was trying to help put you at ease since you’ve been cranky all day. Scratch that, you’ve been cranky the past 3 days. It’s not your fault that the BAU was called on your Saturday off, especially when you planned to spend that day off in bed with your boss.

It had taken a while for you and Hotch to get your act together after gradually crossing that professional boundary. The past 6 months consisted of late-night dinners in Hotch’s office, going to the park with him and Jack on the weekends, and mind-blowing orgasms on possibly every surface in Hotch’s apartment.

You’re not sure when the lines had started blurring for you. Maybe that one day you came into Hotch’s office for dinner after a particularly brutal case and ordered from your favorite Thai restaurant despite everything on their menu being too spicy for him. Or maybe it was when you saw the wide smile adorning his face when Jack scored the winning goal at a soccer game, making him look younger. Or maybe it was when he told you you looked beautiful while you were riding his cock in the darkness of his bedroom, his hands pressing bruises into your hips, and the moonlight strewing in from the curtains illuminating the awe in his eyes.

Only several weeks ago did Hotch properly ask you out to dinner and it’s like everything changed. Suddenly, the glances across the bullpen meant something different, something sweeter. Now, you can be affectionate without fearing Hotch wouldn’t reciprocate. Now, he’s touchier— touching the small of your back when he walks by, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear when you’re having dinner in his office, or pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before you fall asleep on his chest.

It's new and you’re still adjusting. However, it definitely hasn’t stopped the sex.

So, your Saturday plans with Hotch got ruined, that’s fine. It wasn’t like the team had just gotten back from a week-long case and you had barely tumbled into bed with Hotch when his phone rang. And you haven’t even had the chance for a quickie in the hotel, both of you too tired and passing out before even thinking of sneaking in each other’s rooms.

You’re cranky because you haven’t gotten laid in almost a week and you work with possibly the hottest man alive and today, he’s wearing one of your top 3 hottest outfits he’s ever worn.

Your third favorite outfit is his green button-up with the sleeves rolled up, often paired with black jeans. The first time you saw him pull that out for date night, hair perfectly gelled down and sleeves rolled up his wide forearms, you had missed your dinner reservations because you were too busy on your knees in the middle of the doorway. He just looked so good wearing dark green— the way it complemented his complexion, and even better when he wore those tight jeans that made your eyes bug out of your head.

Your second favorite outfit was more intimate—a faded GWU shirt that was starting to stretch over Hotch’s shoulders and gray sweatpants that definitely left little to the imagination. At times, this combination felt straight up pornographic, especially if Hotch was relaxing on the couch, legs spread with his arms stretched behind his head. It felt like a siren call, and you fell for it every single time.

But Hotch right now, not only wearing a plain black tee that stretched over his chest, but also his Kevlar vest, was your most favorite outfit of them all.

You didn’t know why it was your favorite. You see Hotch wearing his Kevlar vest almost twice a week, usually over a white dress shirt, and it doesn’t distract you as much as this specific combination does.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always been a sucker for Hotch’s arms, as you stare at the way he has them stretched out lazily with his wrists resting on the steering wheel, muscles bulging. Or maybe it’s the way the vest hugs him so tightly it makes him look even broader, makes him stand up straighter and appear more confident. Or maybe it’s because Hotch inevitably starts sweating not even 10 minutes after the vest is on due to the constricting material, making his chest heave and sweat form at his forehead. You wear your vest just as often as he does, and you know for a fact that you don’t look as insanely sexy he does.

“Are you okay?”

You blink, brain brought back to reality, feeling a rising heat to your face and down to your stomach. You bring your gaze up from where you were ogling his jean-clad thighs to Hotch staring down at you in amusement. “Yep, why wouldn’t I be? We’ve just been stuck behind this train for hours.”

Hotch cracks a smile at that. It makes your chest tighten. “It hasn’t even been 30 minutes, don’t be so dramatic.”

You lean over to swat at his arm playfully and definitely not an attempt to quickly cop a feel. “How dare you! I’m never dramatic.”

Hotch huffs a laugh at that, used to your antics by now. “Morgan and Reid are already on their way to the Thompson house so we may as well relax.”

Someone several cars down honks, causing Hotch to twist his upper body as best as he could in the vest to look back incredulously, as if they could see him through the tinted windows. You’re suddenly enraptured by the sharp cut of his jaw and the line of his throat. “People here have no patience,” he remarks.

An idea slowly forms in your mind. Not only is it in the middle of the night, but the county-issued SUV that you were in had tinted windows the same strength as the ones back home. No one at the police station was expecting you since they knew you were trapped behind the train and it’s not like you brought any files or your laptop to continue bouncing around ideas about the case.

You watch thoughtfully as Hotch shifts in his seat, adjusting the vest to sit a bit more comfortably. How could you resist?

“I have an idea,” you say, feigning nonchalance.

Hotch’s eyes flit to you, eyes narrowing because, like you said, he knows you by now. “And what idea is that?”

“I can suck you off?”

You watch in delight as Hotch’s eyebrows raise, a flush rising up his neck. He clears his throat, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, before saying almost breathlessly “And what makes you think I’ll let you?”

You know you’ve already gotten him, that he’s already going to let you go down on him. He wouldn’t be shifting in his seat if he wasn’t. Any other day, he would’ve turned you down instantly, a reprimand telling you to at least pretend to be professional at the tip of his tongue. If you’re sexually frustrated, he must be at least ten times hornier since his libido has always been worse than yours.

“Well, our weekend plans got ruined and this is the first time we’ve been alone in over a week,” you sigh, leaning over the console as gracefully as you could with the vest weighing you down to put your hand on his, running your fingertips up his forearms. “And I miss you.”

A smile quirks at the corner of Hotch’s mouth. “We work together.”

You roll your eyes, letting your fingers trace the veins decorating his arms. God, he’s so hot. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Hotch says, softly, watching you with a gaze so fond that it makes you want to cry. “That doesn’t mean you need to suck my cock while we’re on the job.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Hotch is only vulgar like that in the privacy of the bedroom, knowing how much it gets you off when he’s muttering in your ear about how good you take his cock. The contrast of his soft gaze and lewd words has you shifting in your seat now, thighs rubbing together at the sudden onslaught of heat between them. You’re really about to do this.

