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inside-lees-mind · 1 year ago

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hi could i rq. general konoha 11 + sand siblings nsfw hcs ! (aged up/boruto ver obv) <3

Also: nobody understands Uchihas better than I do and I don’t even like most of em. /j Why are they all practically evil in fics? I’m going crazy. Most of them are clearly softies when it comes to love. Am I right or am I right???

And sorry, you can tell who I have more ideas for and who I was drawing a blank on.

Oh and sorry yall for the gap in my writing. This one took a while. I’ve been working on it for a bit. And part of it got lost and deleted, so I rewrote it. A long with a couple other stories got deleted and I lost some motivation for a moment lol

Konoha 13 + Sand Siblings HCs

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s energetic, and that 100% applies to in bed too.

Likely inexperienced, but eager. And a little nervous.

Talked big game beforehand, but even if you didn’t know before, you definitely know it was all talk now.

That being said, he’s a quick learner, even if he complains about being confused at first.

I think he’d have like little to no knowledge though, being such a loner for a while, in all. Hope you have patience.

That being said, he is a bit of a pervert with what he does know.

Overall though, he’d set a fast pace, but the sex would still be intimate and soft.

Praise. Praise. Praise. Giving and receiving.

Sasuke Uchiha

No experience, but he knows the ins and outs.

He wasn’t too concerned with sex or anything of that matter before, but when he returned to Konoha, he realized he had feelings for you. So he starts to think about it.

He’s not a pervert like Kakashi or Naruto, and he’d never lose his cool over sexy jutsu, BUTTT he’s secretly horny as hell. Like low sex drive usually, but just being around you makes it sky rocket to abnormal levels.

He’s very private about sex though, so usually only happens in your bedroom or… cough cough in a quiet forest with nobody around cough cough (if you know, you know)

He’s got a breeding kink. Next question.

Uses a mix of degradation and praises.

Lots of demanding, but also lots of giving soooo…

I truly believe Sasuke would be a softer partner than people make him out to be. Like did yall watch Boruto or not?? He’s got awkward and sweet energy. He’s TRYING. He’s emotionally stunted yall.

More dominant and likes to be in control, but will fall apart in your arms anyways. Usually more of a soft dom than anything.

One of the most likely to be fairly kinky though. I think he’d slowly discover he’s into things as they occur or cross his mind.

Sakura Haruno

She knows a lot about the human body.

Might have experience, might not. I could see it either way.

I think your first time with her would happen after like a romantic dinner together. And it would be romantic and slow.

But… that depends on you, because she’ll mostly go with what you want. It makes her happy.

She’s okay with being degraded or praised, but she really only likes to praise you.

Low sex drive.

She likes any position she can see your face.

She’s a switch, depends on her partner’s preference.

Sai Yamanaka

(Obviously not married here but just to have a last name to add)

He read a book about what to do.

Probably does something incredibly stupid at first, but that being said, he’s not an idiot, so not too bad.

You’d probably have to correct him a little bit. Also, tell him to forget the book and just go with the feeling and follow your lead.

You’d be in the lead at first. Probably go down on him first thing.

He’s not small. (I mean did you hear the way he talked to Naruto? He’s probably got something to work with if he’s talking so confidently LMFAO)

So you’d probably have to use your hand for the base while your mouth sucks on about half or so of his cock.

His hand tangles in your hair/rests on top, not pulling, but resting there.

He throws his head back, letting out soft sighs and small moans that escape his lips. He’s not trying to be quiet, but he’s not loud either.

Although, he might have read girls don’t like when guys make noise. Who knows. Then you might have to tell him that’s not true.

At first, sex is just discovering things with him. You’re both exploring how everything feels.

But, after a few times, he starts taking the lead and initiating.

He has a low sex drive though, so he won’t initiate too often.

It’s also hard to get him to realize what you’re asking for if you drop hints. He saw your underwear when you bent over… okay. He might even comment on how you should be more careful since he knows you don’t like to expose yourself so much.

You just deadpan and tell him it was supposed to turn him on.

“Oh.” And now he’s unbuckling his pants and asking you to come sit on his lap. :)

Shikamaru Nara

Low sex drive, usually at least, because now he’s consumed by the desire to be rode by you. Like he dreams about it.

He calls you troublesome to himself when he wakes up hard in the morning occasionally.

He lowkey loves to just lay between your legs or have you sit on his face so he can eat you out (pussy or ass, don’t matter)

Lazy morning sex. He loves it.

He’s dominant, but he can be rather lazy most the time. That being said, he will fuck you how you want him to if you ask.

Degrading but he’s not super mean about it at all. More like soft grunts with degrading terms, but the rest of it comes out more like soft sighs and groans of pleasure and praise.

Choji Akimichi

The sweetest. He takes his time with you every time.

Body worship. More so giving than receiving, but he’ll be a blushing mess if you give back the same energy.

Praise. Lots of it.

He’d be the type to kiss down your body, from your lips to your neck to your chest all the way down til he gets between your legs.

He can’t bring himself to be rough or harsh with you in anyway. No degradation, rough sex, or anything.

Likes to be able to see your face during sex.

He’d like to try food play.

Ino Yamanaka

Pillow princess unless asked to do otherwise.

She loves to be praised and worshipped, but also likes things rougher.

She’s a bit of a brat about things. Constantly going against what you say for fun.

She does it on purpose so you’ll go rougher on her, she likes it.

She also likes when things are slow and romantic though.

And she’d love it if you planned like a candlelit dinner and put a trail of rose petals on like Valentine’s Day, or even just cuz.

Shino Aburame

He’s in charge. He’s on top. Whatever. He doesn’t like to not have control.

He also just wants to please you, and often he’s not too worried about himself.

Might get a little self conscious if you skip over touching him or giving him head more than once. Like if it’s been a few times now and you haven’t bothered… did he do something?

He doesn’t need it, but he just… you know how he is.

He doesn’t make much noise.

But I do believe that right before he cums, he whimpers. He can’t help it, and don’t bring it up afterwards. He’ll be so embarrassed and not want to do it for a while because he’s scared he’ll do it again.

If he gets like that, just tell him you loved it. Then go down on him and tell him you wanna make him do it again.

He’s good with his hands, I just know it.

He can go rough and be stern and demanding, but other than that, he’s rather vanilla.

He’s a big fan of missionary so he can see your face.

And he doesn’t want to do anything unless it’s in your own home or absolute private, like an inn.

Kiba Inuzuka

Hickeys.

He loves giving them.

You will have like 20. From your jaw to your thighs, he’s marked. Plenty of them are visible and hard to hide because they’re dark.

He doesn’t exactly take his time. No, those hickeys are from the entire act. He starts leaving them during foreplay, then when he’s pounding into you, he quiets himself down by latching onto your skin.

When he eats you out, he leaves bite marks and hickeys around your thighs.

He calls it “marking his territory” then has to explain himself because no he doesn’t mean you’re a territory, you’re not a place or an object… he just… you’re his partner!

He’s rough.

Likes doggystyle most, but then he gets upset that he can’t see your face and next time he sets up a mirror.

Quickies. He can’t wait. He’ll whine if you tell him NO he can’t fuck you under the blanket, because YES people will notice the movement.

You might want to settle and pull him into a bathroom and let him fuck you over the counter, but he won’t force or beg you to the point of you giving in or anything. He’ll wait if you really mean no.

He’s got a high sex drive

Very likely to be pretty kinky. He’d be willing to tie you up, spank you, degrade you, etc.

He won’t do pet play. Thinks that shit is weird. So don’t think that because he’s a dog user, he’s gonna act dog like or have you act dog like. In fact, he’s more likely to hate it as a dog user.

I think he’d find any roleplay to be useless though. You could convince him if you wanted, but he’ll complain.

Hinata Hyuga

Much more intimate and gentle sex is what she wants

She’s not a pillow princess. She literally fantasizes about pleasing her partner.

Like probably day dreams, gets lost in her own thoughts, then is a blushing mess when she realizes that somebody is talking to her and she’s imagining what your moans would sound like when she’s between your legs, ESPECIALLY if the person talking to her is you.

She likes to do it in private, but she can’t deny that she imagines doing it where you both currently are. Not that she would.

Secretly has a high sex drive

Long refractory period though. She needs breaks between rounds.

Neji Hyuga

Took him a while to get vulnerable enough to take off his clothes if he’s being honest

Also I think Hyuga’s are very reserved and conservative until marriage, but he has such a tough time following that.

He really wants to jump your bones. And it’s almost like the fact he can’t because of his clan’s reserved and traditional nature just makes it WAYYYY more tempting.

You’re literally irresistible to him

Secretly, he’s just a little bit of a pervert. (Like Rock Lee’s Ninja Pals says he is)

I think he would have wet dreams from sexual frustration. Like the longer he holds back from having you under him, the worse it gets. Like a disease with no treatment.

I think your first time with him would be sudden, and it would be his first time ever.

You’d look WAYYYYY to good, and this time he can’t bring himself to ignore the boner he gets. No he’s gotta see if you’ll indulge him.

He may stop and pull away, get his act together if you remind him of his clan’s pride, and how he was so bent on following it before.

Maybe the first time, but by the next time he tries to give in, there is no try. He is cancelling any plans y’all had and tearing the outfit that made your body look so irresistible off.

He doesn’t have a super high sex drive, but he has such a hard time resisting just laying you down when you look so damn good. You are the reason he’s horny.

He loves when you ride him, and he WILL whimper. He tries not to, but Neji can’t be silent with the way you are squeezing him. The way you do it is so perfect, every bounce is drawing a noise out of him until he’s literally just letting out a stream of loud whimpers as he cums.

I think his cum would actually taste good. Next question.

Rock Lee

Perverted…

He feels bad for it when he catches himself, but Oop it’s too late… he’s got a boner

Boners are obvious in that green spandex…

He wouldn’t agree with doing it in public or semi-public though, but if you noticed his behavior or boner and pulled him off into the bathroom, ignoring his “this is indecent!” Protests because when you look at him before diving in to give him head, his eyes are literally pleading and he shuts up, pushing his hips towards your face.

He can’t be quiet so you’ll have stuff something in his mouth or cover it with your hand.

He secretly wants your chest in his face. He’s a chest guy. Boobs, pecks, whatever. He loves everything chest.

But he also loves ass. Small or big. Wants to grab a handful anyways.

Total switch

Because listen, he loves to pin your hips down and force you to accept the pleasure you’re trying to deny yourself.

Loves to pound his hips against yours until you’re a mess, but he also loves to do as you say.

He loves to be broken down until he’s in pieces by your mouth, body, words, whatever.

He whimpers like constantly, especially when he’s submissive. He tries to shut up when he’s dirty talking as he’s in charge, but he lets GO otherwise.

Tenten

I’m sorry her portion of this will be… lacking. I don’t know enough to say much. I love her, but I’ve never really thought about this at all.

I think she’d be a switch, but prefers to be in charge.

