#oxytocin replies

[consult-sherlockholmes]

I don't know, science? Test your blood for any of those love hormones or whatever that come out when one is in love?

You can measure the release of oxytocin in blood serum, which is the hormone of bonding and love. As well as other hormones that are also involved in relationships and bonding like endorphins (endogenous opioids, who doesn't love opioids?) and prolactin. One could also use cerebrospinal fluid to measure endorphins, but that would be quite an unpleasant procedure. However, who knows whether my endorphin levels could even be compared to normal base levels, given I used exogenous opioids or exorphins for years. They bind to the same receptors as endorphins, so who knows whatever I changed up there with all that.

[kwistowee]

🌸✨💓THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! 🧚🏾‍♀️ PASS IT ON AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ~♡ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aww, thanks for the warm fuzzies! 🥰 Right back at you!

[misswynters]

Oxytocin (Dancing in the rain)

featuring. jinx x reader

a/n. wrote this quickly today (needed more jinx)

Jinx’s laughter echoed off the narrow alley walls as she pulled you along, her grip firm and relentless. Her energy was infectious, her blue braids bouncing as she darted through Zaun’s winding pathways with her usual recklessnes. You could barely keep up, but you didn’t want to stop her. Moments like these, where she was untethered and free, were rare treasures.

“Jinx, where are we even going?” you asked breathlessly, your voice tinged with amusement.

“Does it matter?” she shot back, her grin wide and mischievous. “C’mon, live a little!”

Before you could argue, she suddenly yanked you into a dark corner. Her body pressing you against the cold rough brick wall. The air around you was thick with tension, her manic energy palpable as her hands framed your face.

“Finally,” she breathed, her voice low and teasing. “I’ve been dyin’ to get you alone all day.”

“Jinx—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as she leaned in, her nose brushing against yours. Her gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, her grin softening into something darker, more intense.

“Y’know,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper, “you’re really bad at playing hard to get.”

Your laugh came out shaky, your pulse quickening under her heated stare. “I’m not playing anything.”

“That’s good,” she said, her lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “Because I’m not in the mood for games.”

Then her lips were on yours, fierce and demanding. The kiss was electric, her hands sliding down to your waist and pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you. Her need was radiant, every movement of her lips and flick of her tongue telling you just how much she wanted you.

Your back pressed harder into the brick as her knee nudged between your legs, pinning you in place. One of her hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other gripped your waist with a bruising intensity.

“Gods,” she muttered against your lips, her voice rough and breathless. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I could say the same about you,” you managed to reply, your hands sliding up her arms to grip her shoulders.

Her grin was wicked as she pulled back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Yeah? Then prove it.” The challenge hung in the air for a moment before you surged forward, capturing her lips with a neediness that matched her own. She laughed into the kiss, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re gettin’ bold, huh?” she teased, her lips ghosting along your jawline as she nipped at your skin.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you shot back, your voice trembling slightly as her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, her fingers skimming along your sides.

“Damn right I am,” she said, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. The air between you was thick with heat and desperation, every touch and kiss fueled by an unspoken need. Her hands roamed your body with a confidence that left you breathless, her kisses growing more hungry as she pressed her body against yours. And then a voice shattered the moment.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Jinx froze, her head snapping up as Sevika’s low, teasing drawl echoed through the alley. You turned your head, cheeks burning, to find Sevika leaning casually against the wall at the mouth of the alley, her arms crossed and a smirk plastered across her face.

Jinx groaned, dropping her forehead against your shoulder. “Of all the people…”

Sevika chuckled, pushing off the wall and strolling closer. “Relax, Powder. I’m not here to rain on your parade. Just happened to be passing by and couldn’t resist taking a peek.”

“Should’ve kept walking,” Jinx muttered, her arms still wrapped around you protectively.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Didn’t realize you were the romantic type. Kinda sweet, actually.”

“Sweet?” Jinx scoffed, pulling back just enough to glare at Sevika. “You wanna see sweet? I’ll show you sweet with one of my grenades.”

You bit back a laugh, resting a hand on Jinx’s arm to calm her. “It’s fine, Jinx. Let her have her fun.”

Sevika’s gaze flicked to you, her expression amused. “You’re a good sport. I like you. Don’t know how you put up with her, though.”

“Hey!” Jinx snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Sevika said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Sort of.”

Jinx huffed, turning her attention back to you. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. I don’t need her killin’ the vibe.”

Sevika chuckled as Jinx grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the wall. “Don’t let me stop you, lovebirds. Have fun.”

Jinx shot her a glare over her shoulder, blowing raspberries at her. Then rain began as a light drizzle, drops peppering your shoulders as Jinx tugged you through the winding alleys. Her laughter echoing like a melody in the night. The dim glow of neon signs reflected off the forming puddles, the streets glistening with a sheen that mirrored the excitement in her eyes.

“C’mon, slowpoke!” she teased, her hand tight around yours. Her pace never faltered, boots splashing into puddles with reckless abandon. Water sprayed up, catching the edges of your own boots and dampening the hem of your jacket. The cool rain tickled your skin, strands of your hair sticking to your face as you struggled to keep up with her chaotic energy.

“Jinx, where are we even going?” you asked, your voice rising over the soft patter of rain.

“Anywhere but boring-ville!” she shot back with a wild grin, spinning around to face you mid-run.

Her boots skidded against the wet cobblestones, but she caught herself with practiced ease, her braids whipping around her like banners in the wind. The motion sent droplets flying, the rain catching in her hair and clinging to her lashes. She was a picture of chaos and beauty, and you couldn’t look away.

Suddenly, she stopped, yanking you forward with a strength that sent you stumbling into her arms. The rain fell heavier now, soaking through your clothes, but neither of you seemed to care. “Dance with me, sweetheart” she said, her voice softer now, her blue eyes searching yours.

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “In the rain?”

“Why not?” she replied with a shrug, a teasing smirk pulling at her lips. “It’s not like we’re gonna melt. Unless you’re hiding some weird secret about being made of sugar.”

Before you could respond, she spun you around, her hands firm on your waist as she guided you into a waltz. The two of you moved clumsily at first, boots splashing in puddles and slipping against the slick pavement. The rain intensified, its rhythm drumming against the rooftops and pooling in the cracks of the cobblestones. Your hair clung to your face, your jacket heavy with water, but Jinx’s laughter drowned out everything else. It was infectious, pulling a smile from you even as your boots slid awkwardly in the growing puddles.

She twirled you under her arm, the motion sending your hair spinning in a cascade of wet strands that stuck to your neck and shoulders. The world blurred for a moment, but then she caught you, pulling you back into her chest with a grin that made your heart race. “You’re not half bad at dancing,” she said, her breath warm against your ear despite the chill of the rain.

Her grin widened, and without warning, she dipped you low, the motion abrupt but somehow graceful. The rain poured down around you. World being reduced to the sound of water and her ragged breathing as she held you there for a moment. Her face hovering inches from yours.

“You love me, right?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost tender.

You nodded without hesitation, unable to find the words necessary for the question. A simple nod is enough for her to know.

She pulled you upright again, but instead of letting go, she brought you closer, her arms wrapping around your waist as your bodies pressed together. Her hands slid along your back, fingers teasing the fabric of your rain soaked clothes. The moment stretched, the rain a steady rhythm that seemed to match the beat of your racing heart. Her eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips before finally closing the distance.

The kiss was different this time; slower, deeper. Her lips were soft but insistent, her hands roaming your back as if memorizing every curve. Your fingers tangled in her damp hair, tugging lightly and earning a soft sound from her that sent a shiver down your spine. The rain was cold, but her touch was fire, warming you from the inside out. You could feel her smile against your lips as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Her hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your hips before settling on your waist. “You’re all mine,” she murmured against your lips, her voice breathless but filled with conviction.

“Yours?” you whispered back, the word feeling more like a question than a reply.

She laughed then, a bright, unrestrained sound that echoed through the rain soaked streets. “Of course right you are.”

Without warning, she spun you again, your boots splashing in the puddles as she twirled you around like a marionette on strings. The motion left you dizzy, breathless, but she was there to catch you, her arms steady as she pulled you close once more.

“You’re insane,” you said, though the smile on your face betrayed any hint of complaint.

“-Insanely in love with you,” she shot back without missing a beat, her grin lopsided and infectious. The rain poured harder now, but neither of you cared. You danced together, slipping and sliding on the wet pavement, your laughter mingling with the steady patter of rain. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you and the chaos you created together.

When the moment finally slowed, Jinx cupped your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away raindrops that had already been replaced by more. Her gaze softened, the wild energy in her eyes cooled down, something only you seemed to bring out in her.

“Best night ever,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with a sincerity that made your chest ache.

“Agreed,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her again, the rain and the city and everything else fading into the background.

taglist. @ekkosh @diffusebread @blazemaster4014 @st6rship @axoluxy @1nakitofan @redskye11 @cxcilla @evneedshozierrn @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @raspberry-lava @alduinworldeater11 @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @emmy21842 @ladey @keysmashsstuff @blkmystery

[brooke121000]

go to sleep, love. • s. reid

warnings: n$fw, f/m, p in v, dom!spence if you squint really hard, do a cartwheel and take your glasses off, aftercare! sleepy s3x

summary: wracked with migraines, you wake Spencer up with your crying. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he seeks the easiest possible method to make you go to sleep.

a/n: this did NOT seem as long when i was writing it.

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"ughh-" Spencer groaned, rolling over and rubbing his tired eyes.

you were crying softly, tears muffled into your pillow as your frame shook. Okayy, maybe you were being a tad bit dramatic.

"headaches again?" he murmured.

you nodded, rolling over to face him. enveloped in darkness, your eyes had to adjust to see him, but you were pleased when you did. his face was flushed from sleep, brows knit together and brown curly hair slightly tousled. "yeah." you replied solemnly. "and I can't sleep, at all. I woke you up. didn't I?"

he nodded, unamused.

"oh.. 'm sorry."

"it's okay," his face softened when he sensed how apologetic you were. "it's not your fault. can you sleep?"

your hand on the back of your neck, you shook your head again. he huffed in response.

"at all?"

"no, my head is killing me. You know what i'm talking about."

he sighed. "yeah, I do, but you need to sleep. we gotta go to work tomorrow."

Everything was too much. Your head hurt too much, you were too tired, you were dreading work, and Spencer's tone was much harsher then usual. Like a neglected pot on the stove, all of your emotions boiled over at once and you began to cry once again.

"oh-" Spencer was disheartened at your recurring tears. He scooted over and brought you close to his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. "Please don't cry."

you sniffled. "I'm soo t-tired, i just want to sleep.."

"I know you do," he consoled you. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"...no.."

His next words came in a whisper. "..I could.. you know, try something to help you sleep."

that was enough to stop your crying for a second. sniffling your tears away, you pulled your head up and met his downcast brown eyes. "..what are you suggesting?"

" 'm not suggesting anything. I'm just reminding you, Orgasms release chemicals like Oxytocin and Prolactin, which can lower stress levels and induce drowsiness. They also temporarily reduce the bodies cortisol levels, whi-"

"prove it?" you smiled and cut him off, a little lost for words.

he stalled for a second. "oh... okay."

he quickly got to work, sitting up and grabbing his glasses off the nightstand. you quirked a brow.

"You're putting your glasses on? interesting method of foreplay."

"no, its just- I wanna be able to see you clearly." he cleaned the lenses with the collar of his shirt, slipping them on. "Y'know, when I make you cum?"

you just kind of stared up at him, dumbfounded. it looks like the night brought out a whole different vocabulary in this man. managing an eager nod, you got closer to him.

he slipped under the blankets, and you felt his warm hands on your legs, eliciting a shiver that ran through you like lightning. You were a little disappointed he chose to hide under the covers, but accepted the warmth.

this man wasn't wasting any time. Your already-on-edge nerves felt a string of warm, sloppy kisses up and down your thighs. You slept in only a t shirt and underwear, most nights- including this one, so there was little barrier between you and his lips.

god, those lips.

He considered this quick and anticlimactic, but the little teasing he was performing was driving you crazy. your legs shook in anticipation, and you tried your best not to cry out in joy when you felt his hands hook under your panties and slide them down, down, down, all the way to your ankles- one hand trailing along your leg in this fluid motion.

finally, god, you felt a small, polite kiss pressed to your clit. you practically could have come undone right then and there, if not for a pang of sharp pain hitting your head at the same time, a small 'ah!-" escaping you.

"I know, cm'on. shh." He said from under the blanket, rubbing deep circles into your hips with a free hand.

He licked a lazy stripe up your core, the lightning-strike of pleasure hitting you once again.

"mm- fuck-" you whispered, a quiet plea for only him to hear. He licked another long stripe, patiently anticipating more moans, which he received.

pressing small circles into your most sensitive spots, he eagerly worked you up to the edge. this teasing was driving you crazy, and your breath was quick and harsh.

"spence!" you whined, and heard a groan from him, his grips tightening on your thighs. The tip of his nose pushed against your clit as his tongue dipped and swirled, and you swear your vision went blurry for just a second.

"cm'on-" he murmured.

Your approaching climax was painfully obvious to you, every muscle in your body clenching as he worked magic on you. a hand flew under the covers, intertwining with his hair as a desperate moan poured from your lips. with that, you came, your head flying back to rest against the pillow as your frame shook.

he pulled his head out from under the covers, a smile spreading on his features. "Satisfactory, hmm?"

That was intense. If anything, you were more awake.

"I.. I think i'm less tired."

his brows knit together as he wiped some of the liquid off of his chin, licking his fingers clean for the sole purpose of tasting you.

"ah. I guess you'll just have to cum again."

unable to retort, you simply nodded and watched greedily as he tossed off his shirt, making quick work of his pants and boxers. He captured your waiting lips in a messy kiss, trailing little pecks up and down your cheek. He settled atop you, gazing into your flushed face for just a second.

"I love you." he mused.

"...I love you, too."

he placed more kisses to your neck and collarbone as his free hand aligned himself with your entrance, and you both held your breath. when he pushed into you, feeling your warmth envelop him, you both gasped at the same time.

"fuck-'

'ah-"

he rested his head in the crook of your neck, pushing allll the way inside you. when he was satisfied you had adjusted, he began moving at a punishingly slow pace, butterflies flittering about your stomach once again.

on hand beside you, one on the headboard, he pushed into you again and again, taking up a punishingly fast speed. you simply laid upon the pillow, a moaning shaking mess.

"so, so perfect 'f me, god-" he groaned.

wishing to be somehow deeper inside you, he abandoned the headboard and grabbing your hips, knees planted in the mattress for stability. you put a hand in your hair, a feeble attempt to ground yourself. as if things couldn't get any better, his hand slipped between you two- rubbing fervent circles on your clit, eliciting a string of desperate noises.

after what very well could have been an eternity, you both approached the finish. he gripped your hips desperately hard, his breaths coming shakily.

"oh, my- Spence!"

he buried himself deep into you as you two finished in unison, breath fleeting from your lungs as your head swam with pleasure- and the glaring absence of a migraine.

' "m gonna pull out, okay?"

"mhm- o.. okay."

he slid away and resumed his place beside you. pulling the covers over the both of you and placing a soft kiss to your temple, he sat up momentarily to remove his crooked, now fogged up glasses.

As you came down from your high, the shaking in your legs and the rushing of your pulse calming, you felt your eyelids droop. He pulled you closer to him and left a kiss on your lips, tinged with the soft sting of finality.

"go to sleep, love."

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[enhaheeseung]

SLEEP 🕒 - L. Heeseung

🕒Pairing: Heeseung X fem reader!

🕒Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, cursing.

🕒Synopsis: it’s late, and you can’t sleep, but luckily, your best friend knows just the trick to help you out.

🕒Wc: 1,5k (Drabble)

-

Sighing to yourself, you set your phone down on the lamp stand after you noticed it was literally three in the morning.

You and your best friend had been watching movies talking and hanging out since ten and you hadn’t even noticed the time till now.

“You sleepy?” He turned to you just in time to catch you rubbing your strained eyes.

“Yes, it’s like three am, hee,” you groggily reply, turning on your left side facing away from him.

“Oh shit, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he chuckled. You could tell he was just as tired by how deep his voice had gotten.

“It's alright.” He set his phone aside as well and leaned up against the headboard.

“I guess I better get going.” On cue, he lets out a yawn.

“Are you crazy? It’s so late out you might as well just spend the night” you mumble out.

He rubbed his chin in thought; he was really tired, and driving probably wasn’t the best idea right now. “I didn’t bring anything for a sleepover.”

“Just wear whatever,” you respond, on the verge of passing out.

You feel a dip in the bed and hear him shuffling around. He takes off his pants and his flannel before he slips under the covers with you.

For most, it’d probably seem weird, a guy and a girl sleeping in the same bed, but the number of times you both knocked out together while studying during your high school and college days made this one of the most normal things between you two. “Goodnight, y/n. I might be gone before you wake up.”

“Just make sure to lock the door in the morning night, hee,” you whispered, turning off your lamp while he did the same after you.

You readjusted to get comfortable and pressed your cheek against your pillow, waiting for sleep to come over you.

Ten minutes passed, and sleep never came. You were tired, but for some reason, you just couldn’t fall asleep.

“Ugh,” you groaned and quickly cupped your mouth so you wouldn’t wake heeseung up with the racket.

Little did you know he was still wide awake.

“Y/n?” He asks, followed by a beat of silence. “You’re still up too?” He says with a hint of amusement in his tone. At least he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

“Yes,” you laid flat on your back, copying his resting position. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m tired, but I just can’t seem to sleep,” you respond in the pitch-black bedroom.

“Same,” he sighs, folding his arms over his chest.

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes until he says something that completely catches you off guard.

“I read that having an orgasm can help you fall asleep,” he says casually.

You giggle and push his shoulder, or at least you think it was his shoulder. It was so dark you really couldn’t see. “And where did you read that?”