“You just look really good in that vest,” you whisper, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

Hotch hums, leaning back in the seat and moving his hips down. His right arm comes up to stretch out and rest his hand behind your headrest, watching you with dark eyes, almost beckoning you. “So that’s what’s got you all hot and bothered.”

“Yes,” you exhale, already feeling that familiar glaze over your brain. You glance down curiously at his lap and your mouth waters when you see the outline of his half-hard dick through his jeans, undoubtedly uncomfortable because all of his jeans are unfairly tight. “Can I?”

“Come here first.” His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, an action that’s lately been making you weak in the knees. He’s been clingier lately, pressing his lips to any part of you he can take, and you know what he’s asking for, his neck craned and his eyes zeroing in on your mouth.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and nearly bang your knee against the console when you lean over more to kiss him, something tender and gentle despite the way you desperately want to clamber over to sit on his lap. He tastes like cheap coffee and something inexplicably Aaron, warm and soothing, that makes you part your lips to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so soft, yet he kisses you in a way that’s all consuming, heady. His hold on your jaw tightens before sliding down your neck, and the way it would be so easy for him to take a hold of you there makes you dizzy.

When you pull away, he’s watching you with that fond look that’s been making more of an appearance recently. “Now can I?”

There’s that smile with your favorite dimple again, barely detectable even from the dashboard lights and the flashing railroad stop signs. “Yes,” Aaron says, exasperatedly.

You situate yourself with your knees on your seat, your own vest digging into your chest when you lean down lower, so your face is nearly in his lap. He doesn’t even need to move his seat back, his long legs already making him sit ridiculously far from the wheel, leaving you with enough breathing room.

You press your palm against his cock over his jeans and you preen a little when you feel a click in his throat before he clears it. He unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots down in his seat a bit more, causing him to push his hips up against your hand. You try to wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the heat seeping through the fabric. He’s fully hard despite not having done anything except talk and kiss, signifying to you that he may just be as desperate as you are.

“You have to be quick,” Aaron mutters through gritted teeth. You can almost imagine his eyes flitting back and forth out the window, anticipating when the train was going to start moving again.

“Don’t rush me,” you say and get the reaction you’re hoping for when you feel Aaron’s large hand on the top of your head, pushing your face down into his lap until your mouth is inches away from the outline of his cock.

“You have such a mouth on you,” Aaron sighs, feigning the type of nonchalance that makes your cheeks heat. “Maybe you should put it to good use.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands swiftly unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper down, your mouth already watering. He helps you by lifting his hips up again and wiggling his jeans and briefs down until they’re mid-thigh, and then his hard cock is out, a pretty red with precum glistening at the tip. The way it looks against his vest, soft flesh contrasting against the rough material, has you licking your lips.

This has to be the best idea you’ve ever had.

Since Aaron was right about you possibly not having a lot of time, you forgo your usual teasing kitten licks for a broad stripe up his length and watch intently at the way the head of his cock brushes against his vest. Aaron jumps at the rough feeling against the sensitive head but lets out a low groan all the same. Something akin to glee fills you when you notice the wet patch his cock leaves on the blue fabric.

Aaron must notice because his hand is back on your head, putting pressure in a way that was hard to ignore. “You’re so filthy, practically begging me with those pretty eyes of yours to have my cock down your throat.”

You don’t answer, you know he’s not expecting one anyway. Instead, you grab his cock at the base, silently marveling at just how big he is in your hand, and lick another path up his cock before taking him fully in your mouth.

You always love sucking Aaron off— the weight of him on your tongue, the clean and musky taste of him, and the way he fills out your mouth and just feels so good in your hands. The best part is clearly the way he responds.

He groans deeply, a sound coming straight from within his chest, and you hear the thud from him throwing his head back against the headrest. You rest your free hand on his muscular thigh, marveling at the obvious way he’s attempting to hold himself back from immediately fucking into your mouth. He gives you a minute since it’s been a while, although you can feel the way his hand on your head clenches into a fist, patience already wearing thin.

You swirl your tongue around his head before taking more of him into your mouth, letting spit run down his length so you can stroke whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. You wish you had gotten a better look at his cock before doing this to marvel at the bulging veins, similar to his arms. Instead, you trace the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue before coming back up to press against the head and coming up to flick your tongue against his leaking slit.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.”

God, you wish you were able to see his face, the way he would be watching you with half-lidded eyes like he couldn’t decide whether to close them in pleasure or watch your lips stretch around him. He’d be biting at his lip, attempting to suppress his sounds because he’s still self-conscious about having his dick out in a government vehicle. He would have a crease between his brows, still trying to give you time to adjust and not giving in, and the flush on his neck would slowly rise up to his face.

But with the way you’re leaning with the console digging into you, your ass basically in the air, you can’t. As if Aaron read your mind, his right hand runs down your spine, leaving a hot trail in his wake, and down until he’s grabbing a handful of your ass. It’s so close to the aching heat of your pussy and your head spins when you start to wonder if he’s going to finger you like this or leave you wanting with wetness seeping through your pants.

The feeling of his hand on you and the way he inadvertently pushes you causes your mouth to slide another inch down his cock until your lips touch your fist. You moan, tightening your grip on his impossibly hard flesh, causing Aaron to let out another deep moan.

There’s another honk from behind the car and you suddenly remember that Aaron was right and you really don’t have a lot of time to waste.

So, you take a deep breath through your nostrils before you slide down until you could take as much of him as you could, spit starting to run out of the corners of your mouth, until he was hitting the back of your throat.

Aaron lets out a strangled sound, hips thrusting of his own accord. Luckily you were expecting it and you make sure to relax your jaw just a little bit more, slide down more until you move your hand away to settle on his thigh and your nose is pressed against neat curls. You focus on your heartbeat pounding in your ears and the feeling of his cock prodding at the back of your throat when you hold for two seconds and not the automatic way you want to gag before coming up to gasp in a breath. You barely hear the whisper of your name from Aaron’s lips before you’re taking him in his mouth again, easily due to how slick he is from your spit, until you’re deepthroating him.

