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hederasgarden · 10 days ago

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@whatblogisthis216 has me thinking about which ATJ characters enjoy edging versus overstimulation.

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train),and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Edging, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, breeding kink, use of restraints, and a lot of other truly questionable sexual things. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

Let's start with the KING of overstimulation - Kraven!

Sergei’s stamina in the bedroom is both a blessing and a curse because he could literally spend hours between your thighs without breaking a sweat. He likes to start off with his hands and mouth. His heightened sense of smell lets him savor the way your scent changes with your arousal and he wants to be nose-deep in the source. Plus, he enjoys slowly stretching you out, adding a third and fourth finger even as you protest and tell him you couldn’t possibly fit another. But he certainly doesn’t need his hands to make you come, his tongue is talented enough.

Depending on his mood, he might tie you up or make you wrap your legs around his head, crossing one ankle over the other, your heels pressing firmly into the back of his neck so he can devour you whole. You’ll be trembling, shaking all over with the effort to hold that position. It feels like you’re suffocating him but he’s ravenous, his hands wrapped firmly over the top of your thighs. The sounds he makes while he eats you out are filthy and you can feel yourself dripping down his chin. He’ll easily make you come half a dozen times that way before easing your legs off his shoulders and crawling up your body.

Once he’s inside you it’s a litany of praise, his mouth roaming over your face and neck. He loves to nip and bite with his sharp teeth, teasing your nipples until they grow hard and sensitive. He could go for hours like this but he knows your body is fragile, only able to give up a certain number of orgasms before you pass out. He’s careful to toe the line, waiting to come himself until he’s pulled every last drop of pleasure from you.

The aftermath is almost as enjoyable for Sergei as the overstimulation part. He loves how soft and pliant you become. You’re extra clingy too and he gets to indulge in taking care of you. He’ll carry your limp, half-conscious body into a steaming bath, washing you with care. You’ll be cleaned thoroughly, though his hands are gentle when they wash between your legs - he knows how sore you get.

Once you’re dry and clothed you’ll get some water and fresh fruit before he tucks you beneath the furs in his bed. He’ll whisper something in Russian, most of the words foreign to you except dorogaya, my beloved. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the sweet kiss he gives you, alongside the promise of breakfast in bed tomorrow.

Friedrich doesn’t have the patience or interest in edging you. Honestly, he doesn't even mean to overstimulate you either, it's just that he gets so lost in your smell and taste that he loses track of time. Can you blame him? When he’s between your thighs each moan and gasp you let out drives him nearly insane. He loves the way your thighs squeeze his head each time you come and how your body trembles the longer he stays down there.

When you thread your fingers through his thick curls and tug on the roots he groans into your cunt. His touch grows rougher and more demanding. He needs you to come again, it’s a near compulsion at this point. Each one tastes sweeter than the last and he drinks from you like a man starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive. He’ll use his fingers to work you open, his thumb circling your clit while he gazes down at your swollen cunt. Watching your face as you come undone is almost as good as tasting you.

By the time he’s fully satisfied, you’re shaking all over, begging him to stop. Friedrich calms you down with sweetly murmured words, his hand running up and down your side soothingly. He kisses you slow and deep, wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue and understand just why he had to stay down there so long. By this point, you’re so wet that you welcome him inside without any resistance and he slides home with a groan. Despite how hard he is, he doesn’t rush your lovemaking, rolling his hips in an unhurried rhythm, drawing out both of your pleasures. This is the main show after all, the whole reason he had his head buried between your thighs in the first place. He needs to put another baby in your belly. It's all he can think about.

He makes sure you come again when he's inside you. He's a gentleman after all. While he chases his own release he's praising you, talking about how warm you are, how tightly you grip him. How good you've been for him. After, he stays lodged firmly inside, gazing lovingly at you. He just needs to catch his breath and then he'll be ready to go again. Doesn't that sound good, darling?

Tangerine loves edging you simply because he can. You look so pretty when you cry, especially when your tears ruin your makeup. The more debauched you look, the better. Nothing makes him harder than seeing you at his mercy. He likes to use his fancy silk ties to bind your wrists and ankles to the bed so you’re spread eagle for him. Throughout the whole experience, he remains fully clothed in his three-piece suit while you’re completely naked.

Because he loves to push boundaries, even when you’re absolutely certain you’re at your limit, he’ll keep going until you have to use your safe word. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter throughout, using a mix of praise and dumbification in equal measure. You may act like you don’t enjoy it when he’s mean to you, but the way your cunt squeezes the shit out of his fingers tells a different story. Speaking of which, Tangerine isn’t about to remove his rings for this. He wants you to feel them as he curls them deep inside you.

