Baby Gumi giving Toji the sus look when he saw the love bites on Mommy's chest
Toji forgot his baby has sharp senses for a baby and baby thought Toji ate his food or hurt Mommy lol
(im starting to feel like y'all wanna turn this acc into a toji thirst vault)
Megumi always had a habit of looking up at his dad weird, the two year old boy always found his dad weird.
So he would spend most of his time toddling towards you and taking up any free space that was available next to you.
The baby boy loved to be in your arms very much, therefore everytime he woke up to find you already waiting there for him near his crib with a warm smile he'd try to get up on his small chubby legs holding onto the rail guards of the crib then forward one of his hands to make grabby hands at you.
You spent most of the day holding the baby boy in one arm and doing every other chore in your house while your husband was out for work because Megumi absolutely refused to leave your side unless he was in a deep slumber.
But as much competent the little boy was so was his dad, Megumi enjoyed all his fun time with you until it was time for his dad to come back from work, the two year old will get all pouty and fussy as soon as he'll hear the slamming of the front door and a loud "I'm home!" followed by the literal thudding of his dad's running feet.
The baby boy's brows would knit together and his tiny button nose would scrunch in distaste as soon as his dad would pull you away from his side to engulf you in a hug and lay bunch of his dirty smooches on your face.
ew, Megumi would think.
Megumi always got annoyed at his dad for doing these stuff to his mom, believing his mom was just a very nice lady to not turn his dad down.
The little boy knew his fun time was over as soon as his dad was home. He would toddle out of his room and find you sitting alone in the couch, peacefully watching television, then he would proceed to start running towards you almost tumbling in his steps just so he can climb up and sit down next to you.
But then the tall giant will casually walk in and let his entire body fall down horizontally on the couch, immediately planting his head on your thighs as well, leaving literally no space for Megumi.
The two year old boy would pause in literal disgust and shock,
This would get the two year old so mad that he would get down to pick up his toy spoon from the floor and start smacking it on the old man's head who in return would start yelling in surprise at why his son was being such a brat while you try pulling him away from his dad.
Now Megumi thought he has seen all the worst sides of his dad, until, one morning the baby boy wakes up way too early than usual due to a nightmare. Not finding you besides his crib he immediately manages to crawl up by standing on his little pile of plushies.
Megumi was indeed a smart baby.
Tumbling towards his parent's shared bedroom he could hear some weird noises coming as he got closer,
he was sure most of it were your voices though?
But you sounded like you were in pain??
He slowly opens the door which was already a bit agape,
he really couldn't understand what was going on since he was way too small and his vision could only go up so far.
But then he hears the loud sound of what he considered to be a slap along with the rough angry voice of his dad followed by your sobs,
he cannot believe his dad was hurting you ! Oh he always believed his dad was a mad man,
He was definitely worst than the monsters under his crib !
and that's all it takes for the baby boy's bottom lips to quiver and let the loudest wail out,
He felt like that helped because through his blurry vision he sees his dad immediately spring out of the bed, murmuring a string of what you taught him were "bad words" while fumbling around for something.
Your head pops out of the covers as soon as you were done fixing your night gown but the two year old was way too busy crying and rolling fat drops of tears down his red cheeks to realize that you had taken him in your arms.
"Gumi- baby what's wrong- " you try to rock him in your arms but that didn't seem to be helping,
"you are just like me kid, all grumpy early in the morning" His dad tries casually playing it off after slumping down besides you both,
but the 'just like me' causes the baby's cries to get even worst making you pass your husband a mad glare for saying that,
Toji stares at you both offended.
"I'm sorry, mommy wasn't there this morning- Won't happen again honey! I'll play with you all day today, we wont be able to play if you keep crying!" you smile as he starts to slowly quite down at those words.
"What a good little boy" You praise, slowly caressing his head and moving his little black baby hair away from his forehead.
