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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

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thrashkink-coven · 1 month ago

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Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

#pagan #paganism #demonolatry #deity worship #deity work #deity witchcraft #grimoire #witchcraft #witch community #witch aesthetic #magick #witchblr #helpol #occultism #baby witch

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here

synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course

length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal

notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul

“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”

megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”

you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily.

it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.

you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.

oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.

“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”

“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”

on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that.

he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.

everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more.

you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will.

it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention.

it’s professor gojo.

need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound.

you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class.

and then it begins.

every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)

somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities.

that was never supposed to happen.

you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.

you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.

it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy.

that is, until now.

admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.

you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.

he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?

you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”

you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock.

“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”

“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.

except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…

oh.

oh no.

this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.

and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA.

professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.

“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”

“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”

you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend?

but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.

no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there.

“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”

“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”

“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.

you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word.

people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves.

you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.

why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.

with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.

surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing.

you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”

the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.

“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”

“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”

“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”

“anything,” you nod quickly.

you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?

there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?

“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”

you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest.

they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty.

did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes.

it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.

you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”

his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair.

“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.

professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”

“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.

“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan.

he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.

you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.

“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”

“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”

instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter.��

“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you.

“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you.

you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”

“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”

“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”

suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.

“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”

“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”

as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.

“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”

you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.

“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead.

suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.

satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”

you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him.

“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”

you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way.

“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”

you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.

“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”

“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”

“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”

“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”

“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”

you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss.

“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”

and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”

you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.

“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.

and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”

“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”

it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw.

“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”

“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”

“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”

satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”

“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”

guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential

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narcjsistx · 4 months ago

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𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | sae, shidou, rin (part two)

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

✶ Sae seems like someone who actually likes to wear bracelets, rings or necklaces, but can't wear them often due to the matchs he plays, where he would risk breaking them. going back to the basic concept, his gifts would probably be matching jewelry, especially rings... so, in case you were someone who wears them and rarely takes them off, he would try to do the same thing. during matches he would hang the ring on a string that he would put in his pocket or around his neck, kissing it before starting the match or squeezing it after scoring a goal

✶ I don't know exactly why, but beyond the canonical fetish for the ass, I see him as someone who would aim to have a partner with well groomed hands, like nails with polish, smooth and without calluses. he's not a big fan of PDA, the only thing he would do is hold your hand and occasionally leave a prying kiss on the back. in private he is certainly more open, and one thing he loves is massaging his partner's hand; it's a gesture he now makes almost unconsciously

✶ Sae didn't have instagram until he met you, you practically forced him to create an account! he resisted his manager telling him to do the same for a long time, but for you it was only enough once. he just put a profile photo, you had to do it for him the bio and some highlights, about past or future matches. a few days later you opened instagram and noticed that his account had a highlights that you hadn't created, entitled "her": you opened it and there were some photos of you, the ones that Sae considered most important (even if he loves them all). needless to say, your heart was about to explode

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he may have thought about it a bit, but after joining ReAl he didn't have the time to think about it again. he wouldn't mind having a family sooner or later, but probably after winning the U-20 world cup. two children would be fine, possibly a boy and a girl. he just knows that in some way his children would remind him of him and Rin as lil kids

✶ jealosy level: 5/10

✶ flirtiness level: 7/10 (let's specify, ABSOLUTELY NOT in public, but in private maybe he would indulge in some jokes)

✶ pet names: "amor" / "y/n" / "pretty"

—————————————

— ryusei shidou

✶ even if it doesn't seem like it, Shidou is relatively a normal person as a boyfriend... is there a concept of personal space? not that, but otherwise it's normal. the only "flaw" he may have is that he must CONSTANTLY have his hand touching you when you're together, whether it's a hand on your thigh or an arm around your shoulders: he simply needs to feel you. PDA is no big deal for him: he want to kiss you in front of everyone? he will do it, whatever the cost. if you say he can kiss you after winning a game and it's live nationally, why can't he do it in front of his group of homies?

✶ Shidou seems like someone actually very deep, or at least that seems to be described in some parts of his character sheet. Late night chats are literally the level of mental intimacy he hopes to achieve with his partner... he's someone who doesn't sleep much, so he has a lot of energy and hardly gets tired even after hours of talking. You and him tightly hugging on his bed, lights off and just everything that goes through your head... doesn't everything seem perfect?