I think she’s depend greatly on you though.

If you don’t want to bottom/sub, that’s good.

Or vise versa.

She likes to take her time when she’s in control.

She’s fairly willing to try new things if you want to.

She enjoys going down on you most of all.

Gaara of the Sand

He’s very private about everything. He believes that his private life and his kazekage life should stay relatively separate. However, it is known that you are his partner. That’s no secret.

He’s not super into PDA, so it’s no surprise that he refuses to do anything risky or public in anyway.

He will not do it in the kazekage’s office. He has too much respect for it, but he also doesn’t want to get caught anyways.

He’s very intimate during. Slow and sensual for sure.

I can see him being into bondage, but like you get tied up, not him. But… depends. And might take some encouragement.

Refuses to hurt or degrade you for any reason. He only does praise. He could not bring himself to call you names or anything. Or to draw blood from you or hit you, etc. he doesn’t see why those things should be brought into the bedroom for “fun.”

He doesn’t think they’re fun.

He knew like nothing about sex before you. I actually think he’d have no idea how to initiate at first so you definitely initiated it.

I think he’d be the type you have to teach what to do a bit, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Then next time, he’s got every spot memorized.

Awkward. Like the first couple times were awkward, but romantic and cute.

Kankuro of the Sand

One word: kinky.

He likes to degrade you with a shit eating grin on his face. His degradation feels like a compliment most of the time though. Like he calls you a slut and it feels like he’s calling you a prince/princess. It’s confusing.

He’s so good at dirty talk. He’ll have you writhing in your spot, desperate for him and he’s not even touched you yet.

He’s got incredible patience when it comes to you. He takes his time breaking you down into a mess for him.

His face paint would 10 billion percent be smeared across your thighs and chest. Your neck is purple from bites AND his face paint to the point you can’t tell which is which.

Only when you wash off the face paint do you realize he left way too many dark hickeys that’ll probably take at least a week to fade away.

Confront him about this and he’ll just laugh.

Don’t tempt him to leave more, because he will.

He forces you to maintain eye contact when he goes down on you. If you look away for more than like 3 seconds, he give you a little tap as a warning, but twice and he stops.

Orgasm denial for sure. He would be the type to make up an excuse as to why he pulled away. He tells you all sorts of excuses. “You weren’t moaning enough.” “You moved your hips too much. Stay still.” And of course, “you looked away.”

He can make you cum hard almost every single time. You see stars.

The most fun part for him isn’t dicking you down, it’s the breaking you apart and putting you back together again.

Temari of the Sand

Dominant. Dommy mommy for sure.

Even when she decides to “sub” or “bottom,” she’s not doing a good job at it. She’s still telling you what to do, where to move, etc.

She’ll pull your hair, slap you, etc. as long as you are okay with it and want her to.

Loves to boss you around, telling you what she wants. Demanding you to please her.

“Get on your knees”

Head pusher for sure, but you two have a like physical que to let each other know when it’s enough.

All that being said, sometimes she really really just wants sweet, slow sex. Intimate nights filled with nothing but love.

She likes to keep all of this private though. No public or risky stuff.

However, she does like to do it beyond just in bed.

Would be the type to start kissing all over your neck, unbuttoning your shirt while you’re trying to cook breakfast.

You might want to turn the stove off.

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sanjisluvbot · 4 months ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader

A/N: recently I've gotten into DC bc a new superman is coming out this summer! Along with getting Nightwing edits on my TT I have been seeing alot of Batfam and neglected reader ( why is y/n always neglected Lmfao). Anyways as I work on my other stories tell me how you enjoy this and if you want the finished product. See you wednesday!

The smell of fire filled your lungs and you begged all above to remove the burning filing through your nostrils. You lost track of where your mother was and hoped she made it out. The heat was intense and as more smoke encased itself in your tiny chest, time was running out and there was nothing left to do but lie on the wooden floor. Just as you thought you were closing your eyes for the last time there— in his dark glory— Batman.

The dark knight finally came to save you, the rest was history.

You wake in the hospital, a smiling nurse adjusting you and explaining everything to your tear-riddled doe-eyed self. Everything you’d ever known was erased, there was no trace of your mother and a man from Gotham decided to take little old you in. The smog of Gotham was different than New York, it lay on top of the city like a weighted blanket and made it all the more sinister. You arrived at the manor, biting your lip anxiously as it looked like the home of vampires and every other night creature you could think of. Two men were waiting for you when you stepped out of the car, both tall and sturdy-looking eyes hardened by the trials of life. The man with oceanic blue eyes stuck his hand out, eyes slightly softening when he noticed your apprehensiveness. You reached out and felt callouses and the warmth of his palms.

He smiled at you introducing himself as Bruce Wayne, and then his butler, Alfred. They were both doting and kind, showering you with the affections left absent by your missing mother. You found yourself often in Bruce’s lap while he worked or in his bed crying into his chest when you were reminded of your mother during the night. Eventually, you begin to call him dad. Daddy’s sweet little girl is what they called you in Gotham. You were spoiled rotten and Bruce was constantly praised for saving you from a life filled with loneliness and the perils of poverty.

As you got older Bruce became busier, and you no longer had the time to even cuddle and watch movies on rainy nights. You inquired with Alfred about what was different, and why had he become rather distant from you. Alfred reassured you every time, but you felt a pang in your heart when he introduced Dick Grayson into your little family. He spent almost all his time with Dick now, only sparing you a glance on the very off chance that he had a break. No one would be forward with you on what exactly was going on and, as much as it hurt and your tears soaked your pillows you never cried in front of a soul. The seeds of resentment were growing within you.

Neglect and anger were apparent. Sometimes, when you linked eyes, you could see a glimmer of the father you once adored and spent every waking minute. You were infatuated with your father’s eyes, they held every word he didn’t whisper like he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. You hoped that even without blood relation you mimicked that feature, maybe save your relationship before it’s fully weaned.

Dick wasn’t that bad in the beginning, you welcomed him with slightly open arms and apprehension. He would entertain you and your heart would flutter when he smiled. But that did not stop your bond being severed without a care.

High school rolled around and your anger boiled over, having Dick be a year older and going to the same school was a nightmare. There was an obsession when it came to you, Bruce Wayne’s youngest, Dick Grayson’s little sister, no one left you alone. Dick would only acknowledge you if the boys cooed and whistled, not even in a way an older brother would be protective of his sister. It was more of a threat. A threat entangled with possessiveness.

At one point you lashed out, upset at him for ruining your chances with a guy you were interested in. “ Dick, what the fuck is your issue? I liked him!” your yell echoed in the empty hallway. He looked down at you, an indescribable look and you furrowed your eyebrows urging him to answer. He looked away for a moment licking his lip before turning around without a word.

There was that flutter again. It was wrong and with the excitement came the dread of fully understanding that flutter.

Lmk what you think !

#batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #x black fem reader #batfam #batman #nightwing #yandere dick grayson #yandere batman #yandere jason todd #yandere dc #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #Yandere

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323cutie · 7 months ago

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your skin is against my body. | jyh

pairing ୨୧ yunho x afab reader

word count ୨୧ 650

genre ୨୧ smut asf!!!!!!

warnings ୨୧ sexual content, swearing <3 smut warnings below the cut

author's note ୨୧ i have had a bad week (it is wednesday morning). So yes i need yunho to comfort me. anyways i finished this last night but was too tired to post it LMFAO

18+ mdni!!

smut warnings ୨୧ fingering, dirty talk, a bit of banter i think, choking but its pretty light, mentions of like actual sex but we don't get there sawrry, teasing yunho, a little bit of begging, you guys know that live where yunho said he liked when ppl whined his name. Yeah

You’ve had a bad day.

You made it obvious to all of your coworkers, yelled at just about every other car on the way home, considered killing your roommate because they took your apartment’s reserved parking spot when it was your turn to have it, and were curt with the boba cafe worker you’re usually more than friendly with.

You’re not proud of yourself. But you are tired. And sick of dealing with it all. So when you get to Yunho’s and he almost immediately offers to cheer you up, you agree with zero hesitation.

It’s probably (definitely) how you ended up with his hand between your legs.

Maybe you should have seen it coming. You don’t really care, either way. Yunho’s fingers feel like heaven inside of you, pumping and curling and twisting in all the most delicious ways. You sigh when he curls them up, head lolling back and to the side, landing on his shoulder from where he lies down next to you.

“When you said you’d make me, hmm, feel better,” you start, letting him nudge your head to the other side with his nose. He presses open mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. “Wasn’t expecting – fuck – this.”

Yunho hums, lips tracing the shell of your ear. “Oh?” He says, speeding up the pace of his fingers. You moan and practically feel him grin. “I can stop, if that’s what you want.”

He starts to slow down to an almost stop and you grab at his wrist, trying to guide his hand back to the pace it was before. “Don’t you dare,” you say, glaring at him. He laughs, kisses your temple soothingly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, picking up his pace again. His other hand wraps loosely around your neck, just enough pressure to make you keen. “Gotta make my baby feel good, hm?”

You nod eagerly and Yunho laughs, fond, obeying to your silent pleas and gliding his thumb over your clit. You gasp, melt into his arms, spread your legs wider so he has all the room in the world to do whatever he wants to you.

“Look so pretty when you’re spread open for me like this,” Yunho murmurs, adding more pressure to the way he circles your clit. “Had such a bad day, just need it fucked out of you, right? Just need to be taken care of?”

You don't know what sounds come out of your mouth, but you’re almost certain they’re not words. Yunho curls his fingers up inside of you, hitting a spot only he can reach, and you feel your whole body react. Pliant in his hold, moldable however he sees fit. The hand around your neck squeezes a warning. “Use your words, pretty.”

Oh, right. You can’t even think. “Y-Yeah,” you say, voice strained, breathless. “Need you to fuck me.”

You hear him hum and look up at him, hoping your already fucked out eyes will add a little something extra to your plea. “Yunho,” you whine, canting your hips up to meet his fingers. “Please.”

You see his breath physically hitch, watch as something swirls in his eyes as he looks at you. His cheeks and nose are red and you want to run your fingers through his hair, want to peel every article of clothing off just so you can see all of him.

Maybe you’ll get to soon. Yunho presses forward and kisses you hard, tongue delving into your mouth and tasting your own. You moan onto his lips and he practically mirrors it, letting his own noises out. His fingers move faster, thumb circling tighter, and you squeal.

“I’ll fuck you so good you’ll only remember my name,” he murmurs lowly. He curls against that spot again and you feel like you’re falling apart. “But you’re gonna cum on my fingers first.”