His pout is still on his face as his vision moves down from your face but then it stops,
while Toji was joking at you about how he deserves the 'good boy' title as well and you were busy brushing him off, you both failed to notice the little boy's growing frown as he stared at all the purple bruises around your neck and collar bones.
He feels his vision start to get blurry again and then its there again,
His mouth opens wide showing off the two new set of teeth as he starts crying bloody murder.
You gasp in panic not understanding what had happened again.
As you tried to rock him again he tried getting away from your arms and instead stretching his hand towards his dad as he continued balling his eyes out.
That confused you and Toji,
He has never chosen Toji before for comfort as long as you were there,
But Toji was a little too happy to care,
"Does my little boy wanna be with daddy??" He coos, stretching his arms out for you to hand the baby to him,
"I knew you always had a soft spot for me kiddo" he gushes as soon as he takes his baby boy in his arms.
But the happiness didn't seem to have lasted long, because as soon as Megumi gets close to his dad's face his little hands flung up to grip on the locks of his dad's hair.
"What's u-" He yelps when the baby boy starts to twist and turn his fists while he continues to babble something only another baby could make out and sob like he was the one in pain,
"Oh god- baby you shouldn't do that come here-"
You try pulling Megumi back in your arms, but he is willing to take Toji's head along because he just wasn't loosening his grip.
"Gumi ! mommy will cry if you don't pay attention to her !" You make a pouty face and put your hands on your hips while Toji was busy yelping and cursing not caring that the little boy could hear everything
But that immediately gets the baby's attention because he instantly turns his head around and starts crawling to you as his cries slowly starts dying down.
"Demon child !" Toji points as he runs his hands through the locks of his hair, rubbing at the area that his son almost got him bald at,
You lift the baby up in your arms as you look at Toji,
"and don't you curse again in front of our baby" you knit your brows before turning your attention to the two year old and wiping the tears away from his puffy cheeks.
"So I'm the bad guy here??" Toji questions, looking defeated.
You shrug and walk away with Megumi in your arms who had finally gotten quite.
Oh you and Toji had a lot of explaining to do to this little boy, but that wasn't a headache you both were willing to take for Monday morning.
Maybe later at night, when Megumi will seemingly be a bit less pissed at his dad.
☆ — REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !
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A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺
nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth
c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda
it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to
they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that
simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…
“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer
simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads
“she’s so selfish.”
‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(
“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.
you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john
“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you
simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them
and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t
he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him
he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.
‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan
his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom
“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen
he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years
he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house
you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks
“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt
“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly
“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh
“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter
he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes
“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him
he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip
“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer
he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date
but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.
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hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something
thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k
cw for mentions of past child abuse
The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.
“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”
You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”
“Well, I won’t. I promise.”
You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”
Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”
“And we went for ice cream.”
“Yeah, honey, I remember.”
That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.
How did you know? you’d asked.
I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.
“You asked me what I wanted and…”
What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.
“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.
He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.
“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”
“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.
Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?
“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”
“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.
“I don’t have anybody else.”
He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”
“But…”
He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”
“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”
“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”
He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”
“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”
“I am not.”
He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”
You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”
He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”
“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”
You met Penelope a long long time ago, and JJ and Derek around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.
You were introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.
“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.
Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”
Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”
Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.
Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?
It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.
“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.
“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.
“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.
You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.
“You look pretty,” Spencer says.
You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”
“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.
“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”
“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”
Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.
“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”
You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”
You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.
Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.
Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.
“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”
“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.
“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”
“You were twelve in highschool?”
He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.
“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”
“I mean, sort of.”
“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.
“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”
You laugh so hard you almost choke.
A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.
“You okay?” Emily asks.
She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.
“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”
You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.
If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.
“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.
“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”
“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Do I want you to what?”
“To read your palm?”
“You know how?”
“No parties, remember?”
Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.
“What can you tell me?”
You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”
“What does that– that mean for me?”
You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”
You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”
You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”
“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”
Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.
“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”
Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.
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