✶ you know very well that every time he has a match he makes comments that, let's say, put him in a "bad light", or in any case make him seem less interested in you. before being with you he didn't mind saying things like that on the field, and more or less the same thing has remained since you got together as a couple... BUT THERE IS A BUT! every time, once the game is over and above all won, he makes sure to run to you before even celebrating with his teammates: whether you are in the VIP area or not, he will come to you to kiss you with all the passion he has. let's say he uses his method to reconfirm to the people that he is happily taken

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ GET MARRIED AND HAVE MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE? YEAAAAH. no okay maybe not like that, but on the issue of children he doesn't lie... certainly with the career as a striker he has, he has no problems with money, and therefore with maintaining kids. let's say that for marriage it's different... he doesn't find any sense in it, in reality, he only sees it as something superficial: if he loves you and you know it, why have such a ceremony?. so let's say it's 50/50: he would do it if you asked him but at the same time he wouldn't mind not being married

✶ jealosy level: 1/10 (he trusts you too much to even think about it)

✶ flirtiness level: 10/10

✶ pet names: "doll" / "darling" / "love"

—————————————

— rin itoshi

✶ Rin hides under his serious and calculating gaze a boy who simply needs to vent after everything that happened with his older brother. Before being together as a couple he would never have expected to be able to cry in front of someone, but with you it was all quite natural: it took months and a lot of patience to show him that you really cared about him and that you wanted him to feel comfortable with you, but in the end he let himself go and was finally able to tell someone what not even he himself could explain. he'll never admit it but he believes that was the moment he realized how important you really were to him, and how much he simply wanted someone who could understand him

✶ He has a sort of fetish for seeing you in his clothes: it doesn't matter if the clothes are tight, big or the right size, just seeing you in that black sweatshirt of his or in his PxG uniform is enough to send him into crisis. he can't even explain to you why he likes it so much, but the fact that you're wearing something that smells like him is definitely a valid reason. you once surprised him by showing up at one of his matches wearing a jacket with "rin" written on the back, and we can say that he appreciated it to the point of having to prove it to you in some way: that time the match ended 9-0, goal all marked by him

✶ He may be one of the best if not the best, but after finishing the practice he simply needs to rest with you next to him, even more so if the coach was more unpleasant than usual or he simply did a lot of things wrong due to distraction (which is impossible considering it's Rin). Whether on the couch after cleaning himself or in the shower, while you rub shampoo into his hair it doesn't matter, he just needs to feel your presence

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he often saw other children playing at being married, but he was never actually interested, also because on the one hand it disgusted him to think of having to be tied to a person forever and kiss them on the mouth. as he's grown up he's changed his opinion, he's definitely the marriageable type and he'd actually like to get married as soon as possible: what's the point in leaving you legally free if you've stolen his heart?. let's say that he has a fairly positive opinion about children, he just knows that they arrive after a certain amount of time after marriage: he would like to have two girls... growing up as one of two brothers, both boys, he knows how boys are more problematic than girls

✶ jealosy level: 6/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10

✶ pet names: "y/n" / "love"

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 2 months ago

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To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; Handcuffs; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Slight voyeurism; Unprotected sex; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership (biting); English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist | To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy - Series masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone.

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life.

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you.

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs.

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected.

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were.

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot.

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies.

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before.

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

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ramonathinks · 5 months ago

Text

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference.

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you.

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that.

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis.

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit.

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position.

Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.”

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you.

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought.

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.”

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes.

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below. Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards.

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.”

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him.

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked.

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come.

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down.

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound. “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you.

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center.

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it.

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up.

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

Text

James Potter x Hufflepuff fem!reader

Summary: Girls can be mean and your darling boyfriend isn't having any of it.

Prompt: Angsty hurt and comfort - "Oh shit. Are you crying?"

Warnings: slight bullying, insecurities

~ I hope you love this @livinginafantasysworld! i love YOU 💖 also this is much longer than my usual blurbs, i got carried away 🫶 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

You've fallen asleep on your potions book, your hair sprawled messily across your arms as your chest rises and falls. James is too busy feverishly correcting and polishing your essay to realize you've dozed off.