When it’s finally time to let you come he wants you to soak his face. After all, he put in all the work and he’s going to get his reward. Then, knowing him, he might shift into overestimation territory just because (and if you happen to pass out on him at this point, when you wake up he’s going to lecture you about falling asleep on him). When it’s finally time to sink to your body he’ll demand just one more orgasm from you as he finds his own end.

After, Tangerine will take a minute to admire what he's done to you. Maybe even snap a photo or two for later when he's gone on a job. Although he’ll clean up your tears and give you a little forehead kiss, that’s as far as he’ll go. He wants you to go to bed with a mess between your thighs. The thought of his cum slowly leaking out of you for the rest of the night makes him hard enough to go again.

Ives has a purpose for edging you. Maybe it’s punishment for disobeying him or just because he knows you need it. Either way, you’re going to be handcuffed to the bed, sweaty, and begging to come by the time he's done with you. Ives is steady and calm during the whole experience, squeezing your thighs in reassurance while he reminds you that you can and will go another 10 minutes like this.

And when he’s finally ready to let you come it won’t be with his mouth. You’ll come on his cock or not at all. He’ll sink into you slowly, relishing how you welcome him in with a fluttery little gasp, straining against the handcuffs. You’ve been empty for so long that it’s almost overwhelming to have him fill you up. But he’s not as unaffected as he likes to pretend. You can feel a tremor work through his body as he slowly rocks into you, building to deeper and harder thrusts. By the time you’re coming around him, without ever needing him to touch your clit, the bed is groaning and smacking into the wall.

After Ives will clean you up with a washcloth and wrap his body around yours, nuzzling into your hair. You’ll fall asleep to him telling you what a good girl you were for him.

♡

Special thanks to @ryebecca and @otaku-girl-ao3 for looking this over.

I'm curious to hear everyone else's thoughts and reasoning. 👀

#sergei kravinoff x reader #friedrich harding x reader #ives x reader #ives tenet x reader #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #kraven x reader #friedrich harding x you #ives x you #tangerine x you #bullet train #kraven the hunter #nosferatu #tenet #kraven x you #sergei kravinoff x you #sergei kravinoff #friedrich harding

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delta-pavonis · 10 months ago

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Fic Teaser: Parasomnia

(The morning after Special Exhibition, so spoilers there if you haven't read it. This little bit is rated T.)

Dear Dream,

Many would start such a note with “I just couldn't bear to wake you…” but, to be quite honest, I fear it would be too disingenuous given that I did everything short of cracking the smelling salts to wake you before I left. I was worried enough that I checked all your vitals. Upon finding you not dead, nor bradycardic, nor hypotensive, nor hypoxic, nor hypoglycemic, I decided you needed the rest.

Make yourself at home. And I mean that truly. Hell, you know where the toys are kept if you somehow feel the urge. (I, for one, am giving my bollocks and backside a break for at least a few days. No regrets, though.) There is barely any food in the pantry because of my holiday schedule, but there is plenty of coffee and tea. Enjoy anything and everything I have in stock. Or just order takeaway.

I left my car here and took the tube in. Keys are by the front door. You are welcome to drive my car to the hospital or get on a block south and ride in to pick up your car. I told the hospital parking attendant to log it under my name, so no rush getting here, your car is safe.

Rest. Go back to sleep if you want. (Actually, drink a glass of water first. We exerted ourselves rather, ah, thoroughly last night.) Take all the time you need.

I’ll be back about 6 tomorrow morning. If you're around, we can have breakfast. If not, I hope I’ll see you soon.

Text me when you are up and moving?

Yours,

Hob

P.S. Last night was fantastic. You are absolutely stunning. xoxo

Dream reads the letter fully three times before putting it down.

“Yours.”

Something in his chest soars.

Mine.

He wants Hob to be his very, very badly.

Probably in ways Hob very much does not intend.

Probably.

Dream drops the note to run his hands over his face and flops back onto the bed. The sheets smell of Hob and he turns to press his cheek into them before he can think better of it.

Oh, yeah, he’s proper fucked.

One hand wanders down to his abdomen, to above his groin, and for a moment he feels Hob within him again and groans. His other hand lands on the bruising on his shoulder, presses softly, just enough to remind him of Hob's mouth.

Dream closes his eyes and remembers the taste of Hob, his skin and mouth and sweat and cum. He suddenly misses him, desperately.

Which is insane.

They’ve known each other–actually known each other, not the weird parasocial relationship he had with Hob via his TikTok ASMR videos–less than a week. How can Dream possibly miss him?!?

This is just the rush of a new relationship. It will pass. It will pass.

But Dream doesn't want it to pass.

God, it has been ages since he felt this good. Since he had someone respond to him, to his intensity, in kind, to meet him punch for punch. It is what he thought Corin would be, or Calliope, or, fuck, Nada way back when. He thought they could become this. He and Killala had it for one bright, shining moment, before they burned themselves out.