“You always take my cock so well,” Aaron chokes out, his hands frantically coming to gather your hair in one hand before he barely pushes your head down and then back up. The hold he has on you isn’t rough, which you’re grateful for, but he still tugs you off his cock with a force that makes you dizzy. He makes you crane your neck at him, uncomfortably, but it’s worth it when you see the glazed look in his dark eyes and his parted lips as he pants in the air. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You know you’re panting just as hard, tears already starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes, and your mouth swollen. You know Aaron loves you like this, open-mouthed and silently begging. So, you can’t help yourself when you lick your lips, relishing in the way Aaron’s hungry gaze follows the movement, and say in a raspy voice “Yes, sir.”

You never would’ve guessed Aaron liked being called sir in the bedroom, though you secretly hoped, but you didn’t realize the full extent of it until you called him sir as a joke in his office and noticed the way his back stiffened and his breath stuttered. After that, you always got a kick out of teasing him, just to see what he had in store for you when you got home.

You know exactly what he has in store for you now, in fact you had planned it. Your skin prickles as Aaron’s eyes narrow and the line of his mouth flattens. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath and you watch the way the vest moves with him, shirt underneath stretching across him. He doesn’t say anything as he pushes you down, gentle enough so you know you could always back out if you wanted to.

You ignore the sore twinge in your neck as you wrap your lips around him again, closing your eyes to focus on covering your teeth, leaving one hand on his thigh in case you need to tap out and the other bent at the elbow to lean on the plush upholstery. You hear Aaron sigh blissfully when his cock slides back into your mouth, a hand gathering your hair again in a vice like grip, like he’s been thinking about this all week.

The way Aaron starts to fuck your mouth, you think you may be right. The thought of holding back seems to have been thrown out the window based on the noises he makes; guttural and heavy groans and whispered praises. Seeing his hips come off from the seat and into the warm wetness of your mouth and the easy glide of his cock between your lips is intoxicating, especially when added with the fact that you’re letting him.

The ache between your legs is almost overwhelming, pulsing with every thrust of Aaron’s hips against your face, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were absolutely ruined by now from your arousal.

The sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, lewd as the car is filled with the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat and his breathless pants. You let him take over and you watch with tears brimming at your eyes as his hips barely need to lift off the seat since he’s focusing all of his attention pulling you on and off his cock by your hair. The feeling of his cock thrusting in your mouth, of him using you to get himself off quickly is heady and so fucking hot.

You know he’s close when he starts to speed up, hips bucking into your open mouth frantically. You feel him start to pull you off of him in a silent question of where do you want me and the thought of him coming down your throat, hot and desperate, has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. The next time he thrusts into your mouth, you hold him there, the spot in the back of your throat deliciously raw.

“Jesus Christ,” you hear Aaron mutter through the blood rushing in your ears. “You want me to come in your mouth, sweetheart? So no one knows you were letting me fuck your mouth?”

You whimper, a muffled sound from your lips stretched around his cock, causing Aaron’s hips to stutter again. You pull off of him but you don’t move far, instead just barely hovering over the head, panting with your mouth open and tongue out, the message clear as day. You watch as Aaron’s free hand comes down to quickly jerk himself off.  

“Fuck, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Everyone knowing how good you are for me?”

God, you really wish you could see his face, but to make up for it, you move to press your tongue against him as best as you could while his hand is a blur on his cock. You’re barely able to tongue the slit, the salty taste of his precum cutting through, when you hear the roaring of an engine and a train horn.

You realize the train’s finally moving, which means now you’re really running out of time.

You squeeze his thigh, not trusting your ability to speak, and Aaron wordlessly brings you down so you could further wrap your lips around the head of his cock, flicking your tongue against him, his hand continuing to bring himself off. The way his large hand envelops his thick cock, slick from your spit and squelching lewdly, has you pressing your thighs together in an effort to press the inseam of your pants against your clit, because the blur of his hand and his rhythmic grunts were so filthy.  

It didn’t take long for Aaron’s raspy exhales to turn into a stuttered groan, his muscled thigh underneath your hand tensing, and his hips to snap up once, twice, before his come is shooting into your mouth in hot spurts. The bitter taste coats your tongue, your throat, and you swallow before you can think of it. You hollow your cheeks, taking more of him in your mouth and press your tongue against the slit to gather whatever is left despite the hiss you faintly hear, Aaron undoubtedly sensitive.

You lift up off him, using his leg as leverage, and ignore the soreness in your abdomen from the console pressing against your vest while you sucked your boss’s cock in a government issued vehicle. The ache between your thighs is nearly overwhelming, your panties melding against your pussy from how wet you were, and you secretly wished Aaron used his thick fingers to give you some relief while you went down on him.

The train just barely passes by you before the red lights stop flashing and the barriers come up, causing Aaron to hurriedly tuck himself back in his jeans and put the car back in drive. You’re just barely buckling your seatbelt in before you’re speeding off, the glaring lights from the cars behind you now a distant memory.

“You okay?” you ask after you’ve been driving in silence for nearly 5 minutes. You glance over at Aaron to see him almost done catching his breath, however his chest is still rising and falling deliciously so, especially still in that fucking vest. His jeans are still undone and you bite your lip when you notice a dried spot near the zipper where some of him must have escaped from the corner of your mouth. Oops.

Aaron shakes his head, ducking his head to chuckle breathlessly. He’s so endearingly handsome. “Never been more okay in my life.” And then he’s placing his hand on your thigh, fingertips so close to where you need him most, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

At the next stoplight, Aaron finally does his jeans back up and then twists his body towards you. His eyes are still dark, bottom lip raw from where he must have been biting it, and then says to you again in a low voice “Come here.”

You obey, because how could you not, and then Aaron’s hand that was on your thigh is cradling your jaw to meet you halfway and kiss you, deeply. It’s a different kiss than the one he gave you earlier, more intense as his tongue slides against yours. He groans at the taste of himself in your mouth and you swear you fall a little more in love with him.

When he pulls back, he’s looking at you like you’re something precious, despite the fact that your hair must be a rat’s nest from his hands and your lips are swollen and chapped. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, something sweet twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You think you can wait until we get back to the hotel?”