"Hi, Potter," a girl's voice suddenly calls from behind him, a sharp giggling follows his name and James turns, ink stains peppering his hands as his tongue pokes out of his mouth.

"Mhm?"

It's Samantha—something—from Charms. She's also in Gryffindor and she sits behind him in class, constantly talking his ear off. Sirius tells him he's too nice to her and honestly, he's starting to believe him.

James peers back at you, just now realizing you're sound asleep, and he smiles fondly.

"Are you busy?" Samantha asks, her eyes narrowing in your direction almost judgmentally.

James turns to her again, catching the look and he frowns. "I am, actually," he turns his attention back to your essay and dips his quill in the ink. He's only focused on you now, occasionally looking up from the essay to admire your sleeping form. Samantha huffs but eventually leaves you and James alone in the library.

After another half-hour of his work and your soft breaths, James leans over, his arm sliding across the table as he rests his chin on his upper arm. He smoothes his hand over your hair, gently coaxing you awake again. He has a late evening Quidditch practice he can't miss.

"Dovey," he whispers, his eyes loving as you slowly wake up and look at him. The pages from your potion book stick to your cheek and your boyfriend chuckles, pushing them away. "Hello, sleepy-head."

You sit up, wiping some drool from your lips and your cheeks burn. "I fell asleep?"

James hums and sits straighter, sliding over the parchment with your essay. You look down.

"You finished?"

"Yup." James pops the 'p' and then smiles at you. "Wasn't a problem. I know potions like this like the back of my hand," he says with a wink and you can't help but smile at him. You glance at the clock and realize you've been asleep for more than an hour.

"Sorry I fell asleep," you whisper.

"It really wasn't a problem, lovie," James assures you with a chuckle and he stands. You stand as well as James folds your essay and puts it into your book, slipping the book into your bag and running his thumb under one of your bleary eyes.

"I love doing things for you. What else am I here for?"

You smile, leaning into his hand. "Well, being my boyfriend doesn't mean you have any obligation to help with my assignments—especially since I feel asleep," you tell him, your tone soft and unsure.

James chuckles. "Well, good thing I don't do it because of obligation but because I want to." He kisses your forehead and swings his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner, okay? Imma be late for practice."

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and then he disappears amongst the bookshelves. You stand there, his taste still lingering, and you've never felt luckier to have him. You touch your cheeks, checking their temperature and then you smile into your hand.

Your happiness is short-lived however because as you walk through the library, you overhear a group of girls talking about your boyfriend.

"And James has never turned me down until now," one of the girls, a taller brunette with olive skin, says as she leans against one of the desks pressed up against a window, her friends surrounding her. She's a Gryffindor. You've seen her hanging around James and his friends a few times. You're pretty sure she's in his Charms class.

"And I knew the rumors—but I didn't think he'd actually be with her." Her friends laugh and you press yourself against a hidden bookshelf, listening in.

"Who is she anyways?"

The girl scoffs almost cruelly. "Some sixth-year Hufflepuff," she looks at her nails and then smirks, "I thought Puffs were supposed to be hard-working. Instead, he was doing all the work while she drooled all over her potion book."

Your heart sinks and your hand tightens around the strap of your bag.

"James deserves someone better. Someone like me—"

You hold in your tears, deciding there is no use in standing there and just listening to the rest of this girl's rant. You don't have the energy to confront her either. It isn't like you haven't thought the same things she has.

You aren't enough for him.

He deserves someone so much better.

* * *

You're the only person on James's mind as he struts into the Great Hall. His hair is still wet from his shower but that only accentuates his curls. He's smiling happily, excited to have you in his arms again. He walks by where you usually sit with your friends at the Hufflepuff table, intending to persuade you to sit with him but he frowns slightly when he sees you already sitting with his friends.

"Hey," he says and plops down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You don't move. Your head is lowered and you're poking your fork into your chicken. James looks up at his friends, who only send him confused looks, and then Sirius mouths, "She hasn't said a word since she sat down."

When James sees your eyes, he panics. "Oh shit, are you crying?"

Your shoulders shake and James is quick. He stands and pulls you up with him, holding your wrist as he drags you along and outside into the mostly empty hall. He gently pushes you against the wall, his knee slotted in between yours just to keep you still as his hand cups your cheeks and he tries to calm your soft cries.

"Hey, hey, why are you crying, sweetheart? What happened?"

