#maybe one of his most babygirl pictures ever. shout out to the person that asked him to pose like this

[preciouspiastri]

they're the same picture

[decodingellipses]

Modern Love: He Made Affection Feel Simple

[courtesy of Brian Rea]

"Dating as a transgender woman, in my experience, meant low expectations and casual sex. Then I met Jack."

This piece is part of the Modern Love column at The New York Times

by Denny

My bio on Grindr read: “Be trans friendly. Send face to chat.”

It was difficult to be on a gay hookup app as a trans woman. Most men in my feed desired to only sleep with each other. But I knew there were straight men on Grindr who hungered for a woman like me. I wanted them too.

That’s where I met Jack. At 22, he was a few months older than me, and, other than his age, his entire profile was blank, usually an indicator of a cisgender straight man who was guarded about his attraction to trans women. Typically, the messages I received would start with a vulgar sext, sometimes an unwanted nude photo.

Living in Morningside Heights, I was attending Fordham University for my master’s degree in strategic communication. One night I was up late working when I received a Grindr message from him, a selfie. Amid his light brown hair, two-day scruff and meek gaze, his lacrosse T-shirt stood out to me the most. He looked like a sporty boy I would have crushed on in high school.

He followed up his photo with “Hello.”

Messages in my Grindr inbox tended to cut to the chase: “Down for now?” “Car sesh?” Men who contacted me because they fantasized about trans women made it difficult for me to feel seen as a person in general, let alone a person worthy of respect.

Although my interest was piqued by Jack’s picture, it was his gentleness that drew me in.

Our sporadic small talk was harmless, spanning two months. I brushed him off, but as I commuted to school and spent hours in the library, he was persistent.

“My sex drive is pretty low these days,” I wrote. “Give me a bit and I’ll hit you up.”

“OK.”

When I turned back to my studies, he added, “Just so you know, we can do non-sex things and hang out too. It would be fun.”

This became our pattern: he being distant enough to show interest without pressure, and me appreciating his laxity, given my demanding schoolwork. His ease led me to trust him, so we set up a day to meet.

The first afternoon Jack came over, he admired my bathtub and drank his cup of water with two hands. His poised demeanor in a beige wool peacoat and long scarf reminded me, in a good way, of John Bender in “The Breakfast Club.” In my bedroom, he fixated on my yellow Power Ranger figurines, noticing my framed academic award next to them on the windowsill.

“You went to SUNY Oneonta?” he said. “I went to SUNY Potsdam.”

I pictured my friends who also attended Potsdam eating in the same cafeteria as Jack, getting drunk at the same frat party. Suddenly, the person I’d seen as a stranger now fit into my world.

I imagined what the deer looked like from his dorm room window, roaming the grass at dawn. Or how he spent his day when the school canceled classes because of snow. Or where he would have gone if his parents were able to afford private school.

We sat on my bed, my back leaning against the wall. He slouched his head onto my hip and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is weird,” I thought. Aside from sexual intimacy, my hookups were typically aromantic, absent of cuddling and expressions of affection.

I kissed him and rolled on top. I took off my shirt and he hugged me tight. His face dug into my chest as he said, “I like you. I think you’re really cool.”

Unsure how I actually felt, I said, “Oh. I think you’re really cool, too.”

The next time I saw Jack, he spent the night at my place. It was then, awake in bed at 4 a.m., that I realized I had never let a guy sleep over before. His heat warmed the bed, so I crept to the bathroom to cool off. I Snapchatted a disoriented selfie to my friends, my hair messy and eyes bloodshot.

“How do you guys do this sleepover thing?” I wrote. “I can’t sleep at all.”

Customarily, my flings with strange men were brief. The men did not take note of my bathtub or my educational history before sex, and they did not linger after.

I came back into bed, disturbed by the rumble of his snoring, but his sleeping face on my pillow struck me. For the first time, the thought of sharing a bed with a man did not come from pure imagination. I now had a real image for this fantasy; I could pretend Jack was my boyfriend, reach for his face and whisper “I love you, good night,” then fall asleep and meet him somewhere in his dream as if we had done this a hundred times before.

The next day, he flew off to see his family for the holidays and the first weeks of the new year.

“merry crimmus,” I texted.

“u too, babygirl,” he replied.

After our sleepover, I didn’t hear from him unless I initiated — an unexpected change. Instead of giving in to my insecurity that the sleepover meant little to him, and therefore I meant little, I imagined other scenarios: him asking me to sleep at his place, for a change, or spontaneously calling me while I’m in line for my morning coffee. But because I had presumed a sex-only expectation from the start, I shamed myself for developing feelings.