You fail to hide your surprise because Aaron rarely wants to spend the night together on cases, which technically explains how you got here in the first place, the taste of come still at the back of your mouth and your panties sticking to you. He must really want to fuck you. You run your eyes over him, at the red light sharpening his features and his dimple just barely visible. You imagine him looming over you and holding onto the straps adorning his sides as he fucks mercilessly into you. “As long as you keep the vest on.”

The smile on Aaron’s face is blinding, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. You’re so screwed.

“Deal.”

[rafedarling]

We need drew when rustyns born, like labor/delivery, I think he’s the most supportive partner 😭😭

here are more rustyn for ya.

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲

request: OPEN

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: your due day has finally come for you and drew to meet your little one. as labor unfolds, drew proves to be the most supportive partner, balancing his nerves with humor, tenderness, and unwavering love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mentions of childbirth, medical procedures, mild pain, fluff, humour, use of y/n.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @rubixgsworld @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @percysley @littlelamy

“Drew,” you whispered, reaching over to nudge your husband’s shoulder.

He remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. Another contraction gripped you, and you couldn’t stifle a soft groan. With more urgency this time, you called his name again.

“Drew… babe”

This time, he stirred. His brow furrowed before his blue eyes slowly blinked open.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“I think my water just broke,” you said softly, offering a small, nervous smile.

The words took a moment to register, but when they did, Drew bolted upright.

“What?!” His voice was shock and excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s happening! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is it bad? What do I do?” He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the duvet in his rush.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his frantic reaction, though it was cut short by another contraction.

“I’m okay, but we should probably get to the hospital soon. Can you calm down, though? I don’t need two emergencies tonight.”

“Right, right,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair.

He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, holding it like it was the most precious cargo.

“Let’s go!”

“Wait,” you said, stopping him. “I need to change my pants first.”

“Oh. Right.” He was back at your side in an instant, helping you up with his hands steady on your arms.

His gaze was full of concern as he scanned your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“The contractions are getting closer, but they’re manageable,” you replied, leaning into him as he helped you change.

“But yeah, we really need to go now.”

At the hospital, Drew took charge, answering questions from the nurse about how far you are, are you on any special medication and filling out the paperwork as you were wheeled into your room.

Once you were settled, Drew pulled a chair next to your bed, gripping your hand tightly.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice soft yet anxious.

“I’m okay for now,” you said, though the contractions were growing stronger and more frequent.

“I didn’t realize how many needles they’d stick in me during all this.”

Drew gave a small laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re handling it like a champ. I don’t think I’d survive five minutes of this.”

Another contraction hit, and you gripped his hand tightly, your breathing uneven. Drew immediately shifted closer, his voice calm and steady.

“Breathe, Y/N. In and out, baby. You’ve got this.”

Hours and hours has passed, and Drew never left your side. He held your hand through every contraction, rubbed your back when the pain became overwhelming, and even tried to make you laugh to keep your spirits up. When you hit the ten-hour mark, Drew suddenly pulled out the camcorder from his sister Brooke, who had brought it to document the big day.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow despite your exhaustion.

“Making a video for Rustyn,” he said, grinning. “Something for him to watch when he’s older.”

He turned the camera to himself first, his smile lighting up the room.

“Hey, Rustyn. It’s your dad. It’s 6 a.m., and you’re really taking your time, buddy. But that’s okay, we’re waiting patiently. Well, your mom’s doing all the work.”

Turning the camera toward you, he continued,

“And here’s your mom. Look at her, look how incredible she is. The strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You better treat her like a queen when you grow up, okay?”

Despite the pain, you laughed softly. “Drew, stop making me laugh, it hurts!”

He chuckled, then turned the camera toward Brooke, who was pacing in the corner.

“And here’s your Aunt Brooke, who’s been on the edge of her seat all night.”

“Rustyn, ignore your dad,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “I’m much cooler than he is, and I can’t wait to spoil you.”

When the doctor finally announced it was time to push, Drew’s nerves hit an all-time high. He squeezed your hand tightly, his other hand brushing the sweat-dampened hair from your face.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking slightly but full of love. “I’m so proud of you.”

The first push was overwhelming, and you let out a cry of frustration.

“I can’t do this,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “Drew, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his eyes locking with yours.

“You’re the strongest person I know. Just one push at a time, baby. I’m right here.”

With each push, he offered constant encouragement.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing amazing. Our boy’s almost here. I love you so much.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a loud cry filled the room. Tears immediately welled up in Drew’s eyes as the doctor placed your baby boy on your chest.

Drew was trembling as he leaned over, his eyes fixed on the tiny baby in your arms.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, he’s perfect.”

You stared down at Rustyn, overwhelmed by love and relief. His tiny fingers curled against your chest, his cries subsiding as he felt your warmth.

“We did it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks, happy tears.

“No,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You did it. You’re amazing.”

The nurses congratulated you both, while Brooke captured every moment on the camcorder. Drew leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you for giving me him.”

“What should we name him?” you asked softly, your voice shaky with emotion.

Drew didn’t hesitate. “Rustyn. Rustyn Starkey.”

You nodded, smiling down at your son. “Rustyn. It’s perfect.”

Drew reached out, brushing a finger over Rustyn’s tiny hand.

“Hey, buddy. Welcome to the world. We’ve been waiting for you.”

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny and Ellie are in a predicament.

Ellie has been freshly deaged to a 18 month year old. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are dead and gone.

Danny who is 23 ish is running from the GIW and Fentons ends up in Gotham when he gets caught

Last minute he shoves Ellie into an alley and leaves a note if to someone finds her

And he’s gone, taken.

Damian is now 23 and Batman. Bruce and Alfred have passed away (Bruce’s heart couldn’t take years of being Batman and Alfred got too old)

Everyone else… to put it lightly… aren’t on speaking terms.

Dick is in Bludhaven, Cass is in Kong, Jason is with his outlaws, Tim alternates between the Titans and WE (but doesn’t talk to Damian outside of the company). Duke and Steph are in collage.

Damian is alone.

Back to Ellie. Damian is on patrol and finds a crying baby in an alley at 1 am.