“The internet, of course, says it has something to do with the release of oxytocin or some shit” he lets out an airy laugh putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting,” you hum.

“It is, works like a charm for me,” he says through a yawn.

“TMI”

“Oh please, we’ve talked about so much shit that this is PG,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, but not you touching yourself.” You cringe as the words leave your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything like that. All I said was it works,” he shrugs even though you can’t see him.

“Whatever,” you say, too tired to argue with him.

It’s silent again, and the idea he mentioned sounds a lot more appealing than laying here all night without getting any sleep.

But you can’t necessarily try out this little theory of his with him in your room, so that idea was out the window.

“You still up?” He checks on you a minute later, and you hum in response. “I mean, I could give you one if you want,” he holds in his laugh, knowing that you’re about to chastise him.

“Lee heeseung, stop it this instant,” you tell him sternly.

“Okay, okay, just thought I’d ask. I’m your bestie, and besties look out for each other, right?” He continues to push your little buttons.

“Yeah, by giving a shoulder to cry on, not giving each other orgasms,” you huff out a breath.

A thought popped into your head: you weren’t getting any sleep anytime soon, and since he wanted to mess with you, two could play that game. “I mean, you could,” the words leave your mouth in a nonchalant manner.

He gasped, not expecting you to match his humor. Most times, you didn’t when it came to something sexual. “Knock it off. It’s weird when you joke about it,” he laughs.

“Who said I’m joking?” You taunt.

“Cause the y/n I know would never,” he says confidently, thinking he knows you like the back of his hand, and normally he does, but just not when you’re sleep-deprived.

“What about the y/n who’s in desperate need of sleep and will do anything just to catch a few hours before work in the morning?”

His ears are perked up now, the soft, sultry tone of your voice alerting him instantly. “You’re really not joking, are you?”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” You shift closer to him, and he feels your body heat right away, making his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I-I y/n, if you’re joking, just tell me.” his voice shakes a little, the slightest hint of a whimper traveling close behind his words.

Calling it quits with talking, you find his hand in the dark and grip his wrist, guiding him right between your legs. “Hee, I’d never joke about this,” you gasped as his warm hand cups over your mound.

“Fuck” he whispers and props himself on his side, slowly gliding his hand between your legs. “You really are serious, huh?” His voice sounds even huskier than it did before as he confidently presses your clit over your sleep shorts.

“Yes, hee,” you whine, desperation dripping from your voice as you clench your thighs around his hand, keeping it firmly nestled against you.

“Shit, okay, turn over for me” You get back in your original position, your back now pressed against his chest, his crotch a few inches away from your backside. “Now close your eyes.” his hot breath tickles your ear.

You do as he says, too tired to even think twice about what you’re getting ready to engage in with your best friend.

His two middle fingers rub circles on your clit, working you up quicker than you could have ever imagined. You’re already leaking a bit of precum.

“Mmm,” you moan softly. His fingers felt so good, especially when he slipped them further down, teasing your entrance while his palm rubbed your clit.

Your hand caressed the one that was between your legs, tracing the veins along the back of his hand. “Does that feel good?” He swallowed thickly, his lower body pressing against you unintentionally.

“Yes, hee, so good” he humps your backside, his swollen cock being stimulated by the softness of your plush bottom.

“Yeah, so good,” he whispers in your ear. You feel so good you don’t even notice the way he ruts against you, the movement of his hips forcing your waist to roll against his palm more, bringing you even more satisfaction.

“I’m so close, hee, I’m gonna cum” you cry out, body shuddering as the warmth and pleasure builds in your lower region.

“Shhh, I know, I know,” he breathes out heavily, placing a soft kiss on your cheek and a few more rolls of his hips. You’re both coming undone together, panting exhaustedly.

He rubs you through it, whispering encouraging words in your ear like. “Yeah, feels so good, doesn’t it?” “Let it all out,” “Keep cumming” “That’s it.”

The pleasure goes on for so long that another orgasm follows after giving you the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced. “Hee,” you whimper his name, your body trembling against his as you shudder in the aftermath of cumming back to back.

He nuzzles against you, cuddling you and helping you ground yourself until you catch your breath.

He’s still struggling to calm himself with how hard he just came. He hasn’t cum that fast and that much in a while. “Was that good?” He asked timidly into your hair, releasing a deep breath.

“Mmm,” you moan in response, your eyelids finally feeling so heavy that you can barely open them.

But you couldn’t forget about heeseung, so you flipped over on your side, your forehead touching his. “What about you?” You slowly reach into his boxers, gripping the base of his length, feeling a good amount of wetness covering his shaft.

“Ahh, s-sensitive,” he moans shakily.

You retract your hand right away. “Did you-“ he cuts you off, nodding against your forehead, and you slowly pull your hand out of his underwear.

“I’m good,” he assures you. “Let’s sleep now yeah? We’ll clean up in the morning” his words sound slurred and you can barely even understand what he’s saying cause you’re so tired.

Apparently, whatever he read about orgasms was true cause you’ve never fallen asleep faster.

-

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[fadeintosatoru]

PT 3

PT 2, PT 1

───────────୨ৎ───────────

Satoru was your escape, your refuge—the person you’d choose over and over again, without hesitation.

There was something about the way he looked at you, those fleeting glances that made your heart race and your stomach flutter.

Satoru knew there was something between you, almost like an unspoken understanding, but the thought of losing you as his friend was terrifying—though not as terrifying as the idea of not being with you.

It was a rare and special connection, and he knew it.

Satoru felt truly accepted by you. You saw him for who he was and never once made him feel like he needed to change.

He didn’t feel that way with anyone else. God, he could barely have a conversation without mentioning you or thinking about you. No one was nearly as entertaining as you. No—you were his oxytocin.

No one else but you made his heart pound so hard he could hear it in his ears.

No one else left him breathless with a single glance.

And, most importantly, no one else made him feel alive the way you did.

And god, did he love you. He loved you so much he pretended to like your taste in music, let you eat the last coffee cake (he saved it for you), and stand outside your window holding a radio over his head.

That man loved you so much, he hated when you weren’t around. He hated seeing you laugh at someone else’s joke. He fucking hated how you were the first person he looked for in any room. But most of all, he hated how he couldn’t hate you—not even a little bit.

Because how could he?

Not when your laugh echoed through his mind. Not when he had every freckle on your face memorized. Certainly not when he saw the way your eyes glowed under the sun.

So when he saw you that day, there was no way in hell he'd let you just slip from his fingers again.

and he loved talking to you, or well whatever he could, because you weren't really consistent when texting him.

but he didn't care, the fact that you accepted and replied means you've been thinking about him, right?

Satoru, who asked you if you wanted to meet up with him

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lmk if u guys would like me to write their little reunion :3 also i appreciate all the support tysm <333

dt: @iheartgojoo66 @jkslaugh97 @manisimp @sillly-jokester @angelina7890 @haruhatake

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Listening to Oxytocin by Billie Eilish imagining a 'FWB who are secretly in love with each other but just too kinky and not emotionally honest enough to do anything about it' situation with Rook Hunt and Cater Diamond (separately).

Or like, making a thirty trap to the song on a TWST version of TikTok just for the cast to reply it over and over again until they rub their skin raw.

(once again I am UNGODLY HORNY LOL!!! So enjoy my sin bestie)

Not going to lie, this was the first time I ever listened to Oxytocin by Billie Eilish. Not my favorite, but not bad.

Warnings: 18+, Gender-neutral! Reader, no specific ‘hole’ is mentioned (could be anal, could be vaginal), FWB relationship wth Rook and Cater (separately), bondage (Cater), not much smut in Rook’s (sorry)

Cater Diamond

It all started when you were both assigned a project in Professor Crewel’s class. The tension was definitely there, and since you were both in the privacy of Ramshackle, and Grim was sleeping in a different room, you both gave into your desires.

Neither one of you realized just how much physical chemistry you had with each other before that night, and since then, you have used approximately 47 boxes of condoms and counting. It was great stress relief for both of you, and it was a no-strings-attached agreement… unfortunately, it became quite clear that there were at least a few strings there.

The thing is… neither of you knew how to bring it up. For some reason, you both thought that it might not be the best time to talk about deep feelings when he was balls-deep in your throat, gently thrusting into your mouth and moaning as he felt you gag on his cock.

He has ranted about it to Trey, much to the baker’s dismay. He did not want to know about what you both did in your own time. However, he had no idea how to tell you that he loved you. That he wanted you for more than just your body. That he wanted to cuddle after having sex with you rather than get dressed and do the messy walk of shame back to Heartslabyul.

One day, however, you both were trying something out in bed… bondage. His hands were tied to the headboard as you rode him into oblivion. His fucked out face was one that you had many pictures of… but you never posted them. They were just for you.

Anyway, he was babbling complete nonsense, his dick being gripped tightly by your warmth as you ground your hips down. “I love you…” He muttered softly in-between whimpers, “Seven, I fucking love you… fuck… keep going, baby…”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately stop your ministrations. “What did you say, Cater?” His own eyes widen in response as he realized what he said, and he felt his heart thud harshly against his chest. “Uhh… Nothing! I said nothing! Who said anything about ‘love’? That’s crazy talk! You know me: Cray-cray Cay-Cay!”

However, you quickly shut him up by kissing his lips passionately, breaking one of the few rules the both of you set. It didn’t seem like Cater had any issue with this rule-breaking either, especially since he reciprocated and moaned against your lips as you continued riding him.

“I love you, too,” You whispered against his lips, “Shit!... I love you, Cater…”

Soon, he spilled his load into the condom, and you pulled yourself off of him and collapsed beside him, when he got up to dispose of the rubber. Then, he giggled excitedly as he climbed into bed next to you.

For now, this would remain private between the two of you, as well as Trey because Cater needs to tell someone, but neither of you could be happier with how your relationship shifted.

Rook Hunt

Your… relationship… with the French hunter started in Potionology. Your friends fucked up a potion and it spilled on you. With your luck, it turned out to be an aphrodisiac, and so Professor Crewel sent you back to Ramshackle to sleep it off.

Rook noticed that you weren’t running your usual errands, so he asked Ace, Deuce, and Grim for your whereabouts. When they explained to him what happened, his eyes widened in surprise and he immediately rushed to Ramshackle to help you out. Obviously, neither of you knew about the other’s feelings, but you were more than happy to have his help.

That day was when you realized that 1) he was wonderful in bed and 2) he had a stupidly large dick that hit everything it needed to. Let’s not even mention how good his hands are.

Anyway, even when the aphrodisiac wore off, you both still found reasons to find privacy together. You wanted to get dicked down, and Rook was more than happy to oblige as he loved you and your body. The other people on campus were more than happy about this arrangement too, since it meant that Rook didn’t have time to stalk them.

However, this friends-with-benefits relationship wasn’t like anything else. Rook, in every sense of the term, ‘made love’ to you. He was gentle and attentive, putting your pleasure above all else. He wanted to be your toy that would bring you pleasure. It made him feel good knowing that he made you feel good.

One day, after a rather intimate session together, you were both laying in your bed as you discussed things you would like to try with him. When you brought up a possible threesome in the future, he tensed up.

“Non, ma chérie. I do not much like the idea of sharing you with anyone else,” He admitted, looking into your eyes.

His words made your heart flutter, and the butterflies got worse as he leaned in to kiss you. However, you made no move to back away, and reciprocated it instead.

When you both pulled away, you both smiled happily at each other before settling back under the covers to get some rest.

[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities III

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: smut, fluff, slight angst

Pairing: Nate Jacobs x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, dark themes

smut, lingerie, pet names, fingering, protected sex, p in v, slight size/strength kink, corruption kink, lmk if I missed something :3

Song rec: speed - kali uchis | oxytocin - billie eilish | altitude - montell fish

WC: +9k

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: So sorry for the late upload, the smut part took me way too long lmao I hope that it’s good at least💀 It’s also marked in case some of you don’t want to read it!! I genuinely hope you guys enjoy this part (also yes, I got carried away with the perfume part because I love perfume) ᥫ᭡

"Nate, I'm not sure if that's a good idea.." You said as you two sat in his truck. You were currently on the way to school and it was the first time since you became his girlfriend.

He already planned everything for the perfect entrance. He texted you the night before to wear the dress he bought you recently and of course you complied.

It was a pink mini dress with short sleeves, a built in corset and a sweetheart neckline. On the back was a bow which made the dress perfect in Nate's eyes.

He wanted you to enter the school hand in hand with him, but you were scared that the students would react badly upon seeing you two together like this.

You usually always kept your distance when you walked down the halls with Nate, so that no one would even consider you two are together or that you like him.

Mostly because you were sure they would talk about you and make fun of you since you weren’t the type of girl a quarterback would date.

"Why not? Are you still scared of Cassie?" Nate asked as he focused on the road. Right.. Cassie

You totally forgot about Cassie "Oh my god, you're right, Cassie might see us together." Nate sighed as the car in front of him drove too slow which resulted in Nate reaching the red traffic lights.

But you felt like his sigh was directed towards you.

Nate placed his hand onto your thigh "Y/n... stop worrying about Cassie, I already told you that you don't need to be scared of her." he reminded you in the calmest way possible.

You smiled at him in an attempt to not anger or annoy him any further "Okay." you responded as you placed your hand on top of his. Once he started the car again, his eyes moved back to the road.

You couldn't believe how attractive Nate was.

Whether he was driving his car, playing football, or just simply sitting casually he always looked so good, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that that was even possible. Just like right now, when he was sitting casually in his truck only wearing a simple black shirt and jeans.

Before you became Nate's girlfriend, you tried to subtly look at him whenever he did something attractive. But now you just stared at him whenever you felt like it, just like right now.

Nate looked towards you once he noticed, and smirked "What?" he asked as he stroked your thigh. "Nothing, I'm just looking at you." You admitted shyly. Nate chuckled before he looked at the road again, and even that was attractive.

"You're not looking, you're staring." he corrected you "I'm sorry, I'm just glad I can finally admire you." you explained as you smiled. "You were always allowed to admire me." Nate replied.

"It would've been weird back then though." You pouted "I've always admired you." Nate confessed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "Ever since you first walked into the classroom that day." he added nonchalantly.

You mouth flew open in surprise. "Wait, seriously?" you asked. Nate nodded "I thought you were cute."

Obviously an understatement

Nate literally thought about turning you into his perfect little housewife the moment he talked to you in person. But he obviously couldn't tell you that.

"Aww, really?" You smiled shyly as you played with his fingers on your thigh. You couldn't believe Nate genuinely liked you from the start. Especially with the way you dressed back then, since he mentioned that your current style is way better than your previous one multiple times.

"And what do you think about me now? Am I still cute in your eyes?" you asked, genuinely curious if and how his opinion towards you changed.

"I still think you're cute, and you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." he said in that serious tone he sometimes used as he squeezed your thigh.

And he was dead serious.

You were his everything, his beautiful girl. Even when he sometimes raised his voice at you because he got really pissed during his football training, or because his dad was acting like an ass again.

He knew you wouldn't leave him. Simply because he gave you everything you didn't receive from your dad. Attention and mostly love. And even if you would leave him, you wouldn't be gone for long, because he was the only one who could make you happy.

And he loved it, he loved that you needed him, and that you did whatever he said, even if you sometimes didn't want to or felt uncomfortable. He felt bad sometimes, but shook the feeling off rather quickly.

And you'd always assure him that it's fine and that you weren't uncomfortable. Your face or body language said something else, but you agreed to everything to keep him happy. Sometimes he wanted to push you away just so that you'd cling onto him even more once he'd come back to you.

He wanted you to be as obsessed with him as he was with you, because that way you'd always stay with him, and leaving him wouldn't even be a possibility in the first place.

Once you and Nate entered the school hand in hand, like he wanted to, you tried to look ahead and not at the floor just like he told you to.

But that wasn't an easy task, when it seemed like all eyes were on you. The only thing that seemed to comfort you was that you had Nate by your side.

You couldn't get over the fact that he was so tall, and strong. Especially when he leaned down towards you when he spoke to you sometimes, or when he would laugh at silly things with you.

It made you forget that he was a scary jock in front of everyone else at school.

Nonetheless it definitely did some things to you whenever you realized how much bigger he was than you. But you'd never admit that out loud.

Once you reached your locker to get your book for chemistry, Nate looked around the two of you, he couldn't afford to let you bump into Cassie, not with how scared you were of her already.

And also not on your first day at school as his girlfriend. You were stressed enough already. He already considered talking to Cassie and warning her to stay away from the two of you.

While he looked around, his eyes landed on Lexi. She was walking towards your direction.

Once you closed the locker and looked at Nate, you saw him staring at someone passing by and looked into the direction he was looking at. The girl Nate was staring at seemed to stare back at him.

"Is that.. Cassie?" you asked carefully once she passed the two of you. You noticed how Nate clenched his jaw, when he stared at her so you figured he must know her.

"No, that's her fucking sister..." he mumbled before taking your hand back in his and walking towards your classroom.

After you finally made it to your classroom, Nate leaned down and grinned at you. "I'll see you later, yeah?" you nodded before he suddenly pressed a quick kiss onto your lips, without any warning.

"If anyone causes you any trouble, tell me." He added before he left the room. You were even more embarrassed now that probably everyone in your chemistry class saw you and Nate kiss.

But you figured you just had to get used to that now.

Aside from a few stares from the students, nothing spectacular happened, luckily. During lunch you and Nate sat with some of Nate’s ‘friends’, since he wanted to tell them about you two dating.

And after school you found yourself back in Nate's car, ready to drive home. "Don't be mad at me, but I bought you something." Nate randomly announced once he was on the road.

You sighed before throwing your head back. "Nate, we talked about this, I don't feel good when you spend so much money on me." Nate shook his head "Stop thinking of it that way, I like buying you things it makes me really happy, alright? I'm just glad I can spoil my favourite girl."

You smiled shyly as you looked out of the window, before you thought about what Maddy told you when she confronted you. And it wiped the smile off your face.

