#even before I realized I was nonbinary this shit used to piss me off

[imagineaworlds]

Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team

(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan,    switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 7645

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me. 

She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”

My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.

Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.

“Fuck!”

Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.

“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it. 

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going  to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too. 

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”

“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.”

Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[aot-brainrot]

Bunny and Baby ~ Poly!BAU Team

(Full version for a smaller audience. You can check out the edited version on @imagineaworlds​​)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, bladder control, degradation, mild choking, control, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan,    switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 9700

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me. She was smirking. “Em, the water.”

My eyes widened even further. “Wait. No. Please—” I struggled against the cuffs, wiggling around on the ground as I made a desperate attempt to free myself with no such luck. I knew what was coming. I hated it. I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction of watching me struggle uncomfortably later while they laughed at me. I didn’t— “Mistress, please,” I begged as Emily sat in Hotch’s seat so that she was right beside me. “Please, anything else.”

“Color, baby girl,” she said calmly. She wasn’t as frustrated as the others, I could tell. That was the nice thing about her. As wicked as she could be, her emotions were usually opposite to Elle’s. When Elle was mad, Emily was calm. When Emily was mad, Elle was… well, she was still mad, but she made an attempt to restrain herself.

I pouted. “Green.”

“Then, open your mouth.” She held my jaw as I opened up and tilted my head back somewhat, waiting as she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle in her hands. She had one with her, but Hotch was setting two more down next to his iPad on the table. “Tap Morgan’s leg for Colors.” I felt Morgan press his shin against my back so that my fingers were near his ankles in case I needed to have them slow down or stop.

Emily started slowly pouring the water into my mouth. When I couldn’t hold anymore, she stopped, giving me a chance to swallow. And then she did it again. We kept going until the entire bottle was finished, and even then, she grabbed the next bottle, unscrewed the cap, and started pouring. It was half way through the bottle when I started to feel it. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that told me that I was going to have to pee soon, and I whimpered, tapping Morgan’s ankle to tell them that I needed them to slow down.

Emily stopped pouring. “What is it, princess?” she asked.

“I’m already there…” I shamefully admitted.

“Full?”

I shook my head.

“Then, keep going.”

I reluctantly opened my mouth again and let Emily continue her work, getting to the end of the second bottle before she decided that I had enough. They were going to save the last bottle. Certainly, there were more in the fridge where the bar was at the back of the jet, but they would grab them as needed. For now, two was enough, later, they would give me a third, and when it got really bad, they would grab more if they had to. I didn’t want the third one, though. I already had to go, and because of it, I could feel myself actually getting wet again, a sign that I was going to be miserable for my entire punishment.

The point of making me drink was that the feeling of being full aroused me the same way it would if I were filled with Hotch or Morgan’s cocks, or Emily or Elle’s straps. It was the same build that came with needing to orgasm. They controlled my orgasms the same way they controlled… well, when I could go. They made me hold my orgasms the same way they made me hold this— and both were painful to keep back. I was fortunate, however, unlike Spencer, to know that I had never actually released without permission, in front of them, or during a scene at all. Spencer, on the other hand… The poor thing. He could never hold it when Morgan would grab his hips and slide inside of him. The pressure on his prostate and his bladder was always just too much.

Eventually, they’d let me go, but they’d wait long enough until I was squirming. I mean, they weren’t going to hurt me. Since Morgan had chosen this as my punishment, they were all going to have to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t actually in pain because this could be a dangerous punishment if not properly handled; but I trusted them. If they weren’t going to let me cum, they at least had to let me pee— which felt just as good as letting go of my orgasms.

“Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Did it turn you on to watch Mistress make princess drink?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making you drink, too. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. I whimpered when I felt how full I was while on all fours. I already hated it. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too. Especially when he was as full as I was.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring while my bladder got worse or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and I was going to get a chance to go to the bathroom after all of this, so I’d have two releases, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

I felt my stomach fill out a bit more. I tried sitting back on my feet to relieve the tight feeling that being upright or tilting forward caused, but Morgan caught my movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glared over at me. I knew what he was going to say before he could even open his mouth. “Daddy, I can’t.”

“I don’t care. Sit up.”

I adjusted, my panties rubbing flat against my clit, the waistband of said panties moving just under my stomach, making me feel the sweet torture of my full bladder being teased. I moaned, “Fuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

I shook my head. “Please, just let me go pee real quick. I’ll come back and sit here quietly like a good girl.”

“The next bottle, Em.”

I cried, “No!” The more I struggled against the cuffs, I felt my bladder swell, making the urge to pee worse. “Please!”

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over with the last bottle of water. “We won’t make you hold it much longer,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap. Subconsciously, I already knew what she told me because it wasn’t safe to hold it back much longer, but hearing it from her was still a relief that made me sigh gratefully. “Open.” I tilted my head up and opened my mouth. “Keep your eyes on Spence.” My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch, but I couldn’t do anything about it as Emily started making me drink. “Swallow.” I closed my mouth and slowly drank everything she had poured. “Breathe,” she cooed when she caught me panting afterwards. “You’re okay.”

I immediately felt my bladder swell again. “Mistress, I can’t take it anymore…”

“You’ve done more before.”

“Alone with Sir, yes. I’ve never been overwhelmed like this before.”

“Open again.”

I did so. When she was done pouring, I swallowed again. It was getting even worse now. “I can’t—” Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt. “Fuck!” The stimulation was enough for my body to relax just enough for long enough that I let go for a moment. I caught myself just as it happened. “No, no, no, no—” Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster. I was so embarrassed by what had just happened, even though it could have been much worse, but all of that embarrassment was clouded by the fact that it felt so good to be touched after Morgan gave me the impression that none of them were going to touch me for the rest of the flight. “Mistress, I’m close.” Because of my full bladder, the truth was, the urge to pee mixed with the urge to cum, which only quickened my edge. “Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away, and I cried again as I felt my entirely full bladder swell my belly. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me, pressing directly towards my bladder. I screamed in pain against Spencer when I felt myself let go a bit more. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because as painful as my bladder felt, at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it.

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, and when I thought that his intentions were pleasant, he threw me for a loop by caressing my inflated stomach. He chuckled. “So full…” He massaged the sensitive part of my torso where my bladder was, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “And so greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. The need to pee was too similar to the need to cum, the two feelings were blended together now, so when he teased my stomach, I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but not when my bladder was already full, too; this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going  to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I felt myself leak just a bit more, my bladder warming up at the feeling. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, my legs were still shaking, and I was so bloated. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness, my cum, and whatever had leaked out of me earlier. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach— or maybe that was the urge to pee just getting worse. Regardless, though, my whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too. 

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

“You wanna be fuller than you are now, huh?” His hands worked their way down to my stomach where he started massaging his thumbs in, finding my bladder without any problems. “So fucking full. It’s gotta be uncomfortable, baby, I know… But you did this to yourself.”

“Sir—” I tried moving away from him in an attempt to make him stop teasing my bladder, but I couldn’t escape. “I won’t hold it if you keep doing that.”

I didn’t want to be like Spence. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to share his embarrassment of peeing myself like he had. The first time it happened, we were all together for Elle’s birthday. Spencer had been acting up during dinner, touching her when he wasn’t supposed to, speaking out of turn, giving me lip when I told him to be careful. We weren’t having it. When we got to Elle’s place, he complained that he had to pee before we started, but Hotch pinned him to the wall with a large hand around his throat, making Spencer’s eyes widen as he started apologizing profusely. Hotch didn’t let him go. For being a brat at dinner, the consensus was that we were going to take turns fucking him and cumming inside of him while he had to hold it. He hated it. He was already bloated from dinner, but when we fucked into him, we could see our cocks through his tummy as we were thrusting in and out of him. As I said before, it was always when Morgan finally got to fuck him that Spencer let go. It was something about the girth I was pretty sure, because out of him, Hotch, and the straps Em, Elle, and I had, Morgan was the thickest, which meant that he always stretched me and Spencer, so it was no surprise that Spencer immediately let go when it happened. He cried at the humiliation. He couldn’t believe he had done that while we were all watching— and what was worse to him was that we liked it. We liked that it degraded him.And even worse than that was that he liked it. It made him hard, and when Hotch started to jerk him off, it wasn’t long until he was begging to cum. I was the one who took mercy on him. I gave him permission before the others could argue,  and Spencer immediately fell apart.

I didn’t want to be the one who felt Hotch fill me up and I couldn’t help but let go, and they would laugh at me. I could tell how embarrassed I’d be. Hotch seemed to take mercy on me  the same way I had with Spencer back then. He stopped fucking with me when I was practically in tears, and he instead went back to stroking his cock.

“I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “You can go now.”

My eyes widened for a second as I registered what he said, but once I dawned on me, I didn’t hesitate. Despite my still weak legs, I pushed myself off the couch and I ran straight for the small bathroom at the back of the jet. I held onto the counter in front of me as I finally released everything that had been building. It felt just as good as an orgasm, if I were being honest. Holding it like that, being teased and denied by my Doms like that… It was just as painful as being edged, but getting to release was just as rewarding as an orgasm.

The door opened suddenly to reveal Hotch standing there, fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest. I tried hiding myself by clasping my hands together over my crotch. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.” I felt another wave of liquid pressing against my weak bladder, but I tried my best to hold it back since he was still standing there.

“Next time, I will make you go in front of them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Clean yourself up then come back for water—”

“Sir—”

“Not for that,” he said with a chuckle. “Water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.” He closed the door again and walked off, giving me the chance to release again.

When I was finished, I stood and cleaned myself, using the washcloths under the sink to clean up between my thighs. Usually, one of them would have helped, but the jet was too small, and the bathroom was only big enough for one person. I had to do this part on my own. When I was washed and dried, however, I made my way back into the main cabin, finding Emily racing to get the cuffs off Spencer. The second he was free, he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

[circethegoblin]

STAYING ALIVE MASTERPOST, FROM A BROKE TEEN WITH ADHD

here you go. some down to earth tips on how to not die metally nor physically.

tired of those "drink three liters of water everyday uwu" and "wake up at 5 am" and "buy a bath bomb and a fec mask and some other things you don't have the money for" shit? i'm here for ya.

1. NOT DYING

eat at least three meals a day, one of which m u s t be warm and above 300 kcal (it can be istant ramen with an egg added if you have to)

you technically should shower everyday, but we know how it is. A change of clothes is sometimes enough.

DRY SHAMPOO AND BABY WIPES!!!

keep bottles with water everywhere. On your desk, near that spot on the floor you always end up sitting on, near your bed, basically whenever you know you spend a lot of time. No need to get up and go to the kitchen will help. Obviously change the water in the bottles as often as you can.

Get some form of physical activity. It doesn't have to be much, you can for example replace scrolling on tiktok by walking around your room and scrolling on tiktok! Brilliant, isn't it? Obviously, running or doing those 10 minutes workouts from youtube is better, but you are still getting like an hour of walking.

Buy blankets. Steal blankets. Summon blankets from other dimensions. Just make sure you have a lot of warm, soft blankets in your house. You will thank me when you won't have the anergy to wash your sheets (just take them off and throw some blankets on your bed), or when the power goes out.

If you have pets, ALWAYS keep spare food that'll last for a week for them.

things to always have in the kitchen: milk, eggs, flour, rice, pasta, yeast, cheese, oil, a leafy vegetable, onions, tomatoes, apples, patatoes, some flavourful sauce, sugar, salt, spices and an emergency chocolate bar. You can make a lot of food with those. Just make sure you won't eat the chocolate too fast.

Have a lot of spare batteries. A lot.

Get urself a flashlight, a lighter, and a pocket knife.

Remember the apples? eat one a day. if you don't like apples or you can't eat them for any other reason, you can take a kiwi, banana, orange, basically something that will give you vitamins and non processed sugar.

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

drugs from that one guy around the corner = very bad time

2. NOT DYING INSIDE

Open the damn window.

Don't watch so many commentary videos. You are probably not even checking the sources, so you can easily make unjust judgement, and like. did you even hear of half of those people before?

make a discord server just for yourself. get into the habit of writing little things that happened to you there. rant about the fanfics you read. or the movies. vent there if you don't have anyone you can vent to. write your ideas there, write e v e r y t h i n g. make a section for passwords, for quick ideas, for your to do lists. you won't lose it as you do with sticky notes or notebooks. there is no risk anyone will see it. oh, and when you'll have a strong impulse to tell emily that you hate her? write that message in your private server and list all ur arguments. look at tat the next day and decide if you really mean that.

life sucks. come to peace with it.

cuddle ur pets if you have them

1 hour a day without a lot of sensory input. if you have to, reduce to half an hour.

if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through social media, make sure it's pintrest (just don't compare urself to the people here; if you have issues with that, tumblr may be better)

delete. twitter. from. your. phone.

influencers are lying to you; maybe not even intentionally. remember when you were watching that cute-aesthetic-productive morning routine, and you were wondering why your life isn't that pretty? why your room is a mess? why you cannot for the life of god be aesthetic 24/7? its the filter. don't worry about it, their lifes arent that nice either.

realize there's actually nothing stopping you from screaming as loud as you can right now. like there is no physical barrier. think about it. realize there's no actual physical barierr to many other things.

your body is your body. you can decide how it looks like; just remember it's in your greatest interest to keep it healthy.

3. BEING A LITTLE BETTER THAN JUST ALIVE

If you wear make up, take it off before you go to sleep.

moisturize your body; everything is better when your skin doesn't feel dry

have a one brand of cosmetics that you love and buy things mainly from it. they often have sets of products that complete each other. i like ziaja. it's a polish brand, it's surprisingly cheap and has nice quality

cleanser, moisturizer, face mist

of you can, change your sheets once every two weeks

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

do a deep house clean once a month (don't beat yourself up when you don't tho)

keep your workspace organized (it doesn't have to look organized to other people, remember)

sunscreen

cook your own food

keep a calendar

no money for scented candles? got ya. make a simmer pot: throw some apple peel, a couple of cinnamon sticks and whatever spices that smell good you have into a pot, add some water and simmer. boom. your house smells good, and you haven't spend 20 dollars.

If you really like candles, buy scented wax melts. it's cheaper.

Buy urself scented mists. they're pretty cheap and will make you feel A LOT better.

keep your clothes clean. if you aren't sure if that shirt thats on your chair is dirty or not, throw it in the washing mashine anyway. better be sure.

if you can, make your bed right when you get up

wear clothes that make you feel good. put some effort into your outfits. really.

4. OTHER PEOPLE

be nice to essential workers.

if you have money, give tips.

remember, you do not owe anyone love; it is not something you can force. even if they saved your life. even when they helped you in your darkest time. if you don't love them, you don't.

you don't have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy.

if you want to, date! date everyone! date girls, date boys, date nonbinary people! date people completly different than you, date people from different countries, date them!!! just make sure they're kind and won't kill you. even if you don't end up in a relationship, you can learn a lot.

don't be afraid to piss off people that deserve it

smile to strangers :)

5. NOT FAILING SCHOOL

heard of dark academia? check it out

romanticize the heck out of studying

do not let your studying be just reading the same partagraph over and over again. it won't work. believe me.

seterra for geography, quizlet for everything else

try to make yourself intrestet in whatever you are studying (watch veritasium, listen to podcasts about weird history facts)

notes are for you and you only; don't worry about them looking pretty. doodle on margins, make weird metaphors, squeeze in as much info as you can.

when you're studying, listen to music without words/in a language you don't understand.

chew gum while you study

get the forest app, get attached to the trees, focus.

don't feel guilty for taking breaks

grades aren't everything, but they are important.

eat something in school

don't just use the cheapest pens. invest a couple dollars in something that will make writing enjoyable and smooth

those study with me videos? they're great

if you like to argue with the teachers, take care of your grades becouse. they may not like you afterwards.

be nice to your classmates and help them with homework. if you don't do your homework they'll help you

executive dysfunction won't let you study? been there. sometimes it's better to wake up ealier tommorow and do that homework then.

don't feel guilty for failing a test

go to the goddamn class

don't pull all nighters oh my god don't especially on weekdays

6. OTHER LIFEHACKS

don't get involved in the crime, and if you do always have a believable explanation why you were doing it

have different alarm sounds for every day of the week

set a daily limit of money that you spend

great hobbies that don't require a lot of money; urban exploration, writing, hiking and learning other languages

thrift stores

don't eat grapefruits while on meds

nail polish removers dissolve most strong glues.

if you have a cut on your skin, desinfect it. do it. please just do it.

always have pads with you. even if you don't get periods, at least one of your friends probably does

sign up in your local library. its free

[kidney9-9]

Heartbreak Girl - Peter Parker

Anonymous asked:  Hey could you write something with fuckboy!Peter being friends with the reader since high school, and one day he goes to the bar they use to go and she's there, sat alone, crying cause her boyfriend broke up with her to get back with his ex. So he sits with her, even joking about the fact that she has been crying cause he doesn't think it's something serious, but then he's all like: aww come here, wanna tell me what happened? And he comforts her, telling how amazing she is, and that she doesn't deserve someone that can't see how awesome she is AND she invites him over. So... the following day it's just the reader being all like ok so this never happened, and even tho Peter is like: yeah yeah definetly, he is falling hard for her 🥺

Hi sweetie! Hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in. I was listening to 5sos while writing this and the song “Heartbreak girl” popped up, and I had to tittle it after the song omg! Masterlist linked in bio, and tags in a reblog. A little note before you continue! All my writing includes that everyone is of age. Also I thought I should say that please research/plan and use protection for sex! My friend and I spoke about this earlier, and I just wanted to restate that it is very important to use protection! 

Peter Parker x Reader (Smut with Plot) Warnings: Mention of underage drinking, more drinking, mention of cheating in past relationship, smut, little angst with happy ending! And unprotected sex (please use protection)! Word Count: 4.3k

--

You scooted closer to the bar, sighing into your drink once again. You’ve been here for two hours, and already had a few beers, feeling like shit. A tear rolled down your face as you thought back again to Emmett. This morning he fucking sent you a text telling you to pack his shit up and put it outside because he was leaving you. When he got to your apartment, you thought you could work it out, see why he was acting like that. You thought it was just a joke at most, but it wasn’t. He was going back to his ex, Haley, even after all the shit he talked about her to you.

It was ridiculous, you didn’t understand it. You’ve been with him since freshmen year of college; you raised your eyebrows at the thought. It’s been four years and he did that. You really thought you’d marry the guy, or at least buy a house together in the future. You guys even talked about engagement rings for fuck’s sake. You tilted your head back, gulping down the last bit of your beer, before setting it down, and pushing it to the side.

The bartender glanced over to you, shaking his head before placing another beer on the table for you, and you rolled your eyes back to him, but you were thankful he didn’t speak up. You tapped your fingernails into the glass as another few tears rolled down your face, and you were glad you were a silent crier, even though it was upsetting.

You sighed, drinking the beer again and set it down with an unintentional slam. You flinched before shaking your head to yourself, glancing up towards the doorway. You’d probably have to call an uber home or something, unless you stopped drinking now and had a few cups of water. You bit your lip, wondering why you’d even come here instead of staying at home to drink, so you could save money. You focused again back to the entrance, eyes narrowing when you noticed a familiar face.

It was Peter Parker, you realized. And you instantly turned around in your seat, just hoping he didn’t see you cry now. Anyone you knew, seeing you cry, was a no-no. You didn’t like it when people saw the vulnerable side of you like that. It made you feel awkward and uncomfortable.

You thought you were in the clear as you sighed and turned back to the entrance again with your spinning barstool, but you were wrong. Your eyes widened when you saw he took a seat right next to you.

“Y/n, you’re making me feel like I’m invisible here!” Peter laughed, greeting you. He noticed you right away when he walked in, it was the bar the two of you would sneak into all the time during high school. And you were drinking the same beer as well, it was a shitty one, he didn’t understand why you’d ever like it but that was something he remembered well about you.

“Hey…” You responded, trailing off as you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying to make the tears go away. Peter frowned, realizing you were crying, and he reached out to pat your back slowly.

“Aw Y/n! Come here, give me a hug. Want to talk about what happened?” Peter whispered, leaning close to you in concern. It’s been weeks since the last time you saw him, he’d been too busy with his job at Stark Industries. You shook your head back to him while shrugging, feeling as if you should tell him now, because he wouldn’t let it go. He was stubborn, always wanting to help you even if you didn’t want it though you knew you needed it.

You didn’t give him a hug straight away, worried that you’d get makeup on him from your tears, instead you started to talk. “I, uh, Emmett broke up with me today.” You whispered, voice cracking on his name. Peter’s face hardened at your words.

“That asshole did what?” He spat out, shaking his head in anger. You rolled your eyes back to Peter, not in the mood to tell him the full story, because you were sure it would make you feel more upset, and there was a lot more to the story other than Emmett leaving for Haley.

Peter’s arm slid over your shoulders now, bringing you closer as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sorry. You’re worth more than that shitbag piece of piss stained…” He stopped, seeing another tear drop. His other hand wiped your cheek softly, collecting the tear slowly.

“I know I am. Just wish I didn’t waste all that time on him now.” You responded, bringing out a small smile at Peter’s actions. Things had been on and off with Emmett at times, but you thought it would last, not him leaving for that girl.

“Let’s think about it this way, now you have the rest of your life, to spend with the people you feel happy with.” Peter murmured back, trying to comfort you more. You sniffled slightly, feeling sad but each time you saw him smile at you that way, you had a hiccup of hope building up.

“Yeah, like you.” You laughed back slowly, the laugh was faked, but it helped you a bit more. Peter smiled back to you, kissing your cheek again before looking to the bartender and ordering a glass of water for you.

He always was so sweet with you, and you appreciated him.

“I think you’re one of the best people I know out here.” He whispered to you. A blush had darkened over his cheeks when he noticed how close he was to you, but you didn’t seem to have much of a reaction, instead you invited him closer to you by setting your head on his shoulder. Peter smiled, wondering how a guy like Emmett ever had a chance with you.

Sure, Peter’s been with several over people before, but he’s always had a crush on you. He flirted openly with you so many times, but you never realized it either, which he found charming. He never pushed you though, into anything romantic. He would never do that type of shit, that was something only assholes did.

“Thanks Peter. Uh, he cheated on me, sort of. Told me he was going back to Haley instead. They’ve been talking for at least a year I think…” You admitted, just rambling out the problems before scrunching your face up together. You didn’t even want to talk about it, but it just flowed out.

Peter let out a surprised laugh, pulling away from you before shaking his head, “What? I thought you’d walk in on him or something… but that is shitty.” You groaned at him, nudging his shoulder and not liking his laugh.

“Would you do something like that?” You questioned him feeling a spike of anger rise. If anyone thought it was okay, you wouldn’t ever want to talk with them again. It just pissed you off and made it made you more upset that Peter laughed about it.

“What! I’m sorry. No, I wouldn’t do that. I laughed because Emmett is an ass like that.” Peter responded, eyes widening when he saw you scoff in return.

“Yeah right. You play with people’s feelings all the time. I’m not letting you forget about Olivia from the grocery store.” You retorted, glancing away from Peter. He sighed, his grin turning into a frown at the mention of Olivia. He made the mistake of going on a date with her, arguing throughout the whole night and then officially broke it up when he made out with her cousin at a party.

“That was… not the best on my part, but Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I wanted to brighten this fucked up thing. I’m sorry. And uh, I’m sticking by my statement that Emmett is an ass.” He responded, gazing at you as you slowly took a sip of water, forgetting your beer now.

“Yeah, Emmett the ass.” You murmured into the glass of water. Peter nodded back to you, wiping your cheek again as he saw another tear fall.

“Every tear that falls, I will tell you how amazing you are. Promise.” He whispered to you, making you stifle a giggle. You shook your head back to him, after he flicked your arm playfully.

“Shut up Peter,” You chuckled as he took a deep breath, preparing for the compliment.

“Ladies and gentlemen and nonbinary folk here! This girl – right here, you see her?” He paused, gaining the attention of everyone in the bar. Your eyes widened and you quickly hid your face in your hands, getting embarrassed as Peter continued after a few people called back out their answers.

You gasped when you peeked out, seeing he climbed up onto the bar. “She’s fucking incredible! This beautiful, intelligent, perfect human right here. The first time I met her, I instantly thought, fuck, I want to be her best friend. You know, she’s got that type of smile you’ll always remember. And she’s so special, like it makes you wonder if you’ve ever met anyone like her. She’s just - amazing.” Peter stopped as you started to slap his legs, trying to get him to stop.

“She’s the girl I’d give the world to!” He yelled out and you finally yelped out, tugging his whole leg down. He collapsed on the bar, laughing loudly as other hooted for him and the bartender slapped his back with the towel. You tugged him off the bar carefully, laughing as you started finally feel full happiness this evening.

“Parker!” You yipped, shaking your head as you tried to calm your laughter down. He started to laugh along with you, dragging you off the chair to stand with him. You shook your head before pulling him for a hug, not caring about the makeup smear now, instead just needing to be close to him.

“You’re fucking insane.” You mumbled into his ear, still silently giggling.

He hummed back, hugging you even tighter, “Yeah, for you.”

A wild thought invaded you as you gazed up to Peter, almost opening your mind to the various possibilities of what might happen. The way the light shinned on his face, his smile growing each second, he hugged you, the way he’d always kiss your cheeks or your forehead, to the crazy shit he’d do for you. He’s always been this Peter, the Peter that’s always looked at for you, and stayed with you, and fuck – if you weren’t going to take a chance now… when would you?