At first, he’s angry. What kind of parent leaves their child like that?

Then he finds the note

He takes Ellie in and raises her alone in the manor while being Batman and trying to find her dad.

Leslie- who’s now retired- helps in babysitting Ellie when he’s busy with being Batman or WE but hes always there to tuck her in every night.

Eventually, Duke- tired of the family’s pride and stubbornness ruining their family- comes home for Christmas break (around 6 months after Damian found Ellie)

He arrives while Batman is on patrol, hoping to surprise him and instead has his shit rocked by a 2 year old with Lazarus green eyes the moment he walked in the Batcave.

Damian arrives and explains everything.

Duke switches to online collage and resumes living in the manor.

Signal is back on the streets and Ellie gets an uncle.

Tim is the next person who catches on.

He realizes Batman’s patrol routes are shorter (Damian didn’t want to leave Ellie alone at night) and Batman sometimes abandons patrol in the middle to leave (Ellie was crying and Leslie couldn’t calm her down)

And so Tim pays him a visit and he sees Damian napping with a two year old on the couch and is like :0

So, instead of doing the Logical thing and waking him up he leaves and calls the rest of the family.

While Duke laughs in his face, the others plan to all appear next week at the manor and interrogate Damian as to why he adopted a kid.

Coincidentally, that night The GIW have cracked down as to where the ghost baby is and they break into Wayne Manor while Damian is on patrol.

He doesn’t get back in time.

Everyone else arrives a week later to find Damian in the batcave, looking like he was close to a passing out from exhaustion.

Duke returns from patrol and explains the situation and everyone bands together to help Damian find his daughter

They didn’t find her, but they find Danny.

After busting him out and telling Danny that Damian was the one who took care of Ellie for months

He eventually heals his wounds in the safety of Wayne Manor.

However, because Damian was the one to raise Ellie for months and the other not only ignored his calls but didn’t even stop by to check up on him he doesn’t trust the others as much.

So Damian ends up caring for him.

And over the course of the three months it took for them to locate Ellie, they begin to fall in love.

Cue the rescue mission the moment they find Ellie.

Damian and Danny eventually get together and GIW gets dismantled. Everything is fine and dandy…right?

[rotary-supercollider]

Average leverage episode

Victim: please mr. Leverage. They bought my orphanage and they’re going to sell all the orphans I need you to stop them

Nate “Leverage” Leverage: I think we can get you some… leverage

Sophie: I’m going to start a bullshit argument now

Nate: please dont

Sophie: it’s going to last the whole episode

Nate: 🙄women (laughtrack)

Hardison: alright this is our mark Mr. Monopoly. He owns 16 weapons companies and took in 100000 billion million dollars last year. He just got into the orphan business and on the weekends he plays puppy golf.

Parker: whats puppy golf

Hardison: it’s like golf but you use puppies

Elliot: I’ve seen it. (snifffs deeply) not fun

Hardison: this guys ruthless. we’re going to be exploiting his one weakness. He really likes having a lot of money

Sophie: how?

Nate: we go steal an abstract concept

*they steal an abstract concept*

The mark: hello. I was impressed by your ownership of an abstract concept

Sophie: we’ll give you 50 trillion dollars for the orphanage

Mark: Zamn!!!

Sophie: 😏 we got him

*1 day later*

Sophie: here’s the 50 trillion dollars (holds up briefcase full of crimes)

The mark: I don’t want your money any more. I have a new plan. I’m goijng to dress all the orphans in hot dog costumes and start a theme park

Sophie: 😦

Elliot: we’re blown

Nate: Sophie throw the briefcase 💼 in the lake

Mark: whoa!! Thats wet money

Sophie: I can give you 5000 more orphans. Meet me at this unmarked warehouse in 6 hours

Mark: awooga

Hardison: Nate do you have a plan?

Nate: not yet

*Fade to black*

Nate: alright the marks on his way. Hardison what’s your 20

Hardison: I need at least 30 minutes to finish this Lego Taj Mahal

Nate: ok I’ll stall

Nate (playing bit character): I cooka da pizza!! Ohhhh (drops full pan of sauce on the marks head instantly killing him) mamma Mia (walks into the sea)

Parker: guys we have a problem

*6 Bad Men materialize out of thin air*

Elliot: 😒I got this 👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊🤛🤜🤛🤜✊🩼✊🦶🦵✊🤛🚪🦶✊🦵🤌✊🦶👊🦵✊✊👊🎷👊👊👊

*the Bad Men disintegrate*

Elliot: shit hes here (dives into a trash can)

*the mark reaches the building. There are orphans waving at him from the windows*

Mark: ok I’m here to take the orphans

The police: SIR YOURE COMING WITH US

Mark: what?? This is a completely legal orphan deal

Police: theres no orphans here

*police man grabs an orphan. Hes flat. Flashback to Hardison setting up 5000 cardboard orphan cutouts*

Mark: but what are you arresting me for??

Police man: sir you filled all of city hall with gravy

*flashback to Nate filling city hall with gravy while wearing a T-shirt that says “Im bad businessman”*

Mark: you can’t do this to me!!

Police: (arrests him)

Nate: heh. You could say he got... Leveraged

Parker: i have autism

Everyone: oh my god Parker shut up

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here & p3. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna Part 2

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the last uncle sukuna post! i apologize if this is short.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

masterlist

-------------------------

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't return to your doorstep until around 11 am. This time when you open the door, you are in actual clothes, awake and aware. He sees the curiosity in your eyes as soon as he meets your gaze.

Uncle!Sukuna who, you notice, is wearing the exact same clothes you had seen him in as he dropped off Yuji. You could see the tiredness in the mans eyes, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad he had to handle a work emergency so late. You couldn't help but wonder what it is that he did.

Uncle!Sukuna who still doesn't introduce himself as he asks where his nephew is. You had learned from Yuji, before he had passed out on you couch, that he called him "Uncle Kuna", but as far as you knew, that could've been a nickname.

Uncle!Sukuna who follows you into your house when you tell him that Yuji is playing with your son in the back yard.