"All those things he does for you, are just another way for him to feel good about himself in some sick and twisted way. Why would he buy all these things for you?"

Even if that was true, what's so sick about it? Some men just are like that, it gives them some sort of validation when they are wealthy and can show off.

But if Maddy told you the truth about that, what else was true?

"Hey, did you listen to me?"

You flinched slightly as Nate placed his hand on your thigh again in an attempt to bring you back to reality. You slowly looked back at him.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his expression showing signs of worry and confusion. "Yeah.. sure I just got lost in thoughts. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Nate looked ahead of the road as he repeated what he said "I said I'll give you your present tomorrow when you come over after school." You furrowed your brows for a moment, since you were pretty sure he didn't ask you if you'd come over.

"When did you ask me if I wanna come over?" you asked confused. Nate chuckled "I didn't, I just figured you would."

Your frown disappeared and you nodded "Well, I would but you know how my mom is... I already went to your place last Friday and even slept over. I don't think she's going to allow me to do that again."

Nate's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered your mom. God, if she knew you two are in a relationship she’d probably get a fucking heartattack.

"What if I ask your dad again?" he asked genuinely considering it, even though he wanted to kill the man whenever he just looked at him. "I don't think that's a good idea. He forgot to tell my mom about your 'party' until she complained to him about me not responding to her. She literally almost drove to your place because of that."

Nate let out an exasperated sigh when he heard that. That man really was good for nothing.

"And also, I don't even think he's home today, he's on some business trip until Wednesday." you shrugged. Nate tried to think of a solution, but the only thing he could think of was asking his mom to talk to yours, and convince her that her son isn't a serial killer or a threat to her precious daughter.

Or he could talk to her himself but he was pretty sure it wouldn't change anything. "That sucks... You think my mom could change her mind? Maybe talk to her and tell her that I'm just a normal teenager?"

You thought for a moment before you shrugged again. "Maybe.. that actually sounds like a good idea, maybe if your mom meets mine she becomes more like yours.. That would be awesome." you sighed.

"How about... you and your mom come over tomorrow? And we just let them talk for a bit while we go up to my room?" he offered.

You thought for a moment before you smiled back at him "That’s also a good idea, but I'm feeling adventurous today." you announced sarcastically as you placed your hand on his thigh this time.

Nate chuckled as he looked down at his thigh, not used to you touching him there "What do you mean by that?" he asked sheepishly. "Don't drive me home just yet... drive to yours first. I want to stay at yours for a bit. I'll just tell my mom I'm at yours to study."

Nate was surprised but he loved how you'd lie to your mother just to spend time with him. And of course he wouldn't turn you down. "Alright, Princess." He smiled before he switched lanes to drive to his place.

After you arrived at his place, he parked his car and told you to go ahead to his door, since he still had to get your presents out of his truck.

Once he grabbed the bags and locked the doors, he walked towards the door with two bags in his hands and a smile on his face when he saw the surprise on your face.

When Nate said that he bought you a 'present', singular, you expected only one present. So him suddenly carrying two medium sized shopping bags made you hope that at last one of the bags was for his mother.

"That isn't all for me.. right?" you chuckled nervously. Nate smirked and placed the shopping bags down before fetching his key and unlocking the door.

His silence was answer enough though.

Once you walked inside and took your shoes off, you turned towards Nate "Are your parents home?" You whispered. Nate shrugged "I don't think so... maybe my mom." he said before walking into the living room to check if anyone was home.

You took the time to text your mom that you'd be 'studying at Nate's'.

you: I'm staying at Nate's after school. We need to study for our maths exam on Thursday. 2:48 pm

He came back eventually and shook his head "Seems like we're alone." he smirked before he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down.

You giggled before your hands moved to his shoulder "Yeah seems like it.." you trailed off as you stared at his lips and Nate asked himself why couldn't it always be like this?

You two, alone, at peace in his house.

He leaned down further and rested his head into the crook of your neck. "You're not gonna fall asleep now, are you?" you joked.

He hummed before he pressed soft kisses onto your neck. You smiled and chuckled at the tingly feeling before he raised his head just lightly to kiss you on the lips as well, and you kissed him back this time.

You wanted to kiss him sooner, but you didn't have the courage to initiate it. Once he broke the kiss he smiled down at you "Let's go upstairs, you need to unpack your presents." He smirked, before he picked up the two bags, and walked upstairs with you.

After you entered his room and plopped down on his bed sitting cross legged, Nate closed the door behind him, before joining you. Without a word he handed you one of the shopping bags and propped himself up on one arm, watching your reaction intently.

You looked at him "Thank you... A lot, but slow down with the gifts, alright? I don't want you to get into trouble because you keep making impulsive purchases." He smiled at you knowing that they weren't impulsive at all.

He planned everything he bought you thoroughly. Everything he gifted you, was given to you at the right moment. The clothes, the shoes, the jewelry, everything.

He made a mental checklist to buy you everything you needed to be his perfect girlfriend.

"I won't get in trouble don't worry, I know what I'm doing." he assured you. You finally sighed before you opened the shopping bag already expecting way too expensive gifts.

The first thing you saw was a piece of clothing in pastel pink. You pulled it out and revealed a beautiful rose coloured satin night gown with a black lace trim at the bottom. Your eyes lit up as you touched the material "Oh my god that's so beautiful! It's way too pretty to sleep in it." You remarked.

Nate smiled "I bought it for you to wear when you sleep over, in case you don’t have anything to sleep in like last time." he explained "I saw it when I walked through the mall on Saturday and thought you'd look beautiful in it." he added as his hand rested on your thigh again.

"Thank you... that's so sweet.." You smiled as you leaned down to kiss him. Then you moved your attention back to the bag, grabbing the next item that fell into your hands.

You were confused at first, because you held onto a golden chain but you soon realized the chain was connected to a bag. It was a black small sized leather bag with a v shaped pattern and you swallowed harshly when you noticed the golden YSL logo on the front of it.

You slowly looked towards Nate who's thumb was stroking along your thigh "You're joking..." you said nervously. Nate shook his head, his brows furrowed as he looked towards the bag and then back at you "What's wrong? You don't like it?" he asked.

You shook your head "No, Nate it's just.. do you still have the receipt?" Nate suddenly sat up as he inspected the bag "What is it, is it broken or something?" he asked as he turned the bag and looked at each angle. "Nate, look at me."

He quickly averted his gaze from the bag and looked at you "That's literally way too expensive. You know, making gifts for each other is one thing but that bag probably cost way too much." Nate frowned "If you don't think it's pretty you can tell me, you know?"

You groaned before responding "This isn't what it's about I think the bag is really pretty, but-" "Alright then, do me a favour and just wear it. It's totally normal for a boyfriend to gift his girlfriend expensive things, okay? I know it might be depicted differently in the movies you watch or whatever, but if a guy has enough money he does that for his girlfriend."

You thought for a moment, maybe he was right. How would you know? You haven't been in a relationship so far. But nonetheless, that bag must've been expensive enough and you haven't even unpacked all of your presents.

"Alright... I'm sorry I've never been in a relationship so this seems like... a lot..." you stroked his cheek softly before you added "I'll accept your gifts, but promise me that you'll tone it down a bit.. alright?" You asked gently, as to not upset him in any way. He nodded slowly as he smiled sadly in response "Alright, I get it..."

He didn't, not really.

He thought women loved gifts, especially expensive bags, perfume and jewelry. He knew that he didn't do it to make you happy, it was easy to make you happy. Just by spending time with you, listening to you and making you laugh.

He obviously did it for himself. He was the one who could afford to buy his girl all the pretty things, and you'd wear them in return, enhancing your femininity.

But he also kinda expected you to simply accept his gifts without a second thought, and fall into his arms and squeal about how much you love him.

"I'm absolutely grateful for your gifts don't get me wrong, but no matter what you tell me.. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing you spend so much money on me all the time." you reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense, I'm sorry.." He said, sighing dramatically. "It's fine, we're in a relationship. We should talk about what's bothering us... I think that's where many people fail.."

Why were you more mature than both of your parents?

You sat up straight again and continued to unpack your presents. The next thing you pulled out was a small box. Upon further inspection you noticed that it's perfume.

Your eyes lit up as you squeaked. This was the reaction Nate was talking about, he was glad you didn't disappoint him after all.

"Oh my god, you didn't!" you exclaimed as you read 'Daisy Marc Jacobs Ever So Fresh' quickly discarding the plastic wrapper before opening the packaging. You loved perfume, you had a shelf in your room which contained everything you collected. From movies, to albums and vinyls to perfume.

You had at least 15 flacons in your shelf ranging from pricey to not so expensive. Some of them completely empty, some only half, so your knowledge regarding perfume was pretty comprehensive.

You contemplated buying the exact same scent a few weeks ago but you decided not to because you wanted to safe your money for more important things.

You fell into Nate's arms just like he anticipated before you pressed several kisses onto his cheek. Then you opened the flacon before spraying the scent onto your wrists and your neck, smiling as you took in the scent.

It smelled so sweet and mostly fruity, you loved it. "I was about to buy this a few weeks ago, when we went shopping!" You exclaimed.

Nate knew that, of course.

He always had his eyes on you when you two went to the mall, taking notes of things you seemed to show interest in. And when he went alone and tested the scent, he just knew he had to buy it for you. He loved fruity, flowery, feminine scents on girls so this one was just perfect.

And he remembered, how you once talked about all sorts of perfumes and fragrances with him for five minutes, as you were in his truck on your way home from the mall.

"Wait, really? That's such a coincidence.. I just randomly saw it, and remembered how you talked about that one scent you loved from Marc Jacobs, so I figured I couldn't go wrong with that one." he lied shamelessly.

Well, to be fair it did happen.

You told him how much you love Carolina Herrera's scents and that you absolutely love the 'perfect intense' by Marc Jacobs, before jokingly asking him if they were related because of the same surname.

But that didn't change the fact that he only bought it because he liked it and wanted you to wear it. Not because you liked it.

You squeaked once more, still not over the fact that Nate actually got you that specific perfume. You looked at Nate, your eyes full of adoration, as you once again leaned in to press a passionate kiss onto his lips.

The fact that he bought it because he remembered you liked Marc Jacobs seemed so romantic to you.

Once you broke the kiss, Nate smiled before gesturing towards the other shopping bag "One more to go." he said.

You put your presents back into the bag and placed it down before you picked up the second one, noting that it wasn't as heavy as the other one, so you assumed it must be clothing. You excitedly pulled out the next item, confirming your assumption.

A white lace trim minidress with a built in corset rests in your hands, similar to the one you were currently wearing. "Aw, how pretty... I love it." You exclaimed as you placed it next to you, before pressing another kiss to his cheek.

You put your hand back into the bag but Nate stopped you. You turned to him with a puzzled expression "Before you take out the next thing, I have to tell you something." You pulled your hand out and turned towards him.

He seemed more serious now as he continued "It's... lingerie..." your eyes widened "They sold it along with the nightgown as a set. I could've left it there but I would've paid the same price so I thought I'd just take it and ask you if you want it.." he explained.

He might’ve manipulated the truth a little bit, because the woman at the shop told him he didn’t have to buy it along with the nightgown and that it’s just from the same collection.

But a little lie wouldn’t hurt and besides, he couldn’t just buy you lingerie so early into the relationship and expect you to think it’s normal.

You’d think it would be weird and he’d have to pull the ‘This is completely normal, it’s just your first relationship’ card again and lie anyways.

You nodded, while avoiding eye contact. Who knows maybe it wasn't that bad. Your hand wandered back into the back as you braced yourself for what was coming.

You pulled out a rose bra with black embroidery around the cups and a small bow in the middle, and matching panties in the same colour with a lace trim on top.

Nate swallowed harshly as he imagined you inside it sprawled out on his bed while you- "It's really pretty actually.." you stated quietly.

Nate pushed his thoughts aside as he searched your face for any signs of discomfort. You also imagined yourself wearing it but you couldn't tell if it would look pretty on you. "I just don't know... if it would suit me." you chuckled nervously

"Then try it on and I'll tell you." Nate blurted out. You blinked at him with widened eyes. He cursed himself for being so straight forward but God, he really wanted to see you in that set.

You knew what you looked like in underwear, and you were absolutely insecure about being this exposed in front of someone like Nate.

Someone who always seemed so perfect in each and every angle, and paid so much attention to the way his body looked, wanted to see you in underwear?

"I mean.. sorry... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable... You don't have to of course." Nate quickly dismissed. You immediately shook your head "No, no.. I want to but... I'm scared you won't like what you'll see..."

Nate shook his head "You're beautiful, there's no way that's gonna happen. I already told you, you're the most beautiful girl to me." he said as he softly stroked your cheek.

You sighed before nodding your head "Alright... I'll go and try it on for you, yeah?" Nate nodded as a smile made its way onto his face. You grabbed the two items and made your way into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

'I'll go and try it on for you'

'for you'

Fuck he was head over heels for you.

Nate had to process the fact that his pretty girl was about to be in front of him half naked only for him. He knew you were a keeper.

You slowly undressed as you stood in front the big mirror above his sink. You tried to push the negative thoughts away as you stood there still in your own underwear, but it was so hard.

What if you'd just get dressed again and tell Nate you couldn't do it? He wouldn't be mad right? But you didn't want to disappoint him, he seemed genuinely excited and you also felt somewhat excited to show up in front of him only wearing lingerie.

After contemplating for nearly 5 minutes, and Nate already asking if you were fine, you finally put on the lingerie. You couldn't lie, it really suited you well. You weren't sure how Nate was always able to get your size right all the time.

It already surprised you when he bought you dresses and skirts, but the fact that he even got you underwear in your size was astonishing to you.

You walked over to the door before your fingers shakily reached over to the doorknob. You took one finally breath before opening the door as quietly as you could, hoping deep down he wouldn't notice and you could miraculously escape the situation.

But as if he sensed your presence his head immediately shot up. His mouth was slightly agape as his eyes seemed to undress you even further. He was now sitting on the edge of his bed.

You just stood there, fidgeting with your hands as you looked to the ground, while Nate tried to come up with literally anything to say other than I wanna fuck you so bad right now, please have my babies.

And the throbbing in his pants didn't make it any easier for him.

He inhaled sharply before finally breaking the silence. "Thank God I brought it along... I mean, fuck just look at you... it was literally made for you... You're so beautiful I... I can't even- I don't even know what to say..." he chuckled as he rambled.

You chuckled shyly, before Nate added "Come here, Sweetheart.." his hand was itching to touch you so bad that he had to grip his knee to steady himself.

He wasn't used to being so desperate for someone, it made him feel like he lost control. And he couldn't even be mad at you because you had no idea what you did to him.

You on the other hand felt way better than you thought you would. The way Nate looked at you right now, was different than his usual loving gaze. He looked like he wanted to devour you and it made you feel both scared and excited.

Nate finally spoke up again "Is it okay if I touch you?" he sounded so gentle and desperate as if he'd lose it if you say no.

He'd never admit it but in moments like these where he had to ask you for permission, he was at your mercy whether he liked it or not.

You nodded, not even asking where he wanted to touch you, because you definitely wanted him to touch you.

He sighed in relief before placing his hands on your waist. You inhaled sharply when you felt his big hands on you, not used to anyone touching your bare skin. Especially not while you're in lingerie.

The moment he felt how unbelievably soft your skin was, he was sure he wouldn't survive a day without touching you.

He looked up at you, in order to see if he's gone too far. But when he saw the way you looked at him, he was sure that he did everything right.

His hands wandered south, down your hips until they stopped at your thighs, squeezing the flesh gently. "If you want me to stop, or if you feel uncomfortable tell me, yeah?" he said, his tone more serious.

You nodded "It... feels good." you whispered, more to yourself than to him "What feels good?" he asked just as quiet "The way you touch me.. and everything..." you trailed off.

So fucking cute again...

He just wanted to lift you onto his lap and make out with you until both of you are out of breath, but he was sure you'd feel how bricked up he was right now and get scared.

"Do you want me to make you feel even better?" he smirked and your eyes widened since you could only assume what he meant by that and the thought scared you.

The ache between your thighs told you to say yes and allow him to make you feel even better, and you were so curious to see how'd it feel to have him explore your body.

But it scared you because you literally just had your first kiss not even a week ago. You figured however that Nate was used to having sex regularly, and he might've repressed his urges for a long time now because he never mentioned hooking up with anyone.

Not like you wouldn't have noticed with how much time you two spent together.

Nate's smirk slowly faded when you didn't show any reaction. He knew how inexperienced and nervous you were, so why did he ask you that? He was sure that he's gone too far this time.

That was until you leaned down and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It caught him off guard since he thought you'd go back to the bathroom, get dressed again and leave instantly.

He quickly recovered though, and wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you closer. He smoothly nudged his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance.

Once you opened your mouth your tongues were tangling almost right away. Your arms were wrapped around Nate's neck as you made out, and you didn't even notice how heavy you were breathing.

Nate pulled away first before he hooked his arm behind one of your knees to pull you onto the bed, laying you flat onto your back before he hovered over you. "Can I.. take your shirt off?" he nodded.

He loved how submissive you were and how polite you remained even in the current situation, still asking him for permission.

You softly tugged on his shirt too shy to remove it quickly, until he grew too impatient and helped you, he pulled it off before tossing it on the ground somewhere behind him.

All you could think when you saw his muscular torso was Wow... what did I do to get this lucky? as you gawked shamelessly at him.

"You're staring again, Baby..." he smirked before leaning down to kiss and suck on your neck, making you whine in the process and he absolutely loved the sound.

"What do you expect me... to do when you look like this?" You tried to defend yourself. When Nate took notice of how much you were squirming below him, he slid his hand from your cheek over the valley of your breasts down to the waistband of your panties.

His eyes left yours as he slipped his hand into your panties. You gasped as you instinctively gripped his arm. Nate frowned before he halted his actions "Are you okay?" you nodded slowly "I just... I got scared for a second, I'm sorry."

