I recently put my daughter in daycare. I didn’t want to do it, but being that I’m a single parent, I don’t have much of a choice.
After dubious research, I found a daycare center that seemed like a good fit. It was run by a girl named Wendy and seemed fairly popular in the neighborhood, as there were a number of kids there when I went to investigate. One of the things I particularly liked about it was the fact that they had security cameras set up around the center so that parents can get access to them and check on their kids.
“Spence?” Walking into the apartment felt like walking into a mausoleum - barely lit, stale, quiet save for the occasional creaking that sent shivers up your spine. It felt wrong. Spencer’s apartment was always on the darker side, but it was warm and inviting, never without the smell of musty old books and freshly-brewed tea.
Since joining the BAU four years earlier, you’d set foot in Spencer’s apartment more times than you could count, but this time it felt different. You knew that the cases were getting to him a lot lately, especially this last one, but your heart beat frantically in your chest as you rounded corner after corner wondering what you might find. “Spence?” Again, you got no answer. Each step was a step further into uncertainty; it was bringing tears to your eyes.
When you gently slipped open the door to his bedroom, you felt simultaneous relief and heartbreak. Your mind had gone to the worst possibly thought - that maybe he’d tried to do something to himself and succeeded. He was sitting upright on the bed staring down blankly at his nightside table.
On the dark and dingy wood, scuffed and marred by years of spilled drinks, and fingernails desperately searching for the snooze button, stood a small bottle of some kind of clear liquid. At first, you couldn’t figure out what it was, but when you looked between him and the bottle, his gaze so stark and transfixed it scared you, you knew what it was. He told you about those few short years after he started at the Bureau - what happened in Atlanta.
Kneeling down, you placed your hand on his knees. “Spence, it’s not worth it. You’re not alone. You don’t need to do this.” As soon as you started at the Bureau, Spencer became your best friend; he was the one you could always come to for comfort, and he felt the same way about you. He’d texted you to ask you to come over. He didn’t want to do this; he wanted someone, you, to talk him out of it. “Spence, look at me.”
The tap of the knee turned him toward you finally. It was as if he had just allowed himself to blink, realizing that someone was here. “I wasn’t here when this happened before, but I’m here now. You don’t need that. You’re not alone.”
“Can you take it away from me?” Because of his seeming vacancy, you’d expected his voice to be low and meek, but he wasn’t; he was very sure of what he was asking. “I don’t trust myself.”
You bit your bottom lip and choked back the tears. He needed you to be strong right now, so you did your best. “Is there any more? Don’t hold back. If there’s any more anywhere in the apartment, let me know so that I can take it away.”
Spencer swallowed hard and stood up, waiting for you to grab the bottle already in view before walking to the bathroom cabinet and revealing a bottle, and the kitchen cabinet, to reveal one more. “That’s it,” he said, his eyes downcast toward the floor, ashamed. “That’s all of them, I swear.”
“Look directly at me and say it again.”
“That’s all of it. I swear.”
More than anyone else you knew, you could tell when Spencer was lying, and he wasn’t. “I believe you. What do you need me to do?” Under normal circumstances, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for Spencer, so right now, there was truly nowhere you wouldn’t go and nothing you wouldn’t do to make him feel better.
“Can you just stay with me for a while?” He hated showing his vulnerability, but he would with you.
You placed the three bottles of dilaudid into your bag and grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch where you sat in the corner and motioned for him to join you. In just a few swift movements, he laid down across the remainder of the couch and placed his head in your lap. “Just take deep breaths,” you said. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
As he took his first deep breath, you ran your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp to try and help him to relax. At first, it wasn’t working - through closed eyelids, you could see his eyes filling with tears. “It’s okay, Spence.”
“It’s not,” he said instantly. “It’s not okay. I thought I was stronger than this.”
“Spence, you called me to tell you not to do this. Not only did you leave yourself vulnerable to me, you didn’t actually do it - that takes strength.” Heated tears slipped down your cheeks. You were doing your best to stay strong for him, but seeing him in so much pain - hearing the despair in each crack of his voice - was ripping you apart. “That takes so much strength. Please give yourself credit.”
He seemed to take your words to heart, because he broke out into a fit of silent tears. You let him cry. His tears slowly but surely slipped out your jeans, soaking the material through and through, until about 20 minutes later when he stopped. Sitting up, he took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming over.”
“Anytime, Spence. Seriously. Do you want some tea?”
He nodded; tea would probably do him some good right now. After putting on a pot, you sat back at his side. “You’re never alone. Please remember that.”
“I know,” he replied, his lips turning upward into the smallest of smiles. “That’s why I texted you.”