“miss u,” he texted one random morning.

“really?”

We stayed in touch and occasionally saw each other, weeks in between. On a hot morning, he snored behind me as I sat on the floor beside my bed, working on my final thesis. He put his hand up to my face, letting me know he was awake. With my eyes on the laptop screen, I took his hand and planted kisses in his palm, wallowing in these ordinary joys — the kind of affection I slowly grew comfortable displaying.

Longing to be more than casual with him, I sought a therapist to guide me through my growing feelings.

Jack’s periodic “miss u” texts progressed with heart emojis, an unprecedented closeness. And I returned the sentiment. It felt thrilling to express my adoration so directly, until the weeks between seeing each other and texting ultimately turned into months of silence I knew to be ghosting.

I relied on Grindr as my safe dock because dating as trans is complicated. Sleeping around was easier for me. I had set the bar low, then met Jack, who saw me as more than a fantasized body, only to have his mysterious exit echo a looming insecurity I avoided for years: Being trans implies I am not real enough to deserve decency.

I broke down in therapy, mustering the courage to say out loud what was undeniably true: “He left me.”

“I don’t mean to put this on you,” my therapist said, “but could him being a cis straight man and you being a trans woman play a part?”

I didn’t want to blame Jack, who showed me a new realm of affection that made desire feel as simple as just a boy and a girl who liked each other. But he made leaving simple, too; all of this could still not be enough.

Deep down, I denied how my mere existence as a trans woman could ever cost him. Jack, in wooing me, nurtured the possibility that my romantic fantasies could come true, that I could be seen as a complex person rather than a fetishized token of someone’s imagination. After being deserted by him, I ruminated on my insecurity that being trans denied me of even a simple goodbye.

And yet I know myself to be real because my transition, as a teenager, required exceptional certainty. Doctors and psychiatrists double-checked my decision constantly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I repeated, and I became more real each year. With Jack, I felt even realer. Not only had he seen me as a woman, but as a woman worthy of being held.

I could blame my being trans for Jack’s ghosting, but maybe it had nothing to do with that. Maybe he hated his job. Maybe his family fell apart. Maybe the pleasure we felt together contrasted whatever pain remained of our baggage.

On lonely days, I imagine myself at SUNY Potsdam. At a frat party, I drunkenly dance across from Jack, cheap blue lights grazing the curves of our cheekbones, sweat dripping like cyan fireflies. Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” roars through the party. “Good times never seemed so good,” everyone shouts. “I’ve been inclined to believe they never would.”

I put myself in the cafeteria, where Jack and I approach the salad bar at the same time. When he sees me, he steps back and says, “You go first,” with a grin so big I would need both hands to hold it.

———

Denny is a writer, actor and musician living in New York City.

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

There Are Harder Addictions To Shake - Part Two

Jim Mason x fem!reader (dark!jim)

Words: 3.8K

Summary: You’ve just made your relationship with Jim official, however it isn’t long before Jim starts to smother you, fixating on your relationship to cope with the damage in his life. As Jim grows obsessive what will you be forced to do? What will he do to win you back? 

Warning: SMUT! Borderline abuse! Kidnapping! Contains an obsessive and unhealthy relationship! Swearing! Emotional Manipulation! Restraints! Obsessive love! Stalking! Fluff! Please do be warned, Jim is not the sweet peach we all know and love!!!!

A/N: Our favourite bad boy is back, I know this has taken me forever! This is gonna turn into a series I think. There’s just too much I wanna cover and this story is nowhere near told yet. Jim’s obsession take a turn for the worst, a dark turn. But who is right? 😫

EXTRA WARNING: The situation the reader finds herself in throughout this part may trigger some people. It can be argued that it borders on Stockholm Syndrome and it is not a safe environment. 

(Gif by @violadvis)

The first thing I see upon waking is a photo frame. It’s a picture of Jim and I from one time at the beach, one of our happiest days. Newly into our relationship, Jim has his arm tight around me, we’re both distracted in the picture. Having just smiled at Medina for her to take the photo, but Medina being Medina had waited till we thought it was over. I’m busy watching the waves again while Jim’s watching me, the love is so clear in his expression. But all I can see now is adoration, obsession. 

The photo’s forever tainted. 