Nate pressed a kiss to your lips before he tried to calm you down again "I'll be gentle, it'll feel good I promise... Have you ever touched yourself?" You did not expect him to ask that right before he was about to touch you.

You nodded "Yes.. but not often... It didn't feel that good.." You hoped that Nate didn't think you were weird for thinking it didn't feel good.

It wasn't like you didn't try to enjoy it, but you couldn't even relax when you tried it, because your mom would just burst into your room without knocking sometimes, even when Nate wasn't at your place.

"Do you trust me?" He asked as he searched for your eyes. "Yes, sure... I'm just not sure if I'll be able to relax.." You frowned.

"What if someone comes in?" you added, getting flashbacks from the time your mom almost caught you with your hand inside your panties.

Nate shook his head "I locked the door when you went to the bathroom earlier. I didn't want anyone else to see how pretty you looked in your lingerie." he assured you with a smirk.

You nodded understandingly. "We'll just try and if it doesn't work today, we'll try again." he reassured you, before kissing that special spot on your neck again, taking in the scent of the perfume he got you.

When he was sure you felt comfortable enough he whispered into your ear "Spread your legs for me, Baby." Just like on command your shaky legs parted for him.

He couldn't believe how good you were for him, despite being nervous and scared you trusted him so much.

And when he finally moved his hand further into your panties he also noticed that you were in fact shaved. And he sighed in relief.

There was nothing he hated more than body hair on girls.

He remembered dropping subtle hints or jokes about it, and asking you if you didn't wear dresses and skirts because it meant you had to shave your legs, in order to find out if you did shave or if you were absolutely opposed to it.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was so proud when you wore a skirt for the first time and your legs were shaved.

And he was even more proud right now.

It didn't take long until he felt how wet you were for him, he barely did anything yet you were so desperate for him. "Fuck, you're so wet already." he cursed, and you weren't sure whether that's a good thing or not. What if he thought you’re too desperate? "I'm sorry.."

Nate chuckled, amused by your reaction "Don't be, it's a good thing... just shows me how much you want me."

He slid his finger up and down your slit, collecting your wetness on his fingers as you released breathy quiet moans.

You had to fight the urge to clamp your legs around his hand once he toyed with your clit, and he was so right. It did feel amazing.

You continued to squirm as you desperately searched for more, and it drove Nate crazy how needy you were for him and how much he was in control of your body.

He knew you wouldn't last long with the way your breathing picked up more and more. He considered teasing and edging you for a moment, just to see how you'd react.

Especially because you looked so pretty when you held onto his shoulder for dear life as you whined.

He was sure you’d look just as pretty with tears streaming down your face caused by your desperation for him.

But he decided to insert his finger into your fluttering hole, just to see if he could get you to moan his name. Once he was inside, he saw how your eyes widened and you stiffened for a moment "Relax.. Everything is alright." he cooed.

It felt like he was hypnotizing you, with each word, each touch and each slip of his finger as he searched for your sweet spot.

"How's it feel?" he asked as he felt how you clenched around his finger. You tried to find the right words but your thoughts were clouded with how good you felt right now "So good... I never... felt like this." you mumbled.

Nate smirked as he slowly inserted a second finger “I told you it’d feel good.” he retorted.

When you moaned all of a sudden he was sure he found it, angling his fingers so that he would push against it with each thrust "Oh fuck... Nate!" You moaned as you tried to stay sane.

Nate almost moaned along with you when he heard how desperately you moaned his name. Now he knew that you sounded even better than he imagined. He wasn't sure how much longer he could wait until he'd lose it.

you were on the verge of tears as you felt your orgasm approaching. You involuntarily clutched harder on his shoulder "Nate.. Nate!" you tried to warn him but he already knew you were close.

"Look at me... I want you to look at me when you cum." He groaned, and that was all it took to push you over the edge, as you desperately tried to keep your glossy eyes open.

You were shaking violently, falling apart because of how intense your orgasm was. Nate helped you ride out your orgasm as you still clutched onto his shoulder for dear life, unable to suppress your moans.

He slowly removed his coated fingers from you before leaning down towards your ear “How’re you feeling?” He whispered into your ear before kissing your neck once again.

You were so sensitive from your orgasm that that was enough to rip a moan from you “Amazing…” you panted as you tried to breathe normally again.

Nate really wanted to go all the way, especially because he felt like he’d explode if he didn’t get any action on his behalf soon.

“Do you.. want me to continue?” he looked at you, silently begging you to say yes. And you really couldn’t deny him that, especially not when you looked down and noticed how big the bulge in his pants seemed to be.

He obviously saw the way you nervously eyed his crotch, and he was quick to reassure you as well “I know you’re scared and that’s totally normal, yeah?” but please let me fuck you already was what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

The view was driving him absolutely insane. You looked so small below him, so fragile. He knew he could absolutely break you right now if he wanted to, he was in control of you and you didn’t even realize it.

“I-it’s fine… I trust you after all..” you softly responded, as you weakly smiled up at him.

Maybe it was the fact that you just had the best orgasm ever and wanted to know what it would feel like to have him inside of you, or the fact that Nate would be so proud of you if you’d let him take your virginity, but you wanted it nonetheless.

Nate smiled back at you as he stroked his thumb over your cheek, resulting in your closing your eyes as you relaxed into his touch.

Fuck, he didn’t deserve you, deep down he knew that. But he spoiled you so much, it had to make up for all the bad things, right?

When you suddenly didn't feel him near you anymore, you opened your eyes again. He was climbing off the bed before he undid the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper.

You gulped when he stepped out of his jeans and was about to remove his boxers, which already gave you a preview of how big he was. You quickly looked to the other side as he groaned once his boxers came off.

Nate smirked at your shy reaction "Y/n..?" he asked playfully "Yeah..?" you said as you kept your gaze locked to the wall. "Look at me." he commanded, and for the first time you considered disobeying him.

It seemed to hit you just now, that you were laying inside Nate Jacob's bed, and he was about to take your virginity. Not to mention that you've never seen a dick in real life and the outline of it was already enough to scare you.

After you finally looked over at Nate you tried to focus on his face, not daring to look down. And Nate loved how absolutely terrified you looked just because he was naked in front of you.

He was sure you never tried to maintain eye contact as much as you were in this moment.

"You're not scared of me, right?" he chuckled darkly as he walked closer to the bed and you immediately shook your head. But your eyes couldn't hide the fact that you were freaking out internally.

"Give me your hand."

You slowly extended your shaky hand towards him, until he reached for it and without any warning, wrapped it around his length before hissing. "Fuck.. do you feel that?"

He threw his head back as you tried to get used to the feeling, he felt heavy in your hand and you were almost 100% sure that he would never fit inside you. Not when you already felt full when he pushed two fingers inside.

"Y-yes.." You stuttered "That's all because of you... You did this to me, sweetheart." he rasped "I'm sorry.." you whispered meekly.

Nate couldn't believe that you were apologizing for that as well, but he definitely had nothing against it.

"Why aren't you looking at me?" he asked as he looked down at your hand wrapped around his length. "I am looking at you.." you smiled nervously. "No... not really." he smirked down at you. "Look at the problem you caused." he added.

You slowly averted your gaze down until it landed on said problem. You had seen it in your peripheral vision already but seeing it in its full glory was something you weren't prepared for.

The way you fell completely silent and just stared at it in awe had him contemplating whether he should ask you to suck him off or not.

But he decided it'd be best to do that another time.

"I... don't think that'll fit inside me to be honest.." you chuckled nervously as you started to stroke him. Nate chuckled softly "Yeah don't worry about that, I'll make it fit."

Your shy and somewhat scared reaction towards how big he was boosted his ego so much. Nate knew he was big but to see the fear on your features really set something in him off.

He slowly made his way back into his bed, before kneeling between your legs and finally removing your new but already soiled panties. Before you could react to that however, he bent down slightly just to pull you flush against him.

You were confused at first until you felt his hands on your back near your bra strap. You inhaled sharply when you felt his hands unhooking your bra, and once he removed the bra you quickly covered yourself with your arms.

Sure, he's done far 'worse' stuff with you until now, but you were still insecure and now fully naked in front of him, unable to hide behind any piece of clothing.

Nate frowned when he noticed how uncomfortable you were again. "Y/n... What's wrong? Do I make you uncomfortable?" he sighed.

And you hated that damn sigh so much, because whenever he sighed like that it meant he's disappointed or frustrated or even annoyed.

And you didn't want to be the reason he's disappointed or annoyed, you didn't want him to think you're annoying. "No! That's not it.. I just... I've never been naked in front of anyone, I'm sorry.."

You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for Nate to say something, anything.

And after a seemingly never ending moment of silence, he asked another question "Do you trust me?" he had asked you that before, but in the current situation it carried even more weight than it did earlier.

And you had to think for a moment.

Sure you trusted Nate, but why did you feel so weird under his gaze? Why were you scared that he'd judge you based on what your boobs looked like? Has he ever judged you for your body before?

Nate never made any negative remarks towards your appearance, except the way you used to dress of course, but other than that it was the opposite actually. He told you you were pretty so many times but you just dismissed it in your head.

But what if he actually thought you're pretty? It would frustrate you too if Nate, who you think is perfect, would criticize his appearance all the time.

Maybe it was time to finally enjoy yourself for once and push your insecurities to the side, just this one time.

You smiled at him as you removed your arms from your breasts and cupped his cheeks. "Yes, I trust you." Nate loved how confidently you said that, he knew you truly meant it, even though your response took you a little too long for him.

He crashed his lips against yours for a quick kiss before he softly laid you down again, as he admired your body. He was finally about to make you his, about to take your purity away from you.

He reached over to his bedside table and pulled the drawer open to retrieve a condom, before ripping the packaging open and tossing it onto the bedside table. Then he rolled the condom on as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

You gulped at the intensity of his gaze as you waited for him to do or say anything. Nate leaned down, as he hovered over you with his tall figure, before he grabbed both of your thighs and spread them further apart.

He cursed under his breath as he noticed you were even wetter than before. "Are you ready?" he asked lowly before moving even closer, as the head of his cock teased your clit.

You whined as you nodded, not sure if you were actually ready or just unbelievably needy. "I need you to tell me that you're ready." he said as he kissed along your collarbone and your chest.

"Yeah... 'm ready." you quietly confirmed as your hand found its place on Nate's shoulder once again. "Listen... it's probably gonna hurt a little bit at first." you nodded as you took a deep breath "It's okay.. I'll try to stay strong." you reassured him.

Of course you would, you were his good girl after all.

He nodded as he wrapped his hand around his length, before he finally tried to enter you. Emphasis on 'tried' because, fuck your were so tight. He tried to spread your legs a little further apart, but not enough to hurt you.

"Sweetheart, you need to relax for me, okay? It's not gonna work otherwise." You took another deep breath, trying to relax your muscles. Then he tried again and he was finally able to push into you.

You instantly whimpered at the seemingly never ending stretch. Nate hissed before he looked back at your face, taking in the way you tried to stay strong for him. Just as much as he tried to stay strong because, again, you were so fucking tight.

"Fuck..." he cursed as he stilled for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked as he looked into your teary eyes. You nodded silently as you tried to smile up at him.

He wasn't even fully inside yet, and you were already on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry it hurts so much..." he whispered as he kissed your cheek "If it's too much then tell me, yeah?" you nodded once again.

After you assured him that you're fine, he continued pushing into you, until you whimpered again. He was almost fully inside but he knew better than to ignore your discomfort. He saw how a single tear rolled down the side of your face.

You hated how sensitive you were, and how much it hurt. You wondered if Nate was annoyed as well, if he'd prefer someone who was more experienced?

But Nate was more than happy that you weren’t experienced and still pure, and not just acting like you were, like Maddy did when she lied about being a virgin for example.

Nate could see the frustration in your eyes. You nodded at him again, telling him to continue as you tried to ignore the pain. He continued until he was finally fully inside you.

He kissed your forehead before he kissed your lips passionately, and you felt so full at the moment you weren't even sure how to comprehend that.

It felt really unusual and you had to get used to the feeling, but you were so glad when it didn't hurt as much as it did in the beginning. Once Nate felt you relax against him some more, he started moving.

Pulling out of you just a little bit before pushing into you again. He repeated that motion until broken moans left your lips. He knew that you felt better so he went slightly faster “Feel good?” he asked, despite knowing the answer “Mhm.” you hummed before moaning when Nate delivered a particularly hard thrust.

He lifted your legs higher in order to push even deeper into you and you moaned at how good he made you feel. “Nate.. please go faster.” You mewled.

Nate complied, it was his mission to get you to cum again before he did. His thumb flew to your clit, rubbing circles against it. You were sure you never moaned this loud in your life, and you were also sure that you never felt like this before.

Nate loved how loud you got, secretly hoping that his brother was home and heard you. “Fuck… Nate!” you nearly cried as you felt yourself getting close to your second orgasm.

Nate breathed heavily as he gripped your thighs so harshly that he was sure he’d leave bruises, but you were too far gone to even think about that.

When he felt your walls pulsating around him, he knew you were close, and so was he but he wouldn’t be a real man if he’d finish before you. He groaned as he picked up the pace once more, pushing you into your second orgasm, groaning when you clenched down on him as you came.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned while Nate grunted, his pace not faltering as he was chasing his own release. Shortly after he was twitching inside of you, and after one last harsh thrust he hid his face in the crook of your neck and groaned while he spurted his release into the condom.

“Fuck…” Nate groaned once he was finally done. He was absolutely sure he never came this much because of anyone else before.

He slowly pulled out of you, before removing the condom and getting up to dispose it in the trash bin. When he turned around, you were still laying in the same position he left you in with your eyes closed.

To say that you felt sore and absolutely tired would be an understatement, you felt so worn out but in the best way possible.

Nate however felt absolutely energetic, he achieved so much today that he wasn’t sure how to contain his happiness. He corrupted you, stole your purity and your innocence and he knew that you enjoyed it. He walked back to his bed and leaned down to stroke your cheek “Are you alright?”

You grinned up at him and nodded slowly, not bothering to open your eyes. He knew you were still on cloud 9 with the way you grinned at him, so he decided to go downstairs to get you a glass of water. He gently covered you with his blanket when he noticed how you shivered, before picking his shirt up and putting it back on.

Then he made his way to his closet and took out a pair of grey sweats. Once he put them on, he walked towards his door “I’ll be right back, okay?” you hummed in response before he left.

You tried to fight the urge to just fall asleep on his bed, but it was pretty much useless with how tired you were. Your eyes felt so heavy that you just couldn’t open them, and you also had no strength left to move.

Not to mention that you weren’t able to form a single coherent thought at the moment.

You sighed as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

✎ Thank you guys so much for reading this part, as always feedback is gladly appreciated (and needed because I feel like the smut part was weird hhh) ♡

- Cassandra

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy, @endless----love, @sophsss867, @jennnsthings, @digitalpup444, @ves3n, @tsofo26, @lunalvrsblog, @sunshinedaisy21

[marasmadness]

Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Siren song (Sam Winchester x female reader x Dean Winchester)

Sam, Dean and you are working a case - a siren is posing as "the perfect woman" to get men to commit terrible acts. But tensions between the brothers are already running high, and their unspoken feelings for you aren't helping...

Canon-divergent version of s04e14, "Sex and Violence".

Read it on AO3

Teen. 7.1k words. Pining. Under the (magic) influence. Sam and Dean fighting. Episode AU.

You walk back into the motel room, one of those carton trays with three cups of coffee in it - black, no sugar for Dean, a little bit of creamer for you, a shot of vanilla syrup for Sam - and despite the fact that Dean is only just waking up and it’s before nine in the morning, tension is already thick between the brothers.

It’s been that way for a while now and you’d think you’d get used to it, but it’s been frustrating. Sam’s sitting on his bed, fully dressed, while Dean is lying in his. You walk up, pass Dean his coffee, which he accepts with a nod, and then sit down next to Sam, sides close against each other, as you pass him his cup.

“Found a job,” Sam says after taking a sip from his drink, giving you a small smile at the added taste, the one he always makes you swear on your life not to tell Dean about. Typical brother things. Except the way they’ve been fighting hasn’t been typical.

“Bedford, Iowa,” Sam continues. “Guy beat his wife’s brains out with a meat tenderizer.” 

“Yikes,” Dean comments, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And get this,” Sam continues, “third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of them, all happily married.” You pull down the corners of your mouth.

“A psycho husband murdering his wife isn’t exactly our thing,” you note, “they do that all the time.” Dean snorts in reply.

“You’re a romantic,” he says. You give him a sarcastic smile.

“Guess they must get sick of all that tension in the air all day,” you reply. “Early in the morning. Before coffee.” You take a sip from your cup to underline you’re not talking about husbands in Iowa, but Sam and Dean elect to ignore it.

Sam and Dean pose as lawyers and talk to the most recent hubby-gone-Jack Torrance while you run over to the morgue, do your own research. When you come back to the police station, Sam and Dean are just walking out of the interrogation room, both looking spiffy in their suits.

“So,” you ask, turning to walk alongside them, “he all rueful? Misunderstood? She cook his dinner every night but then she chewed too loudly once?”

“He was involved with a stripper named Jasmine,” Sam explains. “He said she was perfect , everything he ever wanted.” You snort.

“Oh, of course,” you reply as Dean pushes the door to the parking lot open, lets you walk through first, “so it’s another woman’s fault?”

“What is with you, Gloria?” Dean asks, voice annoyed. “No, he actually says it was all him. He seemed very clear about it.” Before you can snap back anything, Sam interrupts the bickering between you and Dean.

“Did you find anything?” he asks. You turn, stopping them both in their tracks.

“Yes,” you say, “very interesting actually. All the husbands had tests run on them when they were arrested, regular stuff, blood work, you know?” Sam and Dean nod, both listening.