James doesn't understand. He'd left you alone for barely three hours and now you're in tears?

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice small. James's thumb wipes at your tears instantly.

And now you're apologizing?!

"What are you sorry for, dovey?" James asks as he looks at your sad expression and his chest hurts.

"I-I think we should break up," you whisper, your voice shaky.

James's eyes widen and his chest tightens. "What?!"

You cry a little harder as you try to explain yourself. "I- just– you deserve some head-strong Gryffindor girl who doesn't fall asleep when you're helping her. Someone prettier, smarter, someone who isn't like me. Someone who is more like you."

James's eyes darken when he hears you. "What are you talking about?!" He looks genuinely furious as he pushes some hair behind your ear and continues to hold your cheeks in his hand.

"You're talking nonsense. Don't you dare say things like that? You are what I deserve and so much more, do you understand me?"

You blink at him. You open your mouth to protest but James shakes his head and presses his thumb against your lips, looking at you pointedly. "If you wanna break up with me, I'm gonna need a better excuse than that."

He sounds serious and then he adds, "For example, 'oh, Jamie, I lost my memory and I can't remember you,'" he pauses his very inaccurate and rather cute impression of you for a moment, "but I think even then you'll be stuck with me so you're shit out of luck, huh??"

You laugh at the humor in it all and he finally smiles.

"There," James kisses your cheek to remove any lingering marks of your tears. "That's much better. Now, where did all this come from?"

You clutch his shirt and mumble something incomprehensible as James pulls you in and kisses your hairline, smiling against your hair.

"Gonna have to say it louder, sunshine."

"I heard some girls talking about me, about you—about us. It just made me feel so awful."

James's jaw tenses. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows which girls— or which girl. He has to remember to take Sirius's advice and tell Samantha to piss off when he sees her next.

It's one thing to annoy him, it's another to hurt his girl. No one hurts you and especially no one makes you feel like you don't deserve to be with him.

"Don't listen to anything they say," James says sternly, "They don't matter. I love you. I chose you a million times over." He pulls back and tilts your chin with his hand. You lean your head back on the wall and look at him, sensing the truth behind his words and finally, your heart relaxes. "I love you," he adds.

"I love you too, Jamie," you say quietly.

"Good," he leans and kisses your lips. He pulls away again and grins, "Now, excuse me while I go make that a public announcement—" he turns to walk away, heading for the doors to the Great Hall and your eyes round.

Knowing your boyfriend, he has no trouble shouting out his love for you, you rush after him, feeling much better.

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg

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kiwriteswords · 2 months ago

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Hello could I please request a fic where maybe the team doesnt like reader at first?

Winning Over the Kids [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4.5k|| AN: Thank you for the request; I love seeing all of them come in <3 Feedback is also always welcomed! xx

Tags/Warnings: implied age-gap, reader is a forensic psychologist, no use of y/n, secret relationship, team dislikes reader at first, protective Hotch, no mention of Jack--so up to you if he exists or not lol, mirroring the Lo-Fi vibes with Kate Joyner/Hotch/Team, canon-typical themes, some fluff, team dynamics, established relationship

Sypnosis: When Erin Strauss contracts a forensic psychologist to work with the BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure if he is more frustrated with the fact that they dislike you as their newest team member or as his secret girlfriend.

Aaron Hotchner had spent years mastering the art of control. His team relied on him to remain composed under pressure, a steady anchor in chaos. But when Erin Strauss informed him that she was contracting a forensic psychologist to assist the BAU, he felt his resolve stretch thin. Not because he doubted the decision—he knew you were exceptional—but because the team didn’t know the full story.

You were brilliant, sharp, and confident. You had risen through the ranks faster than most, your reputation built on precision and expertise. Yet, whispers of you being a “workaholic” and “cutthroat” followed you, a product of stereotypes surrounding young, successful women in high-stakes fields. Aaron had seen it before, but it infuriated him nonetheless, especially now that you were his… well, not officially, but close enough to feel the sting of those judgments on your behalf.

At the morning briefing, he broke the news. “The Bureau has decided to bring in a forensic psychologist to collaborate with us on our cases. She’ll be joining us starting tomorrow.”

Predictably, the room bristled.

“A shrink? Really?” Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “No offense, Hotch, but we kind of know how to read people.”

Emily Prentiss folded her arms. “Isn’t that the point of profiling? What does Strauss think we’ve been doing all this time?”