Nearly an hour went by in silence while you both drank your tea. After washing dishes for him, you turned to leave, stopping in your tracks when he said your name. “Y/N…thank you again.”
Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in, a few silent tears of your own making their way onto his shirt. When you tilted your head upward to tell him again that he never had to do this alone, some unknown force made you lean in to brush your lips against his. Spencer moaned just slightly into your mouth, bringing his hands to the sides of your head and taking your mouth in a desperate kiss. He gathered you close to him by the small of your back and brought you back inside, kicking the door closed.
When he pinned you up against the wall to lock it, you pulled your mouth from his. “Are you sure, Spence? I am more than okay with doing this, but only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” he whispered.
With his okay, you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and started to unbutton his shit as he ran his lips up the length of your neck, gently licking and kissing along the way and bringing goosebumps to your skin. His left handed glided up the side of your neck to tangle itself in your hair before you moved his arms to push the shirt off his shoulders. The delicate muscles of his shoulders rippled as he hoisted you into a more comfortable position and briskly walked you back toward his bedroom where you’d found him earlier.
Before laying you down, he pulled your shirt up over your head and kissed between the valley of your breasts, seemingly drowning himself in you. As your heated skin came into contact with cool sheets, you reached behind your back to undo your bra, throwing it out of your line of sight.
All trace of tears had disappeared. Now his eyes reflected a deep-seeded need. He came to hover over you, his tongue parting your lips as his hand slipped into your panties, feeling the wetness that had accumulated there. Of course there was time for foreplay, but you were both beyond that right now.
If you wanted him as badly as you did, you couldn’t imagine how Spencer felt. Open mouthed kisses traveled down your torso as he removed your jeans and panties; his mouth slipped over your sex and made you even more desperate for skin on skin contact.
After removing his own pants and briefs, he returned to the bed and lifted your leg around his waist. “Are you sure, Spence?” You asked him one more time. Last thing you wanted was for him to regret this in the morning because he was in a vulnerable place. Even completely naked, if he wasn’t comfortable with this, you’d get up and leave and try to pretend things had never come this far.
“I’m positive,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he placed himself at your entrance and slid inside. Your sex enveloped him immediately and you cried out into his neck, your hands tangled in his hair again. Spencer whimpered into your mouth as he thrusted in and out of you, seeking relief from the thoughts running around his brain - the ones that had brought you here to begin with.
As he pumped in and out of you, you grasped at his back, nails raking against taut muscles as his teeth gently bit down on your neck. “Oh, fuck…Spence…oh my god. Please.”
He responded in kind, increasing his pace as he moaned into your mouth. You cried out again and took control, pushing against him so you could turn him over and have him underneath you. Once in position, you laid flush against him and moved your hips in figure eights, grinding your sex down onto him with the practiced expertise of a dancer. “Fuck, Y/N…I’m gonna…I-I…”
“It’s okay,” you whispered, swallowing his guttural groan as he arched underneath you and dug his fingers into your hips. “Come for me, Spence.” You followed closely behind, shaking with the force of your release.
Falling to the side, you let your hand rest on his chest while he caught his breath. “Do you want me to go?” You asked. He hadn’t said anything, and if he was regretting this, you needed to leave as soon as possible.
“No.” He said it instantly and forcefully, almost scared that you wanted to leave. “I want you to stay. I r-really want you to stay.”
“Okay, good,” you whispered, pressing your lips against his. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom and I’ll be right back.” You didn’t expressly state it, but Spencer knew what you were doing. You flushed the dilaudid down the toilet and cleaned yourself up before returning to him. When you slipped underneath the blankets, he gathered you close to him and placed a kiss in the crook of your neck. “You’re not alone, Spence,” you said again, your eyes drifting close, both emotionally and physically exhausted. “You’re never alone.”
As sleep overtook you both, his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze. He made it through the day. Tomorrow was a new journey.
BTS Reaction - when you refuse to make noise during sex
So I took liberties a little bit from the original request, just to make sure they weren’t all too samey. Forgive me.
“Jagiya, what’s wrong?” Jin directs the question up to you from where his head is nestled between your breasts, and even though there’s concern in his eyes it doesn’t do anything to still the graze of his thumb across your swollen nipple.
You’re confused; nothing’s wrong. It’s just the opposite, in fact, and when you lift your head from the pillow to look down at his painfully handsome face and he sees that befuddlement in your expression Jin smiles kindly, turning his head to briefly kiss your breast.
“You’re so quiet,” he explains further, and suddenly you understand what it is he means.