You lead him through your home, with him silently taking in the space. It was so...different to his own. Your home looked like it was a space for a parent and a kid, while his looked bland and almost empty. When he had moved into the house for Yuji, he hadn't taken the time to really decorate. The only kid stuff in the house was in Yuji's room, and most of his own things were in his room or boxed up in the garage. So he couldn't help but compare your house to his own, pinpointing all the differences that really make your place a home.

Uncle!Sukuna who raises his brow when he sees Yuji playing around with a kid only a few years older. They were play-fighting, doing some kind of martial arts moves. He was still surprised by Yuji's never fading energy, seeing how he could barely stay still for longer than a minute. He seemed to amuse the older kid though, and you.

Uncle!Sukuna who clears his throat when he realizes you two were just standing there watching the two boys. He looks at you, his usual blank expression in place.

"Thanks." Is all he says. Something about his voice gives you goosebumps, but you ignore that feeling and give him a friendly smile. He would think someone who was woken up so rudely at 2 am would be a little angry, especially when a kid is pushed onto them. But he was glad you weren't complaining. And he really liked your smile.

"Of course. Yuji is sweet, I'm happy I could help. I have to admit, though, this is certainly an interesting way to be introduced to my new neighbors." You tried to joked. You felt a little awkward when his expression didn't change nor did he respond. So, looking back to the two boys, you tried to think of something to say.

Uncle!Sukuna who stares at you for a moment. Something about you makes his chest feel tight, and his mind a little fuzzy. Sure, you're beautiful, but this wasn't simple physical attraction. He couldn't understand what was happening to him and that made him frustrated, annoyed. So he just breaths a breath out of his nose, looking at his young nephew.

Uncle!Sukuna who watches as Yuji's head snaps to look at him as soon as Sukuna calls his name. A grin of excitement, at a level that still surprised Sukuna, took over the boys face. He quickly leaves his new friend, running to stand at his uncles leg and look up at the giant man.

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't let his newborn affection for his nephew show on his face, simply telling Yuji to say goodbye to you and your son. He pretends to not care when a slight look of disappointment takes over Yuji's face, due to having to leave his new friends.

You notice the look, and crouch to give Yuji a warm smile.

"We live right across the street, Yuji, so you and your Uncle Kuna can stop by anytime." You say, grinning and standing when his excitement returns.

Uncle!Sukuna who realizes then that he never actually introduced himself, and neither did you. He grunts, looking to you again.

"Sukuna." he introduces finally. Apparently he's not much of a talker.

"Hi, Sukuna. I'm y/n." You continued your attempts to be nice, friendly. Clearly he wasn't a conversationalist, and you couldn't read him at all, but that didn't mean you had to mirror his brooding, reserved demeanor.

Uncle!Sukuna who simply nods, grabbing Yuji by the back of his shirt to tug him away, his silent way of saying they were leaving.

Before they can get away though, you turn to look at your son still standing in the yard, observing as usual.

"Oh, wait. Choso, come say goodbye to Yuji and his uncle."

-------

not proofread

I hope you guys enjoy how i incorporated Choso! For my ideas with this lil story, I think this dynamic will be fun to write and work with :) In my au, Yuji is 6 and Choso is about 8.

[mommyslittlebird]

Everything You Need

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Wanda takes great responsibility with being your mama. Maybe even too much responsibility at times. She’s determined to be everything you could ever need.

CW: Breastfeeding, Somnophilia (so noncon), loss of virginity, first kiss, fingering, arousal tasting, Wanda is a little freak

Word Count: ~3.5k (I didn’t check)

A/N: The final chapter. It’s very bittersweet. I have loved this story quite possibly more than anything I’ve written before. However, I’m very proud to wrap it up and put a little bow on this series as a finish project at last.

Part 6 of Her Special Girl

———————————————————

Infuriatingly enough, Wanda’s milk came late one morning when you weren’t home. In fact, you weren’t going to be home at all until later that evening, after all your classes were over. It took every bit of her willpower not to text you as soon as it happened. She wanted it to be a surprise.

But all it would take is one text. You could be home in ten minutes. The two of you would have all afternoon to yourselves. She could have Vision pick the boys up from school. Email Natasha and take the rest of the day off. Your father wouldn’t be home until tonight.

No. No, your schoolwork was important. She would let you finish up your classes, and you would be home in six hours, and then she could slip into your room after the boys and your father went to bed. After pumping this morning, she probably wouldn’t have much more milk until then anyway.

It was a noble goal, truly.

She made it 45 minutes. She sat in front of her desk, trying to work through an excel sheet. But she couldn’t focus. All the cells twisted and melted together as her brain swam with daydreams. You were going to be so excited. She imagined your smile when she told you: your eyes would crinkle at the corners, squinting into crescents so tight it looked like they were nearly closed. Your cheeks would form your perfect dimples, 2 on your left cheek, 1 on the right. The one on your right cheek only made an appearance when you were really happy.

Finally, she caved. She shot Natasha a short, nondescript email, Vision a short text, and you an equally brief text, asking if you could come home early because she had a surprise. She paced around your bedroom, obsessively folding and unfolding the throw blanket at the foot of your bed.

She fluffed the pillows, made up the sheets, flattened out the comforter and tucked it in at the sides of the mattress, only to then strip the bed completely and put on new, clean sheets, even though she just changed them three days ago.

She truly hadn’t been this excited in ages. She hadn’t even been this neurotic when she learned you were coming home for the first time in three years. Of course she cleaned in the weeks leading up to it, a lot. But she hadn’t necessarily had time to prepare for the immediate event of your arrival, given that you had arrived a bit unexpectedly a week early.

She felt like a pregnant dog obsessively digging through her whelping box, or a mother bird perfecting every twig of her nest in preparation for her hatching eggs.

Her baby was coming. Everything had to be perfect.

—————

Wanda laid awake, staring at the vaulted ceiling until it appeared to be stretching, tightening the walls around her that threatened to swallow her up. It was well past midnight, probably around 2am, but she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. She couldn’t stop thinking about today: the twin’s kindergarten orientation.

She held it off for as long as she could, just like she had with every other aspect of their growing up. Every milestone they’d ever reached had been a blade through her heart. They all felt like the world’s cold hands were ripping her babies from her arms.