#YUNHO WE NEED YOU!!!!!#ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #ateez yunho imagine #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho imagine #yunho x reader #yunho imagine #yunho smut #yunho ateez x reader #yunho ateez imagine #yunho ateez smut #yunho ateez x reader smut

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pinkaditty · 23 days ago

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pink pink piN K HAVE YOU SEEN REN'S BEDROOM CARD LEAK GAGSHHDHSBDDB ive been thinking about it THE WHOLE DAMN DAY GRGGHRBHRH I WANNA BITE ON HIS COLLARBONE SO BAD GGFFFEEGRH and thOSE fFfINGERS GOOOODDDD IM SUCKING THEM TILL THEY TURN PURPLE WAT CH ��🏁🏁🏁 im just so thirsty about ren lately im so sorry LMFAO GOSH

[🐟]

Morning After (Perv!Ren Shiranami x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

argggghhh another one!!!!!!!! eventually i will put this series 2 rest!!!

a/n: okay so. im actually pretty mellow towards ren. he’s cute n all and i love how he and sho regularly call you “senpai” so i like him but hes not among my top 3 ghouls (evil and intimidating haku fic looming over my shoulder). however. my one true regular, [🐟] anon, has been losing their damn mind in my inbox abt this boy and his collarbones. so i looked at his new card. did a little bit of jabberwock thinking. and i woke up a week ago thinking abt ren getting fucked up off of mc’s pheromones or something. in summary: [🐟] anon. idk who u are. but wheni fcking GET you. u poisoned me with ren thoughts. how dare u.

anyways i am. running out of steam 4 smut again so i will probably need time 2 recharge and recover my motivation. that being said, i have ideas for sfw angst-charged alan and rui fics (and might post those before haku and subaru perv pt2 fics), so be on the lookout for those. it’ll be my first time writing 4 alan so i hope it turns out alright.

summary: ren wakes up next to a suspiciously large pile of pillows after movie night.

cw: masturbation, ruined orgasm, perverted ren ig?, panty admirer, etc etc idk how 2 tag this. ofc it's not proofread, its never proofread. enjoy!

Ren blinks awake. His vision layers over itself before finally clearing after a few groggy blinks. He musters the energy to pull his face away from whatever it was stuck to, slowly sitting up, yanking his arm from underneath a heavy lump of pillows. He blinks once, twice, three times, and spaces out for an eternity before he finally feels awake enough to move around properly. He yawns and stretches, feeling a few bones in his back pop before he finally relaxes again. He idly thought to himself about working on his godforsaken posture.

Reluctantly, he shifts his feet off of the bed and stands, ridding himself of his comfortable haven and thrusting himself into the slightly cooler environment of his room outside of his bed. What was he even getting up for, anyway? It’s not like he had any classes. He may as well hop right back into the waiting sheets.

And that’s what he would have done, if he hadn’t finally noticed that the heavy lump he’d thought was pillows was actually a person. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. A leg and an arm curl around one of his body pillows, a sleeping face just barely visible over the edge of the pillow. Panic shoots through him as he tries to rack his brain for appropriate, reasonable excuses as to why the fucking honor student was in his bed, until he remembers the night prior. Horror movie night. He wasn’t sure how you felt about horror movies, but he’d invited you over anyway. Plus, he needed an excuse to rope you into helping him get extra rewards in a new game he’d started, and he knew that wasn’t a compelling enough reason for you to come over. It seems that the two of you had fallen asleep before you could head home, resulting in this. You were even still in your uniform, your blazer draped unceremoniously over his desk chair, your bag spilling its contents of notebooks, files, pencils, and snacks all over his floor, your shoes placed neatly by his door, your tie hung over his doorknob. Hell, your mess tied in so nicely with his worse, pre-made mess that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking.

Honestly, he’d be happy to just… let you sleep. You seemed comfortable, and he was inclined to get right back in bed anyway, but quite frankly, he didn’t want the clown to catch you in his room. That would lead to questions he was unwilling to answer, assumptions he’s too lazy to derail, and more work for him, at worst. Maybe he'd just have to double-check his locks - keep the clown out for a few hours so that you could catch some sleep and he could have some peaceful silence.

He checks the window locks first, ensuring that they’re in place and bolted shut. He does the same with the locks on his door, and even looks suspiciously at his vent for a while before deciding that if the clown was that desperate, he would have done it before.

With the room sweep finished, he ambles back towards his bed, trying not to stare too hard at you, hugging his body pillow, one leg thrown over it. Every time you shifted, he would freeze in his tracks, his heart pounding in his chest with a mix of excitement and fear at the two potential outcomes your shifting could result in: your skirt riding up, or you waking up. Only one of those was ideal. Perving on a sleeping girl was gross, though, and he knew better, or so he liked to tell himself. He feels his shoulders tense up as you shift again. He holds his breath, watching your body carefully. When no more movement is made, he steps between his desk and the bed, walking over to the other side of the bed, “his” side, at least for now. He softly eases himself onto his side again, watching you carefully to make sure he hasn’t woken you up. He breathes a sigh of relief and reaches for his tablet, noting his cheek mark on it. So this is what his face had been stuck to.

He’s wiping up the drool on one corner of the screen with the sleeve of his robe when you suddenly groan loudly. He jumps, fumbling with the tablet before gripping it like a lifeline, watching you with wide eyes as you turn over. He can’t decide if it’s his lucky day or his worst nightmare when you end up on your other side, your back to him with your skirt riding up and a premium, never-before-seen view of your panties hugging your ass. Ren swallows thickly before forcing his gaze away, feeling his face turn red from shame. That was gross and he knew better. He knew better than to peer at your panties while you were sleeping, in his room, clearly trusting him. ‘You know better,’ is all that runs through his head as he feels his abdomen swim and his cock twitch. He buries his face in his hands, dropping his tablet to the bed with a soft thump. He knew better than to cross a line such as this, but god, that sight was mouthwatering. He finds himself peering through his fingers, glancing at the sight. They were simple, unassuming, but well-worn. The fabric was obviously thin in some places, and clung to your body in such a way that left little to the imagination. He wondered what you were even dreaming about, seeing how you were soaking wet, leaking through the panties and onto part of his comforter. Fuck, what he wouldn't give for a whiff, or even a lick of that.

His mind nearly chokes on his thoughts, bringing them to a speedy halt. He turns away, covering his eyes, trying not to feel the way his cock jumps for the umpteenth time against his thigh. His face burns with shame and embarrassment, the cherry red hue spreading to his ears and neck. He knew better than to do this. This was gross. Unbelievably gross. He'd expect this of any of the other weird, obsessive, filthy, deranged, pent-up ghouls, which he'd hoped he wasn't a part of. Unfortunately, the saliva flooding his mouth hungrily and the blood rushing to his abdomen only proved he was, indeed, just as filthy as the rest. Fuck. Couldn't he be normal about a girl in his bed? You were just sleeping - dreaming about something heated, but dreaming regardless - and appeared quite peaceful. He could be normal about it. A girl, lying in his bed, with her soaking wet panties showing. Even with his cock twitching, his saliva building, his heart pounding, his hands trembling - he could be normal about this. Right?

He glances over at your form again, his eyes raking over your body. He tries not to let his gaze linger on your panties, but it does anyway. He licks his lips as his eyes cross over the wet spot, imagining the taste of you. He groans, pulling at his hair and trying to control his breathing. He looks down at his cock, now at full mast and pressing angrily against his pajama pants, and frowns. There was no way this was going to go away easily. He bites his lip, wondering how he was gonna get through this predicament. He could slip out and take care of this elsewhere, but that would risk getting caught by the clown. On the other hand, he could take care of this… here… in the privacy of his own room, with the honor student right next to him, the perfect view of her panties serving as perfect fap material. He sighs internally. He was so gross. But hey, if you got to have fun in your dreams, why couldn't he have fun without you knowing about it?

Fuck it. He was too horny to care.

He reaches for his bedside table out of muscle memory and rifles through the top drawer before his hand closes around a familiar plastic. He hurriedly pulls it out, cringing to himself as he looked at the fleshlight. Was he really going to do this? One glance at your panties chased all his sensible thoughts away. Yea. He absolutely was going to do this.

It doesn’t take him long to set up two pillows, haphazardly jamming the fleshlight between them and hugging the pillows together with his body, laying over them on the bed. He pushes his pajama pants down, setting his cock free. He whimpers as he feels his tip press into the soft silicone of the fleshlight and immediately bites down on the pillows instead. He couldn’t make much noise and he had to try not to move around too much. If you woke up in the middle of this, it would be disastrous. His eyes fixate on the wet spot of your panties, and he suppresses another groan, feeling himself salivate at how your essence leaked onto his comforter, partially tucked between your thighs. He foolishly reaches for it without thinking, retracting immediately when you flinch in your sleep. He watches you carefully for any more movement before reaching for that section of comforter again, slowly pulling it out from between your legs. He keeps his hands as still as he possibly can, desperate not to wake you and just as desperate to get off with you filling his senses. Finally, he’s managed to slip some of the fabric from you. He presses the wet spot on his comforter against his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply. His cock twitches, brushing against the silicone fleshlight, making him nearly jolt in pleasure. He rubs his head back and forth until he finds the small opening between the folds. He wastes no time in pushing himself inside, flicking out his tongue to try and taste your essence on the fabric.

His thrusts into the fleshlight are short and quick, and he holds the pillows tighter as he humps into them, wishing he could pretend it was you he was pounding into, holding tight to his body, pressing hard into you. He growls as he holds the pillows tighter, watching your sleeping form, burying his nose into the comforter and continuing his quick pace, ensuring he wasn’t shaking the bed so much that you’d wake up. This was an utterly depraved and sickening act, he knew, but god, with your scent permeating through his mind and his cock buried in a soft fleshlight, he couldn’t bring himself to care. So long as you didn’t wake up, all he had to do was hope that his bangs sticking to his forehead and his flushed complexion wouldn’t give him away.

He begins to feel himself reaching his peak. He never really did last long. His hands claw into the sheets of his bed and his thrusts begin to stutter. His groans, muffled by the comforter, grow louder. His mind clouds with ecstasy and his eyes roll back as he continues pistoning his hips forward, driving his cock further into the fleshlight. The sounds of his thrusts become wet due to precum slipping from him. He was not going to last much longer.

At the worst possible time, you begin to shift, as though waking up. Ren immediately freezes, his eyes locked onto your moving form. He releases the comforter from his mouth and tries to hide the drool stain over your essence with his robe sleeve. He panics as you stretch, desperately looking for a way to make him seem innocent and casual, the furthest thing from a perverted freak. He sees his tablet, which he’d dropped onto the covers earlier. He reaches for it, his fingers shaking. He feels his cock twitching angrily in the fleshlight at the loss of friction, and bites his lip, trying to focus.

With his fingers shaking so much, he can barely turn his tablet on. He pushes his lips into the pillows he’s still holding tight together, muffling his gasps and whimpers as his cock continues to remind him of his lost opportunity. He hears you groaning and feels the bed shift as you groggily begin to turn over. God, just act normal, just act normal. He pretends to be immersed in his game, his cock still twitching and building pleasure, as you finally turn over, facing him, your eyes half open.