This isn’t my bedroom. It’s light and airy, a giant white canopy bed big enough for two. I can hear the waves crashing against the shore, seagulls and screams from children nearby. 

It’s wrong.

Fingertips stroke down my spine, ‘Good Morning, babygirl.’

It can only be one person, Jim. Who wraps me up in his arms, pressing his chest into my back and pressing a kiss into my neck, ‘I didn’t expect you awake yet.’

‘Jim,’ My voice is harsh from shouting at him last night, ‘What did you do to me?’

The fear hits me, because the last thing I remember was Jim monologuing to me about his perfect life, ‘Are we still in PV?’

‘We’re….away.’ He decides, Jim’s hands stroking over my stomach. The action repulses me and I spring out of bed, heading straight for the French doors. The shoreline is unfamiliar, the beach a glorious sandy white and not frequented by tourists. A family play in the sand and when they catch sight of me the little boy waves. I wonder what has them smiling, but Jim has come up behind me, ‘Good Morning,’ He greets. ‘We’re new.’

The father breaks away from his little one, who’s busy making sandcastles. ‘We don’t get a lotta young couples out here very often. Bit too remote for em.’

‘Not us.’ Jim cuts in at once, before I have a chance to. ‘We like the peace and quiet. Good place to start a family.’ My head whips round to stare at Jim, but he just smiles widely at me. ‘This is Y/N.’ He introduces, ‘Sorry bout the nightie, we just woke up and she was so excited to get to the sea.’

‘That’s right.’ I say it only because it covers why I’m out in pyjamas not all that appropriate for children. ‘I love the sea so much.’

The dad nods, smiling indulgently at us both. ‘Well you’re a cute couple. I’m Jerry, that’s Michelle and our son Adam.’

Jim’s arm is back around me, ‘I’m Jim. We’re the Masons.’

My heart stops beating. I don’t know how the family don’t catch my horror as I snatch myself away from Jim and stare down at my left hand. It’s there, gleaming in the sunlight, resplendent and beautiful. A wedding ring. 

Jim frowns, ‘You liked it when we bought it.’

‘What?’ I stare from him to the ring, ‘We are not married, Jim.’

Jim stands there for a moment, motionless. Then he approaches, his arms held out, ‘My darling.’ He says, ‘You don’t remember it? The ceremony? The vows?’ His voice catches, ‘The honeymoon?’

I keep the distance between us, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I ask, ‘This is fucked up, Jim.’

He closes his mouth, Jim’s eyes setting into hard stone. ‘Fine,’ He says, ‘You want proof, I’ll give you proof.’ Jim thunders inside the house, clattering around. I look up at the beach front cottage which is ‘apparently’ ours. It’s a quaint, beautiful little thing. A blend of the timeless and the modern standing like a fairytale among the sand and sea. Curiosity has me venturing back inside, right as Jim heads back in my direction. 

A photo album is pushed into my hands, ‘You don’t believe it? See for yourself.’

I don’t believe what I’m seeing, photographs upon photographs of our wedding. There’s me a white gown, next to Jim as we exchange vows, as we kiss, as we cut the cake. Medina’s there as my Maid of Honour, smiling and dancing with Jim. Heather’s here, Chad, the Bay Boys. My parents have a photograph with Jim in the middle of them, beaming madly. There’s honeymoon pictures too, a beautiful beach with sparkling sea that must be somewhere in the Caribbean. 

But what is absolutely undeniable is how happy I am in every single one of them. 

The wedding album falls out of my hands, ‘We’re…married.’

Jim catches it deftly, ‘Proof.’

‘Yeah.’ I feel numb and Jim helps me sit on the chaise lounge at the end of the bed. ‘Jim, what happened to me?’

I watch his fingers smooth over the quilted front, ‘I don’t know.’ He says, ‘You’ve just been off all day.’ His eyes narrow, Jim raising a hand to my forehead. ‘Maybe we should take you to the hospital.’

‘I feel fine.’

‘But if you’ve forgotten-’

‘I haven’t.’ I insist, because I can’t have amnesia. I flip the book open again, as if to check I didn’t imagine the whole thing. Then I pinch myself, really hard.

Jim frowns, ‘It isn’t a dream, Y/N.’ He turns away, his shoulders slumping in. ‘But you wanted it to be fake, didn’t you? You don’t love me.’

I swallow, ‘I do, Jim. I must have to have married you.’