And yet here Hob is, matching his steps, following his lead in this dance, seemingly without much effort, on the first try. Dream is going to have a whole lot of trouble letting that go, now that he knows it possible.

Fuck.

Dream grabs his phone from where it was placed on the nightstand next to the letter and looks at the time.

Which makes him sit up in bed like a shot.

It is almost five in the evening. He has slept for over twelve hours.

#pavonis writes #dreamling #museum curator Dream #doctor Hob Gadling

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pauking5 · 10 months ago

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Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start. Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again. "Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki.

Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add. Proud podium sitter for thousands of times. Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man, and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway. Without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the tragedy and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point in disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more, and it showed, despite dad's efforts to stay afloat. Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep going.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened. It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to sit and watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust away little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could do to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father. Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence. The only people that did were your team in the garage that saw your face every single day, from the mechanics to your personal PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway. It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him. "You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right. You could do this.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion. You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station but his steps halt once he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he says, flashing his extremely cocky smirk at you, adding a suggestive wink to go with the whole menu.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your rejection, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he starts doubtful, a little too focused on the writing littered over your left breast. "The shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead." He finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck is this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself. "Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo. If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red bruises before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples bathing him in the jackass façade he's got going on. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear that made hot shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty. Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver. The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Most important of all, respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

This first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring heat of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

#Runaway #Naozumi Hiyama #Naozumi Hiyama x reader #Naozumi Hiyama x you #Overdrive x reader #Overdrive x you #racing au #Overdrive Mackenyu

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deblklesb · 1 year ago

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[Phantoms of Past — Abby x Reader]

[AFAB!reader, friends to lovers, Christmas themed, br!reader, angsty, MDNI]

a/n: well, is this late for Christmas? yes. but do i care? also yes bc i'm paranoid and have some need to make stuff on time, so imagine my despair when i couldn't finish this. but i ALSO know that I'm doing my best, and for that i have to pat my own back. anyway, this is for my brazilian besties out there!!!

cw: reader is brazilian, usage of phrases in pt-br with the translation after and between parenthesis, owen mentioned (this man is a cw by himself idc this is not a owen appreciated blog), mutual pinning, Abby understands portuguese and even talks some. let me know if i forgot something.

not proof read | word count: 3,274

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

While you drive through the recently cleaned streets of the neighborhood you grew up, thanking the heavens that it stopped snowing for now, the radio plays a seasonal song and your murmur along. The traffic on the main roads were chaotic, almost as congested as your uncle's arteries, but now the decorated rooftops and doorsteps replaced the headlights on your peripheral vision. In front of a house stood a snowman, or at least his body stripped of arms and face.

You park in front of a house with simple adornments and flashers around the main door, a LED deer standing next to it and a small table with fake cookies and milk on top. All the energy was so reminiscent of the years you'd spend a whole day decorating the house with your mom, mainly inside, just so your father and sister could take care of the outside. Now that you both were grown and away, the couple occupied itself with the house interior and resumed the exterior with a simple approach. It never failed to take a smile from you, though, especially seeing the way they would adhere to simple things just because it looked cute, even if it had nothing to do with their native traditions.

Coming from Brasil, for the first part of your life you had hot weather and sunny days on Christmas. Maybe a night of rain, but never snow. Fireworks and catholic mass were on the list, but your parents went just to go along with the rest of the family and friends. They weren't religious, so in the end Christmas was simply another holiday, but with presents and - as all the other holidays - a family gathering. The main difference now was that you were studying in another city, becoming one of the absent relatives; you know, the ones that mainly go home for the holidays and vacations. It wasn't bad, but they definitely missed you a lot and the feeling was mutual.

Using your key to get in, the sounds of Simone’s “Então É Natal” (“And So It Is Christmas”), a brazilian holiday song, hit you immediately. You chuckle, taking off your boots and coats. From the front corridor the ornamented tree is visible, carrying innumerous lights and details. There's probably not a single empty wall, the seasonal decoration filling every inch of your field of vision.

“There she is!” Your father shouts as you appear in the living room smiling. The man goes into your direction with open arms, holding you tight. You smell that same cologne he wears since you can remember anything, and along with the warmth of the house, it truly feels like home. Some of the tension from university and work just falls on the carpet, leaving your body to receive all the good things inside that place.

“Carlos, you'll smash our child and I cannot have another one”, your mom yells somewhere from the kitchen direction, making you laugh.

“I can get another one anywhere, Marília”, he finally lets go, an arm around your shoulders. “Won't be as nice as this one, though”

“Of course not, she's irreplaceable”, your cousin Felipe says, approaching. “Prima, você tem feito falta!” (“Cousin, you have been missed!”) He holds you sideways with an insane amount of exaggeration, taking an embarrassed chuckle from you. Felipe was a lawyer with a lot of charisma, but inside he was just your cousin that your mom liked a lot. You both used to play together growing up. “From some people, a little too much”, he whispers playfully before running away, not letting you scold him for bringing up something you were not prepared to deal with this earlier, especially when the person implied wasn't even around. Yet.