If it weren’t for Vision, they might not even be potty trained despite having shown signs of readiness very early.

She hated how fast they were growing up. How all the other adults in their life fawned over how “independent they were for their age”. She loved her boys more than anything in the world, but god she wished they were more clingy and needy. They never even wanted to sleep in the bed with her. She had tried to force the habit, but they always managed to wriggle their tiny bodies out of her loving arms.

It didn’t help that they were twins so they could rely on each other for some things instead of just her.

And then there was kindergarten orientation. She watched as all the other children cried and clung to their mothers with desperation. She knew it bordered on sadism, but she felt a slight tinge of hope that her beautiful boys might feel the same desperation at the thought of being separated from her.

But they didn’t.

They pranced into the classroom together, elated by the prospect of new toys and friends to play with. They hardly even gave her a second glance. They were no longer her tiny, helpless babies that relied on her for everything. She tried to tell herself that independence was good. Natural. But her heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Her babies weren’t babies anymore. They didn’t need her like they had before.

She couldn’t have any more children. She had a stepdaughter, but you hated her as far as she knew. Not to mention you were old enough to move out on your own. You didn’t need her at all.

And soon her boys wouldn’t either. She would be left all alone: the empty husk of a woman rotting away with no purpose. No one to care for. No one to love her unconditionally. No one to love her at all.

Alright. She was spiraling. She needed to take a walk.

She threw her robe over her thin pajama shirt and headed for the kitchen. Maybe some tea would clear her mind.

But before she could head down the stairs, she heard something odd. Was that the shower? No one should be in the shower at this time of night. You had gotten in the shower before she went to bed, but that had been hours ago.

She cracked open your bedroom door, finding your room empty. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Honey? Are you okay in there?”

No answer. Her stomach churned. Something wasn’t right. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for the key they kept above the doorway in case of emergency and unlocked the door.

“Honey?” She called, stepping quietly into the bathroom. She didn’t want to invade your privacy, but she could feel in her gut that something was wrong.

That’s when she saw you, limp and freezing on the bathroom tile. She flung open the glass door in a frenzy, braving shutting off the freezing water and pulling your wet, naked body into her arms. “Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

She picked you up cradling you against her chest like a baby. Her baby. She looked down, taking in your face. Your lips were purple, but slightly parted. Your little noises mimicked a baby’s coos, chirps and whines made in place of words. She laid you down on top of a blanket, carefully folding the ends over your freezing body into a comforting swaddle.

When your small, shaking body inched closer to her, wrapping around her waist like a scarf, her heart melted. She pushed the wet hair from your eyes, gently caressing your head. And as she looked into your eyes, something in the universe clicked. She had spent all night feeling so empty, like her very purpose was fading away, but it was all restored by the look you gave her. It was the same look she wished to see on her boys’ face this morning: clingy, needy, and completely reliant on her.

You needed her, and she needed you to need her. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

When you tugged weakly at her nightshirt, pulling her towards you with tiny, desperate hands, she did not hesitate to crawl under the blankets and pull you into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

She thought nothing of it when you started to pull the nightshirt over her head, exposing her bare skin to your own. You were still ice cold to the touch, but she pressed your entire body to hers, cradling you to her chest. She held you like she would have if you had just come into the world, laying you bare against the skin of her chest. She cradled the back of your head with her hand, inhaling your smell. The smell of her baby. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She kissed your head, enveloping you with her warmth. She held you tight, even as she finally felt your body go limp on top of her. She sang you sovokian lullabies as you slept, rubbing up and down your back, circling the swell of your ass. You were so soft. You were so little. She pressed her fingers into your palm, watching as your infantile reflexes caused you to wrap your hand around them.

She felt as you unconsciously shifted, nuzzling your face into her neck. She giggled as your warm breath tickled her skin. She held your face, placing her thumb just in between your parted lips. “My beautiful girl,” she whispered, lifting your face to press a gentle kiss to your lips. Your first kiss, completely forgotten by your unconscious mind.

There were other things you didn’t remember. Many nights when she had crept in after you had fallen asleep to explore your soft body. You only ever wore slips to bed, when you wore anything at all. You loved the feeling of soft blankets on your skin. In some ways, she imagined you did it just for her: leaving yourself as a little present to unwrap at the end of the day.

She always treated you so delicately, with the utmost love and respect. She did love you, after all. She would take care of you just as any mother would. So when your body started to yearn for more, responding to her gentle caresses with an arched back and whiny breaths, she couldn’t bring herself to deny you.

“Shhh,” she soothed, positioning her body over yours, “Mama’s got you. Just relax. Let mama take care of you.” She eased her hand down your body, slowly pushing up the hem of your slip and rubbing her fingers over your panties. She could feel a damp spot growing over the thin, silky material under her fingertips.

You whined and bucked your hips against her hand.

“Oh angel,” she breathed, kissing your temple. “You poor thing. So needy for mama. It’s okay baby. I’m gonna take of Every. Little. Thing.” She slipped her hand under the fabric and circled your clit slowly before sliding a single finger inside of you.

“God you’re so tight. I bet no one’s ever touched you here before, have they, sweet girl?” She whispered. You stirred, whining and rubbing your eyes. “Shshsh, go back to sleep baby. Let mama take care of your needy body.”

She slowed down, stilling completely until she was sure you were asleep. Only then did she start to move, slow and gentle. She kissed your temple, soothing your writhing, sleeping body. She cooed praises into your ear as she pumped a single finger in and out of you. Her palm massaged your clit in perfect, gentle circles. It was enough to make your untouched body cum in minutes.

“That's my good girl,” she whispered. “Letting mama take care of you like this.”

She slowly pulled her finger from you, drinking down the remnants of your first ever orgasm. One you would never remember, but she would, forever.

She was gentler with you than anyone else would be, she told herself. You were too good for anyone. She would have to protect you from them. She had to make sure you never wanted for anything. She would be your sole source of happiness and safety, more than your own mother, or anyone else for that matter, ever had been. She would feel your entire life with so much laughter and love you would forget there was even a world outside of her. She was determined to be your mother, your lover, your best and closest friend. She would be everything you could ever need.