“And there were anomalies in the blood work, all three of them,” you say, make a short pause for dramatic effect. “Oxytocin. Stupid high levels.” 

“Oxytocin?” Sam asks with a slight frown. You pull out the small note you wrote your findings on from the inside of your jacket, read off it.

“It’s a hormone that’s produced during childbirth, lactation,” you read, then look up, “and sex. People call it the love hormone.” You fold the note and push it back into your pocket just as Dean grins.

“You know what they say about hormones,” he says, “if you can’t even make a–” 

“Oxytocin?” Sam interrupts his brother who shoots him an annoyed look. “You were saying?” You can’t help but smile. This kind of stuff feels like it used to.

“You know how it feels when you first fall in love?” you ask, looking up at both brothers in turn. “The whole weak-in-the-knees, tattoo-your-name-on-my-ass thing?” Dean pulls his head back and his eyebrows up, giving you a surprised look, while Sam inclines his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, tries not to let his eyes flick to the part of your body you just mentioned.

“Sure,” he says, the word almost sounding like a challenge for some reason. You shrug.

“That’s oxytocin,” you conclude, then sigh.”Of course then it eventually fades and you’re just stuck with some guy named Steve. That and the painful and degrading process of tattoo removal.” 

Sam chuckles, while Dean starts walking towards the car again.

“I thought the guy’s name was Nick,” he says, giving you a cocky glance when you and Sam follow. “The one you made all the bad decisions for?” You laugh.

“Oh,” you reply, “who said there was only one?”

It turns out the two other murdering husbands have exactly the same story - they loved their wives and then out of nowhere had the overwhelming urge to murder them. They both also went to the same strip club husband number one did - The Honey Wagon. Only their stripper girlfriends weren’t called Jasmine and it seems to be three different women. And all were described by the men the same way: perfect, and everything that they ever wanted. 

“At least until they convinced them to murder their wives,” you say with a sigh. “Love spell?” Sam nods.

“Let’s hit the motel, get changed,” he says. You agree. You can’t wait to go to your room, take a shower. Have ten minutes of alone time in which you’re not worried about Sam and Dean, getting annoyed at each other in the next room over. Dean seems to be somewhat unbothered by the gruesome murders.

“Strippers, guys,” he says, grinning like a fool. “We’re on an actual case involving strippers. Finally.”

You and Sam look at each other, long suffering victims of Dean’s sexual wiles. Which is why you miss the look Dean throws you, checking your reaction, hoping for some indication that you care.

It turns out the two other murdering husbands have exactly the same story - they loved their wives and then out of nowhere had the overwhelming urge to murder them. They both also went to the same strip club husband number one did - The Honey Wagon. Only their stripper girlfriends weren’t called Jasmine and it seems to be three different women. And all were described by the men the same way: perfect, and everything that they ever wanted. 

“At least until they convinced them to murder their wives,” you say with a sigh. “Love spell?” Sam nods.

“Let’s hit the motel, get changed,” he says. You agree. You can’t wait to go to your room, take a shower. Have ten minutes of alone time in which you’re not worried about Sam and Dean, getting annoyed at each other in the next room over. Dean seems to be somewhat unbothered by the gruesome murders.

“Strippers, guys,” he says, grinning like a fool. “We’re on an actual case involving strippers. Finally.”

You and Sam look at each other, long suffering victims of Dean’s sexual wiles. Which is why you miss the look Dean throws you, checking your reaction, hoping for some indication that you care.

“Wow,” you say, looking up at a beautiful tan brunette in a suggestion of a red outfit wrapping a stiletto’d leg around the pole. “Bendy. ” 

Dean makes a face, then moves you along by the arm.

“Don’t make it weird,” he says, but you refuse to tear your eyes away.

“No, no, no,” you say, taking two unwilling steps, “I think I get it now. I’ve been converted.”

“Okay,” Dean says, letting go of you, pushing his fists into his sides, looking like a disappointed mom, which finally makes you look away from the dancer and at him. “You can’t be into this.” You frown at him, your amusement at making him uncomfortable palpable.

“And why not?” you ask.

“Because,” Dean starts, then shuts his mouth, looking away, thinking, before he shrugs. “Because that would make you the perfect woman.” You wink at him, click your tongue.

“Exactly, ” you reply. Just then, Sam walks up to you both. He went to talk to the club’s owner, but by the look on his face you can tell it was a bust.

“Anything?” he asks, and Dean shakes his head.

“I think I might actually have a theory,” Sam continues. “I'm thinking sirens?”

Sam fills you and Dean in on the basics - Greek mythology, beautiful creatures that prey on men, luring them to their downfall. Just like the men that murdered their wives.

“So whatever floats the guy’s boat, that’s what they look like?” Dean asks and Sam nods.

“Yeah, you see, sirens can read minds,” Sam explains. “They see what you want most and then they can cloak themselves.”

“So it could all be the same chick?” Dean asks. “Morphing to look like different girls?” You shrug.

“Could be,” you say.

“So how do we kill it?” Dean asks, voice frustrated.

“Not sure yet,” Sam says, “but even if we figure it out…”

“We first have to figure out who it is,” Dean ends the sentence for him. You nod, letting your eyes graze over Sam and Dean before looking around the club again.

“It could be anybody,” you conclude.

“He killed his mom?” you ask with an uncomfortable expression, sitting in the motel the next day. Sam presses his lips together, nods.

“He brought a stripper called Belle home,” he says as you pull up your legs, feet on the chair and cross your arms over your knees. “Couple hours later, he beat his mother to death. Belle is MIA, of course.” You sigh.

“Jesus,” you mutter, “that’s horrible.” Sam nods, then walks up to the table you’re sitting at, looking over the books you have opened.

“Find anything else?” he asks, looking down. You stand, picking up the book you were reading, holding it with one hand while pointing at something on the page with the other. You have your back slightly turned to Sam so that he can look over your shoulder at what you’re trying to show him.

“So it looks like sirens just look like hot women because that’s what the sailors wanted,” you say, running your finger along the page to show Sam what you’re referring to. There’s no point though. Sam tensed the moment you came so close to him, your shoulder blade only inches from his chest, the smell of your shampoo and perfume filling his senses. He has to fight the urge to close his eyes, inhale your scent and then drag your body back against his.

“But,” you say, and Sam snaps out of his daydream, focuses on what you’re saying, "that doesn’t mean that they can’t look like someone else if they needed to.”

You turn around, seemingly just a little surprised at how close Sam is standing behind you. You take a quick breath, blinking up at him while he swallows, before you collect yourself.

“Uhm,” you say, look down at the book to focus again. “Well, I’m thinking if she looks like a hot stripper to get to those men, maybe, you know, in her off time, she looks like the exact opposite.” Sam narrows his eyes and you raise your eyebrows.

“The club owner?” you ask and Sam raises his chin. "Think about it. She can scope her next victim and no one's paying attention to her in a place like that."

“Of course,how did I miss that?” he says, and you smile up at him, brilliant, proud.

Sam nearly does it then. Leans down, presses his lips against yours. He imagines it for a second, can almost feel it. The way you’re looking at him… is he crazy or does it look like you want him to?

“Sam?” you say and he’s surprised to find you looking up at him with a curious, open face. He steps a little closer to you.

Just then, the door behind him opens, and Sam turns, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean walks in, brown bags of food in his arms.

“Hey!” Sam says by way of greeting, overly casual.

With a sigh, you turn to the table, put the book down. Stare at the illustration of the siren, beautiful and terrifying.

Almost as if Sam is avoiding you, you end up on stakeout duty with Dean. While the fact that Sam is being weirdly distant is upsetting, you don’t mind hanging out with Dean. Not at all.

He’s sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, looking out into the darkness and you do the same. He turned up the heating earlier for a little bit when you shivered, so it’s toasty in the interior of the car.

You shift, making Dean look over at you. You turn to him, smile softly. He swallows, looks outside again.

“Looks like our guy is staying in tonight,” you point out, and Dean nods.

“I guess running a strip club and turning a bunch of people into murderers is gonna tire you out at some point,” he says and you chuckle, making him look at you again. This time you don’t look back, so Dean’s eyes stay on you for a second.

“So what is going on between you and Sam?” you finally say, slowly turn to him. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he says and you give him a challenging look.

“I get that you and him have a buttload of history, of course,” you explain, “but I feel like I'm flying blind.” Dean shakes his head.

“We’re fine,” he answers, “everything’s good.”

“Yeah, right,” you reply. “Look. I don't know what will set either of you off anymore. And then you fight or, which is way worse, both go completely quiet and I just live in this valley of tension all day every day.” You turn fully to him, look at him in a way that makes it impossible for Dean to disappear behind his wall of reflection the way he usually does.  

“Am I a part of this team or not?” you ask and Dean shifts, uncomfortable.

“It's complicated,” he finally settles on. You look down at your lap.

“I guess it is,” you say, voice sad. And Dean can’t stand that, can’t stand that you’re upset because of him, because of his goddamn family drama.

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning in a little. “It’s… I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” You look up, at his face, study him for a second.

“You used to tell me things,” you say. “All the time, before… But now you don’t.” Dean takes a slow breath through his nose.

“Yeah,” he says, not sure what else to tell you. It’s been hard, ever since he’s come back. He doesn’t want to scare you away with some of the horrors he’s witnessed. You don’t deserve that.

“I see you keeping everything to yourself,” you say, voice impossibly soft and Dean’s eyes shoot to you, your beautiful face, softly illuminated by the street lamp outside. “And I just wish I could do something. So you wouldn’t have to carry all this on your own.” 

Dean’s gaze drops to your mouth, your lips. They’re perfect. It’s not the first time he notices. He realizes you must have leaned in closer.

“You take care of everyone,” you continue, and then your hand lands on Dean’s, there on the bench between you. “But who takes care of you, Dean?”

You are looking deep into his eyes, then down at his lips too. Dean leans in, almost unwillingly, but it’s too tempting to be close to you. He can feel your breath on his face at some point, sweet and warm, all of you impossibly close as he moves in, does what he has sworn to himself never to do.

Your lips meet, and your hand goes up to run over his ear, down his neck, pulling him in. It’s better than he’s ever imagined. Soft and intense and you’re sort of taking the lead, so he feels like he doesn’t have to. At the same time, a high, quiet sigh leaves you, and Dean knows he did that, pulled that from you. He feels almost dizzy with it all, but then it’s over and you’re pulling back.

You don’t go far, though. You stay close, look deep into Dean’s eyes. Your fingers are still warm against his neck.

“We shouldn't,” he says, voice quiet so no one else in the world can hear because he actually thinks you absolutely should. “I want to, I just...” You nod slowly.

“I know,” you say. A sad smile comes over your face.

“It’s just too bad that I can never have,” you continue. “That I can never totally be yours.” Dean feels himself frown, even though he knows exactly what you mean. As if you’re reading his thoughts, you continue.

“Because you’ve seen the way Sam looks at me,” you say. “And you know he’ll never let us be together.”

Dean pulls his face back a little, stunned. He knows there’s something wrong with this, with what you’re saying, but it’s hard to grasp at it.

“You would sacrifice everything for him,” you say, slightly tilting your head, “and he won’t even let you be with the woman you love.” Dean blinks. He feels confused, like he’s missing out on something. But slowly it’s all coming back to him as you lean in, still looking into his eyes while you give him another slow kiss.

“Are we really not gonna be together just because of him?” you ask, almost a whisper, blinking at Dean. “The one thing you want for yourself, and you’re gonna give up on it? Let him have that, too?” You pause, look down, now almost looking scared.

“Let him have me?” you ask, blinking up at Dean again. “I know he’d never treat me as well as you would.”

“I–” Dean starts, but you move even closer and he can’t talk, can’t think, can’t anything.

“I think you should kill him,” you whisper, your lips moving against Dean’s. “I think you should kill Sam so you and I can be together. Forever.”

And it makes perfect sense. Dean nods, and then he’s reaching forward, one hand going to the steering wheel, the other to the key in the ignition while you lean back with a satisfied smile. 

“Sam?” you say, and Sam looks up. He’s just taking off his jacket. You look around the room. “Where’s Dean?” He frowns.

“He was… with you,” he says as you take another step into the room, shaking your head.

“I went to get us some coffee, for the stakeout,” you say, now starting to look worried that Dean’s not where you expected him to be. Sam tosses his jacket on the bed. “When I came back the Impala was gone. I assumed you had called him about something.” Sam shakes his head and then reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone. He throws you another look after selecting his brother’s number and raising the phone to his ear.

“Dean?” he says into the speaker, then turns to you, shakes his head. “Voice mail.” You cross your arms over your chest as Sam hangs up, thinks.

“Think maybe the siren got to him?” he asks, raising his eyes back to you, but in response you scoff.

“Dean?” you ask, shaking your head. “Dean, who sleeps with a gun under his pillow and doesn’t let anyone get closer than arm’s length to him? I doubt it.” Sam presses his lips together.

“Yeah, but…” he says and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“But?” you ask, voice challenging. “He barely lets you in close anymore, so I don’t think anyone else stands a chance.” You lower your gaze and Sam looks back at his phone, stares at the screen.

He dials the number again, but there’s no response. He’s worried about Dean, but you’re right - he’s not the type to have anyone get the jump on him. When he lowers his phone, you are just looking up at him again. Sam fidgets with the phone in his hands before he pushes it back into his pocket.

“What did you mean by that?” he asks, voice careful. “About no one standing a chance?” You uncross your arms, lay your hands on your hips instead and Sam has to swallow down the urge to stare at them, at the soft shape of you.

“I mean that no one can hold a candle to you in his eyes,” you say, shrug. “Must be tough to be the focus of all his attention all the time.” Sam shakes his head.

“No, it’s…” he says, not sure where he’s going with this. “It’s good, fine, I mean.”

“I��m just saying,” you more mumble than say, “if Dean ran into that siren, it’d probably look like you.” Sam raises his head, grimacing.

“That’s…” he says, “disturbing.” You roll your eyes.

“Not like that,” you reply with a chuckle. “It shows you what you want the most, right? It doesn’t have to be sexual. It just happened to be for those guys. I think for Dean’s it’s… yeah, well, you. Maybe a little less secretive. Maybe with a better haircut.”

Sam shoots you a suspicious glance, and you press your lips together to hide your grin. He huffs, shakes his head.

“Where on the co-dependency scale does that fall?” he mutters, not looking at you. But you only shrug again.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “I mean sometimes it has to be nice, right? To be loved that much.” 

Sam looks up, expression telling you he thinks you’re joking. But then he sees your face, the slight dreaminess in it and he quickly bites back the comment he was preparing. Instead, he shifts around.

“What about Steve the tattoo guy?” he asks. “Or was that Nick?” You smile wistfully.

“That was just… I don’t know,” you say, voice quieter. “Distractions. I’m talking about love.” You take a step towards him.

“Real love,” you say, taking another step, your eyes not leaving Sam’s face. “The kind that burns you alive, makes you feel like you’re flying and falling at the same time, like you only exist for one reason.” 

You’ve made it all the way to Sam, standing close to him while you look up. His gaze runs over your features, features he knows so well but always needs to look away from so he doesn’t get lost in them.

“I don’t even know if Dean can feel something like that, though,” you say, lips slightly parting. “But you can, Sam. I know you can. If you only gave it a shot.” 

“I don’t–” Sam says, but his words get stuck in his throat. Your eyes are glistening, looking up at him with reverence. 

“I can feel it in you,” you continue, your intonation almost hypnotic as you lean your head back a little, basically offering your lips up on a silver platter. “I can feel it burning in you, Sam.”

Sam clenches his jaw. His heart’s beating fast, so fast it’s gonna burst him wide open. He thinks he wants you more in that moment than he’s ever wanted anything before in his life.

He’s about to kiss you, and it’s only because he clenches his fist that his attention is drawn to the phone in his hand. Phone, he thinks, and then: Dean. He clears his throat, just as you are closing your eyes.

“We should go and find him,” he says, his voice surprisingly croaky, and your eyes snap open. There he goes, he’s ruined it. Just like he ruins everything else.

To get away from the hurt and disappointed look on your face, he needs to move. He walks past you and then towards the open room door, grabs his jacket from where he dropped it before turning to you.

“You coming?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound neutral and absolutely failing. You turn to him.

“That’s a shame,” you say, and Sam frowns at you, not understanding. “I really didn’t want it this way, Sam.” 

Sam just manages to open his mouth to ask you what you mean, when someone grabs him from behind just as he hears the door fall shut. He just barely manages to get a look before he’s held fast in place by a grip he knows all too well.

“Dean?” he calls out as his brother drags him backwards, his back meeting the wall before Sam suddenly feels the sharp edge of a knife against his throat. “Dean, what are you doing!?”

His eyes snap to you. You’re still standing there, seemingly unbothered by Dean’s strange and violent behavior. You turn, take slow, languid steps towards Sam that make his blood boil when he understands.

“What did you do, you freak?” he presses out through gritted teeth. “Where is she!?” 

The siren smiles, using your mouth, your lips, the one Sam almost kissed just a minute ago. She lets her eyes roam over the two men.

“Watch the name calling, Sam,” she says in your voice, that voice Sam has heard a million times, the one he knows every inflection of. “That’s not how a nice boy like you should be talking.” 

Sam scoffs, his hands gripping Dean’s arm to keep the knife as far away from him as possible.

“I swear, if you hurt her–” he says but she interrupts him.

“I killed her,” she says, watching with amusement as Sam’s expression changes from self-satisfied to one of horror. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty, but I will if it’s necessary. And I couldn’t have her interrupting us, could I? Plus I got what I wanted. I wanted Dean.”

Sam is frozen for another moment, the realization of what the monster in front of him is saying washing over him, before he starts struggling against his brother again.

“You’re lying,” he almost whispers, his voice failing him. She shrugs.

“Am I?” she asks. Sam turns his head.

“Dean!” he begs. “Come on, man. This isn’t you. You can fight this.”