In an instant, you leaned up, capturing his lips in a soft hesitant kiss. Peter didn’t respond for a few moments, before he gasped, and kissed you back, pulling you even closer to his body. His arm slipped down and grasped around your back tighter, and his other went to the back of your head as he kissed you more passionately.

It was crazy, you couldn’t stop, you wanted more of him now. Fingers crawled under his shirt as you cupped his face, opening your mouth and creating an even sloppier kiss. Moans and whimpers crawled out of each of you, noises muted around you and finally you pulled away, needing air.

“Come home with me?” You asked, breathing heavily against his ear, almost propping your leg over his. Peter shuddered, nodding back to you, and pulled your lips back to his for a shorter strong kiss.

“Yes, yeah.” He whispered back, letting go of you and pulling out his wallet. He tossed a few tens to the waiter and picked your purse up for you before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you out the exit. You laughed, stumbling after him to his car.

--

You gasped as he slammed you against your bedroom wall, biting down on your bottom lip and hands going everywhere. His hair tickled you as he peppered kisses down south after he tore your clothes off. You giggled when he leaned back up, kissing your ear causing it to tickle.

You pushed back on Peter, making him fall back onto your bed with a surprised laugh. You quickly followed him, unbuckling and pulling down his pants slightly before you leaned up and kissed him again. The kiss was sloppy, everything was so messy, and you loved it. You breathed against his neck as he changed positions with you and then he pulled away.

He stood up, rushing to get out of his boxers and completely taking off his pants. His shirt was already thrown off near your front door. You sorted yourself on the bed, moving up in a more comfortable area, not caring about how many pillows were behind you. You let out a laugh when he stumbled slightly and he grinned back to you, “Wait – I need to know if you want this, and it’s not just you being drunk.” The phrase made you pause and purse your lips together.

“Uh, well I do want this, I’ve thought about it very briefly – it’s just, do we really have to talk about this now?” You struggled, almost wanting to groan at yourself for what you said. It was true, but you knew that even if you weren’t drunk that someday, sometime, in the future, you would hook up with Peter. Like, it was bound to happen. No way would you be in your 70s one day, thinking about all your hook ups, and Peter wouldn’t be on that list. He’s the classic fuckboy, with a few feelings sometimes.

“Oh, come on, what’s that supposed to mean?” Peter almost moaned back, not in any type of sexual way, but you wished it were. Fuck, you really didn’t like deep conversation during any sexual encounter, but right now, you would definitely rather have a philosophical conversation with Peter instead of this one.

You couldn’t count this as a deep conversation at all. He is Peter Parker after all; you wouldn’t expect him to want to talk at this moment (out of every moment that could happen). “Are you going to answer me, Y/n? I mean… I don’t want to do this if you’re going to regret it.” He popped up again, and you raised your eyebrows at yourself, realizing you fell into silence for a while.

“Oh – wait, you think I’d regret it? Parker, there’s no way I’ll regret this. I mean, maybe if I forgot to do laundry yesterday cause then I’ll have to do more shit tomorrow, but other than that I’m fine. I’m not that drunk, I drank a ton of water earlier, still very coherent, and very much consent to this. Fuck man, the only thing I regret here is Emmett!” You rambled, going on and on till you knew it was a bit too much, watching Peter crack a little smile before it ended with a full-blown giggle.

“Okay, okay, no more Emmett for tonight then. He’s – ugh, what did you even see in him?” Peter continued on, making you roll your eyes. Now you knew it was turning into teasing and you nudged him a bit, shaking your head.

“Look at it this way then if you have to know. You’re everything Emmett is not.” You spoke, tilting your head to him slightly. Peter took a long gaze down to your lips before he looked back up, shifting a bit.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting opinion you’ve got there. I hope that means I’m a good guy.” Peter retorted, his voice dropping down to something similar to a whisper. You smiled slightly, nodding back as you leaned in closer to him once again.

He ended up falling back on the bed, next to you, slipping his hand on your cheek to pull you in for a messy kiss. The kiss ended up being so heated that you moaned out in surprise when he slid an arm on your backside, propping you up on his lap. You loved how he was handling you; it was so different from Emmett – you shook the thought from your head, not wanting to make anymore comparisons between them. But either way, the delicacy of the way he held his hands against you and poured out all his lust in these actions made you feel like jelly, almost sliding yourself more onto him. At the same time, the desperation of his kissing, the urge to feel more, it amazed you too.

How come you didn’t sleep with him before this? You found yourself asking this in your head a few times tonight.

“I’ve imagined this for ages but never thought it would ever happen, much less be like this. You’re so fucking beautiful.” Peter huffed out after slipping from your lips for a moment. You raised your eyebrows momentarily, but you didn’t pay much mind to what he was saying, it was all just from the heat of the moment. You doubt he actually did think of this when he was so busy with everything in his life.

“Mm, okay.” You hummed back blinking your eyes closed as your tongue took a sweet taste of the sweat built upon his neck. Peter felt himself intake a large breath as he laid down against the pillow, bringing you along with himself.

“I wanted to treat with you the most respect I can give, make this all fucking proper.” Peter continued, feeling his cock briefly contact your bare thighs. He groaned, bringing you even closer to him and you gasped when you felt your pussy pulsing even more.

“Peter, shut up and fuck me.” You finally deadpanned, staring at his eyes as you watched them widen in surprise for a moment. He didn’t say anymore, as he started to finally put all his focus on you, instead on what he should have done.

He gripped your back again, and you shivered as you started to position yourself on top of him. Peter helped you, by aligning his cock with your entrance, and instantly as you slowly went down, he swore under his breath.

Your eyes watered a bit from the girth, not adjusted to this new size, but you slowly pushed yourself more and the familiar feeling of pleasure quickly came back, heating you up even more. He sat up more to kiss you properly without straining his neck, and he slid his tongue out around your bottom lip. His hands both wound up on your head, and your back helping you start a rhythm.

“You’re so hot.” You whined as he started to take more control, pushing in and out of you as his kisses trailed sloppily down your chest. Your breasts felt quite left out of the equation but once he captured your left breast into his hand and sucked and bit into different regions, you felt even more alive.

The faster he went, the harder he pounded into you now, after he switched positions again. You were laying against the mess of pillows and blankets and he as leaning against your figure, focusing on making you feel good.

There was a moment he swore he almost came at, seeing you stare at him with your mouth wide open, crying out his name. That stare held so much he had yearned for, for so long, and now that he finally saw and felt you in this way, he didn’t want this to be only once. He had a feeling you didn’t want that either.

His hips were almost uncontrollable at this point, shuddering and jerking into you as he cried out your name. It was silenced quickly by your lips and you dug your fingers into his hair, pulling harshly and curling his hair up as your hips started to meet his thrusts more as he hit your g-spot so many times. 

Your moans grew louder, feeling him graze over your clit so many times with his fingers. He knew what he was doing, extending your impending orgasm, as that flame started to grow even more in you. It felt like you needed to burst, it was just so much pleasure, you had felt your eyes watering again and you had trouble properly kissing him without sounds leaving your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, and Peter quickly responded to you, kissing you once more, harder than before, “I’m going to come.” His words made you spiral, only needing that to also fall into orgasm. And just as you reached it, your back leaned up into him even more. Your eyes almost rolled away as the feeling released around your body, almost feeling an incredible waterfall had hit you in a way you couldn’t describe.

Peter cried out a final time, pushing out of you as his cum shot out against your stomach. You could barely see what was happening, but your eyes fluttered closed shortly after you felt Peter collapse next to you. He pressed a warm kiss on the side of your head, making you hum quietly.

The two of you didn’t sway from the position for the rest of the night. Sleep came easier than you thought tonight.

--

As you drank your morning coffee, you were stuck in a state of shock. Last night was incredible beyond words, and you couldn’t even come to explain the exact feelings you had with and for Peter. And you also concluded that it would be best to pretend it didn’t happen. It was for the best for Peter and you! He might have had a fling or something that you didn’t know about, and you didn’t want to prevent him from getting into any relationships because he felt bad for you… and you needed to focus on getting rid of everything that reminded you of Emmett.

You glanced down to your mug with a grimace, realizing that Emmett gifted it to you for a birthday a few years ago. You couldn’t just waste the coffee, so you just chugged the rest, hoping Peter would get out of the shower soon. You realized you didn’t speak with him this morning, instead you had rushed out of the apartment when you saw the mailman try to slam a few of your packages into your little mailbox. You had the best view for this, and always had trouble with the mailman.

After getting back inside with your slightly damaged packages, you heard the shower running and here you were now. You wiped your forehead lightly with the back of your hand, huffing out a breath as you stared down at the mug for the last time. “Bye bitch.” You whispered, dropping the mug straight into the trash can in your kitchen, not caring how loud the glass shattered once it hit the bottom.

After a few more minutes, you heard the shower turn off. And almost after another five minutes, Peter walked out of the bathroom wearing his clothes from the day before, shaking his damp hair with his hands, hoping he didn’t look funny with his hair like that. You sent an awkward grin his way, “Hey there,” Your voice made you internally cringe. How long has it been since you had a one-night stand? Oh right, never! You didn’t know the etiquette to follow, but instead you knew you needed to get to the point.

Before Peter could say anything, you shook your head to yourself, “So! Uh, let’s agree that this never ever happened. And um, I appreciate that you were there for me – but like yeah, as friends! Cool, right?” You rambled nervously, not wanting to glance as he took a seat at the counter.

When he nodded and let out a laugh, you sighed in relief. “Yeah, yeah… You sure?” Peter asked, leaning into the counter, staring up at you. He felt so much bubblier today compared to the last few weeks and he knew his feelings for you would only triple now since last night. 

And seeing you act this way made him feel bittersweet.

He knew you needed to move on completely before you ever thought about having a relationship with someone, especially himself. He knew to give you space, but it hurt to part after such a special night with you that he’s been dreaming about for so long.

When you restated your previous words, Peter found himself smiling still, although a bit less. He slid his hand over yours, hoping you knew that he would always be there for you. He didn’t want to admit it to himself again, having thought he slightly gotten over you a few years ago, but he knew he was falling in love once more.

“Okay, I’m down for pretending. Call me when you need me… or like whenever, I don’t care. I mean I do care! I want to spend more time with you, I- okay, I’ll stop there. But call me or text me soon.” Peter stumbled over his words, as if he were actually admitting his feelings to you. Once he was done, he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

You scratched your cheek as you nodded back to him, “Yeah, I will. Thank you, Peter.” You responded, realizing this was goodbye for a bit. He picked up his things, waving once more to you before walking out of the apartment.

You scrunched your eyebrows together, not remembering he brought that bag last night. But you quickly pushed the thought off when you saw him walk away from the building, through your window. You were left with a feeling that you couldn’t explain again, this time you knew it was something you had to confront sooner or later with Peter.

[gay-jesus-probably]

Bisexuality didn't "feel right" as a label because you're biphobic and will do anything to distance yourself from bisexuality. Get well soon, the bi community will be here when you're ready.

Are you the raging homophobe anon back for round two or a new guy? ...It doesn’t really matter, you people are all the same.

If you are the same anon, then now I’m extra pissed off at you because do you have any idea how difficult it is to make fun of your messages? You’re making this really hard for me. First you send a five word ask declaring me a homophobe with no details, and it took a lot of thinking to come up with a vaguely funny response to such a lackluster prompt. You’re a really bad improv partner.

And now you send me this shit. Sorry everybody, no jokes today, now I’m actually just fucking furious.

Let me tell you a story, anon. When I was an innocent little twelve year old back in the far of reaches of 2011, I first discovered Tumblr, and soon enough I was learning about different genders and sexualities, and began exploring my own identity. As you already know since you’re sarcastically quoting me talking about my own fucking feelings, I’d been having a minor sexuality crisis for several years at that point, since gay, straight and bisexual were the only label I’d known before then, and none of them fit me. Despite me trying all of them. Multiple times. You condescending piece of shit.All this was resolved by me stumbling across a post defining pansexuality, and that being the first and only sexual identity that’s ever actually felt right for me. It clicked instantly, and has continued to be my sexuality for literally a decade now.

But back when I first started entering the queer community, pansexuality was actually pretty controversial. So was bisexuality. The two were just lumped together actually, because according to the exclusionists back then, bi/pan people are attracted to the opposite sex, and therefor are basically just straight. Actually they rarely cared enough to bother differentiating between bisexual and pansexual people, they just lumped us all in together as a bunch of heteros pretending to be gay for attention and oppressing the real gays. What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be gay for attention. So there I was, a twelve year old queer kid with a brand new identity, being welcomed by a bunch of exclusionists angrily yelling about how I was definitely just a hetero faking it for attention, and being pansexual was Wrong and Bad. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

I didn’t do that.

Let’s jump forward a few years. I was older, and still perfectly confident in my identity as a pansexual. I hadn’t considered any other parts of my identity. Why would I? I just never really thought much about gender. Then shortly after my fourteenth birthday, I watched a short film online about a trans boy figuring out his identity and working up the courage to come out to his mother. I don’t remember what it was called or most of the details. All I remember was the last scene where the boy and his mother got into an argument about him not feminine enough, which ended with him screaming that he wasn’t a girl. And then I unexpectedly burst into tears because neither was I.

So that was a fun surprise. Once I pulled through that unexpected sobbing breakdown in the middle of the night and re-evaluated my entire life, I realized that yeah. I really wasn’t a girl. I wasn’t a boy either. Fortunately by then I knew that nonbinary people were a thing, so I had plenty of options. I spent awhile feeling things out and experimenting with different labels and pronouns before finally settling on agender and they/them pronouns. Which was great! I felt better than ever, and was confident that I had my identity down and everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. Because I’d been so happy about the biphobia dying down that I hadn’t quite noticed the exclusionists switching targets. Now the nonbinary people were lying. What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be queer for attention. The ones who wanted to medically transition were declared to actually be poor confused trans people who couldn’t get over their internalized transphobia to accept their True Identities. And the rest of us... well, we were just a bunch of cishet special snowflakes playing at being trans for attention, and oppressing the real trans people. I wasn’t agender. I was a cis girl making up fake identities for attention, and calling myself nonbinary was Wrong and Bad. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

I didn’t do that.

Step forward a few more years, now to eighteen year old me. There’s no dramatic revelations or long struggles this time, just a slow realization. Because I’d been single for years, and I wasn’t bothered by that. I actually enjoyed it. Marriage didn’t sound very appealing. Neither did dating. I’d dated people before, but I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to; it was just... the thing I was supposed to do. I found people attractive, sure. But I hadn’t wanted to flirt with anyone. Actually, now that I was thinking about it, had I ever felt romantically attracted to anyone? I didn’t even want romance in fiction! So I experimented. Went on some dates just in case age made it more appealing (it didn’t). Began calling myself aromantic, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the longer I used it, the better it felt. It was right.

But once again, the exclusionists were back and even angier than ever. Because now aphobia was in full swing. After all, asexuality wasn’t really queer. It’s just not having sex! It’s basically straight! What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be queer for attention. And the aromantics, oh the aromantics who weren’t asexual were even worse. Because everyone knows that love is what makes us human. How could someone not feel romance? Us aro people weren’t just lying about our identities, we were pretending to not have feelings so that we could get away with using people for sex without commitment. Being aro meant I was an abusive sex crazed monster taking advantage of all the poor innocent allo’s. I wasn’t aromantic. I was a sexual predator making up a fake identity to take advantage of people, and even though I wasn’t actually sleeping around calling myself aro was Bad and Wrong. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

And I didn’t fucking do that.

Look. I’ve been here for a very long time, and I have dealt with so many versions of exclusionist bullshit. Every aspect of my identity has been met with random fucking strangers online smugly informing me that I was wrong about myself and they were right. And that’s just the ones that wanted me to pretend to be something else; about half of the exclusionists didn’t make any attempts at conversion therapy, and instead skipped straight to suicide baiting. I’m not even getting into the actual homophobes I’ve had to deal with, or the TERF’s that have come after me under the assumption that I’m a trans woman. My point is, I’m pretty fucking used to this sort of thing.

This just hurts a little more, because like I said earlier, the first round of exclusionism I faced was just expanded biphobia. And the bi/pan community banded together in the face of that. We weren’t the exact same identities, but we were being treated the same, and we were similar enough that nobody really minded the difference. It was wonderful. Bi and pan people were a tightly knit group, and that was a sense of community I desperately needed when I was young. I’ve been seeing this coming for awhile. There’s been increasing amounts of bi people getting drawn in by exclusionist bullshit, and I’ve seen anti-pansexual sentiment growing. I just... really hoped it wouldn’t get this far. It’s sad, y’know? It feels like losing an old friend. I’m really disappointed that you think trying to force people out of their community is right. It’s fucking pathetic, and I hope that someday you’ll rediscover basic compassion and realize how much damage you’re doing to yourself and others. This sort of thing doesn’t help the bisexual community. It drives people away. It’s like the damage that TERF’s have done to the lesbian community; this sort of thing poisons the whole well. I hope you re-evaluate what you’re doing and find a more healthy mindset.

...But also at the same time: Who the fuck do you think you are? Take your condescending bullshit and shove it directly up your ass you fucking waste of oxygen. How the fuck dare you. Do you realize the fucking audacity it takes to claim to know someone's identity better than they do? You self centered egotistical douchebag. Your parents should feel ashamed for having raised such an utter failure of a human being. I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, but I can already tell you beat off twice a day to how fucking clever you think you are. If you ever darken my inbox again you’d better be damn sure you keep it anonymous, because if I find you I’ll kick your fucking teeth in, you smug piece of shit.

[shoujorose]

There’s something that’s been on my mind for a long time, and a disproportionate amount recently. I want to talk about it openly, but Twitter is just too Open, there’s too many people (and it’s bad for this stuff anyway)...but Tumblr is smaller and cozier so. Here I am I guess.

For some time now, I’ve been thinking I’m probably nonbinary, and for some reason recently hiding that fact has been...idk. It feels kind of stifling and isolating. But I’m afraid to really be open about it, because it’s...hard to explain.

I’m very happy with things like my name and pronouns — actually, in regards to the latter...I don’t even like they/them pronouns for myself. I don’t mind if people use it occasionally, but it feels terrible when people only use those. And I still prefer to be called with masculine words. It’s not that I’m not a man, it’s more so...if you had to put a label on it, bigender would probably be the closest one.

A friend of mine expressed a similar sentiment to me a little while ago, and maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about it. They put it in words I always struggled to — they identify both with being a man and with being a woman, and they don’t always necessarily consider themselves their apparent gender. But they don’t talk about it because they like their name and pronouns, so it might just seem confusing. And that’s pretty much the boat I’m in I guess.

I wish I could understand why it’s bothering me so much...like, whatever my gender is kind of doesn’t matter. All you need is my name and pronouns, really. So why is it gnawing at me?

Maybe it’s because...in spite of my best efforts not to shove myself into another box, it sort of feels like I have. I’m not...like other men. I’m certainly not like cis men, and I’m not like a lot of trans men either. I know people don’t like this kind of terminology now, and I understand why — but the whole “man in a woman’s body” thing, I feel like that describes me pretty well. And that fact, that along with my upbringing...many people can shed it somewhat easily. I can’t. And it’s...well, it’s hard to explain. It goes beyond my stupid girly interests, although that doesn’t help — it’s like...I have a tie to femininity that I just can’t break. But I’ve always felt there’s something inherently masculine within me. It’s like I’m at the edge of two worlds.

But overtly claiming that feminine side...I guess it feels a bit scary because I wonder if people would use it to degrade my masculine side, which is what I truly identify with. The feminine aspect...it’s just what society’s hoisted upon me — but I don’t hate it. Hell, for a long time, I very badly wanted to be a woman...me being trans was never about hating being a woman. It’s that I’m simply not one, and pretending I was felt terrible after a point. I guess now, pretending I’m a Pure Man (?) is starting to feel similarly.

...although, at the same time, maybe that’s just stupid. Am I really doing that? I feel like I’m a failure at that too. I mean, I use a bunch of pictures of girls as my icons, I go around in dresses, I’m even thinking of bobbing my hair again, even though the last time it happened (accidentally) it left me in a wreck... I’m not really presenting “like a man.” And funnily enough, I worry about that too, like I’m just...lying to everyone. And maybe that’s the thing? I’m not sure I really have...anything of what society considers of a man, both in ways I don’t care about, and ways that truly hurt me inside. But I’m not a woman. And no, I don’t think it’s because gender roles and shit cause...why would I still align so much with what’s considered proper for a woman? And even before I was really that cognizantly aware of sexism, I had some similar feelings, so...

I think there’s just...a lot of insecurity. Everything’s so rigid, and...I don’t even know if I fit the bare basics. I waffle on whether I even want T or not...sometimes it sounds nice, but also I’ve become somewhat fond of what I’ve been given. I straight up really like my singing voice and am not sure I really want to change it. I just want to exist as myself, comfortably, and mix and match as I please and not have these worrisome thoughts. Maybe that’s why I keep having this urge to be more open about this stuff, because it feels even more like telling the world to piss off. Although in reality, that’s not how it works. To most of society, you’re a “boy” or a “girl”...and I feel more like a boy. But I’m in a girl suit and am actually okay with that, when it doesn’t feel like it’s conflicting with the “boy” part. Idk, I’m sorry for rambling so much, if anybody’s somehow gotten this far...

...and as an aside, I’m so fucking annoyed. I made (?) an OC who’s very similar not super long ago, and right then I fucking KNEW it. I was thinking, “oh he’s more nonbinary than me though ahaha,” but in the back of my brain I had a feeling this was something I’ve been repressing manifesting because this shit ALWAAAAYS happens. It happened when I thought I was gay, and then when I realized I was trans, and then when I started accepting (again...) that I’m bi...ugh! This shit always manifests in my work before I’m able to wrap my head around it myself. But, it’s easier for him at least...he has more “preferences” than me, who is pretty adamant about things like pronouns. I wish I didn’t care cause that’d make it easier. Although maybe I’m just making problems for myself...idk.

but yeah that’s my massive bitchy rambling, and thanks if you somehow made it this far. If you have any advice, feel free to share it cause I’m just...idk. This is all increasingly bothering me but I’m not sure what to do...although I might just not hide it much longer. I don’t even know why it feels like such a big deal, I doubt anyone would care that much...sigh. It’s dumb.

[dekusbrokenarms]

Class 1-A Gender and Sexuality Journey Headcanons

This is mostly just me really liking messy self discovery because I am a messy bitch.

Kyoka Jirou

First off, Kyoka is a trans girl. She socially transitioned when she was really young and began medically transitioning in high school bc her parents are super supportive and great (we stan a supportive parent)

She first thinks she's bi when she's 14 and comes out as such at 15

She dates Kaminari for a while second year and after they break up she's pretty certain she's a lesbian

After high school, she has a couple years where gender is kinda nebulus. For a while thinks she's a nonbinary lesbian but then decides she's just GNC and punk but definitely full girl

She gets more comfortable in her gender after that, but starts questioning her sexuality again

And ends up back at bisexual, but like not attracted to dudes. Girls and nonbinary people only please

Also she and Momo reconnect in their mid twenties and hit it off and get married

Denki Kaminari

Denki is completely comfortable calling himself straight up until he's 17

But don't get it twisted, he definitely was already acutely aware he was into dudes

Because wow boys are pretty

But he also just kind of ignores it because OMFG GIRLS

But after his other friends start coming out, he gets more comfortable thinking about his sexuality but doesn't bother labelling it

Specifically he doesn't want to label it because he gets comfortable with it after her starts dating Kyoka and doesn't want anyone thinking he's calling himself not-straight for dating her

But a couple months after he breaks up with Kyoka, he starts fooling around with Hitoshi and like really he's at the point of no return so he just slaps the bi label on himself and goes about his day

Towards the end of third year, he starts playing around with GNC and really vibes with the genderqueer label, but still uses he pronouns because he's used to them

He and Hitoshi break up after graduation and Denki really throws himself into exploring his gender and sexuality

And starts using he and they pronouns and typically dresses on the masculine side of androgynous but with lots of cool makeup

He gives polyamory a shot, but he keeps finding himself feeling like he's third wheeling other people's relationships and decides its not for them

In their late twenties, he and Hitoshi hook up at a reunion party and hit it off. They keep things casual for several months before suddenly they decide to move in together and in a blink of an eye, they're in a legit committed relationship without knowing how it got there but it feels right to them.

Eijirou Kirishima

No flavor for this one. He figured out he was gay when he was 12 and it stuck. His moms are lesbians and support him wholeheartedly.

Katsuki Bakugou

I think Bakugou also grew up with queer people in his life so he was never really in the closet

He was pretty certain he was asexual and aromantic until Kirishima weedled his way into his heart

At 17, he decides that he's probably demi-pansexual and demiromantic but that feels like too much so he just says queer.