As he shifts himself upwards to prop himself up on his elbows, his cock finally gives up, spilling forth his seed despite the lack of stimulating friction. He groans, pretending it's out of frustration at the game. He bites his lip, trying his best to muffle any more incriminating noises as his body trembles, his cock pumping his release into the already stuffed fleshlight. He was almost sure his groans and trembling would give him away, but in your sleepy stupor, you don’t seem to notice. He rejoices at your dazed look towards him, your brow furrowing as you blink.

He tries to give you a bored look, knowing his face is fully flushed and his lips are red from biting them. His body continues to tremble, and it is all he can do to pray that you don’t notice the way he shakes. He turns his head away and clears his throat, before turning to you. Thank god his voice sounded relatively normal. “Hey. Good morning.”

He doesn’t berate you for accidentally falling asleep during movie night, as he did the same, for all he knows. He watches as you smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. He looks back down at his game, pretending he wasn’t buried to the hilt in a fleshlight and that his sleeve wasn’t covering evidence of his depravity.

“You have really pretty collarbones, Ren.” Your voice, still thick with sleep, cuts through the silence dotted with sound effects from the game running on his tablet.

Ren looks up at you, red-faced, his bangs still stuck to his forehead, his robe loose and hanging forward to reveal a portion of his chest underneath his pajama shirt. After getting over the initial shock of the compliment, he smirks at you, turning his gaze back down to the game.

“First thing you say to me when you wake up, huh?” He pretends he’s not embarrassed by the comment, blowing it off despite the racing of his heart and the twitching of his cock in the hidden fleshlight. “Careful, Senpai. Perving on your kouhai could be considered harassment, you know.” He says matter-of-factly, hoping his voice comes out as bored as ever.

Boy, was he one to talk.

whew!!!!!!!! if im being honest i can't be proud of this one either but hey man. i pumped it out whippeeeeeee!!!!!!

im ngl i will probably break from writing smut 4 a bit so that i can be all in 4 the haku and subaru fics. i might post the alan and rui fics im thinking of prior 2 getting back in2 my usual swing. gotta recharge!

anyways. as always. this is a bit late but please enjoy!!!!! i love likes but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks telling me all about how you adored my work!! please don't be shy 2 share ur thoughts!!!!!!

songs i listened 2 while writing this:

pop team epic - sumire aseka (this song's lyrics have a very "fuck it, we ball" type vibe which is. sorta what goes on here.)

we not humping - monaleo ft. flo milli ("put that dick up, we not humping!" bc i was essentially shaming ren in my head the entire time as i wrote this)

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive @andy-solo1 @luna-v-roiya

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

#minors dni #tokyo debunker #tkdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tdb #tokyo debunker mc #tkdb smut #tokyo debunker ren #ren shiranami x mc #ren shiranami x reader #ren shiranami #ren shiranami x reader smut #ren shiranami x mc smut

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skateordiebitch · 5 months ago

Note

I know you might or not might see this but can you do angst with Dom x reader likes the song enchanted by Taylor swift, where reader has been in love with Dom and everyone in there friend group knows expect him.

I don’t know, if you wanted to end them getting together or that reader finally moves on from him, where she’s brings the guy she been seeing to the friend group introducing him. You could choose or you want to end it a different way I’m okay with that.

ENCHANTED || D.F. x reader

'this night is flawless, don't you let it go i'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone i'll spend forever wondering if you knew i was enchanted to meet you'

summary:

“Every time you smiled at him, every time he held you in his arms… it felt like someone was ripping me apart. And I hate it. I hate him. Not because of anything he did, but because he gets to have you in a way I’ve only ever dreamed of.”

you have been in love with dominic for years, yet he has no clue. but, the truth hits him hard when he sees you with someone else.

a/n: good lord this song makes me cry. like it has so many memories attached to it LMFAO. literally this song reminds me of all my old friends and exes... YIKES. but, nonetheless, i love myself some good angst and that is definitely this story! it's serving desperate and sappy dominic. bro is experiencing emotions frl. i'm really proud of this one!!!! anyways enjoy!!! ahhhh!!!!!! <33

You’d loved Dominic for years.

Not in the fireworks-and-grand-gestures kind of way, but in the quiet, soul-deep moments that snuck up on you and stayed. It was the kind of love that grew slowly, like ivy creeping over the walls of your heart, until it covered everything.

It was in the way he’d sit next to you on his couch during movie nights, always leaving just enough space for you to stretch your legs across his lap. It was in the laugh that erupted from him, wild and unrestrained, whenever you said something even remotely funny, and the way his entire face lit up when he did.

It was in the little things he remembered—the way you took your coffee (two sugar, a splash of oat milk), the playlist you always had on repeat, the fact that the sound of chewing drove you absolutely insane.

The kind of love where everything he did—his stupid puns, the way he’d ruffle your hair just to irritate you, the way he’d text you randomly just to say something ridiculous—became a permanent fixture in your mind. It etched itself onto your heart like a tattoo you’d never chosen but couldn’t imagine living without.

It was woven into the fabric of your friendship, thread by thread, until it became a part of you so intrinsic that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

And everyone in your friend group knew.

They knew from the way your eyes always darted to the door whenever he walked in, lighting up the second you saw him.

From the way your laugh was a little louder, your smile a little brighter, whenever he was around. They teased you endlessly, whispering Dominic’s name in sing-song voices and nudging you whenever he so much as looked in your direction.

The problem? Dominic didn’t know.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell him—subtly, at first. You wore the necklace he’d given you for your birthday nearly every day, a constant reminder of how much he meant to you.

You laughed a little too hard at his terrible jokes, no matter how bad they were, and you always made excuses to hang out with him—helping him move, joining him on errands, staying up late to listen to him rant about his day.

But Dominic? He was oblivious. Utterly, maddeningly clueless.

For someone who was so quick to pick up on everyone else’s emotions, he was blind when it came to you.

Not once had he seemed to notice the way your breath hitched when he hugged you, or how your gaze lingered on him just a little too long.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Every unspoken feeling sat heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs like a secret you weren’t sure you wanted to keep anymore.

Sometimes, late at night, you’d let yourself wonder—what would it take for him to see you? Not as his best friend, his confidant, his go-to for advice, but as someone who loved him so completely it terrified you.

But no matter how much you hoped, you couldn’t make him see.

And with every moment that passed, the fear grew louder in your mind: that he never would.

When Ryan came into your life, it felt like a lifeline, a much-needed opportunity to breathe again.

You met him at a local bookstore one rainy afternoon. You’d been browsing the shelves for something new to read, trying to distract yourself from the ever-present ache in your chest—Dominic.

Your fingers had just landed on the spine of a novel when another hand brushed yours.

“Oh, sorry!” you’d both said at the same time, pulling back with awkward smiles.

Ryan had laughed first, the sound warm and disarming. “Looks like we’ve got similar taste. That’s a great book, by the way.”

Something about his easy demeanor and genuine smile drew you in. He didn’t look at you like you were carrying the weight of unspoken feelings or hiding a heart that had been quietly breaking for years. He saw you, simply, without complication.

From that moment, conversations with Ryan came naturally. He was sweet and attentive, always listening when you spoke, always showing up in small, thoughtful ways.

He also remembered the way you took your coffee, text you funny memes when he knew you were having a rough day, and even surprise you with your favorite snacks when he visited.

It felt like a balm to your bruised heart.

Being around Ryan didn’t come with the endless cycle of yearning and disappointment that came with Dominic.

With Ryan, there were no stolen glances you hoped he’d notice, no nights spent overanalyzing every word, wondering if he’d finally understood how you felt. Ryan’s affection was clear and uncomplicated—no guessing games, no pain.

When he asked you out after a few weeks of casual meetups, you hesitated at first. Not because you didn’t like him—you did.

But a small, stubborn part of you still clung to Dominic, still whispered, What if he realizes he loves you back?

But how long could you keep waiting for something that might never happen? How much more could you take of loving someone who couldn’t see you the way you saw them?

So, when Ryan asked, you said yes. Maybe it was time to stop chasing an impossible dream and focus on someone who wanted you, who made their feelings clear.

Dating Ryan was easy, like slipping into a routine that fit. He’d call just to hear your voice, plan dates that felt tailored to your interests, and never left you doubting how he felt.

You’d go to the movies, share quiet dinners, and laugh over inside jokes that only the two of you understood. He made an effort to learn about you—the way you secretly loved cheesy holiday movies, how you always ordered the same thing at your favorite diner but liked to pretend you were considering something new.

For a while, you thought this might be what moving on felt like. Comfortable. Simple.

And yet, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when you’d catch yourself thinking about Dominic.

It wasn’t fair to Ryan, you knew that.

But sometimes, when Ryan laughed, it wasn’t quite the same as Dominic’s laugh, the one that made your heart skip.

And sometimes, when he held your hand, it wasn’t quite as grounding as the way Dominic’s shoulder had felt pressed against yours during late-night talks.

Still, you told yourself that this was what you needed: a fresh start, a clean slate, a chance to let go of a love that had only ever hurt.

So, you gave it a shot, and brought Ryan into your friend group one evening.

The first time Dominic saw him, something shifted.

Dominic was unusually quiet, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with something you couldn’t quite place. He barely looked at you, and when he did, his gaze lingered just a second too long, his jaw tight.

When Ryan cracked a joke and made you laugh, Dominic’s jaw tightened. When Ryan casually draped an arm around your shoulder, Dominic’s lips pressed into a thin line.

That night, Sarah pulled you aside with a knowing look. “So… does Dom know about Ryan?”

“There’s nothing to know,” you replied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure. And the way he’s glaring daggers at Ryan right now? Totally normal behavior for a best friend.”

You glanced across the room, catching Dominic looking your way before he quickly averted his eyes.

“He’s just being protective. It’s not that deep. It never was,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as Sarah.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” Sarah said, smirking.

By the third time you brought Ryan around, Dominic’s jealousy was like a storm cloud hovering over every interaction, impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the biting sarcasm—though his sharp, offhand remarks had become an almost constant presence—or the subtle digs he let slip whenever Ryan spoke, disguised as humor but cutting just a little too deep.

It was in the way he carried himself, his entire demeanor shifting whenever Ryan was near.

Dominic, usually so laid-back and effortlessly charming, grew stiff and tense.

He’d find reasons to disappear into the corners of the room, pretending to scroll through his phone or busy himself with a drink, but his eyes always betrayed him.

They’d flicker over to you and Ryan, the look in them almost unreadable—frustration? Hurt? Something darker? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

It wasn’t just jealousy; it was possession disguised as indifference, pain buried under anger.

The tension between the three of you was unbearable, the kind of thing that hung in the air and made every conversation feel stilted. Dominic’s comments became sharper, his jabs less subtle.

“Yo, Ryan,” he said one night, interrupting a lighthearted story your boyfriend was telling about a work trip. “Tell us again about that thing you do—what was it? Selling insurance or whatever?”

Ryan laughed awkwardly, clearly taken aback. “It’s not insurance—it’s consulting.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the arm of the couch, drink in hand. “Right, right. Consulting. Super thrilling stuff, huh?”