It doesn’t make sense. How have I forgotten not just the wedding, but the entire honeymoon? Weeks of my life just vanishing from my memories. My hand reaches out to Jim, who still isn’t looking at me. ‘Jim, I’m sorry if i’m freaking you out. I’m freaking myself out.’

Jim collects himself, ‘Breakfast.’ He decides, ‘Avocado toast, just how you like it?’

I nod, ‘Sounds wonderful.’

Something is horribly wrong. Everything is too idyllic, too perfect. Jim and I live in a fantasy of no responsibilities and no expectations. Neither of us seem to have a job and Jim won’t let me look at a bill or anything. We head to the beach most days, swimming and surfing and sunbathing. Jim cooks or we order takeout, we watch movies and play games. We snuggle up at night, but I haven’t let him be intimate with me. Jim’s respectful of that, but he still kisses me, rains love down my neck. He knows all my most sensitive spots and he loves to carry me bridal style up to bed. Chores are split between us, Jim writes sometimes and I sketch. Jim wants to get a dog and we settle on a Samoyed. He’s going to pick him up next week, but Jim tells me not to worry about coming along. He wants it to be a surprise. I don’t ever leave the house and there’s not really been a reason to go anywhere. 

But today I’m going to try.

I have to know what’s going on, why I still don’t remember anything. 

The house is as neat as ever. The white curtains billow softly, allowing the sun rays to peek in and out as if Jim has put it on guard. I check the clock in our bedroom, I’ve got probably an hour before Jim brings the dog home. 

My first port of call is Jim’s laptop, the same as ever with its surfing stickers and map of Hawaii. The only difference is a new quote - ‘if you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never have it.’  

I don’t question it too much, switching the laptop on and waiting for it to start. Jim’s account sits before me, demanding a password. 

Shit.

I quickly try the obvious choices: surfing, Medina, Lunada, Beetles. 

Nothing.

I give the classic password1234 a go and still nothing. 

I try Jim and the account flashes a warning of too many failed login attempts. 

I’ve got one more attempt. Is it worth risking? 

My eyes rove about the bedroom, seeking out anything that might give me a clue to what Jim might use. There’s one other option niggling at the back of my brain, but I don’t have much faith in it. Knowing Jim this password could be anything and it could take me weeks to riddle it out of him. Jim is so secretive with his laptop, I didn’t even know he had a password set. 

He never used to. 

I blow air through my cheeks and use the remaining time I’ve got left, roughly forty-five minutes to scope out potential answers and write them down on a list. 

I wish I had my phone for my own privacy. That was our first fight, Jim saying we’d made a pact to get rid of our phones because of our addictions to them. Jim was never that into his mobile and neither was I. My defiance had us both firing insults at each other and it was only when I threatened to walk out did Jim try to appease me. 

He’s promised to return mine to me and no matter how many reminders I gave him, I know he’s never going to give it back to me.  

Time is running out. I have ten minutes left till Jim said he’d be back. I’ve got a list of potentials, but nothing seems solid enough. Nothing seems like Jim. 

I can’t let another day go by with no progress. I won’t. 

My fingers type in my name and I click enter before I can stop myself. 

The laptop thinks and after an excruciating minute a message pops up. I’ve been frozen out of Jim’s account for half an hour. 

Fuck. 

The ring doorbell chimes, alerting me that Jim’s home and I slam the laptop lid down and slide it under the bed. Disappointment curls in my stomach as I glance round the bedroom and hold in my scream of frustration. 

I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want Jim, or a dog or this fairy fake life. 

I want to go home. 

A yap echoes from the living room as the front door closes, ‘Y/N, baby?’ 

It’s Jim, it wouldn’t ever be someone else. 

I descend the stairs to see Jim looking like a long-ago dream. His white t-shirt is tight over his pecs, his brown hair wind-swept and tousled. Jim’s skin is radiant from so much sun, like a bronzed demigod. He flashes me the warmest smile, his hand holding onto a lead at the end of which a pure white Samoyed tears about like mad. 

I’ve always had a soft spot for any dog, and I can’t resist bending down to pet him. ’He seems rambunctious.’

Jim smiles, ‘You wanna name him?’

I look up at him. It feels like a decision that will bind me to Jim even more. The naming and co-owning of a pet, my heart is already being given to this puppy and I know I already don’t want to leave him. 

‘You do it.’ I straighten up, smiling as the Samoyed sticks his head in-between my legs, ‘You bought him. He’s yours.’

Jim’s smile dies a little, ‘He’s ours.’ He corrects, ‘Blue is our baby.’