This boy knows all the words though. Keeps very up to date with the local and global state of queer communities but doesn't talk about it unless prompted or provoked

At first he was very private about his relationship with Kirishima because it was no one's fucking business but after seeing the rampant homophobia in the hero business, he became very loud and very proud of his boyfriend very fast

Eijirou and Katsuki probably got married at, like, 21 and did not give one shit when people pointed out they were young. And they're together for the rest of their lives so those fuckers can suck it

Mina Ashido

Mina is your classic bisexual disaster and spends her teens and early twenties going between calling herself straight, bi, and a lebsian depending on who she's currently into because this bitch has zero object permanence

She chills out in her twenties though and is comfortable calling herself bisexual at long last

Hanta Sero

Sero is pretty comfortable being straight right up until all his friends come out

He spends a couple months questioning his sexuality before knowing for certain he's straight

But he's that one straight dude that always ends up dating bi and pan girls by complete happenstance

Hitoshi Shinsou

He really does not know what his sexuality is

Sometimes its yes

Sometimes its no

He says queer because he can't be assed to look into any of the microlabels

He just knows he's not straight and that's good enough for him

Momo Yaoyorozu

This girl is a lesbian but trying to convince herself of that was A PROCESS

She denies it for years and years

Its not until after graduation she thinks, but doesn't dare say, she's bi because she tells herself she's "mostly into guys anyway" so "it doesn't really count"

Slowly her percentage shifts away from guys and to girls

She's 23 before she accepts she's a lesbian

But she doesn't come out until she's 28 because she's scared since her parents expect her to end up with a man

Ochako Uraraka

This girl is mostly into guys. Like she's pretty sure she's straight because all the crushes she had so far have been on boys

When she's 18, she starts to suspect she might like girls too but is really too shy to explore that feeling at first

But when she does? Oh boy she will not stop talking about how wonderful and perfect girls are and how unfortunate her attraction to men is because she feels insecure in her validity as a bisexual woman with a preference for men

Tsuyu Asui

Tsuyu has known she's a lesbian since she was 15 and was very comfortable with that

She questioned if she might be bi a time or two but always came back to being gay

She does realize she's an ace lesbian at 18 though but she's also okay with that

Her goals in life are to own a house by a lake with a beautiful wife

Tenya Iida

Tenya is pansexual

Literally he just cannot see why gender would be a factor in choosing a potential partner

He never came out because he was 20 before he realized that this was not the default state and others weren't just being picky by having a different sexuality

And by then, every knew because he made no attempts to hide his partners

He was really stressed at first about it, and asked Tensei why no one ever told him he should be more careful with publicly showing his sexuality but Tensei was just like "we just thought you knew what you were doing, dude. And it looks like it worked out"

Izuku Midoroya

Again, Izuku is too swept up in "nghh girls pretty" to think too much about his sexuality when he's younger

When he gets a crush on Shouto, he doesn't recognize it as a crush at first because it felt so natural and comfortable and he was used to being uncomfortable around people he liked

So he has a crush on Shouto for years before it hits him: Oh I'm not straight

He stays in that nebulous not-straight state for months because he does not have time to deal with that

But once he stops procrastinating his sexuality, he cannot decide if he's bisexual or pansexual or polysexual and he gets super wrapped up in researching microlabels and its super overwhelming

He even questions his gender for a little bit but settles on he's a cis man pretty quickly

He does eventually start dating Shouto and just calls himself gay for a while because it's easier than trying to piece together ten microlabels like he's tempted to do

However after Shouto begins exploring his gender identity, Izuku gets more comfortable just calling himself pan because he realizes that gender never really played a part in who he likes.

Shouto Todoroki

He came out as gay at 14 to piss off his father depsite the fact he didn't actually have any feelings about his sexuality at the time

No he decided he didn't care what his sexuality was. He was gonna be gay.

And he forgot he did that until he was 17 and was like, oh- I should probably figure out my actual sexuality, after being questioned due to his close relationship with Izuku

So he thought about it for about 15 seconds to say, well, I do like Izuku so I'll just be actually gay now

That stuck until after graduation and into his twenties when he started questioning his gender

He figured out he wasn't particularly attached to masculinity or femininity and found comfort in the agender label

They started using gender neutral pronouns and grew their hair out long but that's really all that changed

They came back to their sexuality after that and decided it was just "men"

Izuku tried to be helpful and offered terms like androsexual, but Shouto didn't find them very useful so they like to tell people their gender is no and their sexuality is dude

It gets the point across

Yuga Aoyoma

Okay, so we all know he’s gay

But despite how flamboyant he is, this boy is a closet case

He definitely had a crush on Izuku first year, but he couldn’t handle that yet so he definitely lived vicariously through Ochako’s crush on him

I don’t think he came out until after high school

And zero people were surprised

He probably does drag too

And he’d look fabulous doing so

Kouji Koda

I think Kouji is ace 

I don’t think this is a word he had for himself until he was in his mid twenties

He just assumed he was a late bloomer and he’d been told he just had a low self esteem

But he finds the ace community and suddenly everything makes sense and he feels comfortable in his own skin

Once that falls into place, he discovers he’s also aromantic

He ends up having a platonic life partner and they have lots of pets and plants together

Fumikage Tokoyami

Fumikage figured out he’s bisexual when interning under Hawks. Like fuck, he had the most embarrassing crush on this guy who’s aesthetic is so embarrassing

I don’t think he had much trouble accepting that he’s attracted to guys though

Like a demon lives in his head

He’s mostly suffering because he has a crush on his cheerful, friendly mentor

Dark Shadow is very happy about this development because it’s a chance to embarrass him and make him uncomfortable

Fumikage gets renewed interest in being able to control Dark Shadow to shut his whore mouth

Unfortunately Dark Shadows outs him to his mentor

Fortunately Hawks is really cool about it and tells DS to have some chill and doesn’t give Fumikage a hard time about it, but Fumikage doesn’t get invited back for another internship with him and finds himself assigned to do work with sidekicks afterwards

Mezou Shouji

Mezou doesn’t fuck with gender

It’s not that he necessarily feels disconnected from his masculinity but rather that he just feels like gender is archaic and useless

So he’s pan and bigender (male and agender)

Definitely would make jokes about be attracted to frying pans and this is how he comes out to Fumikage in their third year. 

Rikidou Sato

Rikidou doesn’t really date in high school

Soon after graduation he ends up in a relationship with a girl that lasts five years before he realizes he’s gay

One time someone tells him he should have known sooner since he likes baking so much and he punches them in the face (I like to imagine this person was Mineta for face punching purposes)

He ends up good pals with the woman he was dating and she’s his maid of honor at his wedding :’)

Tooru Hagakure, and Mashirao Ojiro

I’m sorry if one of them is your fave. They’re both straight and cis and have never questioned it even once. 

[popculturebuffet]

House of Mouse: Mickey and the Culture Clash (Commission by WeirdKev27) or “What the Hell, Clarabelle?”

Hello, hello, hello... I wish I could say I was in good spirits but i’m tired, have covid induced chills running down my spine.. and oh yeah there was an armed insurrection i the captial last night that showed just how broken this country was. And while Monster Bash would still be relevant... I couldn’t do it. I admit to being unable to do an episode where the millitant racist nutjob who harms people runs off into the night, and does much worse in later episodes, while the people she harassed are arrested the night after a bunch of millitant, racist, sociopathic, selfish nightmares sieged the captial, killed a woman, raised the fucking maga flag over the buildling and took pictures like they were goddamn heroes.  We got a stark reminder, not a wake up call, not an opening a REMINDER of just how badly broken our country is last night, and it wasn’t till this morning I found out just how BAD it was. The deaths, the flag, the fact josh fucking hawley, MY STAT’ES SENATOR and registered piece of shit, raised  A FUCKING FIST IN SOLIDARITY, which gives me the crippling fear his stupidity and unabashed racisim and support of a cou could mean riots at best and attempted uprisings at worst and who knows what kind of hate crimes against those of color and those in my own queer community. I am afraid, tired, and I am pissed and I feel we could ALL use something wholesome, warm and far removed from the shit going on. And in my hour of need to figure out something like that to put on the schedule.. Kev brought up a wonderfufl idea.  Every month this month till the end of it Kev is going to comission one episode of a show near and dear to both our hearts that has it’s 20th birthday this month. House of Mouse. He was intitally going to request Pete’s One Man Show, which is one of my faviorites, but was ironcially one I already planned to cover next month to celebrate both the show’s anniversary and Pete’s Birthday. But since he was happy to wait till then to comission it, he instead asked for another classic and one with easily my faviorite character on the show: Moritmer Mouse. 

One of the best things House of Mouse did was bring back Mortimer Mouse. Introduced in Mickey’s Rival, Mortimer was an ex of minnies who showed up for one short to be a dick to mickey before running off and leaving Minnie at the mercy of a bull he pissed off. He also weirdly kept electrodes and a car battery in his pants. The short itself is.. not great mostly because Minnie dimissies Mickey rightfully being pissed someone is hitting on his girlfriend in front of him, making jokes at his expense, and generally being a pillock as being jealous... which yeah, yeah he is. Most of the time jealousy and supscison of your partner is ugly, gross and damaging to a relationship.  You should trust them unless you’ve been given good reason not to, and if your paranoidly jealous about every friend she has she could be attracted to.. get some fucking help. Seriously, I need to, not for this for various other problems, but get some therapy to help with your trust issues or if your just being the kind of dick who naturally assumes men and women or men and men or women and women or men and nonibinary persons, or women and nonbinary peeps and so on and so on cannot be friends if they could possibly be togehter romantically... grow up.  I say all of that because those are serious underlying issues and I didn’t want it to seem like for a moment I was supporting them... and because sometimes i’ts OKAY to be jealous, to either just feel a little jealous of someone, or to you know be irate because your girlfriend’s ex is hitting on her in front of you and she’s being entirely receptive to it. 

So yeah i’ts really hard to feel bad for minnie’s bull attack or find the ending sweet after Minnie was you know, what ramona said for an entire short. However my point for this rant, besides giving out about the short again because I clearly didn’t enough in my Mickey Birthday Special, is that Mortimer is still pretty great. He’s a frat bro in the 40′s sense sure, but the idea of a local douche hoping to swoop in and woo minnie away, who has an oddly specific sense of humor and a bizzare, memorable and wonderful walk, seriously the short is worth watching for mortimier’s “I got two car batteris in my pants’ walk, is a good one. While he’d naturally show up in comics and what have you Mortimer just sort of vanished. But clearly someone on the House of Mouse staff, and Mousewerks before it, agreed because Morty was made easily one of the best and most recurring characters in the HOM, and often more prominent than Horace or Gus. While he still tried his old “I’m gonna do your common law wife act” a few times he was mostly there to be an annoying douche when the ep needed one and to be taken down a peg by everyone in the house. And that VERY MUCH includes Mickey. That’s also part of why I love this show bringing him back: It gives Mickey someone besides pete to give out too on a regular basis. He’s still his charming self about it but it’s lovelyt os ee Mickey sarcastically roast someone. And I honestly attribute the main factor of his sucess on the show to VA Maurice LaMarche. While his original VA, Sonny Dawson, was fantastic.. it’s Maurice who very clearly made the character his. While others like Jeff Bennet have taken over since i’ts Maurice who gave him his signature “ha-cha-cha” catchphrase, swagger and signiture voice. And no i’ts not lost on me that one of Maurice’s OTHER best roles is another cartoon mouse.. and I now very badly want him to meet Pinky and the Brain. But yeah, Maurice just oozes the smarm that defines mortimer for me, oozes condescinon and assholery and he, is., glorious. He was a faviorite as a kid, he’s a faviorite now, and Disney needs to use him more.. and also have Maurice voice him for wonderufl world of mickey mouse, though Jeff Bennett is not bad at all I just prefer the master at the role. 

So obviously, after the nightmare of an evening america had yesterday, an episode not only about how wholesome mickey and minnie are but about Mickey teaming up with Mortimer was EXACTLY what i needed. So pitter patter, this is Mickey and the Culture clash. As always for house of mouse i’ll be chonking it up and since this one starts right with the wraparound, and sicnce you know I spent a godo few pagraphs going over mortimer and he’s only IN the wraparound this episode... let’s start there

Mickey and the Culture Clash: Don’t Go Changin, To Try and Please Me So we open the episode and the review proper with Mickey performing a banjo sernade for Minnie, their song in fact. It’s a really sweet scene.. that’s quickly ruined by Clarabelle being an asshole, who says i’ts a bit crude. Minnie counters that while “It’s not mozart”, it’s nice and she clearly likes it and the gesture. Instead of you know leaving it there like a good friend, like she’s SUPPOSED to be to Minnie in most continuities, Clarabelle.. takes the things she said and her having to run out to wrangle pluto out of context, painting it as her thinking he’s not sophisticated and then running out because of it. Oh and she tops it by pointing to a classified add from a MM looking for sophisticated companionship. 

It just paints Clarabelle not as Minnie’s friend or a chatty gossip, but as a heartless bitch who has no trouble implying one of her best friends would cheat on her boyfriend TO HIS FACE, and is fine wrecking a perfectly lovely relationship just to have more to talk about. Seriously she starts gossiping to everybody on top of it just in case you thought Clarabelle was a decent person in any shape this episode. She’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t work despite being integral to it.. well two but hte other thing is a small, end of episode gag we’ll get to. This.. this is an integral part of the plot. It also relies on Daisy and Donald being absent for the episode for what I can only assume is their annual sex decathalon because otherwise the second she heard about her friend doing this, before reassuring Minnie, Donald would be holdiing her while Daisy beat the absolute shit out of her for hurting thier closest friend and not bothering to take a look into anything when leveling such a rough accusation at Minnie. In a really stellar, really well paced episode, Clarabelle being so heartless stands out. It’s also, might as well get this out of the way, teh final episode not inlcuding the two holiday specials.. and it’s a good note to go out on otherwise, I just can’t ignore the obnoxious cow in the room.. in both senses of the word. 

So yeah Mickey’s trying to be fancy, and Mortimer gets a good dig in about him reading “You having trouble sounding out the words”, but once he hears what’s going on, or rather once he realizes mickey things Mortimer’s personal add is in fact his girlfriend cheating on him, he decides to help Mickey. And to his credit for this con.. Mortimer actually thought things out on how to trick his rival, and his plan here is douchey as hell but incredibly genius: he offers to help mickey and while that’d normally be suspcious he offers a genuine, and very mortimer explination for helping him become a bit more sophisticated to win minnie back: if Minnie finds a handsome, sophisticated guy to date, what chance does MORTIMER have against that? At least with Mickey, in his deluded egocentric view of things anyway, he has a shot at beating him. 

So Mickey classes it up a bit, taking some sopshitcated stances when announcing and trying to woo minnie by talking in ye olde english. When that fails, she just finds it silly but charming, Mickey finds Jose.. hitting on her.

Just.. I expect better from you man. Woo ladies all you like as long as your respectful but I expect better than to hit on someone else’s girlfriend.. which granted he has but given the last time we saw him do that, he nearly got stabbed a bunch and the last time he agressively hit on a woman he got punched in the beak as he should, you’d THINK he’d of learned something. Seriously once again Donald is only missing because this time Daisy would be holding Jose down while Donald hit him. Or possibly they’d take turns. Point is Jose REALLY shoudln’t be doing this and knows better.. marginally. But.. it is in character enough so ti’s not as bad as Clarabelle the homewrecker. 

So Mickey tries being fancy and goes on to do poetry instead of letting O’Malley and the Alley Cats play.. which is a nice running gag the series does as they NEVER get to play.. which while funny is a shame since I love the Aristocats. So then we finally get what Mortimer’s been playing at, he swoops in, claims MICKEY dosen’t need HER, and uses the same personal add to trick her. See, while what Mortimer’s doing is vile.. unlike clarabelle I can repsect it at least. I don’t condone it and i’m glad he gets foiled.. but as a bad guy plan it’s pretty clever and for someone like Mortimer whose usually pretty incompitent.. it’s pretty suprising he could pull this off. It’s still pretty damn low and scummy, no question, but props to being able to outwit and nearly outplay two people who deal with your crap on a regular basis and still convincingly conning both.  Thankfully while he tries to take Minnie out Mickey, in a great visual gag, puts two and two together, and busts out their song, with Mickey and Minnie heartwearmingly reuniting on stage as seen above. Then we get that gag I mentioned not liking: Mickey gets Morty back by planting a false marriage proposal from Moritmer to Clarabelle, again under MM and he gets carried off.. HAHA HE’S BEING FORCED INTO A MARRIAGE HE DOSEN’T. LAUGH. LAUGH AT IT. The gag just really hasn’t aged well, as otherwise it’s clever Mickey used Mortimer’s own trick against both him and the person who caused all of this but really.. Clarabelle gets no real compuance. At worse sshe finds out she was tricked.. but she again you know tried to break up her close friends relationship for shits and giggles. But .. it’s at the very end of the episode and very easy to ignore, so it dosen’t really bother me too bad, and compared to some gags of the type i’ve seen, it could be MUCH worse.  Overall this wraparound is one of the series best and a good one to go out on. it has a simple premise, a brilliant antagonist plot, some great bits from all involved, and even a great Belle and Beast cameo. All in all a really good wraparound only hampered by a sexist and dated ending and Clarabelle being portrayed as ...

She’s the worst, in the world. Okay onto the shorts.

Mickey’s Piano Lesson: That was a Fun One

It really was. It’s a simple premise: Minnie wants MIckey to do a piano recital and he decides “I don’t need practice i’m mickey mouse. “ And it’s REALLY nice to have a short that has, rather than aw shucks mickey, shenanigans mickey. While thanks to the new shorts we’ve had tons, it’s still nice to get one in the House of Mouse era, and it’s just fun to see Mickey take the usual donald roll of letting his overconfidence punch him in the face> It fits both though: Both are everyman and while I lean towards the duck, to no one’s shock, Mickey is just as capable, and his lack of practice comes off less like the angry and hostile way donald would dismiss it and mroe just loveable procastination. And as someone who REALLY struggles with procastination I related to this short, as Mickey does everything else he’d rather do from bathing the dog to skydiving till Minnie, in a great bit informs him everyone from the president, to several dignitaries from other countries, to a televised audience will see. We then get two really great and really beatuifully animated bits as MIckey wrestles with the notes on thep age then fights with his piano as he performs, still pulling it off but destroying the thing and rightfully earning a glare form his girlfriend. Just a fun, slapstick short with a great premise. 

Dance of the Goofys: Scary Children Set to classical music, this one has a bunch of goofys as Fairy’s, who are making the flowers go and the one who sleeps in ends up saving the king from a horrifing looking little brat. He reminds me of Montanna Max a bit.. speaking of which Creer Summer recnetly announced Elmyra won’t be in the reboot. And while this does make me fear actually good characters like Fifi, Montana Max, and more will be cut like the animanics reboot and I do feel for Cree not getting to be involved and hope they find another roll for her as, given her status in the industry she deserves better.. THANK FUCKING GOD. I’ll go into this in another review I have planned for the future but unlike the cuts made to animaniacs this was a REALLY good decision i’m really greatful for. Thank you crew thank you. 

Back on topic, it’s just a fun, really beautifully animated short about the goofies and hteir shenanigans with a really great high concept. 

Maestro Minnie: Brahm’s Lullabye: Simply Irresitable Another simple but clever and lovely to watch one, and one I like quite a bit more. Minnie is conducting some living violins to Brahm’s Lullabye to get a baby Violin to sleep, and we get some really beautiful shots of her as she does so.. only to get comically interuppted by other insteruments turning up the noise. Not much to say on this one as it’s short and simple.. but sometimes short and simple is just what you need and the fun premise nad really beautiful especially for tv animation at the time visuals really sell this one.  ONce again, good stuff. 

Overall: This was a REALLY good note to go out on. While as I said the Clarabelle stuff can eat my entire ass, everything else is really damn good and I highly recommend checking this one out. Next time, in about a month, we’ll be looking at Pete’s spotlight episode for his birfday. While you wait tommorow we have my first look at legend of the three cabs. But for now, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. 

[ellewritesathing]

Ten Things    V

Summary: If there’s one thing you have to know about Harvey Kinkle, it’s that he rarely thinks things through. So when he meets (and falls for) Sabrina Spellman on his first day of Baxter High and finds out that she can’t date anyone until her tempestuous sister does, it seems like the obvious solution is to get someone to date her so he can go out with Sabrina. A not so obvious choice for the challenge is Caliban, but, hey, it’s not like Harvey thought that far.

Masterlist  Prev. | Part 5

Word-count: 3.1k+

A/N: sorry for the delay girls and gays (and nonbinary pals) but i finally got accepted into uni so i left the house yesterday for the first time in three months lmao 💕

Harvey had been on cloud nine ever since he dropped Sabrina home after that party. Sure it had only been a few hours ago, but still. He was so incredibly, idiotically happy that nothing could ruin his mood. His dad being pissed at him for coming home late rolled right off his back. Tommy needing the truck and him having to walk to the diner just didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Sabrina kissed him. 

Even waiting for Caliban when he was fifteen minutes late didn’t matter. Harvey just replayed last night in his head and the time flew by. 

Caliban threw his stuff down in the booth before collapsing in. “Why are you doing that with your face?” The fact that he bumped the table and almost spilled Harvey’s drink didn’t bother him. Neither did the scowl on Caliban's face.

Harvey frowned slightly. “What am I doing with my face?”  

“Well, it’s a bit better now,” Caliban said, stealing one of Harvey’s fries and munching it with a fury. “You were smiling.” 

“Is smiling bad?” 

“When it makes you like an idiot, yes.” 

“Oh.” Caliban’s horrible mood didn’t matter. Harvey told himself that Caliban just wasn’t a morning person. Or an afternoon person. Or even really a night time person. But Harvey persisted. “It’s just ‘cause I had a really good night.” 

Caliban rolled his eyes ever so slightly as he reached over for Harvey’s milkshake. He took a slurp from the straw before saying, “You and Blondie made up, I take it?”

“She asked for a ride home,” Harvey said before Caliban had even finished his sentence. “And at first I didn’t want to help because I was so mad but you should have seen her, man. I couldn’t not help her. So, I drove her home and then we stopped and I just started telling her about how shitty it was to be used and all this other stuff and then she kissed me.” 

Caliban didn’t say anything as he stared at a baby a few tables over who was stuffing their face with mashed apples. When Harvey didn’t say anything for a while, Caliban eventually looked over at him. “Where'd she kiss you?” 

“In the car!” 

“No, I meant-” Caliban sighed and shook his head. He held up a hand and gave Harvey a tired smile. “Never mind. I’m happy for you Harvey, truly.” 

“Thanks, man!” Harvey said cheerily before ordering another milkshake from the waitress and Caliban asked her to make it two. He turned back to Caliban with his almost permanent smile and asked, “So how did your night go?” 

Caliban snorted and finished what was left of Harvey’s original milkshake. When Harvey didn’t respond again, he sighed and said, “She hates me because I didn’t want to make out with her in front of her house when she was a drunken mess.”

“What? You can’t know that she hates you,” Harvey said quickly. He scurried to sit up straighter and reached out to Caliban. 

Caliban dug his phone out of his pocket and slid it over to Harvey, open on the chat between the two of you, with your last text being sent at 2am and reading: YOU’RE A REPUGNANT ASS AND I DIDN’T WANT TO KISS YOU ANYWAY. 

“Oh,” Harvey said softly, locking the phone and sliding it back over to a very dejected-looking Caliban. “I mean, she didn’t say exactly that she hated you.” 

“Harvey, I’m pretty sure that her calling me a repugnant ass means that she hates me,” Caliban said, rolling his eyes and reaching for where his cigarettes used to live. He cursed when he realized they weren’t there.

“Well, she called me the dumbest boy scout in the troupe but she punched Billy in the mouth when he said I was stupid,” Harvey said with a shrug after he thanked the waitress for the new milkshakes. “So maybe calling you a repugnant ass means that she really cares about you but doesn’t want to admit it.” 

Caliban was quiet, seemingly mulling it over. Then, with no warning, he snatched up his new milkshake and angrily started drinking it. 

“But, uh-” Harvey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It felt the moment for asking had passed but he couldn't help himself. “You’re still gonna ask her to prom, right?” The glare Caliban shot at him blew Harvey straight off cloud nine. “It’s just that I really wanna take Brina to prom, you know, and she can’t go if her sister doesn’t and-” 

“If I say that I’ll try, will you stop talking?” Caliban asked. Harvey didn’t want to risk it, so he nodded quickly. “Fine then. I’ll ask.” 

“Seriously? Dude, you are the best friend I’ve ever-” Caliban threw a fry at him and Harvey stifled a laugh. “Okay, okay, no more talking. You got it.” 

Caliban seemed content and went back to glaring at the very messy baby across from him. 

“But, uh, one last thing?” Harvey asked quietly. He held up a napkin that he’d fastened to a straw to show surrender. “A wise man once told me ‘people eat that cute affectionate shit up.’ I think you should keep that in mind?” 

“Is that all, oh wise one?” Caliban asked. Harvey nodded and took a sip of his milkshake. “Fine. I’ll take it under consideration.” 

--- 

Caliban had already made up his mind about fixing things with you, but - now that Nicholas Scratch had found him in the street and started harassing him - he had second thoughts. Not about you (you were a perfect pain in the ass; nothing could change his mind about you) but about the whole situation. He didn’t want to ask you out if it meant Nicholas Scratch could benefit. 

“Come on, man, you’ve gotta do this,” Nicholas said for the millionth time. “You’re the only person that can stomach her.” 

Caliban wondered how many times he’d have to hit Nicholas’ head before it made a dent in his hair gel. His skull seemed more malleable.

“Better yet: You’re the only one that can make her act like a human being,” Nicholas said. He let out a long breath when Caliban’s only response was to glare at him. “Fine. How much is gonna take?” 

“Excuse me?”

“How much money is it gonna take for you to do this?” Nicholas dug his wallet out of his pockets. “You said three hundred a few weeks ago but that was before you knew she's literally Satan incarnate, so I’m guessing you want more?” 

“Listen here, I don’t-” 

“I’ll give you five hundred dollars right now if you agree to take her to prom.” 

Caliban’s resolve faltered. Five hundred dollars was a lot of money. It could really help out with his uncle’s medical bills. Caliban’s jaw tightened as he thought about it. If he was already planning on asking you out, was the added money really that bad? 