You shot Dominic a glare, your jaw tightening. “Dom, knock it off.”

“What?” he said, all mock innocence, though there was an edge to his voice. “I’m just trying to keep up. Don’t want to miss the riveting tales of middle management.”

Ryan shrugged, clearly uncomfortable but trying to stay polite. “Not everyone can be a rockstar, man.”

Dominic’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Nope, I guess not.”

The moment passed, but the damage was done. Ryan excused himself to the kitchen, and you followed shortly after, seething.

When you finally caught Dominic alone later, the frustration boiled over.

He was standing by the counter, silently fuming as he glared at a can of soda like it had personally insulted him. His jaw was clenched so tightly, you were sure it was painful.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, what the hell is your deal?” you asked, crossing your arms, your voice more brittle than you intended.

Dominic didn’t even look at you, his hand still frozen over the can. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin. “Ever since I started seeing Ryan.”

Dominic scoffed, the sound bitter. He finally looked up, meeting your gaze with an edge to his eyes. “Weird? I’m not the one dragging my boyfriend to every fucking hangout, am I?”

The words hit you like a slap. You felt your stomach twist, a wave of heat rising to your cheeks, but you couldn’t back down now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turned his back on you, the movement sharp and dismissive. “Forget it,” he muttered, voice low and tight.

“No,” you said, stepping closer, your breath catching. “I’m not letting this go. Why do you care so much?”

Dominic froze, his body tense, shoulders stiff as though you had touched a raw nerve. He didn’t look at you right away, as though he was debating whether or not to say it.

When he did speak, his voice was quieter, almost too soft for how much it cut through the space between you.

“I just…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t trust him, okay? The dude’s a fucking loser.”

The words pierced you, more than you expected. You took a step back, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away. “That’s not your call to make, Dominic. You’re just being a dick for no reason.”

Dominic’s eyes flashed then—dark, almost desperate as he turned to face you. “Maybe it’s not, but it’s hard to watch you settle for someone who doesn’t even know you. Doesn’t know you hate rom-coms or that you cry every time you hear ‘Here Comes the Sun.’” His voice cracked slightly on the last word, but he quickly masked it with a frustrated shake of his head. “He doesn’t know shit about you. He doesn’t know he spilled his drink on your favorite sweater— He fucking chews with his mouth open. You hate that. I don’t know how you can be with someone like him.”

You blinked, thrown off guard by the weight of his confession. Your breath caught in your throat. “Dominic…”

But he cut you off before you could say anything else, his words sharp with frustration. “Just… forget it. Whatever,” he snapped, pushing past you to exit the kitchen, leaving a lingering silence in his wake.

You stood there, frozen, heart hammering in your chest, everything he had said hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

You were torn—staring after him, desperately wanting to chase him down, to ask him what the hell all of this meant, but a part of you feared that if you asked, the answer would break you even more than the silence already had.

Maybe you had been pretending, too.

Pretending you didn’t feel the weight of his words.

Pretending you didn’t feel like the whole damn world was shifting under your feet as Dominic kept slipping further out of your reach.

You didn’t know what to do anymore.

But one thing was certain—you couldn’t keep pretending either. Not when Dominic’s jealousy, his care for you, was so raw, so real.

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, confused and frustrated.

Later that night, after everyone had gone home, you lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling as Dominic’s words echoed in your mind.

"You deserve someone who knows you."

You’d heard those words before, maybe not in that exact phrasing, but the sentiment was familiar.

Friends, family—even your own thoughts at times—had gently hinted that you deserved more than what you were settling for.

But hearing it from Dominic, the one person you’d quietly longed for, struck a different chord entirely.

Did he really care about you like that? Or was this just Dominic being his usual overprotective self, always swooping in to play the knight when he thought you needed saving?

Your thoughts drifted to Ryan, the guy who had walked into your life like a breath of fresh air. Ryan was... easy. He made sense. He was sweet, kind, and always seemed to know the right thing to say.

He didn’t keep you guessing or leave you wondering where you stood.

With Ryan, everything was surface-level simple—polite dates, casual laughs, and the kind of affection that felt like wearing a sweater on a chilly day. Comfortable. Familiar.

But sometimes, it felt like he was reading from a script, saying the right things because they were expected, not because they carried weight.

And then there was Dominic.

Dominic was chaos wrapped in charm. With him, nothing was simple. He could make you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe, and he could infuriate you in the same breath. He wasn’t predictable or easy to pin down, but he felt more. Every word, every look, every touch carried an unspoken intensity.

Where Ryan gave you a steady, quiet affection, Dominic made you feel like the world was alive, like you were alive. And yet, being with him wasn’t easy—it never had been.

Dominic didn’t offer you the calm waters Ryan did; he was a storm, wild and untamed, pulling you under with every wave of emotion.

The difference wasn’t lost on you. Ryan loved the idea of you—the girl who smiled politely, laughed at his jokes, and looked good in a photo together.

But Dominic?

He loved the parts of you no one else paid attention to, the parts you didn’t even realize someone could love.

He knew you hated the smell of Bath and Body Works candles, no matter how trendy they were. He knew you always left the last sip of coffee in your mug because you couldn’t stand the cold, bitter dregs. He knew you cried when you watched the sunrise, not because it was beautiful, but because it reminded you of things you’d lost.

Ryan didn’t know those things, and you weren’t sure he ever would.

Turning over, you clutched your pillow tighter, frustration bubbling in your chest. Why did Dominic have to say that? Why couldn’t he just let you be happy?

You had spent years chasing after him, dropping hints he never noticed, loving him in silence while he dated other people, oblivious to what was right in front of him.

And now, just when you were finally trying to let go, to move on, he had to say things like that—things that cracked your resolve and left you wondering.

You closed your eyes, but all you could see was Dominic, standing in the kitchen, the look in his eyes when he said, "You deserve better."

What did he mean by that? Did he mean better than Ryan? Or better than him? Did he even realize how much his words had shaken you, how they’d made you question everything?

You didn’t have answers, but one thing was clear: no matter how hard you tried, moving on from Dominic wasn’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped.

2 AM, who do you love?

The question kept you awake, and the answer made your heart ache.

The knock on your door the next day startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, least of all Dominic, who stood on your doorstep looking like he hadn’t slept.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hey,” you replied cautiously.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping aside.

He hesitated, glancing at the floor before meeting your eyes. “I need to say something. And I need you to let me finish, okay?”

“Okay…” you said, your heart pounding.

He took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I like you. No, scratch that. I’m in love with you.”

Dominic's words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. Words couldn’t even begin to form in your mouth. All you could do was just stand there, and pray that he starts talking again.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long,” he repeated, his voice cracking just slightly. “And I know—I know I’m an idiot for not saying anything sooner. I’ve probably ruined everything by waiting, but I couldn’t—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t lose you. I can’t lose you… Not like this.”

You stood frozen, your mind struggling to catch up with his confession. “Dom…”

He shook his head, stepping forward but not too close. “Please, just let me finish. I’ve been so scared that if I told you, and you didn’t feel the same, I’d lose you as my best friend. And then I saw Ryan, and it hit me—I was already losing you.”

It almost seemed as if he was tearing up— His eyes, welling with tears, but refusing to let them fall.

Your throat tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Because I didn’t want to mess up what we have. But now, I don’t give a fuck. I have nothing to lose, and I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t drive me insane seeing you with someone else. I love you, Y/N. I always have.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words echoing in your mind. This was Dominic—your Dominic.

The one you had loved for as long as you could remember.

And he loved you too.

“You’re not a coward, Dominic,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “What?”

“You’re not a coward…” you repeated, stepping closer. “I’ve been in love with you too, Dom. For years.”

His eyes widened, the weight of your confession visibly hitting him. “You… what?”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your cheeks.

“Everyone knew, except for you. I’ve been dropping hints forever… And you never got the memo. I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I gave up trying. I tried so hard, it was eating me alive. That’s why I started seeing Ryan.”

Dominic blinked, stunned. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you said. “Why do you think I wear this necklace every day? Why I always made excuses to see you? Why I always wear the perfume you told me you loved?”

Dominic’s face softened, a sheer look of something between relief and sadness. ““I feel so stupid. I’m sorry, I never realized.”

You shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, anymore. Now, you know.”

The tension in his shoulders melted, and a soft smile forming on his lips. “So, all this time… we were both just too scared to say anything?”

“Basically,” you said, grinning too.

He let out a breath, stepping even closer until you could feel the warmth of him. “I can’t believe this.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You’re kind of slow, you know that?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling for the first time in what felt like days. “Yeah, well, you’re kind of impossible to read.”

Before you could respond, he reached up, cupping your face gently. “Tell me this is real,” he whispered. “Tell me this, us, is real.”

“It’s real, Dom,” you said, your voice soft but certain.

And then his lips were on yours, tentative at first, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. But when you kissed him back, all the hesitation disappeared.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and it felt like every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment of yearning was pouring out in that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Dominic rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you like he was afraid to let go.

“So, what happens now?” he asked, his voice low and a little uncertain.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I don’t know. I have no clue. But, I guess we figure it out. Together.”

A grin spread across his face, wide and boyish. “I like the sound of that.”

And for the first time in years, you felt like everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

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zomboivex · 5 months ago

Text

Small morning ramble about Rui.

These are all basically opinions so feel free to disagree but tbh I don’t really wanna hear it

This dude is never breaking his curse.

Nothing in the game hints to that even being an option for him. He, himself, doesn’t really talk about breaking his curse. He seems to have accepted that this will always be his life (and if my thoughts are correct, boy will it be a long life).

The reason Rui is such a fascinating character to me is because he’s coping with the fact that he will always be this way. He’s always going to have this curse and he’s trying to accept and live with that.

In the recent chapter where we actually see his curse go into effect - his reaction isn’t like Lyca’s (who was devastated at the seemingly betrayal of acceptance) but he was very much defeated and numb. He’s seen this reaction before. He’s been treated as a monster before. He wasn’t shocked by the reaction he got for draining a life. He was numb to it. He stood there, seemingly unable to let go as he was called a monster.

But see what I love about Rui is that

He has so carefully crafted himself to be reliable to others. Listening? No problem, he’ll let you talk about all your problems and don’t worry for one second about any of his (serious) issues. Of course, he’ll complain about his captain or Moby. But- that’s normal stuff to complain about. He tries soooo hard to make himself seem like a normal guy by flirting, joking, complaining about normal things. Then he listens to others, will do endless tasks (like gardening, cleaning up the house, running a bar, trying to run a bed and breakfast type situation, taking care of the duties Ed doesn’t or straight up refuses to do), and generally he keeps his own emotions locked deep down.

Hell his fucking stigma is a benefit to others! Even if ‘temporary’. He can still take away your pain and exhaustion??? That’s- pretty fucking helpful. And it sums him up so well as a character.