I try my hardest to gloss over that word as if I never heard it. ’So you have named him.’

Jim hands over the lead to me, ‘Well, it does seem right. I guess.’ His arms slide around me, ‘What have you been up to?’

I try to think of something plausible, ‘Looking at our wedding album.’

Jim’s smile beams back at me, ‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

He kisses me, his hands sliding round the back of my head to hold me in place. ‘Why don’t you grab it and we can reminisce together?’ 

I have no idea where that album is. I haven’t dared look at those images since Jim first showed them to me. ‘Why don’t we just make new ones?’ I offer, winding my hands around Jim’s neck. Blue jumps up at us, desperate for more attention but Jim’s eyes are fixated on me.

‘Deal.’ 

I kiss him quickly, grabbing onto Jim’s back through his shirt. Jim’s hand travel down my arms, sliding my shirt over my head. I blush, ‘Should we not get Blue settled in?’

‘I think he’s rather happy watching.’

I pull away from him, ’Jim, gross.’ 

Jim doesn’t care. He pulls me towards the kitchen and I have little choice but to let him lead. Blue trails behind us, already attached to his master as Jim presses me back against the countertop and starts placing kisses down my neck. ‘Here?’ I ask, my eyes sliding back to the bright eyes dog. 

‘We’re gonna christen every inch of this house.’ Jim vows, ‘Nothing will be sacred.’ Jim’s teeth scrape over my pulse point, ‘I love it when you’re jumpy. Like a little bird, my love.’

I can feel my face heating up as Jim pushes me back and hoists my legs around him, ‘Jim.’

He heaves a sigh, ‘What, Y/N?’ 

That bite is in his tone and I want to backtrack at once, ‘I’m just…not in the mood really.’ 

Jim’s eyes run over me, ‘You’re…hiding something.’

‘No.’

I can tell he doesn’t believe me, ‘You don’t like Blue, what?’

‘No.’ I sit up, reaching a hand down. Blue licks it at once, his panting quickly turning to whines. ‘Jim…’

But my words are lost, tangled on my tongue because they are a lie. My husband straightens up, ‘Where’s the album?’

‘Upstairs.’

Jim’s hand comes down hard on the countertop, ‘You’re a liar.’ 

Fury starts to rise inside me, ‘No. You’re the liar.’ I push Jim hard, watching as he staggers back. ‘This whole world you’ve created is a lie. Nothing is real and I know for a fact that I would have never agreed to marry you.’ I head upstairs, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

Jim chases after me his footsteps thundering up the stairs, along with the scrape of Blue’s lead. I try to lock the bedroom door, but Blue bursts though and the door careens open. Jim’s there before I can close it, pushing his way into the bedroom. He looks murderous, the glint in his eye deadly. Jim seizes me by the arms and I yelp, his grip strong enough to bruise me, ‘Jim-’

‘I have been kind. I have been patient.’ He hisses, backing me up towards the bed. ‘I knew your little act was too nice. You haven’t been acting like yourself have you, my darling wife?’ Jim pushes me backwards onto the bed, the world tilts as he presses me down with a hand. I kick out, vaguely aware of Blue’s breath on me, but Jim looms over me. His weight easily holds me in place. ’I know this,’ Jim continues, ‘Because the girl I love would have questioned me. She wouldn’t be scared shitless to do what she wanted and I would have had to use these much sooner.’ A sick grin splits over Jim’s face, ‘Guess the time is now though.’

I can’t see what he produces from the bedside table. Blue leaps off the bed as Jim shoves one of my arms above my head. I fight as hard as I can, pushing against his chest, trying to kick him in the balls. Jim endures it all, much more focused on keeping my hand above my head. ‘JIM!’ 

There’s a click, the sound of metal echoing and the cool slide of something across my wrist. I yank immediately and cry out from the pain as my arm screams for me to remain still. I know what it is and my momentary horror allows Jim enough time to push my other arm up and secure it above my head. 

We both stare at each other. I’m crying before I know it, Jim blurs before me. ‘Why are you doing this?’

He wipes my tears away, ‘I don’t want to.’ He coos, ‘But, you’re not well lately, Y/N. You aren’t yourself since you started questioning me and…all this.’ There’s moisture in Jim’s eyes too. ‘I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Or me, or Blue.’

‘Fuck you.’ I say, ‘You don’t let me have my phone. You don’t let me speak to anyone else. I’m a prisoner here.’