Nicholas patted Caliban’s arm as he handed him the money. “Don’t feel bad, man. Everybody’s got a price.” 

---

You spent most of the day after the party being in an even worse mood than you usually were, alternating between throwing up and eating anything and everything that Hilda baked, and Sabrina constantly bubbling over with stories about her and Harvey didn’t help your mood. Seeing as you’d thrown up more than you’d like, you locked yourself in your room until you had to leave for school on Monday. 

You left while Sabrina was still asleep so you didn’t have to listen to her perfect stories about her perfect life on the decidedly not perfect drive to school. With the music turned all the way up and empty streets keeping you company, it was easy to drown out most of your bitterness. Your more-or-less of a good mood soured when you saw Caliban in the parking lot.

He was just as annoyingly good looking as he was at the costume party, just not in the flowy white shirt anymore. Today he was dressed in a yellow ringer shirt with gray accents, his practically permanent leather jacket, beat-up converse, and a pair of irritating black jeans. To top it all off, he didn’t look like he’d spent the weekend throwing up or like he had a pounding headache. The bastard. 

Ordinarily, you would have tried to hit him with your car, but Caliban was already safely inside the school doors by the time your engine had switched back on. After some light profanities, you gathered your things and prepared yourself for yet another mundane day at Baxter High. 

Luckily, everyone must have sensed the thundercloud over your head because they stayed out of your way more than usual. Thanks to the added space, things were actually looking up by the time you got to the library for lunch. 

And then came the first flower. 

“Harvey-” 

He cut through your warning with his winning, boy-next-door smile and set a single red carnation on your table. “Chill. It’s not from me,” Harvey teased. He seemed caught off-guard by your silence. He drummed on the table. “See you around.” 

As if that wasn’t suspicious enough, Harvey disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived, and you barely had time to pick at the carnation’s edges before the next one showed up. The guy bringing this one was smaller, more unsure, but just as cute as Harvey was. And he had better hair. 

“It’s Theo, right?” you asked, looking up from the red carnation in his hand. 

“You know my name?” Theo asked. Oh man, if messing with Harvey was fun then this adorable kid was going to be something else.

“Only if I’m right.” You reached out to take the carnation from him before he combusted. “Are you going to tell me what all this is about?” 

Theo tilted his head to the side as he took a few steps back. He had some nerve. “Are you gonna beat me up if I don’t?” 

And he was gone before you had a chance to come up with something witty. Clearly, all the alcohol from the party had rotted your brain cells and made you lose your touch, and it was pissing you off. Just like the string of nerds who kept coming up to your table and leaving you with more and more red carnations. 

You’d made up your mind to kick the teeth in of the next person who gave you a flower when a very familiar voice took over the PA system and tv screens. 

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Caliban and I really, really messed things up with a girl.” He was sitting on his usual bench near the soccer fields, squinting slightly in the sun. He scratched his forehead for a moment. How did he hijack the systems? “She won’t take my calls or answer any of my texts, so I had to get creative. Apologies for those of you who really buzz one off to lunch-time announcements but- oh shit.” Then, to the person behind the camera: “Can you follow me?” 

Whoever was behind the camera must have said yes because soon they were both running for the bleachers. Judging by shoes and laughter, the cameraman was Harvey, and - judging by the blurring shots behind them - they were being followed by Hawthorne and the basketball coach. Despite your best attempts not to, you felt yourself smile.

“I’m afraid I have to cut my monologue short and get straight to the embarrassing crap- No, that first bit wasn’t embarrassing, you piece of shit. At least I don’t kiss people on the top of their fucking-” 

The video cut off briefly and when it returned, Caliban and Harvey were running again. 

“We’re back? Great.” Caliban stopped for a moment and turned, grabbing onto the camera and steadying it for a moment. He had bits of gold in his eyes. Asshole. “I’m sorry. Here goes my attempt at making it up to you, princess.” 

Caliban paused briefly, taking a breath, and then launching into a rendition of Frank Sinatra’s I love you. You had to admit, it was pretty impressive how he kept singing despite simultaneously outrunning the authorities chasing him down. But still, you were pissed. A song didn’t change the fact that he- 

Oh, no. Harvey went down. Caliban helped him up but it slowed them down too much and now Hawthorne and the others right on top of them. The camera shut off right after Caliban told you to call him (with an annoying, butterfly inducing wink) and Hawthorne told him to shut up. 

You were laughing before you could stop yourself, and you were still smiling embarrassingly when Sabrina slid into the seat across from you and placed another red carnation on your table. She smiled sweetly and gave you a moment to settle into your familiar scowl. 

“So are you going to forgive him?” Sabrina asked. 

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair. “Because he gave me some flowers and sang me a song?” 

“Because he got you an entire flower shop and got detention for the rest of the semester,” Sabrina said in her ‘you know I’m right so just listen to me’ voice. If she wasn’t your sister, you might have punched her. 

Still, you considered it. The punching, not the forgiving.

“He didn’t actually say he was sorry,” you said lamely. 

“Sorry for not kissing you after you got drunk out of your mind and threw up on him?” 

No, for leading you on. For being there while you were sloppy and vulnerable and then rejecting you. If that wasn't enough, he rejected you after you spilled your guts to him in that god-awful car of his. 

“Caliban seems like a pretty good guy underneath that leather jacket,” Sabrina said in a more gentle voice as she reached out for your hand. When you didn’t meet her halfway, she settled for picking up one of the carnations and standing up. She walked around the table to stand in front of you. “And, believe it or not-” she tucked the carnation behind your ear and smiled “-I think you deserve a good guy.”

You tightened your jaw and looked at the table. “You just want to go to prom with Harvey.” 

“That too,” Sabrina said with a smaller smile. She patted your shoulder and disappeared into the depths of the library, leaving you alone with your two dozen red carnations and even more staring teens. 

---

After being berated for his lack of respect for authority and blatant abuse of school resources, Caliban was forced through the rest of the school day and locked in a classroom with about fifteen other ‘hoodlums’ and Wardwell. The hoodlums were told to keep to themselves, and Wardwell typed away at her computer. 

As boring as it was, the thought of you chewing out each and every kid he had deliver flowers to you was a comfort. He wondered how you took the broadcast, if you even saw the broadcast. You had to have seen it though, right? It was everywhere. And it was pretty hard to ignore. But if you were still mad at him, you definitely would have left after five seconds. 

Although Caliban still had an allotted hour and twenty-three minutes to wonder if you’d given his little stint the time of day, he was snapped out of his thoughts by the door creaking open behind him. He turned slightly to see you, very awkwardly, making your way up to Wardwell with a red carnation in your hair. 

Caliban smiled.

“Ms. Spellman,” Wardwell said with her usual empty smile. “You’re late.” 

“Oh, no. I don’t have detention,” you said. As Wardwell checked something on her computer, you turned to Caliban and nodded your head towards the window. 

Caliban frowned slightly, tilting his head. Were you organizing a jailbreak for him? Uncharacteristic but charming. 

“Then why are you here?” Wardwell asked, turning her attention back to you. 

“I, uh-” You scratched your head and nodded towards the window again. “I had some questions about the English assignment.” 

“Which are?” 

If it wasn’t so painful watching you blunder through this, Caliban might have actually enjoyed this. Nevertheless, he started sliding out of his seat and heading for the window. 

“Uh, I don’t get why everyone thinks Elizabeth is a jerk for rejecting Darcy the first time,” you said. “I mean, he was just a total ass- jerk. He was a jerk to her and then basically called her an idiot for rejecting him.” 

Wardwell started turning back to the computer - where she would clearly see that Caliban wasn’t where he was supposed to be when you slammed your hands on the desk. Wardwell looked like a deer caught in headlights and Caliban stifled a laugh. 

“But that’s not what I’m here to talk about!” You grabbed Wardwell’s arms and pulled her to her feet. “I’m here because of some really nasty graffiti in the girls’ bathroom. Like really, horrendous stuff. Like, okay, yeah, some of it is quotes about stuff I’ve said to Billy, and I’ll admit that they’re a bit graphic but I didn’t write them on the walls, you know? I just say them-” 

Caliban wasn’t sure how long you kept going on after he snuck out the window, but it certainly took you a long time to meet him in the parking lot. And thanks to him being new and reformed, he couldn’t even smoke to pass the time. 

When you eventually did meet him, you didn't look quite as pissed off as usual but you were definitely still annoyed. You poked Caliban in the chest as you stormed up to him, the flower wobbling slightly as you did. “You owe me,” you told him. “Wardwell made me show her the graffiti in the bathroom and asked which quotes were mine.” 

“It’s not my fault the people find your witticisms endearing,” Caliban said with a smile. You didn’t say anything as you huffed and leaned against the bike rack next to him with a huff. “But thank you for the prison break. It was appreciated.” 

“It better be goddamn appreciated,” you mumbled. 

Caliban laughed and turned to look at you. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t even sure if I could expect you to call me.” 

“I didn’t have a pen,” you said with a shrug, not looking at him. 

"You didn't have a pen?" Caliban asked. 

"I may have deleted your number after calling you a repugnant ass and you responded with 'so you're still thinking about my ass?'" You looked over at him with another shrug. "Not my fault."

Caliban smiled down at you. "No, definitely not."

You clenched your jaw slightly and pressed yourself off the bike rack. “You wanna get out of here before they figure out you’re gone, Sparky?”

Part 6

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[black-streak]

Waiting For The Worms - The Show Must Go On

Part 4

Sooo, this isn't nearly as dark and has very little angst in comparison to the point I'd almost say it isn't? It's pretty much just an update on life in a way. Which is also part of why it took so long for me to write. Like, the struggle was real. Next chapter will go back to your regularly scheduled heartbreak.

Warnings from chapter 1, while mostly inapplicable for this part, still in effect.

The gallery: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

The next year of Jason's life was hectic to say the least.

It started with the downfall of Lila Rossi. Which consequently, he had no part in. She stepped on the wrong toes, made a few too many contradictions and suddenly a pile of lawsuits were stacked against her. Her mother went completely ape shit on her and pulled her out immediately to be shipped off to a very strict boarding school. More like a juvenile detention center if the rumors were true.

For the first month, no one approached him. The guilty, stricken looks upon his classmates' faces told a million stories of apologetic remorse, but since becoming a jaded, snarky outcast, 'Marinette' was no longer the person you could give a simple apology to and expect forgiveness. And no one wanted to be the first to get shot down.

Eventually, the first apology came. Surprisingly, Alya tried to win his favor. She groveled and apologized up and down on how terrible she and Lila had been and named every reason in the book as to why she had reacted and treated Marinette the way she did in an attempt to explain herself. While it wasn't necessarily surprising that she would be the first to not fear him, it was shocking she saw the error of her ways so soon with all that bull headed ego she carried around.

Bravery got her nowhere, however, as Jason only lifted an eyebrow, arms crossed as he leaned back, and calmly replied.

"Cool story, still betrayal."

As the girl sputtered before him, he turned back towards Chloe, continuing to make their plans for the day. After two minutes had passed and Alya still stood there hunting for her words, he turned back.

"Can you leave? Sometime today would be nice."

And so the precedent was set. While it took another week for someone else to approach, they seemed spurred on by the ease of Alya's dismissal. Suppose they figured if the biggest offender only got mild verbal abuse and dismissal, things had to go more smoothly for them.

Nino came next, awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact included. He pushed through his apology, beating around the bush and trying to defuse the situation at the same time he built it up. It only served to piss Jason off. They deserve better than this. At least meet her eyes if you're going to apologize and expect me to believe it.

"Uh… Marinette? Did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I assumed you were talking to the desk next to me and minded my business. Would hate to be accused of eavesdropping."

He flinched at the reminder and finally looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry. What we did was wrong. What I did was wrong and I am so beyond sorry for it. There is no excuse for my behavior."

"You're right. There isn't. Do better in the future."

"I will!," he rushed to reassure Jason, voice hopeful, "Does this mean we can be friends again?"

"No. Do better for those who chose to be your friend in the future."

"Oh… okay, yeah, that's fair," Nino gave a downtrodden look and wandered off.

Next came Sabrina and Rose, who didn't so much as apologize to him, but instead tried to reattach themselves to Chloe and Juleka's sides as if nothing had happened at all. This might not have thrown Chloe in the slightest, but poor Juleka looked a moment from having an anxiety attack. Chloe made short work of both girls, dismissing them entirely and when Rose started to cry and stare at Juleka for reassurance that everything was okay, Jason pulled the goth into a hug, glaring at the little blonde girl, until eventually she received the hint and ran off, tears streaming down her face. Apparently Nathaniel gave Marc the same treatment.

Lastly Kim, Alix, Max, Ivan, and Mylene came as a group. They must've taken comfort in their numbers, hoping it would somehow protect them from him singling them out. Thought everything would go smoother that way. He could hear Juleka grumbling at his side where they sat under a tree for lunch. They both appreciated the shade and quiet peace of the place. Marc sat on her other side, writing away in a journal.

"Hey Mari, we wanted to apologize for the way we've been acting lately," Alix took the lead.

"Yeah, it was really uncool of us," Kim followed up, the others nodding along.

They looked imploring. Like they were waiting for some sort of forgiveness. He couldn't help but wonder if they thought their actions were somehow better. That he couldn't really be mad at them because they weren't the ones who lied or lead the pack against his soulmate. They didn't make harsh accusations or physically attack Marinette. So somehow, they were better and their apologies could be less.

How fucking rude. How presumptuous. How entitled to think his time, thoughts, feelings were forfeit in their need for forgiveness. Marinette deserved better in her time here than these heartless bastards. None of them ever defended her either. Or him for that matter. Not one of them tried to so much as change the subject to avoid harping on him. None cared when his soulmate never returned to her body. Maybe that wasn't fair, but at the very least they could've approached him in his grief when it was easily displayed. Everyone here had a soulmate and knew the signs of loss for when one died. Surely they knew that this person in this body lost their other half. And yet not a soul outside of his group had offered condolences.

"That's all you have to offer? That it wasn't cool?" Juleka asked, tone quiet but sharp.

"Well it's not like we-"

"Let me cut you off there, before you piss me off. You didn't personally attack me, you just watched and snickered behind hands. Joined in to the cruel jokes and snide remarks. Encouraged those who did attack. At least they had the decency to be that way to my face and let me know where we stood. You? Hiding behind others actions and grouping up to give half-hearted sorrys that you barely think of before you speak? Now you guys are the ones that truly infuriate me. Either you believed I deserved the treatment I received but refused to be singled out for it. Or you thought what was happening was wrong and were too much of a coward to step up and help me out. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, I don't want to see a single one of you approach me again. I don't mean enough to you to make a stand? Then you don't mean enough to me to even speak to. Get out of my face."

When his little speech was done and the startled masses ran off with an added glare, protests held on the tip of tongues, Jason slumped back against the tree, taking small comforts in the silent support of his two companions.

Adrien never approached. That was for the best.

His friend group was also something new. Marc, Juleka, Chloe, and Kagami. The group technically leaned more female than anything, but after the heavy masculine energy of his old life, this turn of events felt refreshing. It helped that Marc came out as nonbinary and Jason couldn't help but relate in a way with his view of this body fitting as female, but his mind staying firmly male. Altering his soulmate's body to fit would never happen, but it also didn't match him. 

The group only grew stronger and more resilient after Jason agreed to revealing identities in the team. After the loss of Mari and the stripping of the ring from Adrien, Jason found it necessary to place new permanent holders. With Kagami and Chloe having screwed up their original hero personas, the placement became a challenge. 

He started out with figuring out his new cat. 

Talking it over with Fu and dragging the decision out way longer than it needed to, he eventually convinced the old guardian of Kagami's worth. She took to Plagg with ease, the design of her look altering to match. The suit stayed all black but wasn't leather and had gold detailing. The ears and tail looked more realistic as well. Her hair went pitch black and eyes went to shades of gold. Kagami insisted her new name be Serval.

Next came Chloe who ended up comforting Jason the most through his despair, whether she knew the reason for it or not. Without the bee as an easy go to, he ended up giving her the Dragon. Sure, the mix wasn't the best ever, but it kept her on the offensive side and more active, so it worked the way they needed it to. Her outfit consisted of tight fitted scales in shades of black and blue. Unlike when Kagami used the dragon, her and Longg took more to the shades of blue that came with most weather. Her shock of blonde hair played nicely with the idea of lightening on a stormy day. She went with Nimbus.

Surprisingly, Marc became the next holder. Jason planned on handing off the fox to Juleka, only to realize it wouldn't quite suit the girl. She stayed in the shadows most of the time, yes, but not really by choice. She wanted to be a model and show up in photos more than anything, so it made no sense to stick her with another identity she had to hide in. Add on the fact that she wasn't necessarily the most creative and well, Jason couldn't hand off an illusion piece to her. That's when Marc came into play. The kid had creativity in spades and preferred to avoid the spotlight. Marc and Marinette grew closer with all their time spent in the art room and courtyard together and especially with Nathaniel having ditched them. With Marc starting to build a spot of their own within the group, it only made sense to pair them with the Fox.

Now that he thought about it, the whole team really stuck with black. Marc had a black velvety almost shapeless form, with white tail, ears, sash, gloves, and boots. Their eyes fell white on gray on black and gave off an eerie feel. They choose Jocular for their hero name.

Finally, Jason hunted down the perfect miraculous for Juleka. The mouse. Quiet and unseen, playing in the background until the moment was right. And then she was everywhere, a multitude taking over the scene and overwhelming the enemy in a matter of moments. Perfect for the girl who hid behind her bangs but longed for the spotlight. Mullo played to both halves of her personality. The suit that came with consisted of a deep vivid purple that matched her bangs while detransformed. While in costume, the highlights disappeared and her eyes shined purple as well. The fit was reminiscent of a belted, hooded tunic with black leggings and matching purple booties. She went with Fievel. Turns out Juleka had an interesting favorite childhood movie. Months later, they would find themselves sitting around a tv, watching the old animated musical, but in the beginning, they just took it in stride.

The last major change came in a heavier bond forming amongst his team.

When Jason agreed to reveal identities, if for no other reason than the guilt of already keeping one major secret from the group, things spiced up. For one, Juleka and Marc traded their respective miraculouses back and forth depending on their comfort level for the day. If one felt more ready for the spotlight, they took to the mouse for the battle. If one felt especially creative at the moment, they tagged in for the fox. Of course, they jumped in with whichever they had when an akuma hit while separated, but the switch off seemed to comfort them.

Secondly, Chloe started running more interference to allow them escape time if stuck up in civilian form. Her false bratty attitude and daddy issues came into play here, despite her actual maturity about both. It helped to amp it up from time to time.

Lastly, Kagami and Jason begin to switch on occasion.

Plagg hadn't been outside the ring since Jason removed him from Adrien and Kagami received him. The shock and horror on his face when Tikki told him the reality of their situation broke Jason a little more. The cat insisted on spending more time with Jason after that. His soul resonated better with the ring anyways, so the time spent as the cat holder felt soothing after so long as the ladybug, despite this body feeling more receptive towards Tikki's magic. 

As an added bonus, the two kept the other's costume and attributes such as eyes and hair. Between that and the heavy magical glamour hiding their identities, no one, not even Hawkmoth, knew which one was which until their fighting style came into play at which point, it was too late. Luckily, with the sneaky aspects of the mouse and fox, the other two became quite the ambush as well. Add in Chloe showing up with one of three different powers at any given moment, and Hawkmoth's akumas became easy prey.

By the time the year ran out, their team ran as a well oiled machine. Despite the horrific heartbreak festering in his heart, Jason felt hopeful. Hopeful that they might take down the villain that had taken over his soulmate's life from so young. That this battle at least might end on a happy note. That soon he would be free to seek out justice for Marinette once and for all.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Thirty-Two) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Impregnation kink. Soft sex. Emotional sex. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12194

Timeline: A month after part thirty-one.

I sighed as I pushed all of Hotch’s work to the side just so that I could get to my desk in our office. Since getting out of the hospital about two weeks ago, Hotch had turned our home office into a conspiracy theory pit. He had so many pictures of Foyet, his victims, the crime scenes, the news clippings about The Reaper, and so on hung on the walls that I couldn’t even remember what color the walls were. About a week into this whole project of his was when he pulled out the red string. From there, our office became a maze. It was like I was goddamn Catherine Zeta Jones in Entrapment the way I was weaving through all of it.

But I couldn’t tell him to take it down. Hotch spent two weeks in the hospital, and then he had to spend another two weeks at home as he recovered from Foyet’s attack, underwent physical and psychological evaluations, and I practically made him go on bed rest the rest of the time. Because he wasn’t allowed to go back to work, he had to spend his time working on finding Foyet. I hated that I had to go to work every day without him because of that. I knew that this was eating at him, and I couldn’t stay around long enough to console him or talk him down. It was irritating both of us.

It had only been a month since we said goodbye to Haley and Jack, yet it felt like an eternity. My little man… Every day we were forced apart, I felt a piece of me die. Was that odd? Was it weird to miss someone else’s son like he was your own? Was it weird that I took Red, mine and Jack’s favorite dinosaur, with me everywhere? To the office, on cases, at home. Everywhere. It probably wasn’t as weird as when I would come home to find Hotch napping on Jack’s bed. That mattress was way too small for him. I mean, he would curl up on it as much as possible, and yet his feet would somehow still be hanging off the edge. But it was how he was coping. It was how we were both coping. And the worst part was, we were doing it separately.

In our line of work, Hotch and I had worked dozens of cases with parents that lost a child in a kidnapping or murder. The BAU didn’t just specialize in profiling the Unsubs and victimology—that was a large part of it, obviously, but there was an unspoken part of the job that always struck me during those kinds of cases. Parents mourning the loss of a child were profiled to inevitably always split up. Like the case we worked in Vegas just before Dallas, a son had been kidnapped while walking to a friend’s house, and the parents were slowly drifting apart. They blamed each other. They couldn’t bear to even look at each other. Getting them to cooperate with the investigation so that we could find their son was nearly impossible. Yet we weren’t shocked by that behavior, because that was how mourning couples were always profiled. I just never thought that it would happen to me and Hotch.

No one ever expects that they’re going to lose everything. No one anticipates having to say goodbye to their son. A month ago, we had to say goodbye to Jack, and we honestly weren’t sure if we were ever going to see him again. Foyet was playing the long game with us now. Who knew when he was going to turn up again with another clue so that we could find him? There was a chance that by the time we either caught up to him or he died, Jack wouldn’t know who we were, so there’d be no point in bringing him back. There was a chance that his life would be better off without us. And that was damn near impossible to admit.

However, I thought that Hotch and I were going to come to terms with all of this together. I thought that because we loved each other, and because we knew what the profiles said, that we would somehow work together to prove the profile wrong and work through this side by side. That was what I thought. I spent every day with him when he was in the hospital and I wasn’t on a case. Every single goddamn day. Yet, when he came home, he locked himself in his office, and he practically stopped looking at me altogether.

I would cry every night. I would get home from work, and there were times when I couldn’t even make it to the couch. I would just collapse right there in the entryway, and I wouldn’t get up until the sun started rising for another day. And Hotch never came to hold me. There were other times when I’d come home to hear him sobbing in the office, and I thought about going to console him, but he had locked the door. When I initially tried playing with the doorknob, Hotch immediately stopped crying. He sniffled then told me to go away. So, I stopped trying to go in after that. He stopped trying with me, so I inevitably stopped trying with him. One night, I even thought about moving out. I mean, we weren’t acting like a couple. We had proved the profile correct, and I knew that once that happened—statistically speaking—we were never going to get back together. But I still held on hope. I prayed that he would finally take a moment to realize that he could break down in front of me. I would be there to hold him when he needed it. Until then, there was nothing I could do.

The minute he was cleared to go back to work, Hotch took it. I didn’t think he would go back so soon. One, because of his injuries; two, because going back to work meant that he wouldn’t have all day, every day to pointlessly look for Foyet. He hadn’t found a single goddamn lead in a month, but he was still hacking at it. That was why I was shocked when he gave it up just to go back to the BAU. We even had an argument about it. The day he finally came out of the office to tell me he passed all of his exams, I cracked. I was so fucking pissed at him. He spent a month refusing to look at me, talk to me, sleep in the same bed as me, eat the fucking dining table with me—and then he had the fucking audacity to smile at me and say, “I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

I lost my shit. Truly. I looked back at him and said, “I don’t care what the Bureau says, I don’t want you going back yet. They’re not the ones who have to worry about you, Aaron!”

Hotch’s smile fell. “Drop it.”

I shook my head. “I know you lied during your psych evals. I know that you pushed yourself too hard during your physicals— I saw all the bloody gauze in the trash. So, don’t you dare fucking lie to me again like you did in Cincinnati, Aaron Hotchner—”

“I told you to fucking drop it!” he bellowed. I took a frightened step back. His face immediately softened. “Y/N— I’m sorry—”

“I’m going to Morgan’s house.” I looked at the floor. “I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

And that was how I ended up in the office upstairs, trying to get into my desk so that I could grab some old paperwork for reference on the case report I was currently working on. I was going to Morgan’s house, but that didn’t mean I was going to stop working. Once I had that stuff, I grabbed my spare go-bag from the closet, then made my way downstairs.

Hotch tried to step in my path at the bottom of the stairs, but I pushed past him. He was attempting to apologize profusely while following me around. I kept my head high and just moved to the front door as fast as I could. Since Foyet attacked him, Hotch had practically turned our house security system into something that rivaled the fucking security systems at the office. He had someone come in to put in a new alarm that was set at all times. If we weren’t home, all of the windows, doors, and motion sensors were set. If someone opened a door, broke a window, or moved within the house, about seven different alarms would start going off. When we were at home, only the doors and windows were set. But if we wanted to leave the house, we had to put a code into the alarm first; and when we were coming home, we had to put the code in as fast as possible before the alarms would be set off. So, while Hotch tried to make me stay, I reached around him to put my code in, then headed out.