He does everything for the comfort of others. Even if temporary. Because he knows anything he does will immediately be disregarded the moment someone sees his curse in action.

Despite this, Rui pretends to always be cheerful and positive. Even if deep down he’s hurting so bad. And there’s nothing anyone can really do about it. He wears the mask of someone who’s cheerful and reliable and steady. Because what else is he supposed to do in his situation?

God I seriously love him so much as a character. I’d write a more cohesive thing for him but I want a few more Rui crumbs before I fully commit to writing a character study on this tragic fuck.

Tbh I wish I still had access to my old tumblr but I forgot the email and password I used to set it up lol so I can’t pull my character study of Narancia from over there onto here but shhhh

Anyways!!!

I struggle with writing Rui as intimate with others not on account of his curse (because there are no-touch ways around that and I wish more people would focus on that aspect ahem me- I’m more people ) but because this guy would never allow himself the chance to be intimate with others on account for what he is. It’s not from fear of touching them (though that poses a problem for fucking sure) but because he doesn’t feel he deserves this.

Okay I’m gonna stop rambling because I have so much to say but also I’m feeling very unwell today LMFAO

#tokyo debunker #tdb #tkdb #rui mizuki #obscuary #vexisshootingtheshit #I love him so much as a character #he deserves love but feels as if he doesn’t and I think that’s profoundly tragic #anyways make of this what you will

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doctorbitchcrxft · 7 months ago

Text

Red Sky At Morning | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of healing from a sexual assault (proceed with caution if this is triggering for you!!! I love you!! Take care of yourself!!!), canon violence, canon gore, spitting insults back and forth with Bela, discussions of dead family members

Word Count: 7523

A/N: I snuck a New Girl reference in here… see if you can catch it ;) Also… there is heavy homoerotic subtext between Bela and (Y/N). Giving my loyal subjects what they deserve lmfao

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Your mind refused to let you rest after seeing Sam leaving in the middle of the night. Despite your exhaustion, you stayed near the window until you saw the car return to its original parking spot around three in the morning. And sure enough, Sam walked out of it, looking severely pissed off.

‘I’m guessing he didn’t just have a bad hookup,’ you mentally remarked. You stewed for a few more minutes on what he could’ve possibly gone to do before sleep finally came to claim you. You settled into bed next to Dean with a yawn, and his lips twitched upwards in his sleep when you wound your arms around him.

***

The next morning around seven, you woke up to see Dean shuffling around and packing.

“Look at you, early bird,” you said dryly, stretching.

He turned slightly over his shoulder and smiled at you. “We gotta talk about Sam.”

You sat up, immediately alert. “Yeah, I know. I saw him leave last night.”

“And now, one of the bullets is missing from the Colt,” Dean huffed. “Dammit, Sam.”

“Let me take the lead on this one, okay?” you urged Dean, moving to the bathroom to brush your teeth and messy hair. “Promise I’ll let you get your two cents in, but I wanna see if he’ll fess up to it first.”

Dean seemed hesitant, but you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror nod anyway. He approached you and gave you a kiss on the side of the head; you assumed in assurance that he would do what you said.

***

Night fell, and none of you had said a word to each other. You sat in the back seat, of course, and Sam was in the passenger’s. You leaned back on the cool leather with crossed arms, waiting for someone to break.

Finally, you’d had enough. “Got somethin’ you wanna tell us, Sam?”

He turned to you, and it was evident he was playing dumb. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”

You quirked a brow, unamused. “No.”

“...Happy Purim?” he laughed. “Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

Dean cut him off, seeming not to be able to help himself. “There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. I know it wasn’t her. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans—”

“Dean…” Sam sighed.

“You went after the crossroads demon, huh?” you said as more of a statement than a question.

“After I told you not to,” Dean added harshly.

“Yeah, well…”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Dean roared.

“I didn’t,” Sam argued.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

Dean waited a moment, trying to gain his composure. “So, what? Does that— Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

“Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?” Sam scoffed. “No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“I do believe I already told you that,” you reminded the boys. “And no one will fucking say who.”

“Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute…” Dean snarked.

“That's not funny,” Sam said dryly.

“No, it's not!” Dean yelled. “It was a stupid fuckin’ risk, and you shouldn't have done it.”

“I shouldn't have done it?” Sam challenged. “You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

The rest of the drive to the next case you’d stumbled upon was completely silent.

***

You and the Winchesters posed as detectives once more to interview the great-aunt of the woman who’d drowned in the shower. The witness seemed particularly interested in Sam, which you were struggling to hold back a smile over.

“But I don't understand,” the elegant, elderly woman said. “I already went over all this with the other detectives.”

“Right, yes,” Dean replied. “But, see, we're with the sheriff's department, not the police department – different departments.”

“So, Mrs. Case—”

“Please.” The woman’s voice had suddenly dropped an octave, likely attempting to seem sultry. “Ms. Case.”

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um, you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

She nodded. “I came home; she was in the shower.”

“Drowned?” Sam asked.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?” Ms. Case’s eyes refused to leave Sam.

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or—”

Ms. Case suddenly cut Sam off. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

Before you could voice your confusion, Dean started talking. “Yep. Absolutely. That's—” he laughed, “Alex and us, we're like this.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Ms. Case grinned. “Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry, I thought the case was solved.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.” “I see.” The woman seemed a bit dazed.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat,” the woman explained.

“A boat?” you questioned.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a…” the woman trailed off, seeming to search for the word, “—ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” You noticed that the elderly woman’s eyes still had not left Sam.

The younger Winchester seemed thrown off by her intensity, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, um, could be.”

“Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you—” she traced her hand down Sam’s slowly, and you and Dean had to bite back smiles— “Anything at all.”

***

Your laughter burst out as soon as you got down the street and far enough away from the house that the old woman couldn’t see you.

“What a crazy old broad,” Dean chuckled.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam scoffed.

You and his brother laughed louder. “Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbled.

“No thanks,” you smirked, “bet she will, though.”

“So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?” Dean questioned.

The brunet shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And what looked like a ghost ship, right?”

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Really?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Every thirty-seven years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every thirty-seven years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started,” Dean sighed. “What's the lore?”

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman; almost all of them are death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?” the older brother snarked.

“Basically,” shrugged Sam.

“Next step?” you asked him.

“I gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?” you replied.

“I checked that, too, actually. Over one-hundred and fifty.”

“Oh, great!” you sarcastically noted.

You and the Winchesters approached an empty parking spot, and you got increasingly confused as you did.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked.

“For sure,” you nodded.

“Where's my car?” Dean growled.

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam questioned.

Dean’s voice began to rise in a panic. “Yes, I fed the meter. Guys, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!”

“Whoa, Dean!” you said, grabbing his arm and trying to keep him from pacing.

“Somebody stole my ca—” Dean bent over to clutch his knees to calm down.

“The '67 Impala? Was that yours?” A familiar voice slyly asked.

“Oh, you bitch,” you grumbled, looking up to see Bela Talbot.

“I'm sorry. I had that car towed,” she said.

Dean shot up. “You what?!”

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone,” Bela replied simply.

“No, it wasn’t!” Dean argued.

“It was when I finished with it,” she smirked.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” the older brother questioned pointedly.

“A little yachting,” she responded flippantly.

You clicked your tongue, realizing something. “You’re Alex. Workin’ with that old lady.”

“Gert's a dear old friend,” Bela nodded.

“Yeah, right. What's your angle?” Dean cut his eyes at her.

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats,” Bela grinned.

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real.”

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Sam jumped in finally. “How do you sleep at night?”

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money,” she scoffed. “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?”

“You shot me!”

“I barely grazed you.”

“She is right,” you murmured.

Bela turned to you. “Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?”

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real,” Dean pressed.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way,” she said.

Dean looked at her like she was stupid. “It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment, and she's demanding some real answers. Look, just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you. Before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” Bela turned around and smiled over her shoulder. “Ciao.”

You and the Winchesters watched her go.

“Can I shoot her?” Dean growled.

“Not in public,” you and Sam replied.

***

You encountered Bela once more the next day when another man had been killed. She was posing as a reporter, but you and the brothers managed to shoo her away from the victim’s brother. Unfortunately for him, he’d seen the ship as well.

Thankfully, you’d gotten the car back, and you headed over to it after questioning the man. It was parked a distance off from the buzzing crime scene, enabling Dean to begin loading shotguns in the back of his car.

“I see you got your car back,” Bela’s frustratingly beautiful voice cooed.

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean growled.

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure,” she quipped. “Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat.”

“That guy back there saw the ship,” you explained.

“Yeah? And?”

You blinked at her, slightly stunned by her coldness. “And he’s going to die. We have to help him.”

“How sweet,” she mockingly pouted.

“What is wrong with you, man?” you asked her.

She ignored you. “He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

“But why not at least try?” you argued.

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun,” she grinned tightly.

Sam and Dean moved to either side of the car, but you weren’t done with her yet.

Dean seemed to know what you were up to as he watched you intently, saying,

“(Y/N)—” but it was too late.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you to make you such a heartless bitch, but I really and truly hope you heal from it soon. ‘Cause you’re a completely miserable person to be around,” you called after her.

She turned around to you sharply with her arms crossed. “Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not. But at least I own it and try to be better.”

“Come on,” Bela scoffed. “You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're all a stone's throw from being serial killers. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job, and I do it. So, you tell me, which is healthier?”

“Oh, god, if I didn’t hate you so much, we’d be such good friends,” you said, a lilt of sincerity in your voice. “But I gotta tell you, man, I’m really not concerned with which is healthier. I’m not even concerned with which is more “morally ethical.” What just… puzzles me about you is how you think that nasty attitude shields you.

"These two might not be able to see it,” you continued, nodding at Sam and Dean, “but I do. You are quite genuinely disappointed in yourself. I get it. The economy sucks, the bees are dying, and movies are all pretty much sequels now. Gotta put food on the table some kind of way. But why do it your way when you can’t even stand to look at yourself in the mirror? Pride. Because without your money and your attitude, you know you’re not half the woman you claim to be.”

“You talk too much,” Bela spat, clearly affected by your words. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” you smirked. “See ya around, Alex.”

***

Later that night, you and the Winchesters decided to stake out the home of Peter Warren, the man you’d spoken to earlier. He was next on the chopping block, and you desperately hoped you’d be able to stop the ghost in time.

You knew that whatever Sam and Dean were talking about, they would catch you up later. And so, you decided to let your thoughts drag you into your own mind.

You were aware of how harsh you’d been on Bela. The truth be told, you didn’t hate her at all. In fact, you admired her ambition. However, everything you’d told her had all been your real perception of her. You knew that everything about her was a facade. And for some reason, she really got under your skin.

You supposed it was because you saw yourself in her. Maybe, if things had been different for you, you would have ended up just like her. Maybe you didn’t like seeing your reflection in her.

“Hey, you!” someone called from outside the Impala.

“I think we've been made,” Dean said to you and Sam.

You followed him across the road to where Peter stood, yelling.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?”