—————

When she heard the sound of your keys in the front door, she practically jumped down the stairs. She was in the foyer before you could even unlace your shoes, holding something conspicuously behind her back.

You smiled at her with giddy excitement, bouncing on the balls of your feet. She licked her lip, slowly pulling a small plastic container from behind her back. At the bottom of the container was a small amount of a yellowish white liquid. You looked at the liquid, then back up at her beaming face. “Is that…” you asked knowingly.

She eagerly nodded. You ran into her arms excitedly, beaming from ear to ear. She pulled you into a deep kiss, practically bending you backwards with the ferocity of it. You reached up to grab the back of her neck, holding her face in your other hand. By the time you pulled back, you were both breathless, but you could hardly keep away, following the kiss with several more pecks punctuated by smiles and bits of laughter. You nuzzled your nose against her, rubbing your excitement all over her.

She moved away only far enough to set the plastic container down on the nearest surface available before pulling you back into her arms.

“Can I drink it?” you asked, cradling her cheek once more.

“Not that one,” she responded. She had read it was best to pour the first milk out. As much as she loathed to throw any of the precious liquid away, your health was too precious to risk. “But every other drop I ever make is for you.” She kissed you again, resting her forehead against yours. “All for you.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around her neck and jumping up to wrap your legs around her waist. She caught you with practiced ease, looping her arms under your butt and making her way up the stairs.

You tried to kiss her more, but she chuckled. “Careful, sweet girl. You’re gonna make mama fall.”

It wasn’t until she made it into your room that she gently laid you down on your back and bent over to press her lip to yours.

Your hands slid up under her shirt, pulling it up over her head as she crawled on top of you. Her bra came shortly after, sliding down over her shoulders revealing her perfect chest. She had grown nearly an entire cup size since she had started pumping two months ago. Luckily she was a small C to begin with, so most of her bras still fit, if not a little snugly.

You impatiently moved down to her swollen nipples, trying to secure one between your lips in the awkward position. She buried her hand in your hair, pulling you back firmly. “Be patient, sweet girl. Let me sit down first.”

You nodded, mouth still eagerly open and eyes blown wide with hunger and desire. “Yes, mama.”

She sat at the headboard, adjusting the pillows around her lap. She beckoned you up. You crawled into her lap, laying down with your head cradled in the crook of her elbow. “There you go,” she cooed, easing you into her chest.

Your lips gently closed around her nipple. Despite your prior impatience, your position in her arms eased your eager mind. Your suckling was slow and methodical, keeping a gentle and consistent rhythm. Wanda ran her hand through your hair, cooing gently. “That’s my sweet girl. Just like that.”

There was a tense thirty seconds where she worried the milk would not come. She had just pumped hardly an hour ago. But, in time, she felt the smooth start to flow from her breast. She inhaled sharply. The hand that combed through your hair started to shake as she brought it to her own mouth. She had waited so long for this moment: she was feeding her baby from her own body. Nothing had ever felt so magical.

“Oh,” she sighed, bringing her hand back down to caress your soft cheek. The thin peach fuzz on your face felt so unbelievably soft under her knuckles as she felt the rhythmic pulse of suckling from the outside. “My baby.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, gently rolling down her cheeks and neck onto her bare chest. She was so happy. She could sit here just like this forever, listening to the peaceful sound of your suckling. Your eyelids fluttered blissfully, as if you were drinking some magical elixir that calmed every muscle in your body. You were completely limp in her arms, maybe even more so than you would be if you were sleeping. Your head was emptied of every thought. There was just Wanda and her sweet, warm essence pouring down your throat.

Wanda chuckled softly as a small drop of milk formed at the corner of your mouth. She wiped it away. “Messy girl,” she whispered playfully. Her hand worked its way down to your stomach, lifting your shirt and circling the soft skin there. She imagined it filling, swelling with her milk until you were completely sated. Until you didn’t need anything else but her.

There wasn’t very much milk, at the moment. Between both of her breasts, you were probably only able to get about an ounce. But there would be more. There would always be more for you. She would make sure of it. There would always be as much as you needed.

You moved to pull away, but she held you close. “Not yet, little love,” she requested quietly. Her hand moved lower, trailing down your bare stomach until it slipped its way under the waistband of your pants. “Let me take care of you.”

Her hand slid between your legs, edging them apart slightly. Her middle finger gently traced your slit, stopping to circle your clit. You moaned into her chest causing a small moan to escape her lips as well. She pushed your underwear aside, pushing two fingers past your entrance. The rhythm of your suckling faltered as she pumped her fingers.

The angle was slightly awkward, but it was heavenly. It was the same angle she had used to give you your first ever orgasm, with an extra finger. You didn’t know, as you had no recollection of it, but she surely did.

The base of her palm rubbed perfectly against your clit with every stroke. The pads of her fingers curled so perfectly inside of you. Your eyes, already heavy with relaxation, rolled back. Your body, already limp in her arms, molded perfectly with hers. Your mind, already void of all stress and thoughts, was overtaken with pleasure.

She could feel every whimper and moan amplified with her nipple still tucked securely between your lips. Your pleasure became her pleasure in a perfect combination of two bodies.

When you came on her fingers, the moans and vibrations that rang through her chest sent her into her own orgasm, one she didn’t expect and, quite frankly, didn’t know was possible.

After coaxing every drop of your excitement your body would allow, She brought her fingers to her mouth, swallowing down your essence as you had swallowed hers.

She finally allowed you to pull away, adjusting your body to lay on top of hers. You kicked your pants and shirt off, removing any clothes she had from her body as well. There would be nothing in between. You couldn’t bear to feel anything but her skin against hers. Your legs tangled in with hers as you rested your head in her neck.

“Mmm, I love you mama.” You hummed pleasantly, craning your neck you to kiss her jaw.

“I love you too, sweet girl,” she said, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. “More than all the stars in the sky.” She rubbed soothing circles into your back. She rocked you quietly singing you the same Sovokian lullaby she had all those years ago, coaxing you to sleep.

There was no greater place of peace anywhere in the world. You were sure of it. She was everything you needed. Everything you would ever need.