“Y/N!” he shouted angrily at me again as he stormed into the yard. “Y/N, get back here!”

I flipped him off as I kept walking to my car. I wasn’t even going to take our car. We put my car, the one I had been using before I moved in with Hotch, in the garage sized shed at the back of the driveway, just against the fence to the backyard. It hadn’t been used in so long… I mean, if we needed to use separate cars, I’d dust mine off so that Hotch could have our car, but for the most part, we made it work with one car. This time, though, I was taking my car to make a point. He fucked up. This argument was bad, but it was more than that. This was the result of a month’s worth of fuck ups, and I was sick of it.

I didn’t want to leave him. I loved Hotch more than anything, and I was still convinced that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, even when things were bad like this. But I couldn’t stay. Not when I could see that he was ruining his own life for nothing. I told him in Cincinnati that I wouldn’t tolerate him fucking up his own health for selfish reasons. He promised me that he wouldn’t pull this shit again. And yet… There we were… He was fucking it all up again. And I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t watch him slowly deteriorate. I loved him too much to do that to either of us.

“Y/N—” he banged on my window as I slowly backed out of the driveway. “I’m sorry, please. Baby… Come on… I’m sorry. Stop this. I get it— I shouldn’t have yelled— Baby— I’m sorry—” He had to stop hitting his palms against my windows as the car turned onto the road. He slammed his hands as hard as he could onto the hood of the car. “Goddammit, Y/N! Get out of the fucking car!” I stared him down because he wasn’t moving out of the way. “Stop this, baby,” he pleaded calmly. “Just come home.” I shook my head. He frowned again, his eyes glinting a slight dark red as anger overtook him again. “Get out of the car,” he demanded once more, making his way over to my car door to try and pry it open, even though it was locked. The second he wasn’t in front of the car, though, I laid my foot down on the gas and raced off.

When I got to Morgan’s house, I explained everything, and he set me up in his guest room. This wasn’t the first time I had sought asylum in his house. Since Hotch wasn’t there to comfort me, I had to turn to the only other person who could, and that was Morgan. Granted, this was the first time I was sleeping over. But still. There were plenty of afternoons when I’d detour to his house after work just to cry on his couch as he held me. If I would wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare of finding Hotch dead on our living room floor, I’d drive over to Morgan’s house and cry on his couch until I could calm down. It was unfair to Morgan. I recognized that. He was his own man with his own life and problems, and there I was, always barging in unannounced to unload my problems. But where else was I going to go? There were times when I thought about how much I missed Elle, and I wanted her to be there for me in moments like this, but she was gone. She abandoned me… and… she wasn’t coming back, apparently. Morgan was all I had.

As it got late, and we both needed to rest, he offered to stay and sleep with me, but I told him I’d be fine. He reluctantly obeyed (not for the reason most people would assume). It was no secret that Derek Morgan was a “playa”, to put it in his terms. He liked getting into the pants of any and every girl that would give him consent, and he liked teasing Garcia in a… less than platonic way, and sometimes we would do that, too, but not really. That being said, Derek Morgan would never, ever take advantage of someone, especially when they were as vulnerable as I was that night. He only offered to sleep in the same bed as me because that was how close we were, and he was willing to comfort me if I needed it. But I knew that I needed some space and time to think, and he needed some sleep in order to be ready for work the next day. So, when I turned him down, he gave in. He kissed my temple, squeezed my shoulders in a tight side embrace, then left the room quietly, carefully closing it behind him.

When he was gone, I opened my go-bag to pull out my pajamas. Yet, when I saw what I had packed away in there, I froze. I had packed this so long ago. I grabbed the first bag I saw. I didn’t even think to check what was in it. I was so fucking stupid. Unfortunately, however, there was nothing I could do about it now. I just had to suck it up and wear them, because it was either wearing what I packed or wearing what I left the house in. Either way, I was not going back just to pick up a different pair of pajamas.

I sighed. Unenthusiastically, I stripped myself of my clothes, then changed into one of Hotch’s old college sweatshirts and a pair of his blue and gold flannel pajama pants to match. I was planning on getting him another pair for his birthday in the next few weeks because I stole his, and I felt bad because of that. Also, because I had originally stolen these and put them in my go-bag recently after the stabbing, figuring that I needed something of his with me on cases while I was gone and he was at home. I had Jack’s red dinosaur toy with me at all times, I just needed Hotch’s clothing with me, too, considering that was the extent of the attention I got from him. But now… Things were just too confusing. I was upset that I didn’t just pack my own goddamn clothes.

That being said, I still cuddled under the blankets, and I pulled the collar of the sweatshirt over my nose to keep me warm while also taking in his scent. Within the past year or so, Hotch had given up his familiar Aqua Velva scent in exchange for a cinnamon and pine. He had gone into his closet one day, pulled out all of my favorite items of his to steal, took them outside, then practically drenched them in the cologne once he knew I liked it. I didn’t know until I came home from dinner with Emily one night to find that the entire fucking house reeked of cinnamon and pine. It took a while for the neighborhood to air out, but once it did, I was left with Hotch’s scent attached to each article of clothing, and I loved it. That night, while lying in a strange bed without the love of my life beside me, I found that my only comfort was that scent. I hugged my torso and inhaled.

I knew that he was sorry. I knew that he didn’t mean for any of this to happen. And, honestly, I knew that neither of us meant for things to blow up the way they did. But now that they had, I wasn’t sure where to go from there, how to navigate all of this. We couldn’t go back to normal. Could we? I’d be the first to admit that he scared me earlier. I knew that he would never hurt me, but deep down, in the pit of my stomach, I was terrified of him. After not having his love for so long, his outburst… It took me aback. There was a moment there, when he shouted at me the first time, I saw a glimpse of that night in high school, and I heard him yelling at me for not cooperating. That was why I had to leave. It wasn’t Hotch’s fault. My mind was playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t let it ruin the one good thing I had in my life: Aaron Hotchner. I just needed some time and space.

Time. And. Space.

That was what I asked for when I arrived at Quantico the next day. Morgan and I drove in at the same time, then he met me at the elevator after we both went through security, and he asked me if I wanted back up (or a mediator) while talking to Hotch. As we stepped into the elevator, I denied his offer quietly. Upstairs, in the BAU, Reid and Emily were trying to show me pictures of Henry, JJ’s son. She had him shortly after Hotch was stabbed. And by shortly, I meant that we hadn’t even left the fucking hospital yet when she went into labor. But now she was itching to get back to work, and I was shocked. It had only been a few weeks. I thought that the human body literally couldn’t handle getting back to work that fast, but maybe she wasn’t looking to work in the field quite yet. I understood if she just wanted to sit in the office to do paperwork around Anderson or hang out in Garcia’s office for a bit. I could understand that. I just thought that she would want to spend more time with Will and Henry, but who was I to judge her? I promised I would never do that after she judged me—and, yes, it was so that I could prove that I was the better person, I wasn’t afraid to admit that.

I headed straight into Hotch’s office. I found that he was sitting on his couch, his head in his hands, an old picture of him, Jack, and Haley in his lap. As I snuck closer, I saw that he had printed a picture of me and him out, and he had it taped to the bottom corner of that picture frame. Our family. Our story. Our everything.

I cleared my throat to let him know that I was there. “Sorry, I’ll come back later.”

Hotch looked up from his hands. When he realized that I was really standing there in front of him, he threw the photos to the side and jumped to his feet. “No, wait—” He hurried over to me. “Please.”

I stopped. “Okay.”

“Baby, I am so sorry.” He wasn’t getting close enough to put a hand on me, which I silently appreciated. “I didn’t mean to yell or get worked up. I’ve just been so worried—”

“Aaron, I really didn’t come to make up.”

His posture changed to something more shy and confused. “What?”

“I’m sorry… But, I, uh… I’m just here as an employee right now.”

Hotch searched my eyes for a moment while he tried to understand what was happening. I wasn’t looking him in the eye, I wasn’t trying to impress him with anything, and I wasn’t even trying to give us privacy by closing the door. In fact, I didn’t want privacy. I didn’t want to give him a chance to try to hug or kiss me. With the blinds and door still open, he had to obey the rules we created for ourselves at work, and I could tell that it was killing him, but I was there for a specific reason, and it wasn’t because I was ready to hear his apology yet. He might have felt he was ready for it, but I wasn’t.

“Okay,” Hotch said while he nodded. He moved to take a seat at his desk. “Sit.” He gestured to the empty seats across from him. “What’s this about?”

“I’m requesting a few personal days off.”

“Why?”

“You’re not supposed to ask me that, Agent Hotchner.”

His eyes narrowed at me. “It’s my job, Agent Greenaway, to ensure that my team is okay both physically and mentally.”

“Well, I’m fine, Agent Hotchner, thank you for checking on me.”

“Stop this, Y/N. Please.”

“I can formally request this time off through Chief Strauss, if need be.”

He hesitated as his brown eyes added a red tint of anger. “That’ll not be necessary.”

“So, you’ll give it to me?”

“Only if you tell me why.”

“You know why.”

“Why?” he asked with a hiss. The tension was growing in the room.

“I just need to clear my head.”

“That’s not good enough!” he exclaimed angrily. I could see that he was holding himself back from hitting the table or swiping his papers off the desk. “What’s this really about? Is it really about our argument, Y/N? Can we please, for a minute, just stop dancing around the truth and say what we feel—”

My blood boiled over. “You’re not the only one who lost a son, Aaron!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. There was a moment where we stared at each other as we both realized what I had said. I was shaking so bad. A thought passed by me that maybe I should have stopped there, left it alone, gone home to take another breather. But I wasn’t wrong. Jack was my son, too. I lost him, too. I was hurting, too. And I needed Hotch there to hold me, but he wasn’t. So, I continued, “I was right there with you when we saw him for the last time. You aren’t the only one suffering here, Hotch. I wake up every day and I wish that I could turn the corner in our home and see him sitting at the table, eating Cheerios for breakfast. I wish that we could still take him to soccer every Saturday. And I fucking wish that I could keep spoiling him even though you tell me not to. I love your son like he’s my own, Aaron. I know he’s not mine, and I know that he never will be… but, damn it, I love you and I love him. And the fact that we’re both mourning over losing him to this asshole, and I’m trying to be there for you, but you keep pushing me away when I need you, too… That’s cruel. It’s unfair. I have never felt more alone than I have over the past month. You need to get your shit together, and I need some time to come to terms with the fact that I may never see Jack again. So, I’ll ask you again, may I please have some time off?”

He paused while staring at me. I could see a sparkle in his eyes that came from the tears welling, the apologetic and deeply sorry tears. It broke my heart to see him like that. It absolutely tore me in half to see him cry because of something I said… but what else was I supposed to do? He wanted me to tell him the truth, so I did. It hurt to do it, but it was necessary, and now that he knew just how horrible he had been, I could tell that he didn’t want to be angry anymore. Now that he understood, I realized that he just wanted to hold me and apologize until he couldn’t breathe. But I still needed time. As much as I would’ve loved to be in his arms, kissing him, telling him that I’d always love him… I needed time away to clear my head. I needed time away from him to come to terms with the loss we had.

“Where are you going to go?” he croaked.

I lied and said that I was going to stay at a hotel for a few days before returning to work; but we both clearly knew that I was staying with Morgan. I wanted to be with someone I trusted. I wanted to be with someone I loved. I didn’t want to be alone. Morgan’s house was a safe haven for me whenever I needed it, and I usually didn’t take him up on the offer, but now I was in desperate need of it.

“Okay,” Hotch gave in. “Take all the time you need. But… Y/N… I need you to know that you will always have a place here, and you will always have a place back at home with me.”

I stared at him for another second before pushing myself out of my seat. “I’ll see you in a few days, Agent Hotchner.”

After leaving Hotch’s office, I saw that the entire office was staring at me. Maybe I should’ve closed the door, in hindsight. Nothing to do about it now, though. They all heard every single word, and now they couldn’t look away from the train wreck that was Y/N Greenaway and Aaron Hotchner. I was sure that somewhere out there, wherever he was, Jason Gideon was laughing and saying: “I told you so.” No one else in the office seemed to be thinking that, especially after the screaming match I just had with our boss, but I knew that Gideon was chuckling somewhere in the world.

I started my walk of shame down the ramp. Even Rossi had come out of his office to lean against his doorframe while watching me, probably waiting for a perfect opportunity to sneak into Hotch’s office to comfort him— or maybe even talk some sense into him. I hoped that it was the latter.

A few days later, I heard the front door of Morgan’s place open up. I turned on the couch to see an exhausted Morgan throw his used go-bag onto the floor, then crash onto the empty couch space next to me. He sighed and rested his head on my lap. He had been away on a case since the day I left Hotch’s office after we argued. We had been texting since he left because he wanted to make sure I was alright and that I was taking care of Clooney, his German Shepard. I loved that dog. I thought he was adorable—and he was so well behaved. He rested at my feet on the bed every night to keep me company. It was nice to have company, even though Morgan was away and I wasn’t talking to Hotch.

“You know, I’ll leave and go to a hotel, if you want me to. I don’t mean to just… intrude on your life,” I said after giving him a moment to relax.

Morgan looked up at me upside down. “Never.” He smirked, “Unless you’re going to be living here any longer than a month, in which case, you need to start paying rent.”

I matched his smirk, “No. I just need a couple more days, I think. If that.”

He nodded understandingly. “You wanna order take out for dinner?”

“Sure.”

He did a sit up before standing on his feet and hurrying over to the house phone so that he could order dinner for us. I sighed and relaxed in Hotch’s sweatshirt. It was starting to smell less and less like him, which only made me more desperate to get home. But I liked the freedom I had been experiencing over the past few days. With the time I got to spend on my own in silence, I got to think about how much I missed my little man, while coming to terms with the fact that this was the best choice—the only choice we could make. Sending them away in order to protect them was the right thing to do. Jack was safe with Haley. They were safe under Sam’s protection. Coming to terms about that much was hard while I was around Hotch, who was only moping around all day. Now that some time had passed, I was a bit calmer about the situation, and I was just ready to get our family back. But I still needed another day or two, just for good measure. After that, I’d race to apologize profusely to Hotch, begging for him to take me back after running away like that. I felt like a bitch, okay. Maybe it was a bit overdramatic to run away, but at the time, I didn’t know what else to do. But now that the tension had sizzled out and I was clear headed about the situation, I realized how sorry I was for leaving in the first place.

When the food arrived, Morgan and I sat crisscross on the couch while facing each other and talking about whatever came to mind. At some point, casual talk turned to work talk. As it always did. I asked him to tell me about the case the team just got back from, and he told me that they had dealt with an Unsub who was drowning his victims in methanol in order to get rid of their stench. When I asked how it ended, he hesitated.

“Morgan?”

He gulped and told me that Hotch took off his vest, handed his gun to Rossi, then went inside to negotiate a peaceful surrender with the Unsub. My eyes shot wide. Why the fuck did Hotch do that? Why would he— I didn’t understand. How could he be so stupid? How could he risk his life like that? How could he risk leaving me and Jack behind? How was I supposed to live with the fact that we ended on bad terms if something were to have happened to him?

“What happened?” I asked, frightened.

Morgan pushed his food around in order to give himself a reason to not look at me. “The Unsub shot the girl, ran away, got in his cab, and we started chasing after him. Half of the city was looking for him, Y/N, yet, somehow, Hotch was the one who found him. The guy tried speeding off again to get away from Hotch, but when Hotch shot at him, he crashed into a truck, immediately killing him.”

“Is Hotch okay?” I leaned forward to express my eagerness for a positive answer. He hesitated again. “Derek Morgan, you tell me right now—”

“He’s okay, Y/N.”

I relaxed and let out a breath. “Good.”

“But…”

My eyes shot up at him. “But?”

“Strauss temporarily promoted me to Unit Chief.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Hotch isn’t fit to be in a position of power right now, sunshine. We both know that. He isn’t fit to lead a team right now.” He set his food on the table next to us. “Strauss and Rossi made the decision when we got off the plane.” He grabbed my hands. “It’s just until Hotch is back to being Hotch, honey bunches, I promise.”

I scoffed. “And how long do you think that’ll be?”

“I’m not sure. But I think that if you went back to work, it might help some.” His eyes pouted at me. “He has nothing to live for right now, Y/N. You left, Jack and Haley are gone, Foyet’s taunting him, and his ability to do this job is… being questioned. Having you around, as you are, it might remind him that he still has everything to live for.”

I understood that he couldn’t read my mind. I knew that he couldn’t’ve possibly known that I had already decided that I was going to go back to work soon, so it made sense that he felt he needed to tell me that Hotch’s best chance was going back. So, I gave in just for the sake of making Morgan feel like he did something.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed early,” I said quietly.

“What? No—Y/N, I didn’t mean to upset you or—”

“Morgan, it’s not your fault.” I set my food to the side. “I, um… Tomorrow… It’s just going to be a long day, so I should get some extra sleep.”

“Sugar, I really didn’t mean to—”

“Tomorrow is Jack’s birthday.”

He immediately fell silent, his shoulders giving out his posture when he realized he had pried too far. He apologized quietly. I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t care about his prying, but it got caught in my throat when a sob bubbled up a little too far. I excused myself before running to “my” room.

I crashed onto the bed. As I pulled the covers up over my body, hiding my head from the world, I grabbed my phone and opened the Photos app. The sob I was holding back finally crashed through me when I saw a picture of Hotch and Jack cuddling in the hammock in our backyard. Hotch had been laying out there after work, watching Jack play soccer. By the time dinner was ready, I went outside to collect them, only to find that Jack had given up on kicking the ball around so that he could lay on his dad’s chest. Hotch’s arms were wrapped around Jack’s entire body. They were dead asleep, probably had been for at least an hour. I couldn’t bother them when they were like that. So, I took a picture, then let them be. Finally, when it got too cold, they came inside, Jack still half asleep in his dad’s arms as he was carried upstairs to his room.

That was such a perfect night. We had dozens of nights like that, where the small, random things were taken for granted. Now that we didn’t have Jack, I wished I could go back in time. I wished that I would’ve just sat outside on the patio while drinking my wine, feeling the way my heart swelled as they snored together, the hammock rocking under them.

I reached over for Red, mine and Jack’s favorite toy, and I pulled it close to my chest. Tomorrow was going to be horrible to bear alone.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Morgan knocking on my door. I groaned and rolled over to check my phone for the time. That was when I realized that I hadn’t charged it all night. I went to bed around three, my eyelids too heavy from crying for so long. Since I hadn’t plugged my phone in, it was obviously dead. I groaned again. The door opened once Morgan heard me shuffling around on the bed. I hid my puffy face under the comforter while simultaneously trying to trick him into thinking that I was asleep. I felt like Jack. Jack… It was officially his birthday. I mean, I had been awake when the clock struck midnight, but this was different. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and Morgan was telling me that he was leaving for work. It truly was Jack’s birthday now. There was no escaping it.

The mattress sank slightly as Morgan sat next to me. He put a hand on my shoulder, then leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll see you when I get home—if we’re not called away on a case.” He made a move to stand.

I grabbed his hand, revealing my red and swollen eyes. “Take it easy on Hotch today. Don’t let anyone give him a hard time. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

He kissed my forehead gently again, then silently stood and left the room, making sure to reclose the door behind him on his way out. I huffed and slumped back onto the pillows, feeling the way I sunk into the comfort of the blankets, the mattress, and the feather pillows. My relaxation didn’t last long, though, because the next thing I knew, the sound of scratching on the door disturbed me. I rolled out of bed and opened the door so that Clooney could run in. He jumped onto my bed and nuzzled his nose under the blankets. I smiled. At least I had someone to keep me busy during the day.

I was reminded of my dead phone on the bed when Clooney kicked it by accident. I plugged it in without hesitating another second. While I waited for it to charge, I played with Clooney’s long hair. He got riled up after a few seconds, deciding to playfully attempt to bite me while I waved my hand in his face. When I heard my phone chime, I booped his nose, then turned to pick it up.

Two missed calls.

I scrolled the rest of my notifications to realize that it was Emily and Anderson who had attempted to contact me. I didn’t want to hear from them, though. Anderson was probably calling on behalf of Hotch, meanwhile Emily was only going t o try to convince me to return to work sooner. I wished that I was a telepath so I could just tell everyone what I was thinking, that way they would leave me alone. I was planning on going back to work soon. I had been over it a hundred times in my head. But if people kept bothering me about it, I was just going to be more reluctant about it.

An hour later, my phone started buzzing again. I pet Clooney as he shuffled onto my lap. My phone just kept buzzing, however, as another call came through. I cursed under my breath, then stretched to pick it up, recognizing the photo and the name flashing on the screen almost immediately. I waited a second. Morgan must have talked to him. After seeing me glued to the bed, left to nothing but a puddle of tears, Morgan probably went straight to Hotch, told him that I was suffering today, and Hotch decided to finally call me after all this time.

I answered.

Silence echoed throughout my room as I waited for something to happen. Even Clooney stilled. It had been so long, I wasn’t sure who should speak first, or if I should even speak at all. I was terrified of saying the wrong thing. After how things ended between us the last time we saw each other, I knew that what I said was wrong. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. I didn’t want to push him away further than he already was.

And then it happened.

“Hey,” I heard his voice for the first time in about a week.

I nearly melted. “Hey,” I whispered back.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I’m fine. Are you?”

He hesitated before changing the subject. “I know that I’m not supposed to be calling—”

“It’s okay.”

Hotch hesitated another second. “It’s, um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s Jack’s birthday today.”

“I didn’t forget.”

Of course, I didn’t. How could I when our dinosaur had been sitting on my bed all day, staring at me, and I broke down every time I glanced at it. Jack had been so excited to spend his birthday with us. He was going to have a party at Chuck-E-Cheese with his friends, as disgusting as it was. We were going to get Spider-Man and Superman balloons, superhero themed paper plates, cups, and silverware. I was going to buy a set of Spider-Man walkie talkies for him and his dad to use, or maybe one of those Bat Signal toys so that he could flash it up at the sky whenever he was thinking of us when we were at work. I had all of these ideas to make that day special for him, but George Foyet took that all away. There were going to be no pictures of Jack blowing out his birthday candles, or opening his gifts, or hugging his dad after we wished him a happy birthday. There were going to be no memories of him running around Chuck-E-Cheese with his friends, bragging about how many tickets he got, and Hotch telling him that he was proud. There were going to be no conversations of me trying to convince him to get one prize or another. And there wasn’t going to be a single argument between me and Hotch about me spoiling Jack too damn much. That happiness left when Foyet practically stole him away from us.

“When are you coming home, Y/N? I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”

“I thought about coming home tomorrow, actually.”

“Can I see you before then?”

“Aaron, I…”

“Sam called to tell me that he had to move Haley and Jack again. Apparently, she’s been calling her dad and Jessica.”

I sighed and hid my face in my left palm. This day was already hard enough, but to just keep digging at the hole in my heart wasn’t helping. I thought that, of all people, Haley would do anything to protect Jack. George Foyet was a psychopath with a mission. Why would she risk Jack’s safety just to call her Roy and sister when Sam had told her a thousand times that she couldn’t be in contact with anyone until we found Foyet.

“Are they okay?” I asked.

“They're fine. Sam sent me a video of Jack playing on the swings this morning. He looks… happy.”

“He—” I hesitated to think about it. We hadn’t heard Jack’s voice in so long… We hadn’t seen his bright face in what felt like forever. We hadn’t gotten to hear his laugh since the day Foyet took him from us. A tear slid down my cheek as I considered it. “Could you hear him? See him?”

“Yeah,” Hotch said quietly. “It’s fuzzy, and it’s at a distance, but he says your name. He says he misses you.” Another tear escaped me. “I’d like to show it to you… You don’t have to stay long, just come into the office for a bit. I… I really just…” He cleared his throat again, trying to hold back an obvious sob building in his throat. “I need to hold you. Just for a bit today. I need it really bad, Y/N.”

A tear slid down my cheek. I needed him, too. No matter how mad I was with him, no matter how upset he made me after our blow up, there was only one thing that could make this day somewhat bearable. It was the same thing that Hotch needed. Being in his arms was the only thing that could ever really comfort me nowadays, and I thought earlier about how I needed him to hold me to make the day easier. I thought that he wouldn’t want to see me. After how things ended the last time we saw each other, I thought he would never want to see me again. I had said some pretty hurtful things. Though I meant them, it didn’t erase that they probably stung him to hear.

“I need you, too,” I whispered.

I heard him let out a quiet cry. “Come home to me, baby. Please.”

“I’m coming.” I stood from the bed and raced to grab my purse. “I’m coming, baby.”

His voice perked up, “I love you so much.”

I changed before driving to the office. I had been stuck in Hotch’s pajamas for days, which wasn’t exactly… attractive, and I definitely didn’t smell good. Maybe that was why Clooney was so fond of me. Changing was also important because I was heading to my place of work. I wasn’t going to be a visitor there. I couldn’t exactly show up in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. So, I used what I had in my go-bag to look work-ready, then I headed off to the office.