“Sir, calm down. Please,” Sam coaxed, but to no avail.

“You guys aren't cops!” he continued. “Not dressed like that. Not— Not in that crappy car.”

“Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.” Dean cut his eyes at Peter.

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover,” Sam bluffed easily. “We're here because we think you're in danger.”

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.” Sam led you and his brother into the gate, backing Peter closer to his car.

“Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Peter exclaimed, getting into the vehicle to drive it toward the gate.

“Wait!” you called.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!”

“Not helping, Dean!”

As the car approached the gate, it shuddered, coughed weakly, and died.

“That can't be good,” Dean noted.

“Not at all,” you replied. “Get the salt gun.” Next, you ran to the car to help Peter. In the seat behind him, a man with sunken eyes and dripping wet, long, black hair dressed in old sailor’s clothes appeared. Then, it was next to Peter in the passenger’s seat. You tugged on the handle with all your might, but it wouldn’t budge. Horrified, you watched as Peter slumped to the steering wheel with water pouring from his lips.

“(Y/N)!” Dean called from behind you.

You ducked just in time for Dean to fire at the ghost from the passenger’s side door.

Reaching through the broken glass, you hurriedly unlocked the door. You immediately dragged Peter out onto the concrete and put your head to his chest, listening for a pulse. He had none, but you tried CPR anyway. Of course, it was no use. Defeated, you looked up at Dean with sad eyes.

“Dammit!” he growled, kicking the car in frustration.

***

You hadn’t spoken much after leaving Peter behind. It felt awful to leave him on the ground, but there wasn’t much you could do with his body if you wanted to evade suspicion.

Luckily, Dean had found a house to squat in a few days earlier, and that was where you were readying for bed.

The house had clearly not been lived in for some time, and you were thankful you made the brothers start keeping air mattresses on them for instances like these.

You and Dean took the upstairs bedroom, and Sam slept in the one downstairs. The house was still furnished, but dust covered every surface. You decided to leave the cleaning for tomorrow and opted for a “ho bath” as your mother used to call them since you refused to step foot in the unclean shower.

Cross-legged on the air mattress, the hair you were in the midst of combing through waved gently in the wind coming through the open window.

“You wanna say it, or should I?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you as he entered the room after his shower.

You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You can’t save everybody, sweetheart,” he reminded you.

“Dean—” You rolled your eyes.

“What? Don’t gimme that. I know you were thinkin’ it,” Dean said, getting down onto the mattress next to you. He lounged back on the crook of his arm behind his head, leaning against the wall.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and kept your body facing the open window on the adjacent wall. “I just… It feels like I can’t save anybody lately.”

Dean stared at you intently; you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

You returned to brushing your hair, and he sat up to sweep it all over your shoulder opposite him. Dean kissed your newly-exposed neck gently, as if he was savoring the way you felt against his lips. Your brushing slowed, and you tilted your neck further to give him more access.

He kissed up to your mouth; his kiss gentle there, too. When he broke away from you, Dean leaned his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing to me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled lowly in his chest, almost as if you weren’t supposed to hear him say that.

You responded by nudging his nose with yours and then pecking his lips.

Something in the way the two of you kissed felt somber. Granted, almost every day recently seemed to have a somber element. Every day meant one step closer to Dean’s time being up. It was the elephant in the room that was only acknowledged for fleeting moments. And when one did acknowledge it, the other would beg for it to be over. While both of you knew talking about the situation was necessary, neither of you could bear it for longer than a few minutes every once in a while.

You brought this up to Sam the next morning, who sat with you on the couch as the sun rose while Dean continued to sleep.

“I think he just wants to be with you,” Sam said. “I mean, with Jess… when I was dreaming about her dying, all I wanted to do was be with her. To… reassure me that wasn’t real. Or, wasn’t real yet, I guess.”

You nodded. “And I don’t necessarily want to talk about it for extended periods of time. Talking about it makes me feel more in control, I think. I just don’t like feeling fucking helpless.”

“Trust me, I don’t either. And Dean definitely doesn’t. I tend to micromanage more than he does, but…” he shrugged, trailing off.

“I have something else to tell you,” you began, wondering if you should even continue.

“Go ‘head.”

“Back at that… prison. The guard I beat up? He, um, he raped me.”

“Oh, my god,” Sam breathed out. “God, (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. That’s not the point.” You scrubbed your hands down your thighs anxiously. “I’m telling you because I don’t wanna talk to Dean about it. I mean, with the deal and everything else going on… I almost don’t wanna burden him with it? I mean, he knows, obviously, but… I don’t know, I just feel like I have no right to be struggling compared to him.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam scolded gently. “(Y/N), neither of us could ever imagine what that’s like. And if my idiot brother is making you feel that way—”

“No, no, he’s not—”

“—Good! ‘Cause I’d kill ‘im if he was,” Sam finished. It was honestly the most riled up you’d seen him in a while.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you smiled weakly. “It’s just… it’s all so much right now. I wanna enjoy every second of my time with Dean. But between the deal and hunts and… that and everything else on the goddamn planet consuming me every second of the fucking day, it’s really hard to.”

Sam eyed you sympathetically.

Before he could respond, you took in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “Anyway, what’s up with Peter and his brother? I know you researched ‘em yesterday while I was zoned out in the back of the car.”

Sam still seemed like he was wrapped up in your earlier conversation, but he knew better than to force you to keep talking about. “Oh, yeah, uh… they came into, like, a hundred and twelve million after their dad passed. That was really the only thing interesting. Everything else about ‘em was clean,” he informed you.

“Huh,” you considered. “Any connection between the vics?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Far as I can tell, no.”

“Awesome,” you dryly stated.

You then heard a groan come from upstairs as someone began to descend the staircase.

“Morning, Dee,” you called up.

All you got was a grunt in response.

***

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, wrapped by Dean’s arms as he held you to his side. The two of you were just sitting with each other and thinking; a pastime that you were becoming quite fond of.

Dean’s lazy circles he was tracing on your outer leg stopped at a knock on the door.

You shot Dean a look and stood, grabbing your gun off the worn coffee table. You pressed it to the back of the door and peered through the peephole to unfortunately see Bela. At this revelation, you made a face at Sam and opened the door.

She strolled right in. “Dear... god. Are you actually squatting? Charming.” Her self-satisfied smirk never left her face. “So, how'd things go last night with Peter?”

You refused to dignify her with a response as did Sam and Dean.

“That well, huh?” she taunted. “If you say 'I told you so,’ I swear to god; I'll start swinging,” Dean growled.

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart,” she sighed.

“Oh, sure. We can sing kumbaya while we’re at it,” you quipped. “Cut to the chase, Bela.”

“Temper, temper,” she tsked. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

“I've ID'd the ship.” She unwrapped a leather case containing a quite elaborate file. She spread the papers within it across the table. “It's the Espírito Santo: a merchant sailing vessel; quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was thirty-seven.”

“Which would explain the thirty-seven year cycle,” Sam noted.

“Aren’t you a sharp tack?”

You snapped, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

She ignored your comment. “There's a photo of him somewhere…” she flipped through the file and finally settled on a picture of a much drier version of the man you’d seen last night.

Dean looked to Sam. “Isn't that the customer we saw last night?”

“You saw him?” For once, Bela seemed surprised.

“Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand,” the older brother nodded.

“His right hand?” Bela questioned.

“How'd you know?” you returned.

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” she explained.

Dean childishly laughed. “A hand of glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week.”

“Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful,” Sam lightly chastised.

Bela rolled her eyes. “So they say.”

“And officially counts as remains,” Dean considered.

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

“I'll tell you why. Who cares?” Bela said curtly. “Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

“I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?” you asked.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is,” she nodded.

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help,” she said, closing up the file.

Sam crossed his arms. “What kind of help?”

The woman smiled. You hated how charming her smile was. You wanted to hate her so badly, but she was growing on you.

‘Definitely like a wart. Maybe a fungal infection,’ you thought.

***

“I hate this plan,” you said.

“I don’t think you realize how often you say that,” Dean returned.

You glared up at him while you helped adjust his tie. He looked completely beautiful, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him here with you and ravish his body.

Bela’s brilliant plan was bringing Dean as her date and forcing Sam to go with Ms. Case to a charity event. However, given Bela and Ms. Case could only take one guest each, you were forced to sit this one out. Or, at least, that was what Bela thought; you knew she could’ve gotten you in if she really wanted to. You knew she was attempting to humiliate you or put you in your place after what you said to her. However, if there was one thing you knew, it was how to crash a party.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Dean asked you.

“You,” you smiled lopsidedly up at him.

He smirked down at you and kissed you. He held you by your waist as close to him as he could get you, and you returned the gesture by gripping his lapels.

“What is taking so long?” Bela called up the stairs, forcing you and Dean apart. “Sam's already halfway there... with his date.”

“So not okay with this!” Dean yelled back, and you giggled, resting your forehead on his chest.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already.”

Dean looked at you— for approval? For reassurance?— and headed down the stairs. He adjusted his cufflinks with you trailing just behind him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bela looked beautiful in her evening gown and glittering jewels, of course, and you hated her all the more for it.

“Alright, get it out,” Dean encouraged you and Bela. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use,” Bela sighed.

Dean’s nose crinkled in disgust. “What?”

“Y’know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex,” Bela stated plainly.

“Don’t objectify him!” you cut her off; perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

Both Dean and Bela stared at you in questioning.

“Let’s go,” Dean told Bela. “See ya, sweetheart,” he called back to you as he followed Bela out the door. He tossed one more longing look at you over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

You immediately sprinted back up the stairs and took out the evening gown you’d been hiding in your duffel bag.

***

After having snuck into the party through a window on the back of the museum that security had neglected to cover a door anywhere near, you casually slipped down the hall into the ballroom.

You could see Dean, Bela, and Sam bickering near the entrance to the grand ballroom, and you smiled lopsidedly at the sight. Sam then caught sight of you moving through the crowds of people toward them thanks to his superhuman height, as did Bela and then, Dean. Bela crossed her arms angrily, but you were focused on Dean and trying to fight a smile off your face.

Dean seemed to be breathless. “Damn, (Y/N).”

“Damn, yourself.” You turned to Bela. “Great party,” you commented, taking a glass of champagne off a passing tray.

“Thought you were supposed to be waiting back at the house,” Bela replied.

“And miss all the fun? No thanks,” you smirked, taking a sip and staining the glass with red lipstick.

Ms. Case then came up behind Sam holding two glasses of champagne. Before he knew it, he was being whisked away by his date. You giggled at the sight, and Bela rolled her eyes. “C’mon,” she told Dean.

You were delighted, actually. For once, you got to enjoy a fancy party without having to partake in the hunt or any sort of planning the heist. All you had to do was make sure no one got arrested.

You hung back on a far wall, sipping your beverage and watching a disgruntled Sam dance with a very handsy Ms. Case.

‘Dean would be pissing himself,’ you thought, giggling at the sight.