JJ added carefully, “Is this about our mental health? Are we supposed to… talk to her?”

Spencer Reid, ever the analyst, frowned. “I’ve read that forensic psychologists in consulting roles often critique operational dynamics. Could this be Strauss trying to monitor us?”

Aaron kept his face neutral, though he wanted to correct them all. You were nothing like what they imagined. “This isn’t about our capabilities. The psychologist has specific expertise in complex cases involving psychological manipulation. Her role is to supplement our efforts, not replace them.”

“Yeah, until she starts picking apart everything we do,” Derek muttered.

Aaron resisted the urge to snap. They didn’t know you yet. They didn’t see the meticulous care you put into every decision, or the softer moments when you let your guard down with him.

The next day, you arrived at Quantico with a polished confidence that turned heads. Ready to take on the next case, which was local to the BAU.

You greeted the team with a professional demeanor, offering a firm handshake and an easy smile. But the tension was palpable. The team’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Aaron felt his jaw tighten as he observed their guarded reactions.

Derek kept his distance, observing you with a critical eye. Emily was polite but cool, and even JJ seemed uncertain about how to approach you. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether. Rossi…well, Rossi seemed to sit back and take it all in.

“Let’s get to work,” Aaron said, more curtly than he intended, leading the group into the roundtable room.

You took a seat beside him, your notebook open and pen poised. “I’ve reviewed the case files,” you began, your voice steady and self-assured. “The unsub’s behavior suggests a deep-seated fear of abandonment, likely rooted in childhood trauma. But the escalation pattern indicates recent stressors. Have you explored potential triggers within the last six months?”

Reid blinked, clearly taken aback. “We—uh, we considered family dynamics, but we didn’t narrow the timeline that specifically.”

Your sharp gaze turned to him, not unkindly. “It’s worth revisiting. The timeline could give us a better idea of who influenced him most recently.”

Aaron noticed the way Reid shifted uncomfortably, and it grated on him. You were offering valuable insights, yet the team’s resistance was evident.

After the briefing, Derek muttered to Emily, loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Well, she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Aaron’s patience wore thin. “Morgan, a word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

In his office, Aaron shut the door and faced Derek. “What’s your problem with her?”

Derek raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say anything she didn’t earn. She walks in here acting like she knows everything. What do you expect us to do—roll out the red carpet?”

“I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d give any other professional,” Aaron snapped. “She’s here because she’s the best at what she does, and we need her expertise. Whatever preconceived notions you have, leave them at the door.”

Derek frowned but nodded. “Got it, Hotch.”

Aaron exhaled slowly after Derek left. He knew he couldn’t shield you completely, but it infuriated him that he had to watch you navigate the team’s cold reception.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found Aaron in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, crossing your arms. “So, how bad was it?”

He looked up from his desk, his expression softening. “They’ll come around.”

You smirked, though your eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Aaron stood and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. I know who you are, and eventually, they will too.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile breaking through. “Is that your way of saying you’re proud of me, Agent Hotchner?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted. Here, behind closed doors, you didn’t have to be the prodigy or the psychologist with a reputation. You were just you, and Aaron was fiercely determined to make sure the team saw that too—someday.

The next morning, as Aaron walked into Quantico, he noticed a huddle forming near Penelope’s desk. Derek, Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Penelope stood together, their voices low but animated. He had planned to keep walking, but a snippet of their conversation caught his attention.

“I’m telling you, I heard she’s impossible to work with,” Penelope whispered, her usual warmth absent.

“Yeah, and she’s already showing it,” Derek added. “Control issues, first day on the job.”

“So far, It’s just one case,” Emily said, though her tone was skeptical. “But she’s definitely… intense.”

“We don’t need someone analyzing us while we’re trying to profile an unsub,” JJ muttered.

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Reid said hesitantly. “But… yeah, I’ve heard the whispers too.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he listened. He wanted to intervene, to defend you, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time. Instead, he walked away, the sting of their words lingering. He felt almost betrayed. His team was usually better than this. They prided themselves on fairness, on seeing beyond the surface. But in this case, they were clinging to gossip and prejudice, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When you arrived, you carried yourself with the same poise and determination Aaron admired. You greeted the team briefly, your no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place. “Let’s get to work,” you said, spreading the case files across the conference table.