Jim is fighting to maintain his composure, ‘I have told you about your phone. You are free to do whatever you like.’ Jim fishes his own phone out of his pocket, ‘Here, you want to speak to someone. I’ll call Medina right now.’

I watch Jim dial the number and put the phone on speaker. It rings and then Medina picks up, ‘Jim. How’s everything? You haven’t called in weeks, an update from either of you would be nice to know you’re alive.’

‘I know Dina.’ Jim’s voice is perfection, warm and inviting. ‘We’ve just been so caught up, you know. Anyway, Y/N wants to say something to you Dina.’ He holds the phone out a little closer to me, ‘Go on, tell Medina.’

It’s a trap. 

Medina doesn’t know. She couldn’t know, not by the casual way she’s speaking to Jim. I look up at the handcuffs, glistening in the setting sun. Jim will never let me free if I tell her. 

I have no choice.

‘Just to say I’m having a great time.’ I force it out, keeping eye contact with Jim. ‘The weather is amazing here and…Jim’s just great.’

‘Well I’m glad to hear it.’ Medina says, ‘I know you two were…really rocky. I’m glad the trip has done you both good.’ There’s a pause, ‘I know I’m on speaker Jim.’

’Bye Dina.’ 

Jim entire being screams of satisfaction. I look away from him, my stomach curling in shame. What has happened to me? I’ve never been that girl. I never thought this would happen to me. I thought I’d be brave enough to always alert people if I was ever in this scenario. I’ve screamed at enough films where the girl makes horrible decisions. 

No. 

If I have any chance of getting that laptop unlocked, I need to earn Jim’s trust. 

It’s my only hope. 

I’m vaguely aware of Jim leaving kisses all down my neck. A reward, I suppose for being so well behaved. He slides my shirt up, exposing my skin, Jim’s tongue diving into my belly button and then continuing his descent. I can’t deny the spark of desire that courses through me, disgusting and so wrong. But Jim has already been able to kindle a fire inside me and when his tongue finally dives inside my cunt, I can’t help but throw my head back. His silver-tongue of sin slathers and soothes me with its talent and I try to reach down, to run my hands through Jim’s hair. But I can’t.

He’s never restrained me before.

‘You look so fucking beautiful like this.’ Jim whispers against my clit, letting the vibrations edge me.

‘Jim,’

He takes himself out of his trousers, stroking himself to full hardness. Jim pushes his lips to mine, kissing me in-between heated words, ‘I love you. You’re mine. My wife. The love of my life. I couldn’t be without you.’ He discards his shirt and trousers on the bed beside me and pushes inside. My wrists burn and he’s stretching me so well and I gasp right into his mouth. Jim’s tongue dives in, roaming round every inch of my mouth before pinning my tongue down. His hips work in and out, well trained by now to know my every weak spot and how to make me see stars. My hips are flying upwards to meet his as Jim’s pace increases, our skin slapping together. 

My arms are starting to ache as Jim begins his usual volley of chants, ‘Gonna fill you up. Make sure you have every drop inside you.’

I moan as usual, I can’t stop myself as I near the peak of my orgasm, ‘God, Jim.’

‘Can’t wait, baby. Cumming soon.’ Jim promises, ‘This time will be it. You’re gonna swell with my child and we’ll have the most wonderful life. No one and no rules. Just us. God, I’m gonna stay inside you all night. Make sure you get pregnant with my baby.’

Jim lets go, spilling deep inside me. My hips spread wider to accommodate his weight as Jim shoots deep inside me, his cock brushing right up against my special spot. 

I’m close…but I’m not there. 

Jim notices at once, hoisting my hips up and making sure he remains connected. I squeal as the handcuffs chafe against my skin from this new angle. I don’t know what’s he’s planning as Jim’s finger wanders down and then he’s sliding in and out again, not soft just yet. I cry out from surprise as my anus is exposed. Jim’s finger circles around, ‘JIm.’ I warn, ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

He pushes inside me, sliding in till his finger is sheathed inside and I scream from the new penetration. I cum, my orgasm white-hot and electric. It feels like I’m being stuffed in both ends, even though Jim’s only got a finger inside. My cries fly free and there’s another jet of cum mingling with my own. 

Jim pants, his face sweaty and satisfied. His head rests on my breasts, Jim’s hair tickling my chin, ‘I love you so much.’

I don’t say it back and I don’t think Jim expects me to.