The next thing you knew, the old woman was whispering in Sam’s ear. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep the laugh from bursting out.

And then, your joy was smothered.

“Hi, gorgeous,” a man said, having come up next to you.

“Go away, please,” you snapped, beginning to feel tension grip your throat. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he was reminding you of what happened to you at the prison. Perhaps it was the way he approached you?

“Okay, then, Jesus,” he muttered and was gone soon after.

Your breathing began to slow, but your discomfort continued. Your heart rate remained elevated, and your mind felt in a fog. You returned your focus to Sam and Ms. Case once more trying to keep your mind grounded in the present.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your elbow. You whipped around and threw a punch, catching the attention of several people around you.

“Whoa!” Dean said, catching your wrist and dodging your fist.

Gaze landing on those beautiful green eyes and freckles that you had come to love so much, your breathing finally slowed. You began regaining awareness of the world around you and tried not to shrink under the stares of the wealthy around you.

“Way to not draw attention there, (Y/N),” Bela commented.

Eyes like daggers, your head snapped toward her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” you hissed.

She seemed to realize she’d crossed a boundary, and she backed off. “I’m gonna go get Gert a cold shower,” she quipped, her pride refusing to admit she knew she was wrong.

You stared after Bela mindlessly, and Dean put his first and middle finger under your chin to turn your face back to him. Your eyelashes flickered, and he searched your face for clues as to what triggered you.

Sam came up beside you and Dean. “Guys? Uh, hate to interrupt, but… let’s get outta here.”

You and Dean followed his gaze to one of the women you’d seen whispering and pointing at you after you threw a punch at Dean talking to a security guard and pointing at your trio. Dean instantly grabbed your hand and began leading you out of the museum.

When you arrived at the car, Sam turned to you. “You okay? Saw you try to deck Dean back there.”

“Yeah, uh… this guy just—” you ran a hand through your hair and sighed— “Nevermind. Let’s see the hand.”

Both boys dropped it, although you knew Sam would probe you further later.

“Yeah, tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing,” the younger brother commented.

“I got it... Mrs. Who?” Dean wondered.

You giggled. “Great Expectations?” you prompted.

Dean just stared at you blankly.

“Charles Dickens?”

He blinked.

“Dude, did you pay any attention in high school English?” Sam scoffed.

“Sure I did!” the older brother defended. “Caroline Stone sat in front of me; she was my tutor. Fucked her in the janitor’s closet and everything—”

“Oh, yeah, you were definitely paying attention to something,” you deadpanned, lightly flicking him on the shoulder.

He rustled around in his suit jacket, rolling his eyes, and took out something wrapped in a handkerchief. Dean’s amused expression soon melted into aggravation as he did so.

“What?” you and Sam asked worriedly.

The older Winchester held up a glass bottle with a miniature ship rocking around in it. “I'm gonna kill her.”

Behind Dean, you saw something on the horizon line. The museum was expectedly located near the water given its emphasis on seafaring history, and your heart dropped when you realized what was happening.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered under your breath. “Dean— Dean, I see it.”

“See what?” he asked, following your gaze.

“The fucking ship, Dean. It’s the fucking ship,” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), that’s it,” Sam realized.

“What’s it?” you questioned frantically, eyes still on the water.

“Ms. Case said the Warrens? The brothers? It was rumored they killed their father for his money. And Sheila? She got in a car accident. Her cousin Brian was with her, and he died. That’s the pattern.”

You nodded slowly. “Killing family members. Awesome.” You shook your head, turning to the expensive car next to you. “Fuck!” you yelled, punching the door of the car.

***

You paced around the room, Sam trying his best to keep you and Dean calm while he researched.

“Y’know what, you’re right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go,” Dean growled. “I’ll fuckin’ string her up, I swear to—”

“Dean, look, you gotta relax,” Sam sighed, although he seemed stressed as well.

“Relax!” Dean laughed coldly. “Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax. My fuckin’ girl’s just on Davy Jones’s hit list, and I can’t do anything to stop him because I lost the only fuckin’ thing we could use to save her. Fuck!” There was suddenly a frantic knocking on the door. Disgust burning in your eyes when you looked through the peephole, you opened the door for Bela.

“Just let me explain,” she said. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.”

Dean was completely furious, and he stalked around her. He made a shooting motion with his fingers which would’ve pulled a smile for you had it not been for your situation.

“So you needed a cover for the charity ball,” you spat. “And we were convenient.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back,” Sam implored.

Bela shook her head woefully. “It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Dean questioned.

Realization struck you, and you began laughing coldly. “Oh, okay. You saw it, too.”

She looked up at you, and for the first time since you’d met her, Bela looked terrified.

Dean whistled lowly. “Wow, you know, I- I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—”

“What are you talking about?” she cut him off.

“We figured out the spirit’s motive,” Sam began, putting a photograph in front of Bela. “This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.”

“So?” she prompted.

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See, first, there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. Then, (Y/N). And now you.”

“Oh, my god,” Bela breathed out, seeming to breeze right by the fact that you’d seen the ship, too.

“So who was it, Bela? Hmm?” Dean taunted. “Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It’s none of your business,” she defended weakly.

“It is our fuckin’ business,” Dean snapped, suddenly leaning on the arms of her chair. “(Y/N) saw it, too. And I don’t give a damn about you. But (Y/N)... is…” he trailed off, shaking his head and hanging it low, seemingly overcome with emotion. “And you just sold the one thing that could possibly save her life.”

“Well,” Sam said, “maybe not the only thing.”

All three of you turned to face Sam questioningly.

***

Kneeling on the soft grass beside the grave of the captain, you helped the boys set up a ritual circle under the light of the full moon.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Bela asked worriedly, standing to the side. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders tightly.

��Almost definitely not,” Dean grumbled, looking over at you.

You smiled weakly at him trying to reassure him that you would be okay.

Thunder clapped unexpectedly, and the wind whistled around you. Rain began to pour, soaking you to the bone in an instant.

“Sammy! You better start reading!” Dean ordered, pulling you up from the ground and shielding you with his body.

The younger brother obeyed, and then, Bela shouted, “Behind you!”

Dean was immediately flung through the air away from you, and you wheeled around to see the ghost you’d seen at the Warren’s house. Before you could raise your gun to shoot him, he put his hands on either side of your head. Immediately, you began coughing up water. It felt like your throat was closing as the air slowly left your panicking body.

Dean staggered over to you and tried to support you through your heaving, shuddering breaths. “Sammy, read faster!”

Black spots began to form in your vision, and you were sure it was the end. Then, the rain died down. The wind billowed gently, and the spirit’s head turned slowly toward a creaking sound.

“You... hanged me!” the spirit cried at his brother.

“I’m sorry,” the captain responded pitifully.

“Your own brother.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The spirit charged his brother, leaving you a sputtering mess on the floor. You heard the two men scream, and then, they both went quiet.

***

After parting ways with Bela for the evening, you returned to the house for a few hours of sleep. However, laying next to Dean— the moon illuminating his freckled skin and occasionally-fluttering eyelashes, breaths deep enough to move his chiseled shoulders along with his chest— you couldn’t sleep. Since he’d drifted off about an hour ago, you’d been lazily stroking his hair; the two of you facing each other.

Then, Dean took in a deep breath, stretching out on his back. It became clear to you that he’d woken up, though his eyes remained closed, when he kissed the inside of your wrist. Soon enough, his breathing became steady once more. He kept you snuggled tightly into his right side; legs intertwined and breathing beginning to mirror each other’s.

And then, it hit you: you’d felt oddly at peace, as much as you’d tried to deny it, when the ghost put his hands on the sides of your head. Even when you were in excruciating pain— lungs burning and eyes watering— you were almost relieved. Because if you’d died tonight, that meant you wouldn’t have to live without Dean.

***

Given your realization the previous evening, you wandered around in a daze all morning. You had never enjoyed depending on others. Needing help was so pathetic in your mind, and you refused to ask for it. Despite the way you encouraged Dean to open up and accept help, you couldn’t take your own advice. After your mother’s devotion to your father led her to standing by idly while her two children were beaten black and blue, you swore that you would never let a man rule your life in any sense of the word. And now, Dean was consuming you.

However, this devotion didn’t feel hopeless. It didn’t feel messy. You didn’t feel your essence deteriorating while he hacked away, carving space and indelibly marking your soul. This devotion was welcomed. Allowed. Encouraged. You were willingly handing your beating heart to him, and you knew you could take it back at any time.

Before Dean, you never trusted anyone. You would never have allowed someone to walk beside you through Hell before you met him. Try as others might have, Dean was the only person to mesh harmoniously with your body, mind, and soul.

When Bela came to say her goodbyes, though, you forced yourself out of your thoughts. After she’d thoroughly amused Dean with the ten thousand dollars she gave the three of you to repay her debt, she swaggered out of the door. You surprised even yourself when you followed her out.

“Bela!” you called.

She turned back to you. “Sorry, darling, all out of goodies for the day—”

“I don’t want your money,” you cut her off. “I wanted you to know that… whatever you did, I understand. The boys may never, but I saw the ship, too. Whether we like it or not, we’re pretty similar; you and me.”

She seemed stunned by your admission.

“Take my number,” you told her, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. “If ever you feel like slummin’ it for a crappy beer in a dive bar. Or if you run into any more ghost ships.”

That stunned Bela even more as you turned on your heel and headed back inside.

*** “Seriously? Atlantic City?” Sam scoffed.

Dean had you speeding toward a casino with the money Bela gave you as night fell that evening. “Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black.” He paused for a minute, allowing the air to shift in the car. “Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um... I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon.”

Sam sighed, much to your surprise. You figured he’d be thankful to hear Dean’s admission.

“Y’know, situation was reversed,” Dean continued, “I guess I'd 've done the same thing. I mean, I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal; me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

Sam looked upset at that. “You think so.”

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life. You’re stronger than me.” At Sam’s scoff, Dean exclaimed, “You are! You are. You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for... putting you through all this, I am.”

“Y’know what, Dean? Go fuck yourself,” Sam spat.

“What?” Dean questioned. You were stunned as well.

“I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself,” Sam continued his tirade.

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Dean grumbled.

“So would you please quit worrying about me?” Sam shouted over his brother. “I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you’re dying!”

“He does, Sam, knock it off!” you jumped in for the first time. After all, it was you that had planted the seed to Dean that he should have apologized to Sam.

Dean said nothing, and you could tell by the smirk on his face that he wouldn’t be displaying vulnerability with Sam again for quite some time.

“So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?” Sam pushed.

“I think maybe I'll play craps,” Dean stated.

Outraged, Sam just stared at him in complete disbelief. He turned to the window, and you continued to watch Dean. His smile faded to a steely, difficult-to-read expression.

Sighing, you settled stretched out across the seat and crossed your arms over your chest. Dean’s eyes met yours briefly in the rearview mirror, and you saw a flicker of his real feelings— hurt, betrayal, fear— cross his face before his expression returned to unreadable.

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