The parking lot security didn’t recognize my vehicle since I was arriving in my old one. The fact that they didn’t recognize it only prolonged my wait to see Hotch again. They had to check my credentials, then give me a new parking pass for the car—and the whole thing was just a fucking mess. But the second they let me past the barricade, I sped towards the closest parking spot I could find to the building, parked, then ran inside. Security welcomed me with smiles and innocent questions, just like they always did. They were an awesome group of people that were absolutely underappreciated by the agents in our building. There were times when they told me that Garcia and I were two of the only people who ever even acknowledged them, let alone took time out of our days to get to know them. As always, I told them that it was my pleasure, but the second the niceties were over, I ran to the elevator down the hall.

As the elevator opened to reveal the sixth floor, I squeezed through the doors. Garcia was walking out of the BAU, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. She froze when she saw me, a smile lighting up her face, and I tried smiling back as much as I could even though all of my energy was focused on getting to Hotch. She must have realized what was going on because she held the glass door open for me. I thanked her as I snaked by.

Everyone in the bullpen stopped and turned when Reid spotted me first. I smiled and waved as I kept my head down and maintained my clear path up the ramp, leading towards Hotch’s office. Emily tried calling out my name, but Morgan hushed her and I kept moving. It was nothing against her, but I was there for a singular purpose: Aaron Hotchner.

“Hi,” I said, stumbling into his office. I was so out of breath from running there. I was panting behind my forced smile.

Hotch looked up from the files on his desk. “Hi.”

“I want to see him. I want to see my little man.” My eyes were already watering up, a desperate plea for Hotch’s help to ease my breaking heart. “Please.”

“Close the blinds and lock the door.”

I nodded and turned to do so. Because Hotch and I technically weren’t supposed to have any kind of contact with Haley and Jack, no one else could see the video we were sent. If WITSEC changed their appearance and someone saw, it could put them in danger. If there was anything revealing in that video about where they had been before they were moved because Haley had been in contact with her dad, then it could put them in danger. Hotch and I couldn’t take that risk.

When I was done, I sat down in one of the empty seats across from Hotch. He turned his computer so that it was facing down the width of the desk, giving Hotch and I equal opportunity to see the screen and the video that was queued up. Even while the video was paused, I could see Jack on the swings, his legs kicked out since he had just gotten enough momentum to move forwards, and he was about to go flying back. I grabbed Hotch’s hand from the spacebar, tangling my fingers with his. Both of our breaths hitched.

“Are you sure—”

I nodded. “Do it.”

Hotch pressed the spacebar, then flipped his hand over so that he could hold my hand better. The video began. Jack started swinging back, his legs tucked under the seat. He was laughing. He was laughing, and kicking, and he looked like he was having so much fun. Haley pushed him forward again. He giggled and gave a “whoo” as he flew through the air again.

“It’s time!” Sam called from behind the camera.

Haley looked over with worry since Jack couldn’t see her. He was still having the time of his life, despite the fact that Sam and Haley were both telling him that it was time to get off the swings so that they could leave. Jack dragged his sneakers on the dirt beneath him to slow his momentum. After a few light, useless swings, Jack came to a stop, so he could safely jump off. Haley took his hand. He smiled up at her before he started skipping alongside her on their way to meet Sam at the car in the parking lot.

“Can we see Dad and Y/N now?” Jack asked.

I let out a sob, my face falling carefully against the desk. Hotch reached out to pet my hair back comfortingly, helping me through each of the tears that slid down my cheeks and every single whine that left my throat.

“No, baby, we’re not going home yet,” Haley said.

“But I want to see Y/N!” he complained. “I miss them.”

I tilted my head so that my cheek was pressed against the cold wood of the desk, but also so that I could glue my gaze back to the screen.

“I know, Jack,” she said while picking him up. “But we have to go somewhere else for our trip. Aren’t you excited?”

“Where are we going?”

The was when the video cut out.

“No, wait—” I gasped, sitting up straight. “There has to be more. That can’t be it.”

“That’s all of it, baby,” Hotch said apologetically.

“Play it again.”

Hotch did so. The video started replaying, Jack’s laugh echoing throughout the room. And then it was over faster than it was the first time, somehow. I sighed and let my head fall against the desk again.

“Come on, baby, don’t do that,” Hotch begged.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“No. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not—”

“It all goes back to that night in the hotel, Y/N. If I would’ve just taken the deal, none of this would be happening to us.”

“Stop,” I insisted while sitting up and sniffling. “I don’t blame you.”

He handed me a tissue from the box next to his elbow. “I’m sorry for being an asshole. I was blinded by hatred for Foyet and the need for revenge that I didn’t see how much of a douchebag I was being while you were suffering, too. It was insensitive of me, baby, and I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

I dodged his apology after a moment of silence. “Are you okay?” I asked. “You know… with missing Jack’s birthday for the first time?”

Hotch had never missed mine, Jack, or Haley’s birthdays before. There were times when we had to miss other holidays, but never a birthday. Ever. That was a day special to that person, and Hotch always wanted to celebrate it with them. When it came to Jack, that urge was even stronger. Jack was apart of this world because of Hotch. He stayed by Haley’s side for hours as she endured labor, and from that pain, they gained a little sunshine, a little miracle of their own. He wouldn’t have missed Jack’s birthday for the world. It was a memory of the good times, and a reminder that Hotch had a reason to live. He had a son. He wanted to celebrate that day every single year. But this time… There was no one to celebrate with, and it was noticeable.

He shook his head. “No. But that’s why I called you. I had to see you again and make things right.” We both took a deep breath, clearing away our tears and our overwhelming emotions. Hotch stood from his seat and slowly walked around his desk, taking a knee beside my chair. “I am sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing for what I did. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I shouldn’t have chased after you like that. I know I scared you, and I’m sorry. You know that I would never lay a hand on you, right?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making this up to you, Y/N, I just know it.” He took my hand in his. “I could make excuses all day—like how I was just frustrated about how our family is falling apart, and I’m upset the Foyet took the time to specifically go through our house in order to search for the one thing he knew would hurt most to steal… the ring I was going to give you.”

When Hotch and I first met Foyet, we thought that he was just another victim of The Reaper—that he was one of the lucky ones that got away. We were convinced because he distracted us with the one thing that meant everything to us: love. He begged me to not let The Reaper put Amanda’s engagement ring on his next victim. He cried about how he didn’t want that good memory to be ruined by The Reaper. In the end, though, The Reaper put the ring on one of his next victims, and I felt horrible about having broken my promise to Foyet… Only to find out that it was all a lie. It was a facade in order to fuck with us. I didn’t appreciate it. None of us did. He made it personal, and we were all pissed. But what upset me the most was the fact that he knew that using the detail of the engagement ring against me and Hotch would work. That was also how and why he knew to go straight for ours the night he stabbed Hotch.

Now, all I could do was hope and pray that he wouldn’t get the chance to put that ring on anyone’s body. I wanted that ring to be mine. I wanted Hotch to be down on one knee, as he was just then while apologizing to me, and I wanted him to slide that ring onto my finger as I told him: “Yes, I’ll marry you, Aaron Hotchner!” It was my dream. I wanted to call Aaron Hotchner my husband. And I wanted it to be that very ring that he went out of his way to buy after I babied him all the way home from Cincinnati. I wanted to be his. It actually didn’t matter which ring I ended up wearing—or even if I would have one at all. I just wanted to be his, and only his. Getting the ring back was just an added bonus because it came with a free side of “Fuck you, George Foyet”, accompanied with a middle finger.

“I could make those excuses,” he continued, “and I want to… But I won’t. I take full responsibility for my actions. I recognize that what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I shouldn’t have abandoned you. And I definitely shouldn’t have snapped at you when all you were doing was trying to help me and knock some sense into me.”

“I don’t want you to spend the rest of our lives apologizing, Aaron. I already forgive you. I just want you to spend every second of every day loving me unconditionally. Holding me like this…” I released his hands so that I could grab his face. He grabbed mine, too. “Kissing me like this…” I pressed my lips against his gingerly. “Telling me you love me…”

“I love you…” he whispered.

“It’s music to my ears,” I said, leaning my forehead against his.

Hotch hands snaked under my hips so that he could grab my ass, then lift me out of my seat. I flung my arms around his neck to make sure I wouldn’t fall out of his hold. When he had me out of my chair, I crossed my legs around his waist, feeling his erection pressing against me through both of our pants. We moaned simultaneously. Next thing I knew, to make sure he wouldn’t drop me, Hotch set me down on the edge of his desk.

“Are you—” he tried asking before I cut him off with another kiss. He pulled away. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What about the rules?”

“Fuck the rules. Aaron, I need this,” I said desperately, rather than seductively.

Of course, I needed him, but I mainly needed the idea of fucking him—of finally sharing that connection with him again after so long of not being anywhere near him. I needed the physical reminder that we loved each other. I didn’t doubt our love or passion, but that didn’t erase the feeling I had growing in the pit of my stomach, and it certainly didn’t make me forget just how wet I was for him already.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready yet, or if our emotions are too fried—”

“Are you not sure?”

He stared at me for a moment. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

I leaned up to kiss him again. “Then, fuck me, Sir.”

Hotch’s lips crashed passionately against mine, his tongue immediately sliding into my mouth, claiming the dominance I loved so much. I grinded my hips against his. He moaned in response, bucking his hips forward, too. My palms dragged down his neck, gliding over his purple button up dress shirt, making their way slowly down to his belt. As my fingers fiddled with the metal clasp, Hotch leaned against me so that he could clear the space on his desk behind me before pushing my back down. I got his buckle undone just in time. Hotch finished the rest of it. He eagerly unbuttoned his pants, then pushed down his zipper. As he stepped out of his pants, I fidgeted with the waistband of mine, waiting for the perfect opportunity to push them down to my ankles. Hotch caught the hint before I could get very far. He yanked my pants and panties down with one fowl swoop, leaving me completely exposed to him.

“Fuck—” I wiggled my hips around to gesture for more. Hotch ran his left pointer finger up my slit, starting at my dripping entrance, working his way up slowly to my throbbing clit. I jerked around when he circled it. “Sir…”

“I don’t want manners right now, Y/N. I just want you.” He cupped my cheeks with his palms so that he could hold me still before kissing me as roughly as he could. “You have to be quiet.”

“I know.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He reached between us in order to push his boxers down to his ankles. “Hold onto me. Please.”

I obeyed, bracing my hands on his shoulders. As he lined his tip up with my entrance, I bit my lip to bar myself from moaning his name as loud as I could. Instead, I opted to whimper, “I want you inside me—” I gasped and let my body fall limp against the desk as he pushed into me slowly. “Aaron…”

“You’re so tight, baby girl. Always so tight and wet for me.” He threw his head back while snapping his hips back, then forward as roughly as he had the strength for.

I saw his muscles tightened under his shirt, and that was when a thought struck me. “You have another shirt in your go-bag, right?”

Hotch thrusted into me again before he realized what it was that I had asked him. He paused. “Why?” I didn’t answer. “Yeah, I have another—” I grabbed onto the seam of buttons lining his chest, and then I yanked them apart. Hotch groaned, thrusting into me as I did so. I screwed my eyes shut and threw my head back in euphoria before I could even get a look at Hotch, like I wanted. “Fuck, baby girl…” He gripped my hips harder. I looked up at him with a smirk, excited to finally see him, but then I froze. Hotch noticed how my face well. “What is it?” he asked as he slowed then stopped.

“Aaron,” I hesitated, my fingers hovering only millimeters from his chest. He stopped to follow my gaze, quickly realizing that this was the first time that I was laying my eyes on his scars. Foyet did that to him… I wanted to cry. “I could have lost you…”

“Look at me,” he whispered as he grabbed my chin between his fingers. My eyes fluttered as I looked up at him through my lashes and foggy eyes. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I promise.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling him move inside me as he leaned over me. For the first time, I finally felt my hands touch his scars, running over the bumps and cuts. The stitches had been gone for a while, but I could still feel the irritation. I never knew that it was this bad. How was I supposed to know when he had been working tirelessly towards making sure I never found out?

“I love you,” I croaked, letting him pull me in for a kiss.

He thrust his hips forward at a gentle, loving pace. “I love you, too.”

I grabbed onto his shoulders, my fingers digging into his back slightly. With that silent encouragement, Hotch’s hands took ahold of my hips and he started fucking me roughly. I moaned against his collarbone, my legs falling off of him so that he could increase his pace without being held back by me. I propped my feet on the edge of his desk, and my back fell against the wood entirely. Hotch’s hands moved upwards, stopping just on my breasts. He cupped, massaged, and squeezed them as he continued to fuck me as hard as he could. My hands fell from his shoulders, and I ran my fingers over his scars again. I used to be so obsessed with his chest and how he flexed when he’d fuck me like this, but now, I was so scared of looking or touching because I didn’t want to hurt him. I knew that he wasn’t fragile, especially with the strength of every pump he was giving me, but I was still hesitant. I felt like with one wrong move, he could fall apart, and maybe it would be all my fault.

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered, moving to press my palm against his face.

He leaned down and kissed me. I moaned into his mouth as he gave me another passionate thrust that said: “I’m here, my love, and I’m not going anywhere.” I scratched at his back. I couldn’t do anything but quietly moan and whimper. If we were any louder, the whole office would know, and we couldn’t have that. This first time since he was stabbed was imperative to calming our worries and helping us forget our pain… but the team didn’t need to know any of it. There would be another time soon when Hotch and I would be alone, and I’d finally get to moan his name as loud as I wanted while also gasping between saying “I love you” a thousand times. But this… This needed to be quiet. It was passionate, of course, but it had to be quiet, much to my despair.

“I’m close,” he warned. “I’m so fucking close.”

I pulled him towards me so that our chests were pressed together. He hid his face in the crook of my neck, finally letting out a muffled groan. His hips were doing all of the work now, so I started grinding up to help him. That only seemed to encourage his orgasm, because the next thing I knew, his hand snaked between our bodies so that he could press his thumb against my clit.

I hid my face in his shoulder so that my moan would be muffled, too. “Aaron…” I let out a shaky breath. “Aaron, please. Cum in me…” I needed him to fill me. I needed that instinctual reminder that I was his and he was mine. I needed a part of him to carry around for a bit to remember that he was alive and that he was there with me. “Fuck—” My body gave out. I was shaking and panting as my orgasm crashed through me like a wave. As my walls pulsed around him, Hotch groaned into my neck again. My tightness pushed him over the edge, milking out everything he had to offer me.

“Y/N…” he growled in my ear, thrusting into me once more with such a fierceness that I knew I was going to be sore in just a few minutes. “I love you.” I heard how the words got caught in his throat. I heard how he was holding something back. I knew what it sounded like when he was trying not to cry. So, I lifted his head off me. “I love you,” he repeated, moving to kiss me before I could register just how red his eyes were.

I melted into his kiss again, my body relaxing after my overwhelming climax. It was only when I felt one of his tears hit my cheek that I knew he wasn’t okay. I whimpered sadly. All I could do was hold him close, tangling my fingers through his hair, kissing his lips again and again, feeling him soften inside of me. It was like that time we drove back from Cincinnati, and we couldn’t do anything but be grateful for each other. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could face seeing him like this. Broken, beaten, bruised, wincing in pain. If it happened again, I didn’t know how I was going to survive.

“Does it still hurt?” I asked, referencing his scars. Hotch groaned as he pulled out of me slowly. He reached into his go-bag under his desk, grabbing a dark blue towel to clean me up with. Silently, he wiped my thighs and everywhere between. “Aaron.” He didn’t look at me. My heart sank in my chest at the realization. “They still hurt, don’t they?” Silence still. “Answer me, baby.”

“I don’t…” He gulped back tears. “I don’t know what to say.”

I sat up on the desk to get a better look at him while he hid the towel away, then stood up straight in order to change shirts. I wanted to apologize for ripping the purple one open. But I found that I couldn’t move or speak. He was stretching to pull the sleeves off, wincing as he did so, then he grabbed the red shirt from his go-bag, and started to carefully put it on.

“Come here,” I said, beckoning him closer with one finger. He sighed and stepped towards me. I started buttoning his shirt up for him. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I know.”

“We promised to never lie to each other.”

“I know.”

“So, then, why?”

His lip quivered and his eyes reddened. “Because I didn’t want to lose you, too... Turns out closing myself off in order to protect you only ruined everything.”

I finished buttoning his shirt. “I thought you learned that lesson when you first asked me out.”

Back then, when I first joined the team, Hotch entirely ignored me in order to protect me from his feelings. He didn’t think it was appropriate to let me know that he was in love with me. He thought that pushing me away was the only way to save me from him. What he failed to realize was that his decisions only worried me. I became obsessed with his change in behavior. Finally, I broke after Elle’s hostage situation in Texas, so I confronted him. That evening, we admitted that we had feelings for each other, and he took me out to dinner. The rest was history. But that was exactly why we didn’t keep secrets from each other, and we didn’t push each other away. I needed him to comfort me ever since Foyet attacked me— Actually, I wanted to comfort him. Bur he never gave me the chance. He pushed me away again, and it tore me down to nothing.

“I told you I’m sorry.”

I got off the desk and collected my panties and pants at the same time he grabbed his boxers and pants. We finished getting dressed simultaneously. As I hopped and shimmied into my pants, I looked at Hotch. “Can we start over? Pretend like the past month never happened?”

“And do what?” he asked while fixing his tie.

“Be us.”

His gaze snapped to meet mine. “I’d love that.”

“You can’t hide up in your office all day, and you can’t shut me out… You can’t keep sleeping in Jack’s room… You have to talk to me.”

He shuffled on the balls of his feet.

“Fine, you don’t have to talk to me, but you have to start going to therapy again.”

“It’s a waste of time and money, Y/N.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I’m not going to sit on a couch and tell some stranger that I miss my son so much I can’t breathe! I’m not going to tell them that I think about how I snapped at you and it almost makes me wish Foyet killed me—”

“Don’t fucking say that,” I hissed. “Ever.”

“You wanted me to talk to you, right? Well, that’s how I feel.”

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to diffuse the tension building in my chest and shoulders. We had just made up; I didn’t want to start arguing with him again. “Okay… Like I said, you don’t have to talk to me… But at least try one more session. You stopped going after we lost Jack and Haley, and I think that’s a big part of why things blew up the way they did. Just one. For me. If you don’t like it, then I won’t make you go again. I think you’ll find it’s helpful, though.”

Hotch sighed, too. “Just one.”

“Just one,” I agreed while nodding.

“Okay.”

I jumped onto my toes and kissed him. “I love you.”

Before he could say it back, there was a knock at the door. Hotch and I parted, fixing ourselves again as quickly as possible, and I returned to my seat at his desk while he went to go unlock the door. When I was settled, I gave Hotch a nod. It looked like nothing had happened between the two of us now, except for the fact that Hotch was wearing a different shirt, but hopefully no one would notice… right…

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rossi apologized from the other side of the door, “but we’ve got a new case.”

I stood from my seat and started walking towards the door to make my way to the boardroom. Hotch stopped me. He looked at Rossi, then asked if we could have another moment alone before closing the door on him. I rolled my eyes at Hotch.

“Don’t do that,” he begged, grabbing my hips in his hands. “Just sit out for one more case. That’s all. One more to collect your thoughts and get settled back in at the house.”

My hands slid around the back of his neck so that my fingers could pull at the ends of his hair gently. He moaned. I smiled and jumped up onto my toes so that I could kiss him. “I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I always have and I always will.”

He let out a breath, letting relief wash over him. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I’ll never stop loving you.”

He pulled me in for another desperate, passionate kiss that kept me pressed against him until I couldn’t breathe. When his lungs gave out, too, he parted from me. “I love you, too.” And then he raced off to be a superhero again.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999​ @gorgeousdarkangel​  @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​ @bshelley322​

[a19yearoldtryinherbest]

A Few Drinks. [Officer Slater]

Masterlist

Prompt: There's a neighbor who would love to have a few drinks

Warning: Swearing, NSFW.

A/N: It's NSFW but like fluffy and with feels. Or at least I tried to be that, a bit.

@starlordxthor

Anyway I'm sorry I tried really hard to do a self insert but it just doesn't work for me. It gets me off my game, make me constantly think "Oh, someone might not do that". It just doesn't work for me. So... I did the story but with a character.

If any of you want I can do a sort of self insert if you give me a (your) name and some characteristics and/or personally traits I can try to make it justice. Also if any of you want a male or nonbinary love interest, a just friends story, a two dumbasses in lover who don't realize they are in love so there's a lot of pining, or whatever I'm down with that. I just can't really write self insert.

Also the name I gave him is just a headcanon I read somewhere and it stuck with me. Also, it's technically Wednesday and I said I would upload on Monday... sorry about that. I just have a lot of shit currently hitting the fan right now.

Word count: 2560

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Almost every morning, by the time Emily had to leave for work, she bumped her neighbor, Officer Slater, who was just coming back from patrol; supposedly that was all she knew about him but she had picked up upon a few things after living across the hall from him for over three months; he lived alone, usually came back from his late Friday shifts drunk, tended to have his redheaded friend on the afternoons to watch some game and ended up listening to music a bit too loud even for the afternoon. She also knew he was a bit shy, since she had smiled at him on the elevator, thanking him for keeping the door open and he just blushed and mumbled a small "it's nothing" while looking at the floor, that was the second week she was leaving there and the first time she saw him and thought he was incredibly cute.

However, that Saturday, he wasn't drunk. She tried not to look to puzzled about it and, as always, she said — Good morning.

He turned around with a soft smile — Uh, Hi. G-good morning. — he stumbled on his words, being slightly caught off guard even if she greeted him every morning.

She smiled back — No drinking tonight? — she flinched as she said it — Sorry! — she backtracked, feeling awkward and idiotic for saying it — I didn't mean anything by it. — She pressed her eyelids hard and scrambled her thoughts before shaking her head and deciding to leave the conversation — Sorry, I- I better leave. I-

— It's ok. — he said just as she was preparing to practically run towards the elevator — Yeah, there was no drinking, my- — he hesitated — my partner got relocated yesterday and the new one was extremely opposed to the idea of a few drinks. — he gave her a half smile with a soft shrug shoulders — Some people... I don't know. — he said, she wasn't sure if he was joking but she found it funny and she laughed, which made him smile.

There was a beat where she just continued to smile at him and he smiled back. And it was probably the way he was looking at her that made her say — Well, I'm the kind of person who enjoys a few drinks. Just so you know. — he laughed shortly at the floor, completely caught off guard by her not so subtle comment.

He nodded and shifted his weight before looking at her gathering all of his confidence to say — Well, if you really enjoy a few drinks I can invite you for some day.

She smiled, trying to hide her excitement — Sure. — she nodded and took a step forward — Do you have a cellphone?

He opened his eye a bit more as he thought about what she had said and quickly understood what she meant. He went for his phone, almost desperately, looking for in the pockets his trousers until he found his flip phone in the back pocket and held it in between them, offering her to grab it. She smiled and took it, getting the lid off the keyboard and typing in a few things. She closed it and gave him a sweet smile as she gave it back, the tip of her fingers softly caressing his palm, leaving him in a short dreamlike haze full of soft, pink clouds and golden strikes of the sunlight.

— I have to go to work now, so... — he snapped out of his trance and nodded, embarrassed by the idea that he was staring at her way too long.

— Oh, Right. — he said, softly lowering his gaze to the floor but looking back up a second later when she spoke.

— Right. — she smiled — I'll see you around, then. — he watched her go and looked down to see his phone, seeing her name and her phone number on his contacts. Michaels wasn't going to believe it. And he didn't.

However McLovin did believe him and told him, just as Seth told him when he first got a girl's number, to wait four days before calling or, as he put it, the bitch is gonna know you're desperate. This was not true. What was true, however, was that he was going to make her wait and, according to Forgell and Seth, that was going to make her want him more. The second part wasn't necessarily true.

However, by the time Tuesday came he called her.

— Hey — he perked as he heard her pick up.

She smiled — Hey — there was a short silence where she took a few directionless steps, waiting for him to say something. But it wasn't uncomfortable, it was like a soft breath, quiet and easy.

— It's Slater — he said panicking for a second.

She laughed — Yeah I know. — and crossed her arms in front of her chest, sitting on the armchair of her couch — I never got your name. — she said in a way for him to say it.

— It's Slater. — he answered naturally, completely unbothered and oblivious.

— That's your last name.

He hesitated a little and, without realizing it, he pulled a full Forgell — Some people don't have first name.

She laughed at his idiotic response — Yes they do. Everyone does.

— Some of them don't. — he poorly defended, almost pacing between having his weight on his right leg or his left leg. The line stayed silent for a few moments except for a few steps from Emily's side. He felt more nervous — It's just ridiculous. Y'know?

— Is that why do use your last name? — she asked, closing her apartment door.

— Yeah. Basically. — he said and heard a knock on the door — Would you give me a second. Someone's at the door.

— You better not be saying that as an excuse not to tell me your name. —she teased. He went closer to the door and stopped to smile for a second.

— It's not. But I won't tell you anyway. — he said and opened the door only to find her on the other side, standing in the hallway with a sweet, teasing smile.

— So, who is it? — she joked, still talking at the phone. He let out a soft chuckle and hung up and invited her in — So can you tell me your name? — she leaned in the couch — Please?

—Ok. Just- don't make fun, alright?

— I promise

It's Sidney — he almost hid his face behind his hands but stopped when he saw her smile, almost laughing — You said you wouldn't make fun.

— I'm not! It's just- peculiar. — he looked down like if he was ashamed and she regretted her choice of words and tried to mend it with — But I love it. — he looked up at her, a bit confused — Sid. It fits you.

— Still, I don't really like it. — he muttered, and she understood what he was trying to say.