We lie together until my arms have gone numb, but I’ve found a slightly more comfortable position. Jim remains inside me even after his cock has softened and he’s fallen asleep on me. Jim’s weight is not quite crushing but its enough to make moving impossible. My eyes flit about the bedroom and I notice Blue’s sat on the white rug in the corner, nearly blending in. His lead is still attached and he watches me with something like vague concern. 

I click him over and Blue comes running immediately. Jim’s out like a light, nestled against me. He doesn’t register Blue nosing at him as I managed to unclip his lead and run my hand over his fur. It’s settles the fear that’s slowly building back inside me.

I do not want Jim Mason’s child. 

Blue lies on the pillow, next to his parents. I just pet him for something to do, watching as the Samoyed rolls over to show me his belly and then starts sniffing round Jim’s trousers. ‘They probably stink.’ I grin, keeping my voice low. But Blue’s nudging has made something catch my eye, something in one of the pockets. 

I move as silently as I can, keep my eyes on Jim as I fish it out. 

It’s a copy of our marriage license. Jim must have taken it when he bought Blue, for proof of identity or something. 

Jim’s name is signed, right next to mine. 

It’s my penmanship, my signature.

I did marry him. 

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[dontshootmespence]

Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

A/N: How do you love our OTP? Let @veroinnumera and I know!

Chapter 34

After a night filled with newly-engaged love-making, they fell asleep, tangled up together without a stitch of clothing to speak of. It had been the most restful night she’d had in forever, and she was pretty sure Derek’s too, considering he was lightly snoring behind her.

I don’t snore.

Yes, you do, Derek. I’ll film you.

Don’t you dare.

Turning over, she ran her finger over his jawline and waited for him to wake up, smiling when his eyes popped open. “Hey fiancee,” he mumbled sleepily. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m fantastic, fiance,” she replied, laughing as she lifted up her hand and marveled at the ring. Last night, she really hadn’t had too much of a chance to look at it; she’d been too overwhelmed. But it was beautiful, and the fact that it was his mother’s ring made it all that much more special.

“I don’t ever want to leave this bed.” Derek murmured, stretching.

“Me either, but we have a wedding to plan, so we may need to get up.” Juliet grinned.

“Nope. Not happening.”

She rolled her eyes and started to move to get up, but a set of arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back. Juliet let out a squeal of surprise which devolved into laughter. “Derek Morgan! You are incorrigible!”

“And you love it.” He chuckled, rolling her over and pinning her arms gently as he began to attack her with kisses.

She really did. And she was about to let him have his way and spend the day in bed when a loud ringing began. He groaned and pulled away, grabbing his cellphone off the nightstand. “Babygirl, this better be good,” he started, smiling as Garcia started rambling. Juliet could barely hear her, but from what she could gather, she was asking about the engagement. It didn’t surprise her that he’d told them beforehand. “Yes, I asked her.” He turned to Juliet and kissed her forehead. “Yes, she said yes.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Garcia screeched through the phone. That Juliet heard. “Oh my god, you’re going to live happily ever after I’m so excited!”

Garcia was the cutest. “That’s the plan,” Juliet replied. “Talk to you soon?”

“Yes, we have so much planning to do!” She clapped excitedly and said goodbye, leaving the two lovebirds to revel in the glow of being newly-engaged.

Juliet tried to get up again, succeeding this time when she coaxed Derek with the promise of pancakes. “So, I would like to know what ideas my fiance has about the wedding.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m not falling into that trap. The correct answer to that question is whatever you want, dear. My mama taught me that a long time ago.”

Juliet hip-checked him teasingly as she handed over a spatula. “Nuh uh. You are not getting off that easily mister. Tell me.”

He shrugged, looking over at her. “Honestly, all I need is you in a white dress and someone willing to marry us. Hell I’d elope if that’s what you wanted. The only thing that matters to me is you, Juliet.”

She blushed, and ducked her head shyly. Even after all this time she still melted when he talked like that. It almost didn’t feel real. And now she got to spend the rest of her life with him. Pulling herself together, Juliet shook her head. “Now that’s a trap I’m not falling into. I may not know much but I know your mother would murder me if she didn’t get to see her baby boy get married.”

“So no eloping then? You don’t fancy a quick drive to Vegas?”

Juliet grimaced and shook her head. “No way. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Okay, well I’m going to be running things by you all the time because I don’t want you to hate anything I pick. What do you think about getting married in the fall? Next year?”