Your approach was methodical and efficient, and though Aaron knew it was how you operated, he could see how it rubbed the team the wrong way. They weren’t used to outsiders, especially not ones who came in with your level of authority and expertise. But they were professionals, and they pushed their reservations aside as the case progressed.

Aaron watched you closely throughout the day. You were unflinching in your analysis, your insights sharp and accurate. When you spoke, your voice carried confidence, but he could sense the subtle edge in your tone—a shield you had learned to wield over years of proving yourself.

After the case briefing wrapped up, Aaron found you in one of the quieter corners of the office. You were reviewing your notes, your expression focused but unreadable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m fine, Aaron. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “I’ve heard some of the things they’ve said,” he admitted. “They don’t know you, and they’re wrong. I’m sorry for how unwelcoming they’ve been.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You don’t have to apologize for them. I get it. They’re protective of their team, and I’m an outsider. It’ll take time.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened, adding, “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to them.”

Your smile widened, though there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes. “I’ve been proving myself my whole life, Aaron. This is nothing new. Besides, I’ve got you in my corner, right?”

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to take comfort in your resilience. But as he returned to the team, he resolved to address their behavior. They needed to see you for who you truly were—and he wouldn’t rest until they did.

During the next case you assisted on, the tension had been simmering all day, and Aaron could feel it building like a storm. You had just delivered a sharp, insightful breakdown of the unsub’s likely behavior patterns, pointing out inconsistencies in the case file that had gone unnoticed. It was the kind of analysis that would have earned respect from anyone else, but not today. Not from this team, not yet.

The briefing room was quiet for a moment after you finished speaking. Emily exchanged a glance with Derek, and JJ tapped her pen against the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“That’s… an interesting perspective,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was polite, but Aaron caught the subtle edge, the unspoken doubt.

You didn’t falter. “It’s not just a perspective,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “The data supports it. If you cross-reference the victimology with the geographic profile—”

“We get it,” Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. “But we’ve been doing this a long time. We know how to read behavior.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, but your expression remained composed, even as he could see the faint tension in your posture. You nodded slightly, as if conceding the point, and continued reviewing the case files without another word.

The meeting wrapped soon after, but Aaron lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. That’s when he heard it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can deal with her,” Emily muttered as the others gathered near the coffee station. “She’s so… clinical. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the victims, just the data.”

“She’s got control issues, for sure,” Derek added. “Like she’s got something to prove.”

JJ sighed. “Maybe Strauss sent her to micromanage us. I mean, why else would she be here? We’re already the best at what we do.”

Aaron slammed his folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The team froze, turning to see him standing there, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable anger. He stepped toward them, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “I don’t know what’s more disappointing--your lack of professionalism or your willingness to tear someone down based on assumptions and gossip.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“You think she’s here to micromanage you? She’s here to help. And the fact that you can’t see the value in her insights says more about your egos than it does about her methods.”

“Hotch, we didn’t mean—” JJ started, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said firmly. “You did mean it. And if you spent half as much energy working with her as you do undermining her, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to catching this unsub.”

The room fell silent. Aaron rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried the weight of finality. He let the silence hang for a moment before he continued.

“She’s not here to prove herself to you. She’s already proven herself, time and time again. It’s time for you to rise to her level, not drag her down to yours.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d have to address this further later, but for now, he needed to find you. He wanted to make sure you were okay to remind you, in whatever small way he could, that he was still in your corner. Always.

Aaron Hotchner found you where he expected to: in one of the unused offices, deep in thought over the case files. You were perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through pages with a sharp focus that never failed to impress him. The tension he’d carried since leaving the briefing room eased slightly when he saw how calm you were.

You didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. “Didn’t expect you to find me so quickly,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I needed to check in. The team…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “They were out of line.”

That made you pause. You glanced up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Aaron, it’s fine,” you said, setting the file down. “I’ve been in this position before. People don’t like change, and they don’t like outsiders. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he replied, his voice firmer than he intended. “It’s not fair, and it’s not professional.”

You tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did when you were about to cut through the noise. “They don’t know, Aaron. About us.” Your tone was even, but there was a hint of something deeper there--not accusation, just acknowledgment.

He stiffened slightly, but nodded. “They don’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. For now.”