You and Jin have only very recently started having sex - in fact you could probably count all the occasions on just one hand - and the last time you had your boyfriend had very firmly planted his over your mouth to silence you. With no explanation at the time, and none afterwards to speak of either, you’d taken it to mean that you were clearly too loud in bed and that this wasn’t something he liked nor appreciated. So of course, in an effort to please him and save yourself the embarrassment, this time around you’d made a considered effort to bite your lip and keep all those usual moans in. It wasn’t easy, by any means.
I’ve been having a lot of #Emotions about trans Ladybug and Chat Noir lately so take some head canons.
Miraculous transformations take the wielder’s wants into consideration, and change to best reflect the ideal vision that person has of themselves.
Marinette’s Ladybug suit is equipped with clever bits of padding in the chest and hips, giving her a more shapely appearance. It also comes with a magical self-tucking mechanism that she tries not to think too hard about but definitely appreciates once that skintight suit conforms to every inch of her body. Additionally, her hair is glossier, her eyelashes are longer, and her voice sounds just a bit higher than usual when she’s transformed.
Like Ladybug, Adrien’s Chat Noir suit is also padded, only his is in the shoulders and (later on, after seriously bribing Plagg) a bit below the belt. Beyond that he’s got hidden wedges in his boots to give him a height boost and a god-tier binder. His hair and voice also undergo a slight change, becoming shaggier and deeper respectively.
I think for about the first year of their partnership Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t out as trans to each other- either because they are nervous about how the other might react or because for the first time in their lives they are in a position where they don’t have to be out. They can just do their thing and save the day without an extra label floating over their heads.
Of course after they spend more time together, growing closer as partners and friends, they start to pick up little hints that maybe just maybe they arent alone in this whole trans superhero thing. Those clues pile up until one day Chat accidentally lets slip one of his many trans-related puns, effectively letting the cat out of the bag. Panicked, he tries to play it off as nothing, but Ladybug has already put two and two together and is already BEAMING.“Thank goodness,” she laughs, clapping Chat on the shoulder. “For a minute there I thought I was the only one!”
Ladybug then proceeds to gush about how great their suits are and how glad she is to hear they’ve got one more thing in common and Chat is just hit over the head with this massive wave of relief, because he has never ever had someone react so well to his coming out and he can literally feel himself fall more in love with his Lady by the minute.
Cue them both being supportive af, helping each other through the unique challenges they have to face. Chat is there to lift Ladybug’s spirits when her HRT causes mood drops; Ladybug makes sure Chat doesn’t overexert himself in the weeks after his top surgery; They both joke and laugh and bond over their shared identity in a way that they just cant with their cis friends and everything is good and happy.
Eventually the reveal happens, and eventually Adrien and Marinette start dating, and eventually Ladybug and Chat Noir publicly come out as trans, becoming role models for non-cis kids all over the world. Then they grow up, get married, and adopt 3 cats 7 hamsters and 4 children and live happily ever after the end <3
Nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she’d felt to the living world. She’d resented this shadow gift. It had seemed like a sham, a punishment. But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.
He’s quite possibly the biggest asshole she’s ever met, but damn if he’s not a good model for her figure painting class. He’s got the right sorts of muscles and those are transfixing and everything, but the more she paints him the more she notices just how expressive his eyes are…
WARNINGS: graphicsmut, very angsty, vulgar words, riding, overstimulation, kitten kink, friends with benefits
genre: smut / angst
Summary: He had a tough day at work, and needs you to help him blow off some steam. But maybe being friends with benefits was never a good idea.
There was something off.
You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but you knew there was something wrong. By the way Yoongi called you at an odd hour of the day, his voice laced with anger. You did your best to talk to him, and calm him down. But he just wasn’t budging. And you weren’t sure what happened.
You bit your lip, anticipating for him to walk through the door.
He abruptly hung up on you, muttering a loud ‘I’m coming over, wait for me’. You weren’t sure what he meant, or what he was going to do. But you knew it was going to be exciting.
This was how Yoongi was.
Whenever he had a stressful day, he went to you and blew off some steam. You didn’t mind, in fact, you enjoyed it. It proved that he saw you as someone he trusted.
Yoongi didn’t just have sex with anyone. He chose his partners very carefully, and you knew that. So when he first kissed you, you found it quite a surprise. But, over time, you both turned into friends with benefits. You said you wouldn’t catch feelings, and neither would he.
But time changes, right?
You never imagined yourself with someone like Yoongi. Someone so self-collected on the outside, but dying on the inside. You knew how much he was hurting himself over the small things, how much he stressed himself out just to make others happy. But, over time, he really started to grow on you.
You saw the small things in him. The way he would scratch the back of his ear when he got nervous. The way he would would scrunch his nose when he did something embarrassing. The way his laugh was cut into pieces, and only sometimes let out a sound.