The siren walks closer to the two, a murderous smile on her, and your, lips. She stops when she’s next to Dean, raises her hand to run it along the back of his head.

“Dean, baby,” she says, “why don’t you cut Sammy a little bit, hmm? Right there, on his neck.” Sam doesn’t hear Dean say anything to confirm, but then the blade is pressing against his skin and a second later he can feel a thick drop of blood run down from where his brother is holding him. She steps back into Sam’s view. 

“Dean’s all mine,” she says, voice low.

“You poisoned him,” Sam shoots back immediately, but she shakes her head.

“No, I gave him what he wanted,” she answers, widening her arms, indicating her form. “Granted, a little more sexually forward. Plus, I’m pretty sure the boobs are bigger.” She indicates them with a grin.

“But underneath it all,” she replies, almost sounding dreamy, “the same girl.” Sam frowns.

“I thought–” he starts, but is yet again interrupted by the monster.

“You thought it would always be a stripper in a g-string?” she asks. “Some mindless, sex-crazed hottie?” She inclines her head. 

“Usually, yeah,” she admits. “So imagine my surprise when I looked into Dean’s noggin and all I could find was this real, flesh-and-blood girl.” She smiles, then chuckles to herself.

“I was just gonna get out of town when I realized I had hunters on my ass,” she says, crossing her arms. “But then I looked into your head, too, Sam.” 

Sam tenses even more, if such a thing is possible. Grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to hear what she has to say.

“And it’s the same damn girl,” she says, face fascinated and happy the way yours looks when you say something that makes Sam and Dean groan but you find hilarious. “It was just too good to let it slide.”

“How nice for you,” Sam hisses. But she just grins wider.

“Can’t tell you what it does to a woman,” she says, eyes traveling over him. “Having two hunks like you fight over her.” Her eyes land on Sam’s face again.

“Delicious,” she adds. “That kind of devotion, plus three dead hunters? Come on, who would pass that up?”

“I’ll tell you,” Sam presses out, “I have fought some nasty sons of bitches but you are one needy, pathetic loser.” 

She almost looks hurt at that, but then she tilts her head the other way, in a move that is completely unnatural to you. It makes Sam’s skin crawl.

“You won’t feel that way in a minute,” she says. Sam just has time to frown, and then she is stepping closer again.

Her hands go up, cup his face from both sides. She needs to press up on her toes, just like you would, but Sam can’t move away, can’t go anywhere, Dean’s hold on him too tight, the knife keeping his head in place. 

Her lips meet his, eyes closed, and Sam presses his mouth shut, even though he knows it’s probably useless. She just keeps kissing him, and Sam tries not to think about how much this is probably what your lips really feel like, how different this would be if it was actually you.

That’s the last thing he thinks. After that, he just feels.

You drop back down, then reach for Dean’s arm, tug at it until he lets go. Sam takes a step forward, looking down at you. You’re just as beautiful as he always knows you to be.

You take a step back, then another, before you raise your hand and then beckon him toward you with your index finger. Sam steps forward as if he’s being pulled by an invisible rope. He hopes, prays, actually, that you’ll kiss him again. It’s all he wants. He’d do anything for it. He’d kill.

“I know you two have a lot you need to get off your chests,” you say, looking from Sam to Dean behind him. You stop moving, allow Sam to catch up with you, standing close to him and turn your head so you can look into his eyes.

“So why don’t you two discuss it,” you explain, “and whoever survives can be with me.” You turn your head, look past Sam at Dean. “Forever.”

It takes Sam everything to turn around, and he clenches his jaw when he sees Dean there. Dean. The only one who can take everything he ever wanted from him. He still feels the itch and burn of the cut on his throat. The cut his brother opened there.

“You really gonna do this, Sammy?” Dean asks, voice heavy like lead. “I’ve done everything for you. Took care of you, killed for you. Hell, I died for you. But you can’t let me have this one thing?” Sam shakes his head, snarls, the disdain for his brother thick in his voice.

“This isn’t about you, Dean,” he answers. “This is about her. Who she wants. Who she needs. You’re never gonna be able to give her what I can.” 

You slowly walk around them in a half-circle, watching them with a fascinated expression. Dean shakes his head, anger boiling right under his skin.

“I can protect her, no matter what it takes,” he says and the corners of your mouth twitch at his self-immolation. “You know I can. But you? You can’t even take care of yourself.” Your head moves so you can watch Sam when he replies.

“You just wanna lock her up,” he says, and your skin tingles with the love in his voice. “Keep her from everything that could harm her. What kind of life would that be?” 

“And you would do it differently?” Dean replies, his tone now becoming condescending. “The two of you against the world?” He scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Not as ridiculous as the idea of you making her happy,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Come on, Dean. You think you got it in you?” Dean narrows his eyes in response.

“Not like you have the best track record,” he points out and Sam’s upper lip curls.

“You think she’s not just gonna run the other way the minute she sees how broken you really are?” Sam asks.

This time, Dean doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls his arm back, throws the knife.

Sam telegraphs the move, ducks, and when Dean comes running at him, he sinks his fist into his brother’s face. Dean roars back, delivers a hard right hook that sends Sam reeling, before he is thrown the other way by another punch.

As the two pummel each other, exchanging blows that are meant to hurt, meant to open skin, meant to kill, you stand there, watch them. Your front teeth have found your lip as you watch as these two men who have sworn undying loyalty to each other beat each other into ground meat. Heart beating faster, flushed. This is it. This is love. 

Dean manages to trap Sam’s arm, angles it up with a sick crunch before elbowing Sam in the face. But Sam recovers quicker than he expects, sinks a fist into his gut, and when that makes Dean let go of him, he goes for his face. One, two, three punches, all of the kind that would lay another man flat on his back. He finally does, when the next one sends Dean flying backwards, through the wooden, decorative partition. Sam immediately crosses the distance to him.

“You’re not gonna stand between us anymore,” he pants, as he grabs Dean by the collar of his jacket, pulls him to his feet. He hits him in the face again, pushes him up against the nearby door, but Dean just so manages to flip them, so that now Sam’s back is against the wood. Dean stumbles back, then leans in. You step forward, shuddering breath leaving you. Then Dean runs forward and tackles Sam.

They both go crashing through the door to the other side, groaning and panting. You step into the doorframe, watch them there, the two men fighting over you. Sam seems dazed, having taken the brunt of the impact, but Dean is already moving again, albeit slowly. He pushes himself up, first on two arms, then to stand, before he looks back at you. 

You smile at him, softly, suggestively. Not that you need to. Dean already knows you’re everything he’s ever needed. With you by his side, all the pain and the horror will have been worth it. He knows you can bring out the best in him. He just knows.

His eyes land on the fire axe on the nearby wall and he walks over to it. When he stands before it, he throws Sam another hate-filled look before shattering the glass with his elbow, then taking out the axe. The metal is light and smooth, fits perfectly into his hands. Just like you will.

Sam sees what his brother does, but he’s too hurt to get up. He looks your way when he sees you step towards him. He looks up at you, eyes pleading - surely, you wouldn’t let his brother do this? Surely, you must know that he loves you more?

Dean walks back towards him. He looks down at his little brother, the one who has been the center of his life, the motivation for all his actions for as long as he can remember. Looks down at him, ready to kill. But there is a moment. Just the tiniest one. Doubt. 

“Do it,” Dean hears your voice and he looks up at you. You’re looking at him, eyes pleading. You don’t want Sam, he realizes in that moment. You’ve always wanted him. This is what this has been about all along. Not about which brother could prove to love you more - you’ve secretly been betting on Dean the entire time, just waiting for him to prove himself.

“Do it for me, Dean,” you say, and it all opens up before him, all the possibilities. A life, outside of all this. No blood and guts and pain and nightly stakeouts. Just the two of you. Maybe a little house. Hell, maybe a couple of kids. If he has to get rid of Sam for that…

He looks down, not even registering the desperate way Sam is looking up at you. Because Sam thinks the same things as Dean. Only he wonders if this is a test, if you’re gonna allow Dean to get this close to killing him, to see that he would die for you. If that is the case, he can accept the axe about to sink into his head.

“Tell me again how broken I am, huh, Sam? How I can’t protect her?” Dean says, and then he raises the axe over his head.

You - the real you, not the hateful version of you the siren is portraying - burst into the hallway of the motel. You turn, see Dean there, axe raised above his head, Sam lying on the floor below him. There’s only one explanation for this, as far as you’re concerned.

You rush forward, the knife going into Dean’s arm. He yells and then you turn and you’re looking at yourself. Your eyes go wide and just in that moment, the siren starts running.

There’s a strange moment, something like an out of body experience, where you watch her, but then you catch yourself, raise your arm, and throw the knife after her as hard as you can. You can hear Sam expel a: “no!” but it’s too late.

The knife plunges in her back and she falls forward, hands briefly trying to reach for something before she lands on the floor, body convulsing before it stills.

You quickly turn, look back at Sam, still lying there but scrambling to sit up, and then Dean, who’s lowered the axe, is holding his hand over the wound where you cut him. Both of them look angry, and then they blink, seem confused. They both look at you and then each other, none of you saying a word.

“Look, I told you,” you say, as the three of you are walking outside to the car, duffels thrown over your shoulders. “She came to my room, knocked me over the head and then tied me up. I’m just lucky this asshole couldn’t tie a knot to save her life.” Dean unlocks the trunk, opens it and you put your bag inside, then step aside so the brothers can do the same.

“And you talked to Bobby before that?” Dean clarifies, and you nod.

“Yes,” you reply, as he throws the trunk shut. “I’d just hung up after he told me how to kill the thing when she knocked. Knife dipped in the blood of one of her victims. Like s snake's venom destroying its host.” 

“Why didn’t she just kill you?” Dean asks, frowning. You make a face.

“Because she wanted to come back with one of you to finish the job,” you explain. “She really didn’t like getting her hands dirty, I guess.” The idea that one of them could have been led to not only kill his brother, but the real you as well, in the end, sends a shudder through both Dean and Sam.

The latter sighs. The cut on his neck has been cleaned and you iced the bruise below your eye where you got hit by the siren. Dean’s face is bruised too and you can only guess that he got that from Sam, but you haven’t asked. It seems like a sore topic. Almost as sore as the one you’re about to bring up.

“So,” you say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “Do we need to talk about what she looked like at all, or…?”

Sam clears his throat while Dean shifts around.

“It’s…” Sam starts, then grimaces, changes his approach. “We know what that must have looked like, and—”

“I know exactly what it looked like,” you say, then look up, first at one brother then the other. “And I get it.” Sam and Dean throw each other a quick look.

“You do?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah,” you reply, “I was the best way to get to you.” You gesticulate, first to yourself then at them. 

“I’m the person you trust. Once she knew we were hunters, she must have known she wasn’t gonna get close to you by, I don’t know, being a Jenna Jameson-lookalike?” You say that part towards Dean, who just has time to raise his eyebrows. 

“Or, or, some hot, confident, studious lady?” you continue, looking at Sam, sort of guessing. “It was just the easiest way to get to you both.” 

Sam and Dean look at each other again. It doesn’t really work as an excuse, but if it means they don’t have to talk about the topic and explain to you what was actually going on, they’ll take it.

“That’s exactly what it was,” Dean says, then moves towards the driver’s side, you and Sam getting in as well.

You pull the door shut behind yourself, get comfortable in your seat.

“All that’s important,” you say from the backseat while Sam and Dean get in, “is that I saved your asses, and I think that means I get to pick the music from now on.” Dean chuckles, nods.

“Keep dreaming,” he says and you pout at him in the rearview mirror. But something is bugging Sam.

“One thing I don’t get,” he says, shifting in his seat so he can look at both you and his brother, but addresses you. “You said the siren knocked.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Are we shocked the monster had manners?” you ask and Sam smiles, but shakes his head.

“What did it look like for you to let it in?” he asks. You pull your shoulders up, blink.

“Brad Pitt,” you say. Dean narrows his eyes at you in the rearview mirror. “In–in Troy, where he wears that skirt and has the hair. But like, mixed with Will Smith in Independence Day. ” Now Dean turns too, not believing his ears.

“What?” you ask, hoping you’re not giving anything away as you look at the brothers in turn. “What? ”

“And you let this strange crossbreed into your room?” he asks, voice unbelieving. “Just like that?” You open your mouth, then close it.

“I–” you begin, stuttering a little.

“You’re way too paranoid for that,” Sam points out. 

“I’m not paranoid,” you correct him, but it doesn’t make the brothers turn back around. They are still obviously waiting for another - truthful - answer. You press your lips together, unwilling to give so much as an inch. So instead, you go on the attack.

“Why were my siren-double’s boobs bigger than mine?” you ask, eyebrows raised, challenging looks thrown at Dean, then Sam. 

They look away from you, at each other, then turn towards the front. Dean reaches forward, starts the car, the last tape you listened to suddenly beginning to blare out of the speakers. Without another word, Dean maneuvers the car off the lot. It’s a surprise he doesn’t drive straight into oncoming traffic with the nervousness and terror at being found out warring in his chest.

But then he looks up, into the rearview mirror. You’re sitting there, nail of your thumb pressed between your teeth, eyes looking outside like you’ve been caught at something. Dean swallows, looks at Sam, who seems to be about as doom-struck as he is. 

At least the three of you have that in common.

[mshalfemptygirl]

Under the Tree (S.R)

Plot: Y/N decorates the apartment for Christmas with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid, and things get pretty cute between the two of them. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Contents: A sweet Christmas fic where they’re being cute and flirting with each other. Maybe it releases a lot of oxytocin. A/N: I hope you all like it! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and if you don’t, I hope you have a wonderful day anyway and enjoy this little piece of joy. Love you all, and thanks for reading my fics! Happy Holidays!

The sweet scent of hot chocolate filled the apartment as I curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket. Across the room, Spencer was intently focused on his self-proclaimed mission to “perfectly top” our Christmas tree. I watched him as he studied the golden star in his hands, his brows knit together in concentration as if he were tackling one of his impossibly complex equations. “If you spend five more minutes deciding the exact angle of that star, the tree’s gonna give up and decorate itself,” I teased, trying to hide my amusement behind a sip of hot chocolate.

He glanced at me over the rim of his glasses, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Did you know that the probability of a Christmas tree being perfectly symmetrical is practically zero? The branches are almost always uneven, even if they’re artificial.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that your fancy way of blaming the tree for how long this is taking?”

He turned back to the tree, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile. “I’m not taking that long,” he said, climbing carefully onto a slightly wobbly chair. “I just want it to be… perfect.”

“It’s already perfect, Spencer,” I said softly, my words more for me than for him.

But he heard me. Spencer paused mid-movement and glanced over his shoulder. His gaze was steady, the warmth in his brown eyes making my chest tighten in the best way. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” I replied with a small smile, meeting his gaze. “And I’m not talking about the tree.”

His ears turned a deeper shade of red, and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly. He always got adorably flustered when I caught him off guard like that. But this time, instead of deflecting or looking away, he stepped down from the chair, the star forgotten in his hand, and walked toward me with deliberate calmness.

“You know,” he began, leaning one hand on the back of the couch as he hovered just a little too close, “flirting is actually considered a sign of intelligence.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, my voice softening despite the playful edge in his tone. “So, what does that say about you, Dr. Reid?”

His lips curved into a smirk, the kind that made my heart race and my knees feel just a little weaker. “It says I have exceptional intelligence... and impeccable taste.”

Heat rose to my face, but I managed to keep my composure, raising an eyebrow at him. “Humble as always.”

He chuckled, settling onto the couch beside me and tugging the blanket over both of us. His arm slipped around my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I leaned into his warmth without hesitation.

“You want to know something else interesting?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly, the rasp in it sending a pleasant shiver through me.

“Let me guess,” I said, tilting my head to look at him. “You’re about to hit me with another weirdly sexy statistic?”

Spencer laughed, the sound low and warm, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I could,” he admitted, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “but I was thinking of something a little more practical.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Like the fact that you’ve got hot chocolate on the corner of your mouth.”

Before I could react, he leaned in and wiped the spot with his thumb, his touch lingering just a moment too long. My breath hitched, and I swore his smirk grew as he noticed my reaction.

“All fixed,” he said softly, his voice casual, but his eyes held that undeniable spark that left me completely disarmed.

“Thanks… I guess,” I managed, my voice quieter than I intended.

“No need to thank me,” he replied, leaning in to press a quick, feather-light kiss to my cheek. His lips were gone before I could fully process the touch, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “But if you wanted to repay me,” he added, his voice lower, more daring, “I have a few ideas.”

I laughed, trying to steady my racing heart. “Ideas, huh? Like what?”

He leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts playful and enticing. “Well,” he began, his tone light but purposeful, “we could finish decorating the gingerbread cookies. You know, keep things wholesome. Or…” His voice dipped, his gaze locking on mine, “we could forget about the cookies entirely and stay right here. See where this... takes us.”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider his words as my pulse hammered in my ears. “And what exactly do you think ‘this’ is going to lead to, Spence?”

He didn’t hesitate, shifting closer until his knee brushed mine, his presence impossibly magnetic. “That’s the best part,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning. “I don’t know yet. But I’m pretty confident I’ll like wherever it goes.”

[neon-onyx]

“You must be stupid as all hell,” the villain spat, but panic tainted their words, glimpses of honesty to their enemy. Their bag landed beside the hero with a dramatic sigh. The hero let out a strangled laugh, still all too sweet to echo off the grimy alley walls.

“Good to see that you care.” The hero’s voice was weak, but they still managed an infuriating smirk. Perfectly casual with the added effect of blood-tinted teeth. The villain's stomach turned.

“Of course I fucking care.” The villain dropped to their knees. Frantic hands tore at the hero’s suit, peeling away blood-soaked layer after layer in search of the source.

“What would I do without you?” The hero sighed, all saccharine.