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back on your hands. “For now, sure. But you should think about it. They’re already questioning why you’re defending me. If they find out later that it’s because we’re involved, it won’t sit well with them. They’ll feel like you’ve been hiding something important.”

“They’ll feel betrayed,” Aaron said, the weight of the truth settling over him.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile on your face. “Exactly. Look, I can handle their doubts, their gossip, whatever they want to throw at me. But you need to decide how long you want to keep this a secret. They’re your team. They’re loyal to you. But they also need to trust you.”

Aaron stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he regarded you. “You don’t care what they think of you, do you?”

“Not even a little,” you said with a shrug, your confidence steady. “I’ve spent years dealing with this kind of thing. It’s not new, and it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me,” you added, meeting his eyes, “is the idea of this coming out later and making things harder for you. Or for us.”

Aaron let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. You were right, of course. You always were. He couldn’t keep this from his team forever, and things with you had grown too serious for him to pretend otherwise. He had never been one to let his personal life interfere with his work, but this was different. You were different.

“This is serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking through. “Wow, Aaron. Way to make a girl feel special.”

He stepped closer, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “You know what I mean. Things are serious between us. You’re not going anywhere, and neither is the team. I need to find a way to make this work.”

You softened, your hand brushing against his as he stood next to you. “You will. They’ll come around, Aaron. And if they don’t, well…” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Aaron felt a warmth spread through him, a rare sense of peace in the midst of the chaos. You were right, as always. He would figure it out--not just because he had to, but because you were worth it.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in leading by example. Transparency, fairness, and honesty were core tenets of how he ran his team, and they had rewarded him with loyalty and mutual respect. But as he stood in the conference room, waiting for his team to gather for an unscheduled meeting, he knew he had failed to uphold one of those principles.

The team filtered in, curiosity and unease written across their faces. JJ and Emily exchanged glances, Reid clutched his ever-present notebook, and Derek leaned against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Penelope, usually lighthearted, looked slightly nervous. Rossi lingered at the back, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought.

When the door closed, Aaron cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to address—something I should have told you from the beginning.”

The team straightened, their collective focus sharpening. Aaron had their attention.

“You’ve all expressed concerns about having a forensic psychologist embedded in the team,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve questioned her presence, her methods, and, frankly, her character. Some of those comments have been professional disagreements, but others have crossed the line. I’ve let it continue longer than I should have, and for that, I take responsibility.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably while Morgan frowned. Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. Rossi, though silent, tilted his head slightly, a knowing look flickering across his face.

Aaron met each of their gazes in turn, his tone unwavering. “The reason I know she’s good at her job—why I trust her, and why I know she’s not here to spy on us or undermine our work—is because I’ve been seeing her outside of work. For a while now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Reid blinked rapidly, his pen freezing mid-air. JJ’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, and Penelope let out a small, involuntary gasp. Derek sat up straighter, his brows furrowed in disbelief. Emily’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise. Rossi, however, didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, his lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, as though confirming a suspicion.

“I had no say in her placement on this team,” Aaron continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Strauss made the decision, and she made it clear that the reason is simple: she’s the best. You’ve seen it for yourselves, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it. Her insights have already helped move this case forward. She is not your enemy, nor is she here to judge you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t disclose our relationship because I wanted to keep our personal lives separate from our professional ones. But as your Unit Chief and as her partner, I will not tolerate disrespect toward her—whether it’s behind her back or to her face.”

Reid, finally finding his voice, asked hesitantly, “Does she…know about us? I mean, our dynamics, our methods? Or does she see us as part of the problem?”

Aaron’s expression softened slightly as he addressed the question. “She knows exactly who you are and how good you are at what you do. She’s here to help you do your jobs better, not to interfere. But she also deserves the same respect you’d give any other member of this team.”

Rossi finally spoke, his tone measured. “And you think telling us this now is going to smooth things over?” His words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight.

“I think,” Aaron replied, meeting Rossi’s gaze, “that you deserved to know the truth. And I think it’s time we focus on the job at hand rather than creating divisions that don’t need to exist.”

The silence lingered until Derek broke it. “Hotch, we didn’t mean to—”

Aaron held up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean harm, but intentions don’t erase the impact. This team works because we trust each other. That trust goes both ways. If there’s something you need to say, say it to me or to her directly. Gossip and disrespect have no place here.”