Just thinking about him made your heart hurt.
Yoongi never imagined being with someone like you either. Someone so kind-hearted, and honest. He always thought he would end up with someone cold, just like him. But, instead, he found you. Someone so warm on the inside, and someone so beautiful that he swore it hurt his own heart when he saw you.
You saw things in him that no one else could, and that’s why he chose you out of everyone else. You understood him, even during his worst times. You got where he came from, and respected him as, not only an idol but also, a human being in general. You understood his passion for music, and you supported him through everything. You were there when he fell apart, or when he was stressing over small, or big, things.
He envied you.
On how you could be so understanding of everyone around you, and still keep yourself sane.
But one thing he didn’t know was that you were actually driving yourself towards the edge. You were suffering in more ways than one. You had no one to support you the way you support everyone else. Sure, you had Yoongi. But he was never around. But you knew how much music meant to him, so you painted a smile on your face. You couldn’t take away the one thing keeping him sane for your own selfish reasons.
You sat on your bed, letting out a sigh as the thought of Yoongi barging through the door filled your mind. As you still remembered how he felt against your skin. As you still knew just the exact way he smelt when he held you.
You weren’t sure you could do it anymore.
You couldn’t be friends with benefits with a man you were in love with.
You heard the door swing open, and your eyes shot open as you sat up in your bed. His eyes were dark, and he looked absolutely angered. But, even then, you still saw the beauty in him. You still saw a man you knew you loved.
You swore to yourself that this was it.
This would be the last time you would ever be with him, or even see him for that matter.
He ushered towards you, kissing you roughly as your back hit the bed. His hands were roaming over your body, lifting up his loose shirt that you were wearing that you found in your closet. He loved it when you wore his t-shirts, he thought you looked absolutely wonderful in them.
So uhh Happy One Year Anniversary?? that’s right it’s been one whole fucking year since this comic started it wasn’t supposed to last a year tbH
Actually I started Feburary 9th last year not 10th (you can see the upload date on the first post) so I was gonna post it yesterday but I’ve been sick with the flu and it’s been kinda hard to do anything. Honestly I’m still sick so the lighting quality isn’t so great this time.
Also I was still reacting to the new Taz episode cause I’m not ok
Tapirs Watch Blockbuster Movies Understanding Everything That Happens On-Screen, Ears Twitching Eyes Transfixed, Honed In Like Crazy We Are Information Machines And We Understand The Plot And Know All The Peoples Names In The Movie
Harry held out his hand, “Start over?” he was smiling hesitantly, his eyes showing his worry. Draco took his hand, it was larger than he thought it would be, dry and calloused like a laborer rather than a wizard. Harry’s grip was firm and his smile grew more certain and hopeful. After the first failed handshake, Draco had never allowed himself to think Harry would ever look at him like that.
Draco remembered the hope, the warm flutter of nerves that would bloom into happiness over time, “Expecto Patronum.” he held his breath as he opened his eyes, half expecting to see flesh-eating slugs spilling from his wand. Instead, he saw a thin silvery mist, stretching and curling around him even as it slowly began to dissipate.
His breath caught in excitement. Perhaps he could. Perhaps he might be worthy after all.
Harry didn’t know that Draco Malfoy had a baby. As far as he knew, Malfoy didn’t even have a wife or a girlfriend. So the baby was a bit of a surprise.
The moment Harry had caught a glimpse of white blond hair in Diagon Alley, he had turned his head towards the blond man without even thinking. The sight had made him stop so suddenly that the man behind him had bumped into him. Harry had barely felt a thing. His eyes had locked on to Draco Malfoy and the bundle in his arms. There was a baby stroller next to him and Harry quickly came to a conclusion.
The bundle in Malfoy’s arms was crying at the top of his tiny lungs. The baby’s cheeks were getting red with strain. Malfoy was doing his best to calm his offspring down. Harry was watching transfixed as Malfoy pressed the baby to his chest and kissed the short pale blond hair on top of his head. He started swaying slowly. Harry noticed his lips moving but was too far away to hear what Malfoy was saying.
A minute later the baby’s cries finally came to a stop. Malfoy smiled lovingly at the baby and kissed his tiny nose before lowering him into the stroller. He arranged the blankets and straightened up when he was finished.
He started walking away, pushing the stroller and looking into it every few seconds and beam at the baby. Harry realized that happiness suited Draco. Fatherhood seemed to suit him as well. Rather well, actually.
It took Harry only a single moment to realize how fucked he was. He had somehow developed a crush on Draco Bloody Malfoy in the span of a couple of minutes. He shut his eyes and swore loudly.