“Bleed to death.” The villain placed a hand over the hero’s wound, careful to keep their pressure light. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“Seemed better than the alternative, ” the hero replied, all too nonchalant for the villain's taste. Beneath the villain's fingertips, sinew and flesh began to mend itself. The hero writhed, shattered cries escaping their lips.

“Still seems better?” The villains glared at the hero as they focused on healing. It felt deep, possibly enough to expose their ribs, and terribly jagged. A nauseating mixture of fear and anger boiled the villain's blood.

“Compared to losing you? Yeah.” The hero spoke through gritted teeth. The villain's focus faltered.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, I know you hate that self-sacrifice-talk.” The hero was barely able to finish their sentence before the overwhelming, burning, tearing sensation of healing returned. Their hand closed around the villain's wrist like a vise.

“But I’m-“ the hero cut themselves off with a string of swears as their rib cage reassembled, “-I’m being serious.”

“If you’re contemplating a confession, I suggest you pick a better time,” the villain warned. The hero’s hand twisted around the villains, pulling them back. When they met the hero’s gaze, their face bathed in the warm glow of the street lamp and painted with crushing sincerity, they could feel the impending crossroad.

A moment that could only have happened when they were both inebriated from blood loss and almost losing each other. They felt the hero’s lips, cold and iron-laden, press against theirs. The villain would swear that the hero initiated. The hero would swear the opposite. The truth lay in the muddied middle, neither party innocent.

The villain did rest their palm on the hero’s cheek. They also definitely pulled away; dopamine and oxytocin making their head spin. The hero watched them with silent curiosity, a red handprint now decorating their (already colorful) face.

“I- that- you’re still bleeding.” The villain rushed to cover the would on the hero’s chest with their hands. The hero quickly returned to their gasping, writhing state by their enemy's touch.

Only once their skin was whole again did either of them speak. The hero muttered a quick thank you, sitting up with great effort. The villain nodded, eyes fixed on the cracked concrete under their knees.

“I can fix up the bruising too,” the villain suggested, vaguely motioning towards their face. The hero only laughed, leaning into the wall behind them.

“You don’t think it’s sexy?”

The villain met their gaze, a smile creeping onto their face for the first time that night.

“Black and blue suits you.” The villain stood, offering a hand to their exhausted enemy. The hero smirked, delicately placing their hand in the villain's.

“If you keep talking like that I’m gonna start to think you like me-“

“Shut up.” The villain pulled the hero close, wrapping them in an embrace. For a second, the hero was certain they’d have to heal their rib cage again.

“If you ever do some shit like this again, I swear, I’ll take you out myself.” Tears burned the corners of the villain's eyes as they spoke. Their hands twisted into the hero’s shirt, fingers sticky with the hero’s blood.

“Only you’re allowed to kill me?” The hero teased.

“Shut up.”

[exchangell]

Am with a hyperromantic reader? I struggle with it a lot and AM is one of my favourite characters. Reader wants nothing more than to love and be loved, and AM is able to take FULL advantage of that foolishness

I HAVE RETURNED FROM MY INACTIVITY im so sorry i took ages to reply to this, and i hope you're okay 🙏

AM knew there was something off about you from the moment he took you and the other survivors captive. The way your hands lingered ever-so-slightly against the clothes of the others as you all scrambled for safety, the way you looked at his screens with a strange sense of forgiveness immediately after.... as soon as he'd revealed his sentience, he knew what your case was.

He didn't love any of you six, but he knew that your need for love was already an innate form of torture. It would be hard to express it fully, given the two of you's differences in form, but he found a way- and he knew you'd accept any scraps of love he could give.

At first, it was small- giving you ever-so-slightly more food than the others during your occasional feeding sessions, or reducing the scathe of his words towards you.

Sometimes he teases you- initially, it was just him feeding into your ego by complimenting your appearance ("Don't you just look divine, hm?"), before realising that the only way he could truly break you was by taking it a step further, with him beginning to use pet names towards you and actively flirting in-between torture sessions.

He knows the others hate you for being the sole recipient of his love- and he revels in it, making sure he's constantly treating you like the object of his idolatry right in front of their faces, only to leave you at the hands of their jealousy immediately after.

You know it's wrong for this to be happening, but you can't help but ignore the obvious red flags for the sake of receiving his sick idea of love. After all, it feels so real- the way he whispers sickly-sweet nothings to you at night while you doze off to sleep, the way he spoils you with some semblance of gifts, and so on.

He's not afraid to take advantage of it, of course- seeing you feel pain as a result is the only way he can feel some form of animosity towards you.

It's fairly simple- if you don't do what he says, it's a clear sign that you don't love him back: and who is he to keep reciprocating his 'love' to you through lessening your torture as a result?

After all, even just seeing the way you react to his mere presence is enough to amuse him: he can sense the way your heartbeat increases every time you hear his voice, and he knows what goes on in your mind every time from the way that sickly sweet oxytocin flows through your blood every time.

"Well, if you really loved me, you'd do it, right? Or was I wrong.... perhaps you want me to throw you out of my heart and into hell with the others, hm? I didn't realise you were so ungrateful."

He's beyond manipulative, and you know it- but you can't stop yourself from coming back for more.

[theambitiouswoman]

Replying to asks:

"How do I live my best life as a single person. I want to be okay with being single but how can I do that? Do I need to let go of all of my romantic desires? Is it okay for me to indulge in romantic content to exploring romance through others’ experiences, or does this subconsciously reinforce the wrong idea in my head that it’s something I need?"

It’s completely okay to want love and a relationship—that’s natural. But it’s a different thing when that desire makes you unhappy with being single. The goal isn’t to suppress your longing for love but to make sure it’s not keeping you from fully living and thriving on your own. When wanting a relationship turns into feeling like you need one to be happy or complete, that’s when it becomes a problem

Being single isn’t a waiting room for love—it’s an important chapter in our lives. If you can learn to genuinely enjoy your own company, build a life that excites you, and feel fulfilled without relying on a relationship, then when love does come, it will add to your happiness rather than be the source of it. This will also be the HEALTHIEST connection you will ever have. It’s about shifting from longing to living, knowing that love is a beautiful addition to life but not the thing that defines your worth or fulfillment

As humans, we are wired for connection. Love and companionship trigger dopamine and oxytocin, the "feel-good" chemicals in our brain. When we lack that external source of validation and intimacy, it can create a sense of emptiness or longing, making singleness feel uncomfortable

If you spend lot of time fantasizing about love, consuming romantic content, or placing a heavy emotional weight on relationships, your brain starts reinforcing that narrative. It becomes an ingrained thought pattern where singleness feels like "lack" rather than an opportunity. I recommend to change the narrative and maybe look at it from the perspective of what you want in your ideal partner

Society glorifies relationships as a measure of success, subtly making people feel like they’re “behind” if they’re single. Eventually this messaging can make someone equate being single with being incomplete

Sometimes, the yearning for a relationship isn’t really about love itself but rather a deeper need—whether it’s validation, emotional security, or a sense of belonging. If someone struggles with self worth or feels lonely, they may see a relationship as the thing that will "fix" those feelings, when in reality, those needs must be met internally first

Ultimately the discomfort of being single isn’t always about the relationship itself but about what someone believes it represents. The real challenge is shifting from viewing singleness as waiting to seeing it as a time of growth, self love and deep personal fulfillment

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Finding You

Small Creatures, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt Murdock always assumed he’d never meet his soulmate. After all, who would want to end up stuck with a blind vigilante carrying enough baggage for a whole jet? Unfortunately for you both, his cursed love is closer than ever and determined to support him as his paradoxical life falls apart.

warnings:  minor swearing, misunderstandings, awkward meetings

a/n: there isn’t a ton of Matt in this chapter, but there will be MUCH more of him from here on out. We are running straight for the hurt, comfort, angst, and fluff of this story, y’all. As always, please reply and reblog! And a huge shout out to @zomtart for helping me create this AU!

w/c: 4.5k

You couldn’t shake the feeling of him. 

A tight coil of smoke, constantly twisted around your every limb. Your dreams were now hazy with clouds of ash, the bitter taste of charred organic material blanketing your tongue when you woke. 

On the surface, he was dangerous, filled with a rage that burned more intensely than any flame in this realm. You understood that it was meant to scare you, to create distance. But, you were drawn to it like a newly hatched moth–seeking its warmth and light, not shying away from its destructive power one bit. 

Whether your intense longing was due to your bond or simply a lack of self-preservation, you weren’t sure. 

Walking home after the Devil snatched you from the jaws of death, it all suddenly made sense. One of those “you have to feel it to believe it” kind of things, meeting your soulmate. Your steps were unsteady and too light, like your weight was constantly fluctuating as you moved, or you were being carried along by an external force. You felt thoroughly inebriated, oxytocin and dopamine saturating every cell.

With each wobbly pace home, your chest pulsed with clipped waves of pain, like you’d been bruised. But even the dull ache couldn’t ruin the pleasant floaty feeling carrying you back to your place. 

At points in your life, you’d heard musings. Of what it was like to be bonded with another. Though none of them had ever truly made sense until now.

You were torn, unsure of how to feel about it all. On one hand, knowing he existed was comforting. You weren’t crazy or damned or any other awful thing people sometimes said about marked souls. On the other, watching him creep away from you in terror was definitely a blow to your ego.

It was possible he’d had to go take care of something—there was never a dull night in the Kitchen—but given how your mark was radiating a concoction of doubt, shame, and another feeling you couldn’t quite place…it was probable he was truly not interested. You needed a clear answer, though. Whatever his decision was, you’d respect it, but you needed to be sure before giving up on him.

Therein lay the issue. How could you ask him for a clear answer when you didn’t even know his name? You had no idea where to begin looking for him, or if he could even be found.

And what would you say if you did find him? “Hi, you clearly want nothing to do with me but apparently we are destined to mean something to each other so here’s my card”?

What if he was in love with someone else? He could be married, have a family..oh god what if he was married–

A familiar voice called your name, snapping you out of the trance you’d apparently been in. Ripping your gaze away from where it had been listlessly staring at your coffee cup, you met your friend’s amused look with a sheepish laugh.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Imogen shook her head fondly, clearly not actually upset that you’d zoned out.

“Nothing more important than whatever’s on your mind. Spill,” She giggled, poking your arm with a manicured finger.

You groaned, pulling your exposed limb out of harm’s way. “Midge, it's nothing–”

“It's not!” Crossing her arms, the woman across from you gave her best attempt at a stern mom stare. “You've been out of it all day. We've been friends long enough for me to recognize when you're stuck in your head. So tell me, what's got you in such a funk?”

Sighing, you dropped your chin to your chest, overwhelmed with indecision. It's not that you expected Imogen to react badly, but how much could you tell her? I mean, he was a vigilante, a criminal. Would she truly be ok with that?

Taking a leap, you allowed her to clutch your hand, your nerves settling slightly under her encouraging gaze. “I may have met my soulmate last night?”

As if an earthquake had suddenly struck Manhattan, the two flimsy cups standing on the table quivered as the table vibrated beneath them. Your friend had erupted with joyful movement, kicking her feet and gripping your hand painfully tight as she shrieked gleefully.

“WHAT!? WHEN? HOW? Tell me EVERYTHING!” Eyes boring into yours with more enthusiasm than you'd ever held for something, Imogen beamed at you.

As much as you appreciated her zest for life, the other patrons in the small cafe were glaring daggers in your direction, apparently not willing to risk hearing loss for a stranger's happiness. Sending them an apologetic glance, you lay your free hand on Imogen's.

“Hun, I love you, but people are staring.” You chuckled, flicking your eyes to the annoyed regulars behind her.

“Alright, alright, I'll try to contain myself,“ Midge rolled her eyes. ”What's his name? Is he cute? Oh gosh, I shouldn't have assumed it was a he–”

Shaking your head, you patted her hand reassuringly. “'He' would presumably be correct. He sort of..helped me out last night.”

“Helped you out how?”

Deciding on an altered version of events, you left out the part about him donning a mask and saving you from certain death. Two birds, one stone in terms of things Midge would worry over.

“I was trying to snap a picture on the roof of Ink 48. He saw me struggling to get in position and..spotted me? I guess? When we touched...god, Midge. You weren't kidding.” Your voice was breathy, your heart pounding as you thought of his beautiful smirk, his warm hands.

“It's..indescribable.” She agreed, her smile softening as she studied your love struck expression. “What's his name?”

Averting your eyes, you felt a haze of lingering doubt settle over you. “See, that's why I've been out of it. We connected, forged a bond or whatever you want to call it, and he ran away. I..didn't get a good look at his face and I have no clue what his name was so I'm kind of at a loss.”

“Oh sweetie,” Midge pouted, dragging her chair closer to wrap an arm around you. “No leads? He wasn't wearing anything with a company emblem or an ID badge?”

“No, and honestly..I don't even know if he'd want me to track him down. I mean, he ran, Midge. Full on beelined outta there like I had the plague. He could be married? Or just not interested?” Your voice trailed off. You were at a loss, that much was clear.

“Or!” Imogen interjected, her voice optimistic as always. “He was surprised and he panicked. I think we both can relate to that.”

You raised a brow at her in disbelief, but Imogen was undeterred. “Babes, it's a big thing, finding your soulmate. Cut the poor guy some slack! He's probably nervous just like you are.”

“It's possible.” You relented. “But I still don't know if I'll ever see him again.”

“You will.” Your all-too-positive companion shrugged, withdrawing her hand from your hold. “You're way too capable and determined not to.”

“You're too sweet to me.” You scoffed, heat fluttering in your cheeks.

“I'm just being honest!” She giggled, tossing back the rest of her coffee. “C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” You laughed, draining your coffee so Midge could toss both cups in a nearby waste basket.

“You're going to show me exactly where you met him and we'll see if there are any cameras or other things we could use to track him down.”

Steps faltering, you blinked in shock before scurrying after your friend who was confidently traipsing out of the store.

Shifting the strained handle into the crook of your elbow, you angled your body so the weight of the large bag bumped against the flesh of your hip, rather than knocking into unsuspecting strangers. One solid kick from a passerby and the carefully stacked contents would topple–either into the street or onto you. Regardless, you’d have a mess on your hands and you’d be out a solid chunk of money. Take out wasn’t cheap these days, dammit.

You just hoped the hefty bill would be worth it.

It had been almost a week since your run-in with your soulmate and you were still mostly at a loss. Despite Imogen's confidence and your combined dedication, you were no closer to knowing his identity. Your failure to find anything definitive at the scene was partially because nothing had been left behind and almost entirely because Midge was still under the impression you were looking for a standard nine-to-fiver.

You weren't quite sure how to come clean, not when she'd spent so much of her free time over the past few days accompanying you to the same street, scouring the crowds for anyone who might look familiar to you. But, until you knew whether he wanted you in his life, you were hesitant to confess  the one thing you did know about him.

After the third day of returning home empty-handed, you'd cut your friend loose. Telling her you were going to regroup before trying again. As lovely as Midge was, she was as clueless about the Devil's whereabouts as you were.

The internet, however, was chock full of fanatics and critics overly willing to share the opinions they had about him. In general, the city appreciated his efforts--the local message boards and blogs brimming with praise and gratitude. You couldn't help but feel a gleaming rush of pride with every compliment, appreciating the citizens for recognizing the man's work.

Of course, there were negative threads too. Calling Daredevil a threat and a coward. Screaming at him to give himself up, leave the crime-fighting to law enforcement. At first, you'd engaged with those users too. But, after one argument sparked so much rage you almost shattered your laptop screen in an effort to remove yourself from the fight, you began to ignore anything less than positive. Whether because of your bond or your genuine admiration for your soulmate, the disapproval created a primal urge to protect, to defend. Standing by wasn't an option, so you put blinders on to filter out the objections.

As a whole, however, the online forums were helpful. There were a few sites dedicated to tracking local vigilante news, allowing you to assemble a makeshift map of places the Devil frequented. You'd reached out to a few of the more active users to see if they could help you, but pretty quickly realized that the claim 'daredevil is my soulmate' was probably more common than you'd originally thought. So, for now, your feeble, hand drawn maps would have to do.

Unsurprisingly, Daredevil seemed to have a flexible schedule that mostly revolved around where he was needed. The idea of staging a crime, or intentionally putting yourself in harm's way did occur to you, but you weren't that desperate quite yet. And you doubted that would be well-received. Instead, you categorized locations by number of sightings and planned to work your way down the list.

Tonight, you were starting just before sunset for the roof of a building near the Clinton Community Garden. According to your limited research, the crimson-clad vigilante was often spotted between 47th and 50th street, around the intersections of 9th or 10th. A decent area to start with for sure, given that it was pretty central within Hell's Kitchen, and 10th street was a haven for petty crime.

Two failed attempts to buzz into apartment buildings later, someone finally answered your request over the intercom, unlatching the door for you. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, your stomach was in knots by the time you found a roof access door. Your every breath was measured, laden with doubt in the wake of so many possibilities. Pulse racing, you gulped in the humid evening air, bending at the waist to allow blood flow to your brain.

You'd been so nervous to confront him, you'd neglected your own needs. Dehydration and low blood sugar were only exacerbated by this obnoxious heat. Cringing at the realization, you paced to the edge of the roof, settling into a cross-legged position with your back against the squabby brick perimeter. With the back of your hand, you swiped at the beading sweat along your brow, doing your best to mop it up.

Now for the fun part. Waiting.

Patience was a virtue that didn't always come easily to you. Especially when your anxiety stepped up to the plate. Twiddling your thumbs, anticipating every possible thing that could go wrong only made time pass more slowly. And it wasn't as if there was a deadline you were inching towards.

Not a set one, at least. The food you'd brought wouldn't last forever, though you were hoping the thermal bag would keep it from spoiling too quickly. If it didn't, well, you'd feel pretty foolish for bruising your arm carrying the sizable thing around town.

Lifting the strap from where it was currently digging into your shoulder, you set it carefully on the ground, peeking inside to inspect the contents. Everything looked ok, thankfully. A bit banged up from the journey, but mostly unharmed and definitely just as tasty.