JJ nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right. We were out of line. I think…I think we just felt blindsided.”

Aaron’s tone eased, though it remained firm. “I understand. Change isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. You’ll see soon enough why she’s here. Until then, I need your cooperation.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Morgan, then nodded. “We’ll work on it. I promise.”

Rossi gave a small nod of approval, his smirk gone but his understanding clear. “She’s good, Aaron. I’ve seen it. Let’s make sure the rest of the team sees it too.”

Reid looked thoughtful, his pen tapping rhythmically again. “I think we can…adjust. If she’s here to make us better, that’s not a bad thing.”

Aaron gave a single nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, murmuring quietly among themselves, Rossi lingered behind. “You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “you could’ve just told me this a week ago.”

Aaron allowed himself the faintest smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not,” Rossi said with a shrug, “but it would’ve saved you the speech.” With that, he left, leaving Aaron alone to gather his thoughts.

For now, he had taken the first step. And he could only hope it was enough.

Over the next few days, Aaron began to notice subtle shifts in his team’s behavior toward you. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic, but the signs were there. During case briefings, they no longer exchanged skeptical glances when you spoke. Instead, they began nodding along or even asking follow-up questions. Derek, who had been one of the most vocal skeptics, offered a rare compliment about your interrogation technique after a successful suspect interview.

“She’s got a way of getting under people’s skin,” Morgan admitted to Rossi when he thought Aaron wasn’t listening. “In a good way, I guess.”

Aaron didn’t respond, but he tucked the comment away, feeling an unspoken sense of satisfaction.

Even Reid, who had initially kept his distance, began peppering you with questions about your graduate work. You seemed to enjoy indulging him, discussing obscure psychological theories with the same enthusiasm he brought to the conversation. JJ and Emily followed suit, no longer as guarded, and Penelope—while still wary—had gone out of her way to show you how to use the BAU’s internal systems.

Aaron observed it all with quiet pride. His team was warming up to you, just as he had hoped, and it wasn’t because he’d told them to—it was because of you. Your intelligence, your confidence, and your ability to adapt were slowly breaking down the barriers they’d put up.

That evening, as the two of you wrapped up some paperwork in his office, you leaned back in your chair and smirked at him. “You know,” you said, your voice light with amusement, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Aaron looked up from his file, one brow raised. “Enjoying what?”

“You’re like the team dad,” you teased, crossing your arms. “All broody and protective, wanting the stepmom to be liked by the kids.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and rich. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you shot back, grinning. “Because I think you’ve been paying more attention to their approval ratings for me than I have.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head but still smiling. “Maybe. But only because I know how much they mean to you—and how much you mean to me. I want this to work.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing dropped. “It already is, Aaron. You don’t have to worry.”

His smile lingered as he looked at you, the tension that had been weighing on him for weeks finally starting to lift.

The real sign of progress came at the end of the week. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case, and as everyone packed up their things, Derek clapped his hands together.

“Alright, we’re going out. Drinks, food, and maybe a little dancing. Who’s in?”

JJ and Emily immediately agreed, and Reid nodded hesitantly, though he muttered something about “just one drink.” Rossi chuckled but offered a quick “Count me in.” Penelope looked around, her bright demeanor back in full force. “Where are we going? And more importantly, is there karaoke?”

Derek laughed. “No promises, Garcia.”

Then, almost casually, JJ turned to you. “You should come,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine. “You’ve had a long week too. You deserve to relax a little.”

Aaron didn’t miss the slight hesitation in your posture before you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” JJ said, already texting someone. “It’ll be fun.”

Aaron stayed silent, watching the moment unfold. The invitation wasn’t forced or reluctant—it was sincere. It was an olive branch, extended without fanfare, and he could tell by the look on your face that you recognized it for what it was.

As the team began filing out, chatting about where to go, you lingered by his desk. “That was unexpected,” you said quietly, glancing at him with a small smile.

“They’re coming around,” Aaron replied, his voice equally soft. “I told you they would.”

You smirked. “Well, Dad, looks like the kids like the stepmom after all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Let’s just hope I can keep them from embarrassing us tonight.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you teased, grabbing your bag. “Now, come on. You’ve got to show me if Unit Chief Hotchner can actually let loose.”

As you both headed out to join the others, Aaron felt a rare lightness in his chest. Things were falling into place—his team, you, everything. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it.

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