— Alright then, Satler. — he smiled a bit and she smiled back — Do you wanna drink something, then?

— Don't you have work tomorrow?

— No, unless someone dares to miss their shift, and they know better than to get me pissed off. — she smiled and he smiled back, understanding it was a joke but with truth in it — So, drinks?

— I have a few beers and a few movies from Blockbuster if you want.

She let herself fall on the couch — Yes to both.

They put the movie on the DVD player but they never pressed play, instead they started talking first about simple stuff. Likes, dislikes and general history from themselves and, as the drinks moved along, a heavier conversation of fears and dreams to, when the drinks came on a slower pace, their line of work. Emily told him all the wonders about being a nurse, from the disrespectful patients and the disgusting infections, to the angry family members and the endless hours.

— What about you? — she asked before taking a swing of her beer — I mean, you're a cop, you must have some interesting stories.

He laughed shortly and nodded — Yeah. — he thought of a funny story for a second and smiled when he remembered one, he shifted slightly to look at her — Alright, so this one night Michaels and I were patrolling and got called in for a fight outside a bar. We went there, arrested one if the guys but the other ran away and while we were taking him to the percent we got a call for- I think it was a DUI who wouldn't stop, or something. — he settled into his seat again and took a small sip of his beer — So, we get there and pull over the DUI and, while we were talking to the other officers, the guy we had arrested managed to open the door and ran away, handcuffs and everything. — Emily started laughing a bit and he smiled at her — We spent the whole night looking for him. We couldn't find him. Then we got called for another fight but in a parking lot. — he looked at her, almost doing a dramatic pause and she leaned in without realizing it, still amused but no longer laughing, trying to hear the big reveal — I shit you not, it was the same two guys from the first fight. — they both bursted into laughter.

— No way! — she laughed out.

He continued — These motherfuckers got away from being arrested and then got arrested for starting another fight in another place.

— I would say it was karma or destiny but I honestly think it was just stupidity. — he nodded with a bright smile on his face.

She looked at the screen and laughed softly, making him look — We forgot about the movie. — he smiled and looked at her.

— Wouldn't have been as interesting. — he shrugged.

Emily looked at him, almost double checking if he meant it, and he did. She could see that he did. She felt herself freeze.

A unexpected but welcomed touch on her hand that froze her and melted her at the same time.

He looked at her through his glasses and saw her blush slightly, making his ego go through the roof. This beautiful woman, this amazing person, she was blushing because of him. It was beyond his comprehension but he tried to not let it show, smiling softly in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

She looked at his lips, and then saw him looking at her own, but she knew he wouldn't do the first move so she came close to him. Their lips almost brushing before he closed the very short distance between them, feeling his heart beat faster than ever before.

He put his hand on her waist and felt her slightly shiver under his touch so he let the hand he had free start tracing upwards in her leg, almost getting under her dress. Without realizing she opened her legs to him, inviting him to touch, and he did, he stared on the outline of her underwear and her breath fell into a slow and heavy rithm.

— Fuck. — she breathed into his ear and he had to stop For a second, he felt his cock getting hard and the over-stimulation he felt was getting a bit over the edge. But his actions where met with a whine from deep within her throat — Why did you stop? — she asked, half protesting half concerned, looking into his eyes with lust and hunger.

— I think we should go to my bedroom. — she smiled at his words

— Yes. Absolutely. — she stood up and then let him guide her. He lead her to his bedroom and stood awkward for a few seconds, not sure how to continue.

She decided to take the lead again and kissed him, feeling him getting slightly weak on his knees as she took off her dress and made him take off his. She smiled as he kissed her while making her sit on the bed, making her open up her legs for him again. She felt his long finger teasing her and she started kissing his neck as a way to encourage him. He felt her getting wet so he started kissing her cleavage and sliding her panties down her legs before dropping on his knees. He licked the top of her womanhood and she moaned, quite loudly.

He smiled before leaning into her core and starting to suck on her a bit before letting his tongue do the work. She muffled a moan when he caressed her leg, the innocent touch he could give while making her reach the sky felt like the perfect combination of intensity and levity, just like her burning core and the soft wind on her back were the perfect duality of hot and cold. Which was the only way to describe Slater; dichotomy, duality, never better represented than with the way the hungry look on his eyes took it's place on his angelical face.

He kept stimulating her, watching the response to every move. If he went up she would squeal and her legs would tremble, if he went slightly to the right and introduced his fingers she would lean into the mirror and grab his hair. He played with all of her reactions making a knot in her insides which only got more tense until he helped her release herself from it, and he heard her scream his name like a prayer.

He leaned back and watched her gather herself, hearing her breathing slow down and seeing her sit straight back up. Before she could say a word he was on top of her, kissing her softly but with hunger, making her moan as he tried to take off his gears. She chuckled softly when she saw him struggle with his belt and he laughed too, stopping for a second the sexy, hot moment they were having a bit of laughs that slowly died out, making her smile — Do you need help?

— Yes. — he chuckled. She just smiled and helped him, getting rid of the belt, his pants and then his underwear. He started pressing his rock hard erection against her all ready swollen clit, teasing her, making her whine and squeal.

— Do you have a-?

— Yeah. — he stopped his sweet rhythm and looked for a condom in the drawer of his bedside table. He found it and she helped him put it on, making him let out a shaky breath out.

Emily felt him stare down her lips but this time let him take his time to kiss her, no rushing in, no taking the lead. And it was sweeter than anything she had ever felt before. And, as he kissed her, he accommodated his place, seeing her twitch a little when he leaned against her entrance. They stopped the kissed only for Emily to plead for him inside her, and he did as she pleaded. Having her moan and become and absolute mess under him. He went faster as she asked and heard her scream his name over and over. He watched her come undone one more time and so did he, both screaming and whispering eachother names between profanities.

He he fell beside her and looked at her face, his breathing slowing down by the second as she smiled at him. She chuckled, embarrassed by the way he was looking at her, making her blush — You're absolutely beautiful. — he declared. And she couldn't help but fall harder for him.

[secretsantasides]

Gift #8: My Universe

Gift for @enby-fander

Prompt: Analogical High School AU

My Universe

Characters: Logan, Deceit (called Daniel), Virgil, mentions of Remus, mentions of Patton

Pairings: Romantic Analogical, Platonic Loceit, Brotherly Anxciet, implied Brotherly Logicality

Warnings: Alludes to homelessness and poverty, sad boi Virgil

Summary: Thank you to the two anons who showed up on @enby-fander's account and gave me major inspiration right when I needed it. Here you go, Trans Virgil and Nonbinary Logan that starts as angst and ends as fluff.

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

As the rest of Kingston High School's sophomores rushed into the cafeteria, Daniel Hyde instead ducked through an out-of-the-way, yet familiar, pair of dark, wooden, though probably fake wood, double doors. His head was down as he stalked over to the Fiction section, deliberately searching. For what, bystanders had no clue.

They parted, anxious to induce the wrath of Dan, a boy rumoured to be in a gang. None of them would put such a thing past the punk boy. He wasn't someone to mess with.

He walked with such a determination that they knew he was on the hunt. His prey? Another, hidden from all but him.

Logan Jekyll was seated in the middle of the mystery section, shrouded in darkness. The junior knew these shelves well, so much so that they could traverse them without requiring sight. That way, they had no reason to flick the switches at the start of each row to the "on" position, which would illuminate the row of dim fluorescent bulbs dangling above. Logan liked it better in the dark, anyway. It hid the introvert from those pesky freshmen. The ones who liked to taunt Logan for some unknown reason.

"Oh look, it's genius Jekyll. Aren't you the one with the ridiculously high GPA? Highest in your year?"

They gave a quick, curt nod to both questions, not speaking. Instead, they continued to read their book, turning the page after a few seconds of silence.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was most definitely living up to the praise they had heard it received, primarily by the Hyde brothers. Daniel had always pressed them to read it, so they had finally began the novel.

As they read, laughs were heard. The rowdy students had become bored with the junior and had stampeded away towards the computers. Logan never understood what they seemed to find so funny.

"Hey, first chair Jekyll, heard you got the solo for the next concert."

When they nodded, quick and curt, the group started laughing yet again. All the way over to the doors. Probably after they walked out the doors, too.

Logan recognized someone in that mob as the sophomore who liked to raise hell during rehearsal, along with a few trumpet players, a bassoon, and half of percussion. He brought the baritone horn section down considerably, even with Logan there to counterbalance his pure idiocy. And to think, this kid is laughing at him. Sheer stupidity, all of it.

"Jekyll, my man, the reason our debate team isn't shit. You're captain, right? Who's second, in your book?"

At the first question, they nodded. At the second, they scowled and looked back at his book. They did have an opinion on who would fall second, but that opinion was not owed to a group of freshmen who loiter around and taunt others. Seeing the spectacle-wearing one's scowl, the boys laughed. Turning and walking away, they kept on snickering and joking about "perfect Jekyll."

'Our debate team? You mean, my debate team.' Logan recognized none of those dumbasses as members of debate, especially not the one who initiated the conversation. He would be debating things when pigs flew.

"I found Jekyll, man of the hour. Nice speech you gave, didn't realize you could do that. Thought only seniors could."

They shook their head "no" at the statement, causing them to… big surprise… laugh at them.

At least they're eloquent enough to make a speech. These people could barely string together simple sentences, let alone write with enough skill to compose a speech at the level Logan did so at.

"Hey guys, here's Dr. Jekyll. Heard you finally found your Mr. Hyde, and you're terribly in love."

They scowled, otherwise ignoring all of them. That narrative wasn't even fitting to Robert Louis Stevenson's original story. In the end, it was revealed that Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde were one and the same, a relationship they and their boyfriend do not possess.

"What, don't want to admit that you're gay as f*ck for Hyde?"

The scowl already adorning their features intensified some, but that was the only indicator of how pissed Logan truly was. Lacking a reaction, the group turned and walked away, laughing as they went.

Did they owe them an explanation of their love life? No, they should f*ck off. It's their damn significant other, not theirs. They were thinking of multiple profanities that could describe those idiots, but decidedly did not execute them aloud. Their choices would make probably Remus Kingston proud, a boy who has an alphabet of swear words, an alphabet that only skims the surface of his cursing dictionary.

As Logan sat there, reminiscing about how much of an asshole all of those freshmen were, Dan was slowly honing down his search radius.

He had visited most of Logan's normal rows, besides mystery and parts of nonfiction. As he walked to non-fiction, he stopped abruptly and turned to walk down the row of mystery novels. Logan truly adored the who-dunits covering these shelves, or so he's heard. He may have good luck looking here, as long as his brother knew Jekyll well. Dan was certain he did.

Don't fail me now, nerd, I need you, he thought, breathing deeply.

He strolled casually into the aisle, flicking the switch at the start of the row. The dim fluorescent lining the ceiling flickered on, revealing exactly what he was looking for. Exactly who he was looking for. Logan Jekyll.

Logan hissed at the sudden lights, sparking a chuckle from the sophomore stalking towards him. They looked up, blue-green eyes meeting grey.

There was an amused smirk adorning the boy's features. Logan did not mirror the expression, but they were nonetheless glad to see the sophomore.

"Didn't realize us Hyde's had made an impression on you. Not surprised, though, with how much you see my brother."

The one clad in blue blushed a deep red at the mention of their boyfriend. Daniel laughed at the sight, before offering out his hand. Logan looked down at the palm obscured by black, fingerless gloves, bewildered as to why the other was putting his hand out. Their confusion showed, causing Dan to roll his eyes and huff.

"Take my hand, Calculator Watch, I'm helping you up. That sorry excuse for carpeting is stale as f*ck, so we might as well go sit somewhere more comfortable."

Reliasition flashed before Logan's eyes as they muttered an, "Ah." Their hand took the other's gloved one, allowing the younger boy to hoist the older off of the matted, black carpet. They now were roughly at eye-level with each other, Logan with a solid height of 5'5" and Daniel being just a half or full inch shorter.

Daniel ran one hand through his slicked back black hair, shoving the other in one pocket of his faded leather jacket. The hand brushing the hair joined the other in the pocket opposite.

"Now, Jekyll, we have a pressing matter to discuss."

The two walked in silence for a while, Daniel leading them through the hallways. Suddenly, he took a left into a classroom, Logan following behind.

The classroom was abandoned, obviously having been used as a science room at one point. There were posters adorning two of the walls, saying things like "Eat, sleep, science, repeat."

"We need to talk about my brother."

Panic flashed in the eyes of Logan, who hid the emotion quickly. Dan wouldn't have noticed if Logan had not coughed directly afterwards, drawing attention to their still shell-shocked expression

The older of the two anxiously scuffed one of their NASA-themed Vans across the linoleum tiles, before looking back at the aforementioned boy.

"Go on."

"Well, he has refused to leave his room for the past 5 days, so I wanted to ask you for…"

He hesitated, but Logan pushed him on.

"For what? Spit it out, Hyde."

Daniel coughed, before regaining his composure.

"I need your help, Jeyll. I need your f*cking help. You're the only person I know that can do anything to get my brother out of his hiding space, and that's all I care about. I'm willing to put aside our indifferences if it helps my brother. Now, tell me, will you?"

"So, what am I supposed to do again?"

The two were walking to the apartment the Hyde brothers shared.

Daniel cleared his throat. "You're supposed to get that bastard to emerge from the cave he has made out of his room. This may be a habit of his, but it has gone on longer than normal, which concerns me."

Logan chuckled. "Sounds like him, alright. At least I now know for certain you and I are talking about the same person."

Dan burst out, "Finally! Someone understands how antisocial that motherf*cker can be!"

He gestured dramatically to emphasize the point.

The older's face morphed into a grin and they began to laugh.

"Hey!" they said, through their laughter, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

Daniel snorted.

"He's my brother! I'm allowed to call him an antisocial bastard."

The pair's laughter tapered off as they continued their trek.

"May I ask how far away your apartment is?"

Daniel coughed, shifting a bit awkwardly.

"Um… it's still a few minutes away, but we're heading up on it."

Logan cocked an eyebrow.

"Y'all live in the downtown area?" they asked.

Dan stayed silent, but nodded.

"My apologies for pushing the subject."

The pair had arrived at the place Daniel pointed them towards, a run-down, dirty-looking, crowded apartment building. Dan stopped multiple times before they arrived, obviously completing a routine.

First, he stopped by an older woman, who was walking across the sparsely filled parking lot with a cart. In the cart, canned food resided, all of which had a small message written on them in Sharpie.

As he reached her, Daniel pressed a can of food he procured from the pocket of his black backpack into her hands.

Logan heard her murmur, "God bless you, honey. You and your brother stay safe, alright Danny?"

They saw Dan give a warm smile towards her. "We will. Stay safe, Mrs. Cunningham."

Secondly, he waved to a group of little boys running in the lot, kicking a ball around. The one who had the ball kicked it towards Daniel, grinning brightly.

"Mr. Hyde!" the other boys shouted, having just spotted the teenager.

"Now what have I always told y'all? Call me Dan."

"Okay, Mr. Dan!" the boys chorused.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ruffling the hair of one. "I give up, y'all obviously are gonna be respectful at all times."

He paused, before clearing his throat.

"That's a good thing, boys. Respect everyone, even if it doesn't seem like they deserve it. Just gotta respect everyone."

The last part was murmured.

The boys all nodded vigorously, before one shouted, "First one to the tree over there gets to pick teams!"

They all sprinted, leaving Dan and Logan to chuckle.

"Kids, right?"

Daniel gave a half-moon smile. "Yeah."

The last stop before the Hyde apartment was at the front desk of the lobby. It could barely be considered a lobby, more like a room with a desk shoved in the corner, some assorted furniture in the other, and stairs to the upper floors. Daniel stepped up to the desk, pulling a sheet of folded notebook paper out of his jacket pocket. He set it on the desk before turning around and smoothing the worn-leather of his jacket. He popped the collar, looking Logan in the eyes.

"Let's go, Jekyll."

"Apartment 7C, correct?"

The pair had just arrived at floor 7, both out of breath. Daniel hid it better, though.

"...Yes," he composed himself, looking at the junior with a look of annoyance.

They strolled down the hall, stopping just short of the end.

APARTMENT 7C read a small, dirty plaque mounted just above the doorknob.

Dan proccured an equally rusty key from his back jean pocket. He turned to Logan and said, "Let's go get my bastard of a brother out of his damn slump."

The pair walked into the mess of an apartment, Daniel shouting out a quick, "I'm home!" to ease the other Hyde's anxieties. Though, the shouting may be contradictory, as the older Hyde brother was not a fan of loud noises.

Daniel quickly dropped the key on a rickety table close by to the door. His combat boots were shed, as Logan kicked off his Vans.

Dan turned to Logan, directing him towards his brother.

"Down the hall, first door to the left. It'll be locked, so… here."

He grabbed a penny from the counter and threw it to Logan. They caught it with ease, studying the coin. They looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Our locks are garbage, so this should get it easy. I would've done it myself earlier this week, but I believe in the sanctitiy of one's room. That is, until you're in there for almost a week."

Logan nodded, turning to follow the instructions given.

Dan stopped them.

"I don't think he wants to see me, so I'll stay back. Jekyll, get my brother. Please."

He sounded almost desperate, so Logan obliged.

They found the door indicated easily, as there was a galaxy-patterned poster in blues and purples attached to the door with Scotch tape. It just seemed… right.

They jangled the knob a bit, discovering it was unsurprisingly locked. Logan took the penny, shoved it into the flat indentation on the rusty knob, turning slowly and carefully. It worked. The door was now unlocked.

Logan turned the handle, quickly entering the dark room. They heard a hoarse voice, dull due to lack of use, emitate from the corner.

"L-eave m-e the hell alon-e."

A throat was cleared, a few coughs ringing through the silence of the room.

"I'm fine."

Logan huffed, rumbling for the light switch mounted on the wall next to them.

Their hand knocked the switch up, prompting a hiss from the figure huddled in a corner.

"I thought you would be happier to see me. I assume I was wrong."

The figure looked up, revealing messy purple hair, tired and unfocused eyes, and a miserable expression adorning the features Logan would always find beautiful.

"Stella?"

"It's me, nebulosa."

Logan looked around the room.

It was very… Virgil.

He had a few band posters on the walls, hoodies with patches and stitching and a worn leather-jacket (much like Daniel's) hanging in the closet alongside his school-issued letterman's jacket, a black guitar propped up nicely in a corner, a chair that looked similar to those in the small dining room set with his low-quality music stand, band folder, and the large, bulky case of a euphonium put aside carefully, and a few trophies and certificates earned for track, for musical achievements, or for academic accomplishments were set on the dresser or hung on the wall above it. Everything was in black and deep purple, with subtle hints of navy.

They liked the color scheme a lot, as it was quite pleasing to the eye.

Much better than their brother's mixture of bright and pastel blues, all light in tone. Patton really didn't know how to mix colors.

Logan's attention was diverted, however, from the room surrounding them when they heard sniffles from Virgil's corner.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

Virgil wiped his eyes, acting as though he wasn't just crying.

"I'm just over-emotional, I guess. Damn it, peri-"

He stopped himself, a look of shock adorning his features. Logan looked upon him with a look of pity, sad-smile creeping onto their features.

"Is that why you've been isolating yourself, babe? Hey, hey, come here."

Virgil shook his head. "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.

Logan walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him.

"It's okay, stella. ...I love you."

Virgil gave a weak smile.

"I love you too, Logan."

[not-close-to-straight]

Braids (Stucky)

There’s more fics on my MASTERLIST!

****************

Brooklyn, 1940

“Buck.” Steve knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you dead in there? Lemme in, I gotta go.” 

He knocked again but there was no answer, so Steve sighed, put his small shoulder to the door and shoved as hard as he can, nearly falling into the tiny bathroom when the lock gave way and the door fell right open. 

“Shit.” Bucky was standing in front of the scratched mirror and Steve frowned as the brunette hastily ran his fingers through his hair, dragging at the strands to dislodge what looked like the beginnings of a sloppy braid. “Stevie, ain’t ya never heard bout knockin? Can’t a fella piss in--” 

“Were you braiding your hair?” Steve interrupted, and Bucky’s scowl was black enough to wither flowers. “No m’serious. Is that what you were doin’?” 

“Why th’ hell would I be--” 

“Is this bout how you said some days you didn’t feel like a fella?” Steve cut in again and Bucky’s scowl darkened another shade. “But you don’t really feel like a dame, sometimes it’s jus’ inbetween?” 

“I dunno what you’re talkin’--” 

“You were drunk.” Steve leaned against the doorjam and folded his arms, as if that would do anything to deter Bucky from moving past him. “Drunk and sorta emotional and said ‘Stevie sometimes I jus’ don’t fell like a fella’ and then you cried.” 

“I did not--” Bucky started to yell, but Steve just looked at him, so Bucky took a deep breath and hunched his shoulders and tried to shrug it off. “Was just ramblin’. No big deal.”

“Kay then.” Steve stood aside to let Bucky through to the living room, and in a very quiet voice as Bucky was almost out of hearing range, added, “I know how’ta braid, Buck. Used to practice on my ma after she got sick so I’m real good at it, if you care bout that sorta thing.” 

“...yeah?” Bucky didn’t turn around but his voice shook a little. “S’okay if I care bout that sorta thing?” 

“Course it is.” 

“...kay.” Bucky went into his room and Steve finally made it to the bathroom and that was the last either of them said about it for several days. 

**************

**************

“Stevie.” It was late, already dark for hours and most of the apartment building was quiet or asleep by the time Bucky came to Steve’s bedroom door. “You awake.” 

“Uh--” Steve looked over at the lamp then down at the book in his hands. “No?” 

“Punk.” Bucky muttered and Steve cracked a smile, waiting for Bucky to say whatever it was that had him visibly nervous, shifting his feet and chewing at his lip. “You uh-- you think you could--” Bucky made a vague gesture to his hair. “Maybe?” 

“Come on.” Steve didn’t even hesitate, knowing damn well it had taken every bit of Bucky’s courage to even ask for this small thing, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and pointing at the floor. “Your hairs not as long as ma’s so it might be slower, but come on anyway.” 

Bucky hesitated a moment more and then finally blew out a deep breath and almost ran over to sit at Steve’s feet, closing his eyes and tipping his head back and waiting with his fists clenched in his lap. 

“Don’t gotta be nervous.” Steve tried to sound reassuring, tried to sound like Bucky feeling this way was alright because it was alright. Out in the neighborhood a fella could get beat for admitting he didn’t like girls or that some days he felt like a girl, but here? Here it was alright. 

“Don’t be nervous.” he said again and Bucky gave another one of those deep sighs like he was fuckin’ terrified. “This won’t hurt.” 

“Dummy.” Bucky scoffed, masking his anxiety with sarcasm. “I know it won’t hurt.” 

“You keep callin’ me names and I’m gonna pull your hair so it does hurt.” Steve threatened and Bucky shut his mouth obediently. “Now hold still, you’re bigger than my ma was, gotta figure out how to work around your big ol’ head.” 

Bucky snorted but went still and Steve went to work, sliding his fingers across Bucky’s scalp to loosen the thick pomade and raising his eyebrow when he realized exactly how long the dark hair had gotten. Slicked back in the usual style it was harder to tell length, but loose it nearly fell to his shoulders and Steve wondered--

“Does having long hair help with--” 

“Yeah.” Bucky said shortly. “Something nobody but me notices. Helps to feel more like-- more like how I wanna feel.” 

Steve didn’t say anything to that, just went to work with his comb to detangle any knots and smooth the flyaways before dividing Bucky’s hair into three parts and working it quickly and efficiently into a single braid. 

Then he undid the braid, hushed Bucky’s question, and started again, plaiting a tiny braid at Bucky’s temple and tucking it behind his ear before adding a second, thicker one. Then a third, woven at the ends into the first two, and the entire one pulled into a single braid and tied off at the bottom. 

“What--?” Bucky put his hand up at his forehead to check. “What did you do?” 

“Go look.” Steve wiped the extra pomade off his hands as Bucky struggled to his feet and headed for the bathroom. 

“Stevie.” Bucky was back at his door, a dull flush in his cheeks. “Why’d ya make it all fancy?” 

Steve crawled back onto the bed and retrieved his book as nonchalantly as possible, reminded himself that here in their apartment it was okay to be themselves and said, “Cos I thought you’d look pretty with something’ fancy in your hair.” 

“Pretty.” Bucky repeated, glancing down at his body, at the muscles gained hauling boxes at the docks, at thick forearms and the way he was tall enough to about hit his head on the door as he came through. “...you think?” 

“Well yeah.” Steve shrugged and held his book up higher so Bucky wouldn’t see how terrified he suddenly was. “Don’t stare at ya fresh from the shower jus’ cos you’re usin’ my towel again.” 

Steve peeked over the top of his book. “...Is that okay?” 

“Fuckin’ hell, Stevie.” Bucky was red to the tip of his ears, matching Steve’s complexion perfectly. “We’re a real pair, ain’t we? I dunno if I’m a guy or a gal half the time, you think m’pretty anyway--” he paused, cocked his head. “You think m’pretty whichever way, right Stevie? Not jus’ cos my hair makes me look like a dame?” 

“Hair don’t make you look like a dame.” Steve denied, turning a page in his book without reading a single sentence. “You jus’ look like Bucky to me. Same as you always do.” 

“I uh--” Bucky scratched at his chin. “Didn’t know you liked fellas, Stevie.” 

“I like you, Buck.” Steve gave up trying to sound nonchalant and let his voice squeak as he asked again, “Is that okay?” 

Bucky grinned, sweet and clear and happy like Steve hadn’t seen him do in months. “Sure is, Stevie.” 