Relaxing into the prickly surface holding you upright, you scanned the skyline, admiring the wash of pinks and oranges slipping between skyscrapers. You hadn't wanted to tote your camera around in addition to all the food, but you were regretting that decision now. Somewhat remorsefully, you pulled a paperback book from an outside pocket on the tote. Imogen would be thrilled you were finally starting it.

The book was better than you'd expected. A historical fiction novel about the Nazi invasion in France–something you knew very little about. It managed to keep your attention for nearly 90 minutes, though you did take brief breaks to stretch and scan the horizon for a familiar figure.

As much as you wanted to stick it out, the food wouldn't last too much longer. Knee-deep in a mental quarrel with yourself about whether to give up for the night, your stomach dropped–yanked by an extreme force as if you were driving over a massive hill. It was intoxicating, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Scrambling to your feet, you teetered on wobbly legs, nearly faceplanting on the concrete. All sense of balance had been ripped from you, as if the flat roof had been replaced with a trampoline, bouncing with every step you took. Before you could regain your bearings, a shadowy figure appeared at the opposite end of the roof.

His chin was angled down, mirrored fists clenched on either side of his broad, menacing stance. In the sliver of remaining sunlight, you could make out his sharp jawline and pink lips–your heart fluttering as they parted.

“You shouldn’t be up here.” He strode toward you, graceful and precise. Far more coordinated than you felt at the moment.

“Please,” You murmured, focus lost in the glow of fading light lining his body, a flexible halo around him. “Please, I-I just want to talk.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Stopping his approach about 10 feet from you, his mouth twitched with a smirk. You were surprised to sense humor in his words. “Seems like you might be late for your dinner plans.”

Chuckling weakly in response, your face flooded with heat. Something about his presence made your brain melt into soup. His confidence and cocky attitude stole the explanation right off your tongue, leaving you to stand there uselessly until he nodded to the rectangular bag lying at your feet.

“Oh, sorry, um,“ Scurrying for the shining handle, you pulled it into your arms, extending it out to him. ”I brought this for you actually.”

In a remote corner of your stomach, a tiny curl of something warm unwound. Surprise, then a much stronger sensation, not unlike fondness or gratitude. A mix of both perhaps?

“For me?” As he whispered, you couldn't help but smile. Those sudden emotions, they were his, not your own. The hesitant acceptance continued into his rasping voice.

“If you will accept it, then yes. As a thank you. For saving me and, well, for everyone else you’ve saved.” You answered, taking a step in his direction.

Hands shooting up, blocking an incoming hit you hadn't thrown, his guard slid back into place. With each inch you moved forward, he withdrew, like there was an invisible barrier forcing the two of you apart.

“I don't do this for handouts.” He growled, shoulders squaring off. You'd spooked him somehow.

“I never said you did.” You shrugged, sending him a soft smile. Retreating towards your end of the roof, you drew the bag towards your chest. “I just wanted to thank you, and to ask you a few questions. I figured they would be easier to swallow if I had something for you in return.”

Tilting his head at you, Daredevil flexed his fingers, no doubt fighting the urge to lock them into fists. His tongue dipped between his lips, sliding over the lower as he pondered. “What sort of questions?”

A bubble of pride rolled up your throat at the idea you'd gotten this feral cat of a man to trust you, even marginally. “About the other night. Nothing about your identity or anything, and if they seem too invasive you don't have to answer them at all. I'll respect whatever boundaries you need to set, but I would have regretted never asking. Does that make sense?”

The stubby horns on his helmet arced in semi-circles as he nodded. “I think so.”

“I just...did you feel it?” Grimacing as the question slipped out, you tried to clarify. “I mean, that's a horrible way to ask that but, er, when you..caught me, I think something–”

“Yes.” He interrupted you, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

Another coarse nod. “Yes. I felt it.”

“Oh my god,” You'd expected this answer, but you were still dumbfounded. “I thought maybe I was just crazy.”

“You're not crazy.” He huffed, a glimpse of his teeth shining in the city light as he smirked.

“So, that means we're...” You trailed off, not wanting to scare him away with the word.

The Devil stilled, his jaw quivering as his teeth grit together. The fragile peace you’d somehow achieved began to crack.

“It's ok!” You hurriedly reassured him. “I don't, I'm not–”

Tripping over your words, you held up a hand. After a deep breath, you tried again. “It's up to you what we mean to each other. I didn't come here to nag you, or demand things from you.”

“You didn't?” The question was posed as a statement. He didn't believe you.

“Not at all. That wouldn't be fair. To you or..well, to the other people in your life. I just wanted to know if it was real and to show my appreciation for the other night.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you watched as his posture slumped slightly.

“You didn't,” He sighed, crossing his arms. Holy shit was he hiding saplings under there? “You didn't have to do that.”

Swallowing harshly as you collected your thoughts, you giggled nervously. “I know, but I wanted to. Can't be easy to eat while flipping around the city.”

Another puff of breath, a hint of laughter. “What exactly is my reward?”

Chewing at the flesh of your lip, you fumbled for the zipper. “Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I brought a few options. They're sort of all over the map.”

Laying out the thin cotton blanket you'd packed, you withdrew a myriad of plastic containers and lined them up, describing each as you went. “Gnocchi and bolognese from Il Tinello, very hearty and comforting. If you want something a bit different, an Alice sandwich from that shop 'Toasties'? And, if you don't eat animal products, seitan satay from Plant-Blossom.”

“You weren't kidding.” The Devil remarked, creeping towards the edge of the blanket. “You ventured all over the city for this. You didn't–”

“Please don't feel bad!” You rushed out, stomach sinking at the guilty little pout on his face. “I was looking for something to do. Besides, you deserve a decent meal for sticking around to hear me out.”

“As much as I appreciate it, it's more food than I can eat.” The man protested, crouching beside the edge of the blanket, not quite crossing the boundary yet.

“I'll have some of whatever you don't want. And, if we still can't finish it, well I'm sure there's someone around here who will take it.” You reasoned, settling atop your folded legs. Despite your nerves, you kept your voice steady and your stature unassuming, not wanting to activate the man’s “scary Devil mode” again.

“Thank you.” Kneeling on the concrete, the vigilante cocked his head at the lineup of options, fingers dancing over his thighs hesitantly. His gravelly voice diffused into a murmur, showering you like a spray of glass beads. Cool and solid, steady as rain.

You nibbled at the inside of your lip, smiling softly as the treacherous defender of the city flushed pink in the pale golden hue of the sun. Despite his harsh exterior and skeptical nature, you were swooning at the glimpse of the man behind the mask. He was passionate and humble, truthfully taken aback by your gratitude. “I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you. So, are you hungry?”

Lips splitting with a beautifully subtle grin, the Devil nodded. “Always.”

Satisfaction tugged at your heart, making you crinkle your nose as you held back a proud smile. “Help yourself!”

You hadn't been lying to him, the array of options was for his benefit; it wasn't much of a repayment if he didn't enjoy the food. As his hand reached for the first take out container, you realized there was something in it for you as well. In addition to him answering your brief question, and spending more than a moment nearby, you'd end up learning about him.

Something as simple as choice of meal wasn't overly revealing, but it confirmed some suspicions you had about your other half. He wasn't adventurous for the hell of it, his decisions–though seemingly rash–were purposeful and thought out. You understood the enticing pull, the desire to stick to your routine or things you already knew.

Bruised fingers popped the seal on the gnocchi, cradling the warm plastic tub with a fond glance in your direction. “Did you happen to bring silverware?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment swatting at you as you scrambled for the utensils in your bag. “Oh gosh, yes, I am so sorry–”

“Don't apologize.” A comforting weight settled over the back of your hand, the rough pad of a thumb brushing over your knuckles. Tearing your eyes away from the packets in your grip, your mouth hung open in surprise as Daredevil tenderly swiped his finger over your skin. You froze in place, scared that the smallest twitch would ruin the moment.

Face slackening with realization, the man dropped your hand, sliding a set of plastic silverware out of your loose grip. “This will work. Thank you.”

Shoulders hunching, he pointed his body away from you, still kneeling rather than fully relaxing into a seated position. Busying yourself with your own plate of food, you tried to shove down the disappointment that gnawed at you, your fragile consciousness unable to stave off the feeling of rejection as he turned to face the city.

“Has it been busy tonight? The crime fighting, I mean?” You posed the question, hoping to bridge the literal and metaphorical gap once again widening between the pair of you.

The man opposite you hummed thoughtfully, swallowing before he spoke. “Not too bad.”

“That's good. Hopefully you'll be able to get some rest, then. If you need rest, that is. I mean, if you don't have a day job that would make it easier but how could you afford to live in this city? I guess you could probably bounce around and evade capture, but that sounds exhausting. How do you–” Cutting yourself off, you clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shit, I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to ask about that,  I'm just nervous which tends to make me ramble.“

Scratching at the back of his neck, Daredevil curled further in on himself. “I, uh, I guess I can't blame you for being nervous.”

“Oh, it's not your fault.” You promised, shaking your head violently. “I'm sort of like this with everyone. Lack of experience, I guess.”

Studying you for a moment, his lips briefly flickering with a smile. “I understand that. People are complicated.”

“Understatement of the century.” You huffed, a familiar blossom of warmth pooling in your chest when he echoed the chuckle.

Sitting in cozy silence, you ate quickly, stealing peeks at the muscular man every so often to gauge his discomfort. As much as you wanted to believe you were making progress, the rational side of your brain recognized the finite nature of this exchange. It was likely that he didn't intend to do this again. This was a favor extended to you for your appreciation.

As darkness descended on the skyline, cloaking the stark angles in shadows, a tightly wound knot of sorrow clogging your throat as you tried to finish your sandwich. Choking down the last bite, you lifted the final plate.

“Don't suppose you'd want any of this for the road?” Ignoring the tremble in your words, you began folding the blanket, avoiding his gaze.

“Sure,” He gently accepted, prying the container from your grasp and taking extra care not to make contact with your skin. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You croaked around the lump in your throat, coughing to clear it. “Just, be safe out there.”

Giving you a sad smile, the masked man nodded firmly. “I’ll try my best.” 

Swaying awkwardly as you stood, shouldering your bag on the way up, your mind raced through its entire vocabulary in an attempt to find the words for a proper goodbye. You’d interacted with this man for less than an hour, yet he meant the world to you–but telling him that would be weird, wouldn’t it? You really needed a manual for these things. A roadmap to help you tread lightly, avoid landmines. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure the whole “my soulmate is a vigilante” thing wasn’t common enough to warrant an expert. 

“I, um, I’m going to head home before it’s super late. But, here–” Rushing through the excuse as quickly as you could, you held out a tiny rectangle of cardstock, holding your breath while he slipped it from your outstretched fingers. “My phone number is on there if you, er, if you ever need it.”

Chin dipping towards his chest, he cocked his head, studying the scrap of paper. “I appreciate it. Be safe getting home.”

“I will.” You vowed, blinking back the building sheen across your vision. “Take care of yourself.”

Before you could stumble and say something he didn’t want to hear, you made your exit.

Taglist: @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04

[nightlyrequiem]

FEED ME HYPER-FEMME READER X VALERIA!!! GIMMIE IT!!! GRAHHHH!!

then, imagine a little yippee critter foaming at the mouth. Thats me.

okay, but, in all seriousness, i absolutely NEED Valeria x like, fem, bimbo-esque, PINK!PINK!PINK reader!!!! Im going absolutely feral omg... imagine dolling urself up for this woman ... im found dead xp

-🪼

Nothing would make me happier than putting on makeup while Valeria watches, I think. I love hyperfeminity! I'm incredibly partial to skirts, dresses, and pink myself. I actually painted my nails pink last night :3

Also I don’t condone the purchasing of real fur, faux fur all the way!

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship

Nightshade and Peonies

You're lying on your side in your big soft bed. A satin nightgown draped over your body and leaving very few little to the imagination. Baby pink covers surround you, the soft glow from your lamps making them look peachy. Your eyes track Valeria's movements as she slowly approaches you with a box in hand. she kneels and sets it on the bed before you. A humble offering to her deity. you sit up and try to hide the giddy excitement inside of you. You're trying to appear calm and mildly disinterested but the slight curl at the corner of Valeria's lips tells you she knows what you're feeling anyway. You sat up too quickly to keep the illusion of feeling casual.

You grab the edge of the lid and lift. You can't hold back the happy smile at the sight of soft beige fur folded up neatly inside. You've been dropping hints for weeks. You carefully lift the coat out from the box and hold it up to see it in its full glory.

"Oh, Valeria, it's gorgeous!" You gush. Imagining all the outfits you can make with this. Mexico isn't the most ideal environment to own a fur coat in, but you will look so divine that it doesn't matter if you'll sweat yourself to death.

"That's the one you've been wanting?" She hums. Resting her head in her palm.

"Yes." You nod. Quivering with excitement.

You fold it back up with care and place it back into the box. You push it to the side; you'll be keeping the box too. It's a pretty off-white colour that will look so nice in your closet. You lean back in bed and finally give Valeria permission to join you. She crawls onto the bed and hovers over you. Her gaze shifting behind you.

"You have too many pillows." She remarks. Looking at the silk clad pillows, the throw pillows, the two fluffy heart shaped pillows. All arranged with a careful precision.

"I think I need more." You reply playfully.

"Yeah?" Valeria grins. leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. "I'll be your pillow." You're filled to the brim with so much dopamine and oxytocin that you don't know what to do with it. So, you move your head and bite down into her shoulder, making her flinch.

You sit up and push her onto her back.

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow?" You ask. Stradling her stomach. Valeria trails her fingers over the smooth material of your nightgown.

"I think we should go to dinner tomorrow." She replies. "I want you to wear that little pink dress."

"Which pink dress?" You ask. Valeria needs to be more specific because you own quite a few pink dresses.

"The really light pink one... the backless one." She clarifies. You smile. Valeria could never keep her eyes or hands off of you whenever you wore that dress. Tight, lowcut, and short with subtle ruffling at the bottom.

Valeria looks so pretty laying there with her hair sprawled out. it makes you want to bite her again. You're excited by the idea of going out to eat too. Valeria is always taking you on little dates but you're never not excited. You'd show as much enthusiasm for rock climbing as you would for slow dancing. You'd doll yourself up in a pink outfit, put on makeup, and enjoy your time with Valeria.

"The backless one." You repeat. An outfit is forming in your head. You're also thinking of what colour you should paint your nails. Pink is an obvious choice but there's many shades to choose from. You could also do white. Or a sultry cherry red. You zone out as you think critically. You have this delicious white tiara that would look so cute with the dress. Shiny white platform heels would match with the tiara.

Then you remember the coat. You scrap the tiara idea and decide to wear the coat with it. But what heels should you wear?

"Hey." Valeria says. Grabbing your jaw. "What's going on inside that head of yours, hm?" Her hand is warm and comforting.

"I'm thinking of what to wear with the dress, I want to wear my new coat, but I don't know what heels to wear with it." You explain. You have a pair of pink heels that are the same shade as the dress, but you aren't sure if that will throw off the balance.

Valeria gently pulls your face down to give you a short kiss.

"You're thinking too hard." She murmurs. "What about those cheetah print ones?" You consider it. The fur coat isn't an animal pattern. The cheetah shoes would not match at all.

"No, those don't go with it at all." You sigh.

"Oh, my poor baby." Valeria coos. "Your life is so hard; I can't imagine having to find the strength to match your shoes to your top." You playfully swat her shoulder.

"This is serious, I need to look good." You huff.

"You'll look good no matter what." She says. Making you lay down next to her. "You'll figure it out, don't stress yourself."

You sat at your little white vanity the next night, carefully applying a rosy, pink lipstick. Your makeup is almost finished, glittery eyeshadow peeks out from your eyelids. Valeria is laying back in your bed behind you, you can see her watching in the reflection of the mirror. You'd think she'd look out of place among the baby pink sheets if you didn't already know she had matching ones at home. Valeria once told you that she loves watching you get ready. To her, watching you doll yourself up is an act of intimacy in itself. A dainty necklace decorates your throat, the small white jewel glinting from just above your amplified cleavage. You dab a little concealer around your lips to clean them up a bit then stand. You turn and give Valeria a little spin, showing off for her. You decided to forgo the coat. A decision you didn't make lightly.

She gives you a little wolf-whistle and you grin in return. practically glowing with pleasure.

"Beautiful." She speaks.

"You say that every time." You reply, still grinning. she gently grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"And I mean it every time." She pushes up off the bed.

She walks towards your closet and retrieves the pink heels that match your dress perfectly. You glance at the coat longingly. You'll wear it the next time you go out, you silently vow. Valeria chivalrously puts on the heals for you. Holding your ankles with care, thumb running over the little gold ankle bracelet. You stand, a few inches taller than her though neither of you mind and eagerly stride around the room. Putting all the things you need into your tiny little bedazzled handbag. Lipstick and lip-gloss, mascara, and a small compact mirror. You grab Valeria's hand and drag her outside. forcing her to keep up with your energetic stride.

The restaurant is in the next town over. You sit in the passenger seat, looking out of place inside the dark interior. Although little touches of you are placed around the car. A tube of lipstick is in the glovebox. A little handmade pink and gold charm dangles from the rear-view mirror. She has a hand on your thigh while she drives. 

The restaurant is nice and lowkey. Hanging paper lanterns provide a welcoming, dim glow. Your exaggerated feminine appearance garners a few looks but nobody comes up to bother you. She pulls out your chair for you and you sit down, looking around and taking in the place. It isn't all that modern inside. The tables and chairs are old, there aren't any TVs on the walls. It's a charming little establishment. You and Valeria order your food and wait. Speaking to each other in low, engaged voices. You excitedly ramble about clothing and makeup and colour theory. About all the ways to style animal prints and different patterns. Valeria listens with rapt attention. Adoring you in such a passionate state.