“That’s good by me. I could picture you floating delicately over fallen leaves somewhere. Maybe a light blue for a color? Not too many jewels please?” If it made her happy, he’d do it, but being bedazzled wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, or mug of coffee really.

“Do you know me?” She laughed. “I’m no sparkly princess. I’m thinking I want to go for a vintage fairy-like vibe.”

Derek had absolutely no idea what that meant. “Whatever you wear, you’ll be beautiful. Who do you want to be your maid of honor?”

“Emily,” Juliet said immediately. “We’ve gotten really close. I figure Garcia is going to be your best woman?”

Chuckling, he kissed her neck as he passed her to grab something from the refrigerator. “You assume correctly.”

A few hours later they finally made it out of the house. Derek made one more impassioned plea for taking her back to bed, but Juliet had insisted. She wanted to share this with everyone that mattered to them. Of course, Garcia had probably already told everyone, even some random strangers Juliet was sure, but still.

As they stepped through the glass doors into the BAU, an explosion of confetti went off. Juliet laughed, as it cleared she could see Penelope holding a mini confetti cannon. “Hi Pen.”

The blonde didn’t speak, just tottered over and enveloped them both into a hug. “Oh I love you I love you I love you! I’m so happy, my heart is singing!”

“Too. Tight. Can’t, Breathe.” Juliet murmured into her sequined blazer, causing Penelope to reluctantly release.

“Sorry! I’m just so excited.” She squealed, grabbing Morgan’s face in her hands and kissing his cheek. “You did it! Well, we did it. Let’s be honest this wouldn’t have happened without me. And I mean-”

“Hey babygirl?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I say hi to everyone else?”

Penelope blushed, glancing back as if suddenly remembering that the rest of the team was standing behind her. “Oh. Right. Whoopsies!”

“Congratulations,” Spencer said, smiling as he embraced Derek in a warm hug. “And congratulations to you,” he continued, turning to Juliet.

Juliet was a wonderful torrent of smiles and laughs as everyone on the team congratulated them on their engagement. Even people she barely knew came up to hug her and tell her how happy they were for the two of them. It felt like a dream, walking through a cloud city where nothing could go wrong.

Rossi insisted on having drinks at his house in the near future in order to celebrate. Penelope and JJ started asking when they were going to start having little ones running around the house. And Hotch even broke out with one of his rare but genuine smiles. “Do you have a date yet?” Emily asked.

“Not yet!” Derek exclaimed with a mock tone of surprise, “But sometime in the fall.”

Juliet leaned into Derek’s embrace and sighed. “I’ve always imagined walking down the aisle among a sea of yellow, orange, and red leaves.”

They all chatted for a little longer before Rossi clapped his hands. “Alright, that’s it. We’re not going to get anymore paperwork done tonight so who’s up for good liquor at my place? Huh? What do you say.”

JJ had to beg off to head home to her boys and Emily mentioned something vague about meeting up with an old girlfriend. Juliet had known her long enough to know she meant she had a date, but didn’t pry.

The rest of the team started to collect their things while teasing Rossi about his extensive Scotch collection. Juliet went to the lair with Garcia to grab a gift she’d made for her and Derek.

That left Agent Morgan standing alone by the front doors, waiting for the team. A ringing started and after a moment of feeling around for it, Derek fished his phone out of his jacket pocket. The caller ID read: Unknown. Frowning, he picked up.

“Hello, this is SSA Derek Morgan speaking.”

“Congratulations on your engagement, Agent Morgan.” A voice crackled through on the other end of the line.

Derek tensed, unable to recognize the voice. “Who is this?!?” He asked pointedly.

“Enjoy it for tonight. Because by tomorrow, if you haven’t broken things off...well, let’s just say you’ll be sorry.”

He looked around calmly, trying to see if anyone within earshot was on their phone, but nothing. “I don’t know who you think you are,” Derek whispered, “But I won’t be doing that.”

“Is that so?” The person asked condescendingly. “I thought you cared about your family more than that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, his voice raising in pitch with each passing moment.

There was a lingering silence on the other side of the line before the chilling voice broke through again. “Fran. Sarah. Desiree.”

Derek’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know who you think you are but-”

“Goodbye Agent Morgan.”

The line went dead. Derek nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa. Everything okay?” Juliet asked, searching his eyes with her brow furrowed. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and smiled. “All good.” There was no reason to scare her when he didn’t even know if this was real.

So, he ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach and held her hand, walking out to the car with the BAU in tow ready to drink the night away.

He definitely needed a drink.

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