*******************

It was harder during the war to catch moments to be themselves, to steal quick kisses or brush against each other in the dark and it was even more difficult to find the time and privacy for Steve to sit and braid Bucky’s hair. 

He wore it even longer now, the Commandos being their own special unit meant that the usual dress codes didn’t tend to apply and the men took their own liberties with their uniforms. 

So Bucky let his hair grow down past his shoulders, wrapping it up in a bun beneath a bandanna and helmet when on active duty, but letting it free into waves when they were relaxing so Steve could bury his fingers in it, scratching at Bucky’s scalp and breathing in the sweetly scented shampoo they had snuck to buy in the last little French town they’d passed a few weeks back. He only used the tiniest amounts, not wanting the other men to notice anything off about the way he smelled and thankfully Jacques cologne was so terrible pungent that a light sweep of roses went unnoticed. 

He always braided Bucky’s hair first, before the kissing started, before clothes were being pushed off in a hurry, before they had to rush through getting off together to get back to dinner or drills or onto their next mission. Sometimes Bucky fussed over it, insisting “I’d much rather be fuckin’ ya, Stevie, don’t worry about my hair.” and Stevie always whispered back, “S’important that you feel like you, Buck. Give you a chance to look the way you wanna, right?” 

So Bucky let Steve braid in peace, each design more intricate than the last because Steve had practiced on the girls in the USO and sometimes asked the girls in the bars if he could practice on them with a new style and they all thought he was flirting, but Bucky knew it was just so Stevie could be better with his hair. 

“Don’t want you doin’ that anymore.” he said one evening as Steve dotted kisses along his jaw line, nuzzling at his ear.

“You don’t want me to do this anymore?” Steve asked in surprise and Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving Steve’s head back into his neck. “Ah, I see.” Steve’s voice was muffled now, his mouth curved in a smile at Bucky’s throat. “What don’t you want me doing anymore?” 

“Practicin’ on the girls.” Bucky clarified, tipping his chin back and sighing as Steve’s big hand slid up to cup his cheek, bringing their mouths together or a long kiss. “On their hair? I don’t want ya doin’ that anymore.” 

“Mkay.” Steve didn’t even bother arguing, too distracted by the way Bucky’s fingers were tracking up his thighs headed towards his belt. “I won’t. Just you, Buck. Don’t matter anyway.” he fell back onto the pillows when Bucky pushed at him, wrapping the end of the braid through his fingers and tugging at it until Bucky groaned, rough and low and needy. 

“Goddamn you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” Steve breathed, making room for Bucky between his thighs and letting his speech roll lazy like he only did when it was just them, when he didn’t have to be Captain America. “Don’t want anybody else but you, always you, won’t touch nobody else.” 

“Jus’ don’t want ya thinkin’ anybody else is pretty.” Bucky’s smile was teasing and cocky but also just a little shy, always just a little shy because even after almost three years of Steve knowing and supporting and loving every inch and every side of him, Bucky still worried. 

“I would never.” Steve swore, careful not to pop the buttons on Bucky’s uniform as he yanked the shirt off Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s only you Buck. Always always always only you.”

*****************

Steve bought Bucky ribbons when they stopped in London overnight before going after Zemo’s train, smiled at the woman who asked if such pretty colors were for his girl back home, and tucked satin strips of light blue and dark red and just one in a delicate pink inside his pocket. 

They were for after the mission, for when the Commandos would be celebrating a sure victory and the Generals would be pleased with their work and maybe grant them a day of rest before moving out. 

He wanted to weave the ribbons into Bucky’s hair, wanted to see the smile when Bucky saw how fuckin’ pretty he was going to look, the way his voice would get hoarse and shaky before he’d drag Steve to bed. 

Bucky deserved ribbons and he deserved nice things to wear and he deserved to be able to show it off but that wouldn’t happen-- couldn’t happen-- at least not any time soon, so they had to be content with quiet moments and empty barracks and loving each other in the darkness.

Once the war was over and they could find a place all their own, that sorta thing would change but for now, Steve just smiled and patted at the present in his jacket. 

Bucky was going to love these. 

******************

After the train, Steve wore Bucky’s spare set of dog tags around his neck, blue and red and pink ribbons braided together around the chain and resting over his heart. 

No one asked, and Steve never told and they were lost to the Arctic when Steve put himself and his broken heart down in the ice. 

****************** 

******************

Wakanda, 2017

“They do not talk.” Shuri said as she and T’Challa crested a hill and watched Sergeant Barnes Bucky and Captain Rogers feed the goats together, pitching hay and hauling water. “Captain Rogers has been here every day for two weeks and they do not talk.” 

“You do not know what two men do in the privacy of their rooms.” T’Challa countered, dark eyes thoughtful as he watched Bucky lift a bale of hay one handed, as he watched Captain Rogers watching Bucky. 

“I am well aware of what two men--” Shuri started and T’Challa clicked his tongue, scolding, “No Shuri, I was not talking about that.” and Shuri laughed out loud. “I am saying that just because they do not talk here in the open where everyone can listen does not mean they do not talk when it is night and there is nothing but the shadows to overhear.”

“They do not talk” Shuri maintained. “And they only look at each other when the other is not looking. They are very much in love but neither knows how to say it.” 

“And when did my sister become such an expert at love?” 

“I have been watching you make a fool of yourself around Nakia long enough to have picked up a few things.” Shuri said slyly and down in the low valley, both Bucky and Steve looked up when shouts of laughter echoed from the Princess, the King chasing her back towards the village. 

Their eyes met and skittered away, Bucky pushing his hair away from his eyes and kneeling to pet one of the goats, Steve unable to help himself from staring. 

Bucky was so different now, of course he was. Seventy years and unimaginable horrors, a body so forcefully changed and a mind that had only been his own for a few months now. Six months in cryo as Shuri and the other doctors had worked to erase HYDRA’s influence, an excruciating surgery to remove as much of the metal arm as possible, with Bucky telling them not to replace it, that he’d rather be one armed than have to look at it every day. 

Steve had been there for as much as Bucky had allowed and now they spent every day together and never said more than strictly necessary and it ate at Steve, twisted his stomach and hurt his heart and wanted so badly to do something-- anything--

Bucky’s hair was in his eyes, hanging almost to mid back and falling forward to cover his face. It was matted and lifeless, dull and limp, and Bucky made no effort to push it away, concentrating his one hand on still petting the tiny goat that butted up against his palm. 

“Can I braid your hair?” Steve blurted before he could help himself and Bucky froze mid motion. 

“...what?” 

“Can I braid your hair?” Whispering now. “Bucky, I-- we don’t talk anymore. I don’t know what to say and I don’t know if you even want to say anything and we used to-- back when we didn’t have anything to say--” he made a hopeless, helpless gesture. “Could I?” 

“M’not pretty anymore.” Bucky’s jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together. “M’not-- Stevie it isn’t-- we can’t just--” 

“We can.” Steve interrupted, because he’d always interrupted Bucky at the worst times, cutting in with his own opinions when he was afraid Bucky would say something he didn’t want to hear. “We-- we can, Buck. If you want.” 

And after a moment. “And you are...you know? You always-- always were. Always will be. If that’s something you still want me to call you. If you want.” 

Bucky was quiet for a long time and Steve just waited. Waited and waited because he’d waited seventy something years and he could wait some more, and then finally Bucky muttered, “Hard t’wash it with just one hand.” 

“I can do that.” Steve said quickly. “I can-- that’s not a problem.” 

“Need something for the mess.” Bucky ran clumsy fingers through the tangled ends. “You don’t wanna--” 

“I do though.” Steve wiped his hands on his pants to get the bits of hay off and took a step closer. “I do, Bucky. Just let me--” another step closer, watching Bucky carefully. “Please?” 

Silence again for such a long time that Steve started to worry Bucky would say no, that this was too much to ask or maybe too little after far too long. 

“Bucky?” 

“You been practicin’?” Bucky asked after another moment, inclining his head towards Steve’s own longer hair and beard. “Still know how’ta braid?” 

“I told you I wasn’t gonna practice on anyone but you, Buck.” A wash of relief coloring Steve’s words. “So I guess we’ll have to see if I’ve lost my touch.” 

****************

Bucky’s shirt had to come off for Steve to wash his hair, and Bucky cringed away from the sight of all his scars in the bathroom mirror, turning his head and closing his eyes and Steve murmured something soft and indecipherable. 

Bucky didn’t like water on his face, in his eyes, so Steve led him to a chair that didn’t recline, one that wouldn’t remind Bucky of anything HYDRA related, then poured pitcher after pitcher of water into his hair until it was streaming wet. 

Next was shampoo, very lightly scented of roses because Steve had brought some to Wakanda just in case-- just in case-- and he lathered it up in his palms before massaging it into the matted strands, scratching over Bucky’s scalp and down the back of his neck, stirring the bubbles over and over until the bottle was nearly empty.

Then water again, washing the shampoo clean and Steve spent more time than he should have on the rinse, enjoying the repetitiveness and the way Bucky seemed to melt just a little more with every pitcher of water, so Steve didn’t stop until Bucky’s hair was shiny and smooth again. 

Next was a comb, and Steve sat on the bed and patted the space in front of him anxiously, holding his breath until Bucky sat cross legged between his knees and he could work out the last few tangles.

Bucky shuddered when Steve’s fingers finally landed in his hair but he didn’t run away, just turned his head to whisper, “Don’t gotta be anything fancy, Steve.” 

“I know.” Steve started with a tiny braid at Bucky’s temple. “But I want you to like how you look.” 

He didn’t see Bucky’s smile, but the big shoulders relaxed a tiny bit more and Steve took that as a good sign. 

“Alright, let’s see if I remember how to do this.” 

*****************

“You are staring, Shuri.” T’Challa scolded her over a late lunch, side eyeing his mother before jabbing his sister in the side. “Do not look so jealous!” 

“I am not jealous!” Shuri insisted. “I just do not understand how Captain Rogers has learned to braid so well! Bucky’s hair looks incredible! The man spent six months looking like a hobo and now for the last three weeks he looks like a model for those American shampoo commercials? It makes no sense!”

“He is in love.” T’Challa said, as if that explained everything and Shuri snorted in disbelief.

“They’re staring.” Bucky muttered across the table, touching his hair self consciously. Steve had done a reverse braid up into a bun and it looked easy and soft and Bucky had loved it but now people were looking at him and--

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve murmured over a drink of water. “You look beautiful.” 

“I--” Bucky glanced at him nervously. “I what?” 

“You look beautiful.” Steve said again, just a quiet but this time he looked over and smiled. “Just like you always have.” 

“...oh.” 

The next time Steve braided Bucky’s hair, a design he pulled up on his phone and called ‘waterfall’, Bucky closed his eyes and leaned back into the touch a little more and sighed just the tiniest bit and Steve’s voice was rough as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Buck.” 

And another time, Steve not so much braiding Bucky’s hair as he was just playing with it, breathing in the rose scent Bucky had shyly asked to keep, wrapping the smaller braids through his fingers and tugging at them just lightly enough to make Bucky’s breath catch-- “God, you’re gorgeous. M’so thankful I got you back, sweetheart.” 

And another, as Bucky stared into the bathroom mirror at the dozens of braids starting at his forehead and ending several inches later, the rest of his hair falling free down his back in soft waves-- “I bought you something.” 

“What?” Bucky turned from the mirror to see Steve standing there holding out a small package, a hopeful, dopey smile on his face. “You bought me something?” 

“Yeah I uh--” Steve cleared his throat a few times and held out the present. “I actually-- back in the war, before you fell? I bought you these and then-- I mean, they didn’t survive the ice of course but I thought, if you wanted--” 

It was a terribly put together sentence, complete with gestures and awkward motions but Bucky took the present anyway, opening it slowly and staring down at the ribbons twisted inside. 

“I don’t know if you still feel the same way.” Steve said very carefully. “Like you did before, about how sometimes you don’t feel like a guy but that doesn’t mean you feel like a girl? There’s a word for it now, or at least I think its a word for what you felt--” 

“Non binary.” Bucky supplied, flushing a soft red. “Yeah, I’ve-- I’ve heard it. Read it. The  uh-- the internet is very helpful.” 

“Right, that’s what I said.” Steve’s smile was still a little dopey. “Anyway I thought-- I’d bought you some before you fell and if you still feel that sorta way, I was hoping you’d like to wear some ribbons. Blue cos your eyes and red cos it’s your favorite color and pink just cos I thought you’d look pretty in it?” 

“Stevie.” Bucky swallowed. “I--I--” 

“If you don’t like them--” 

“I love them!” he blurted. “And I still feel-- I just with all this--” Bucky was so big now, all straining muscles and big shoulders and thick thighs and he looked so male, so masculine, every inch a soldier. “-- M’not pretty anymore, Stevie. You say it, but I know m’not. Don’t matter if sometimes I feel--” he shook his head. “No one’s ever gonna think I’m nothing but--” 

“Doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.” Steve interrupted because damn it, that’s just what he did. “All that matters is what you think.” 

“What you think matters a lot.” Bucky admitted and Steve inched close enough that their bodies brushed, their noses almost bumping.

“I think you’re ‘bout th’prettiest person I ever fuckin’ saw.” Steve whispered, pulling on that long gone Brooklyn accent to make Bucky smile and taking the chance to duck in and press the lightest lightest kiss to his lips. “I love you, Buck. Always have, always will. And if you decide you don’t wanna do the ribbon thing and you don’t want me to braid your hair anymore then that’s fine. But don’t think just cos they did all this to you means that you’re different on the inside, alright?” 

He hesitated, then-- “I mean, I know you’re different, Buck. But this doesn’t have to be different. Not if you don’t want it too.” 

Bucky picked up the pink ribbon and held it to the light, the smallest sort of smile on his face. “You’ll have to redo my hair to add this one in.” 

“I won’t have to redo--” Steve started to argue, then he saw the gleam in Bucky’s eye and grinned. “Yeah you’re right. Completely redo it. At least twice.” 

“At least twice.” Bucky agreed and gave Steve a very very soft kiss of his own. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Steve started to work at the little braids, loosening them easily and combing through the waves with his fingers. “Always and always only you, Buck.” 

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SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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[number9robotic]

9-24-19 Update

 The long-awaited sequel to my 9-22-19 Update!

(plugging my newest pic as an artist tax)

Short version: I’m in physical danger right now.

Long version: My relationship with my parents are breaking down significantly because changes to plans of my living situation, my inability to cope with my depression, anxiety, and other mental/emotional compromises, and the resulting inability to do anything outside my comfort zone like finding a proper job/source of income or going to school. 

As a result, my mom over the course of a few days have been physically threatening me (in public, no less) to send me back to my home in Vancouver while also shaming me for ruining their lives, and I feel legitimately unsafe being in my own home because I don’t know what they’re gonna do to me. All while this happens, my ability to stay motivated as a creator is really being tested.

Fuller version is below this line because I don’t wanna flood the feed and my account with walls of unpleasant text:

Please read my 9-22-19 Update for full context and backstory, there’s a lot of text and I don’t wanna retype it all.

1. THE REAL-LIFE CIRCUMSTANCES GOT WORSE

Yesterday as I was in my weekly therapy appointment, my parents had a renegotiation with each other about that plan I mentioned for my dad to come here and basically repeat the process of my legal anchoring to LA away from my home in Vancouver. Even though I responded with a (resigned) “sure, I’ll do it for you,” suddenly my dad made a conscience decision and told my mom that he changed his mind, because he’s really concerned about my mental well-being and the complete stagnation of my life because of my time here in LA.

This... didn’t go well with my mom, because as usual, this is ultimately about her, I guess. Later that evening, she took me to a Starbucks because she wanted to talk with me about something important, partially as a result of her indeed getting her travel permit document that day. She told me she also talked to her lawyer earlier that day, who said that as it stands, while the case isn’t expected to be finished until April 2020 at the earliest, I’ve technically done all I need to do to be declared a resident of the US, and my job is effectively done. Combined with my dad’s newfound desire to not keep me here any longer, I was told that I could return home.

buuuuuuuuuuuut

She was VERY clearly not happy about this. Despite being the one who decided to talk about this publicly, she had a very loud meltdown as she was explaining this and decided to erupt all of her frustrations not just with herself, but also of me. 

To summarize her very long and confusing tirade, she started to outright force at me “JUST GO BACK TO VANCOUVER! GET A TICKET AND MOVE BACK TOMORROW! JUST GO!!!!”, yet was simultaneously also venting about how much damage this would do to HER and her career; that my lack of presence is a sign of failure on her part as a parent, because she hasn’t been able to get me to go to school or a “real” job or even learn how to drive. Keep this one little bit of info in mind. 

A third argument she was trying to convince me of is that the return to Vancouver for me is only going to fuck ME up, because she doesn’t believe that me returning back to a comfortable place where I’m familiar with and am actually able to get around using public transit (which is so much better than LA, it’s not even a fair comparison) would be better for me and my personal health. She also said that Vancouver’s ability to help me with my mental health is so much worse than that of LA... which... that’s incredibly laughable on so many levels, the least of which is the fact that we spent a several-month assessment process to apply for job assistance because of my autism, only for the result to me to deem me and my autism diagnosis as invalid, but whatever, I guess... 

I responded by telling how incredibly irrational she was acting in her hysterical state (again, in a very public area) with her a bunch about what I felt would help me through this, which I’ll talk about later. Reason not now is because she promptly forgot about it and this morning, SHE DID THE SAME THING AGAIN. This time she invited me to talk at a different Starbucks, asked me about my future, and then had ANOTHER very public meltdown screaming about her and my life problems, but this time it was at a time before McDonald’s stopped serving its breakfast menu.

Once again, she slammed me in my inability/refusal to try anything that would apparently help justify me being here in LA, me ruining her life no matter where I go in the world, and also threatening to send me away to Vancouver. This time I just had to outright leave the conversation because she was getting violent this time; I’m currently typing this in a library and she hasn’t found me yet. This isn’t an entirely new feeling, but currently I am legitimately scared for my future and physical safety.

2. EMOTIONAL HEALTH AND PARENTING

I (re-)explained to her that my problem with all of these personal development hurdles -- my inability to try anything where it feels like the failure of which will be utterly emotionally devastating -- is because I flat-out do not have the ability to deal with it. The entirety of grade school and post-secondary have collectively been the most emotionally devastating times of my life to me, I failed my written exam that’s the first step to get a driver’s licence 5 TIMES, and I have a smattering of emotional, communicative, mental, and physical hinderances preventing me from finding work.

And here’s why that affects me so much: my parents are not emotionally supportive. Mom and dad have outright admitted that due to “Chinese parenting”, “it’s just not my personality”, “I don’t know how to help reassure you” they don’t wish to help me with my emotional problems directly, often times finding it to be the job of others they can then shunt that duty off to, such as therapists, psychologists, counselors, or others. This ignores the fact that my meetings with them are weekly, whereas my greatest exposure to other people come from them, my supposed “loved ones”. I feel like I should be able to go to them for emotional strength. I do not, either because they aren’t capable of or just simply don’t want to be that.

Just to note how little they care about my feelings, I came out to them as nonbinary a few months ago, explained to them what that actually means, that I don’t like my pronouns or birth name at all, and asked for them to respect that. They have yet to comply despite me broadcasting my discomfort constantly, because they simply won’t “get it”.

Yknow... as someone who’s failed a lot in life... I can safely say that the resulting emotional wreckage isn’t fun. 

The thing about being emotionally wrecked is that without any reliable source to go to like family or friends, my only solution is to just wait for my depression to pass... which if anyone knows anything about it, you’d know it’s super-unreliable and can take either a week or a month for me to feel better again, and is incredibly destructive. What I’ve recently realized is how much it utterly fucks with my perception of time and continuity -- depression cuts off my ability to feel anything significant or optimistic, including my ability to perceive a future worth looking up to. As a result, I feel like I’ve wasted A LOT of time in the last few years because nobody has been able to help me with that, at least in my actual time of need.

I’ve made this point to my parents many times throughout the year, and I’ve been desperately trying to communicate to them that the easiest solution to my mental trauma? To actually be there emotionally as loved ones; to help me through that potential sense of failure that I’m so afraid of experiencing again, and for them to comfort me as their child.

This request has pissed off my mom on multiple levels: the first I established already is that she’s constantly claiming she doesn’t know how to/isn’t capable of doing it because “it’s just not me” or “I’m not white mom” or some other crap. The second however is where things got super-confusing: she was also offended that I would ever think that she doesn’t support me on that level, and shared me a bunch of wechats to our extended family supporting my minor hobbies, even though they’ve been sucking really bad (again, please consider my patreon, this is a super-hard time to be motivated as a creator)

So I was like... “You ARE capable of being emotionally reassuring! I want to actually hear it myself!” because she almost never expresses positive emotions; it’s either complete ambivalence or negative frustration. She continued to express negative frustration at this, and at that point I just gave up because at this point it struck me that she just outright doesn’t want to help me with it because she felt like she can shunt the duty to someone else... even though she’s pissed about having to pay them therapy bills to do so. Ugh...

3. EVERYTHING BITES

To summarize: this entire breakdown and my future is emotionally fueled not about my needs like my dad wished, but about my mom’s, who believes that it is far more simple for me to be sent back to Vancouver at her blatant behest, and for me to just “get over” my depression and anxiety to do all the shit she expects me to do which she also believes me to be incapable of doing, than to just... be a caring parent who expresses positive feelings.

And during all of this, she’s also shaming me as a failure who ruins her life no matter what I do.

I am... so exhausted... and it’s super-difficult to stay motivated as a creator these days as a result of it. Fuck, I barely feel safe returning home either in LA or in Vancouver, because I know my mom hates me for it.

I still don’t have friends, and I still have depression and anxiety... and I can’t even ask my mom to be there for me in my time of emotional distress... thanks.

[yourfriendsimf-o]

the rundown

hey! so as of late, y’all know that i’ve been doing not the best and ?? have been going through some stuff and honestly? i want to share it because it’s good to get my feelings out about it, ya know? i haven’t actually written the whole thing out from my perspective so! it’s kind of long so it’s under a read more so y’all don’t have to scroll through it on mobile fjxjxj

OKAY so it starts with a friend of mine, right? and he and i have been friends for a couple of years? he’s pretty close friend of mine - we’re going to the same university and we even decided to be dormmates back in march! and a little less than a month ago, we decided to start dating. like?? i felt some way and something that felt like attraction at the time. i realized soon after that it just wasn’t for me. i wasn’t attracted to him anymore and i realized that relationships really aren’t the thing for me at all? plus, he’s a dude and i prefer girls? and im acearo?? hello?? of course it didn’t feel right. i realized that i’m not at all meant for a relationship and i really felt trapped and like i couldn’t be me or do what i enjoyed? like i felt like i couldn’t relax and draw in front of him and that’s a BIG red flag!! 

SO last friday night, i broke up with him because i just wasn’t vibing with it anymore and like? even though i was the one who did it, it still fucking HURT it like it absolutely fucking BLEW. i broke down hard that night and then the following days were just? fucking awful too.

the next day, he messaged me to let me know that he no longer wanted to be roommates. which sucked and again, REALLY FUCKING HURT because we had decided on it BEFORE we considered tryna date and he let me know he still wants to be best friends and be as close as we were before this happened? like we can do that and still be ROOMMATES (oh my god, they were roommates) but ya know, that’s fine, whatever, i let him have the dorm and i backed out of it like fine, take the dorm,. this has left me with no longer having a place to live that’s close to campus so while i DO need to find somewhere to live, i don’t have to take out any loans for living costs! and he does! LMAO

and i know he meant well, but he kept trying to? help me and support me through my feelings like the day after we broke up and like? that’s way too soon for that, first of all. so for a day or two i? didn’t reply to him like. i wasn’t ready to talk and frankly, i didn’t want to. like, leave me alone for a bit! 

i ended up sharing a self-insert story of mine with him a little while back (which i had this acct linked to it, ya know, like a dumbass) so he decided to? go back to the story and not only check this account and read my recent posts, but message me about it and apologize for hurting me and making me feel bad??? like no! don’t do that!! like, i didn’t ask for an apology and i ESPECIALLY didn’t ask for you to come to THIS blog of all places to see if i’m doing okay. put some space between us dude!!! stop it!! AGAIN, i know he meant well, but that personally made me VERY anxious and paranoid. so naturally, i asked him not to check my account anymore and he said he wouldn’t.

and then his fucking friend decided to??? message me??? like two days ago telling me that i sucked for complaining about him (which i didn’t do) on my blog when i had given him the link to it (which again, i didn’t do) and then the friend???? blocked me????? on instagram??? so i let my ex know that his bitch ass friend didn’t fucking stay in his own lane and chose to message ME about something that’s none of his business? GOD that shit pissed me off like, what are you, five? but, i let my ex know and i have not heard anything from him since. 

in all honesty, i am still VERY paranoid that he and his friend are constantly checking this blog to see what i’m up to and like? that fucking sucks i briefly considered password protecting this blog but fhfhfj. this is a personal blog like. you all know this this is a VERY personal space but it’s also a public domain ya know so?? shrugs it’s best to be blissfully ignorant about it and if i end up hurting him somehow through my words on here then so fucking be it, ya know? i’m not responsible for his feelings. 

going through all of this really has reminded me once more of who i am and what my identity is so i will say it here: i am asexual. i am aromantic. i am nonbinary. i prefer girls and feminine-presenting individuals. i prefer vaginas. i am not attracted to cis men. i am not attracted to any men. 

so to my ex, thank you for helping me to remember who i really am!! 😘