Your father doesn't seem to notice, now talking with your mom again.

“Hey, Alice”, you wave to Felipe’s wife sitting on the couch, drinking something on a Christmas themed mug.

“Hey, sweetie! How's uni?”

“Tiring”, you shrug. “How about the kids?”

Your name is once again shouted through the house, and as you turn around three kids are running into you. Camila, Jorge e Rayana hold your waist, almost making you fall with a laugh. Camila is the oldest, at five years old, but the others are at the age of three. They're simply the most precious people in that family.

“Meus pestinhas!” (“My little brats!”) You start messing their hairs and pinching their ears playfully.

“Eu perdi um dente, olha!” (“I lost a tooth, look!”) Camila smiles widely, showing the first little window on her mouth.

“Ela tá ficando banguela e feia” (“She's getting toothless and ugly”) Jorge points out, and by Camila's reaction this isn't a new saying.

“Well, that's too bad. Because you'll get toothless and ugly too, just wait a few years”, Rayana and Camila laugh as the boy pouts at your response, looking at their mom.

“Vamo, vamo, abram espaço. Preciso abraçar minha filha” (Come on, come on, clear the way. I need to hug my daughter) Your mom’s voice finally reached the living room before her arms were wrapped around your torso. It's warm and familiar, you've missed her so much.

“Oi, mãe” (“Hey, mom”)

“Você tá tão magrinha, filha. Aposto que não anda comendo direito na correria, né?” (“You're so skinny, child. I bet you haven't been eating well in all the rush, right?”) The caressing she does on your back is reassuring, and by that you can tell you're going back with bowls filled with food. “Sua irmã vai chegar só mais tarde, seu pai vai buscar ela na estação” (“Your sister will arrive just later, your father will pick her up on the station”)

“When will uncle Jerry get here? He said he would get me new crayons”, Rayana mumbles while playing with one of the numerous ornaments on the lit up tree.

You try not to react to what that phrase implies, going with your mom to the kitchen to busy your hands and your mind with something else. She would probably kick you out of there soon anyway, she never liked having other people in the kitchen with her unless very necessary. But the need to act normal, smile and not think about family friends coming over it's bigger than the prospect of being scolded out of a room.

While the conversation continues in the living room and the song plays to never leave an empty place in your audition, you hover around the place talking with your mom about the neighborhood news and her routines in the morning walks group. It's comforting to know about what's going on, even if it doesn't really affect your life.

You help her cut the bread to make rabanadas (french toasts), looking forward to finally eating them. It's one of your favorite things of this season, even though you could actually find it anywhere at any time of the year. But the memories of having a plate of those on the supper table, covered in sugar and cinnamon, it's one of your favorites. So you're dividing your attention between the chore of slicing the bread and listening to your mom speaking, when a name being yelled in the living room catches your ear and you almost cut the tip of your thumb.

It's Jorge’s voice. “Abby!”

It's a blessing your mom didn't notice it, but now you have a bigger motive to stay inside the kitchen and never leave it.

No matter how much your mother talked, or the music filled the air, or the people in the other room got into different conversations within the group; her voice seemed louder than any other thing to you. You would swear she was next to the table you had the cutting board on, chatting with the children and playing with them.

You could swear you could listen to her whispering to you about lonely nights and missing pieces of a puzzle.

“Tia!” (“Auntie!”)

Your mom stops speaking just to turn around and look into the tall woman's direction. “Abigail!” Her comforting, mothering arms hold the strong torso, and the blonde needs to be in a not very straight posture to fully embrace your mom. What could you say, hightness wasn't in your family's genes.

“One of these days you'll be able to carry me around, with how big and strong you're getting!” And they both laugh as if Abby didn't live at the end of the block and they saw each other constantly.

All the while, you're trying to avoid the upcoming, inevitable moment. Your eyes glue on the bread, but you're not really looking at it. They're talking but you can't decipher the words, just assimilate the sweet voice making your cells tremble in vibrations. Cutting another piece, and another, then another, then-

“Puta que pariu-” (“Motherfucker-”), a drop of blood falls onto the cutting board when you pull your hand away, thumb red and hurting.

“What happened?” Your mom asks, concern in her voice.

“I cut my finger”, the running water of the sink makes the wound sting when you put the finger under it, the blood keeps coming out.

“I can take care of that if you need to”, Abby says, making you look directly at her for the first time of the night.

And you have to give the lack of air to the pain. You have to, because otherwise you would be admitting that looking at her takes your breath away.

“Yeah, Abby is working as a nurse in a school now. I bet she's used to this type of thing”, Marília goes to the cutting board, taking the pieces you've cut already.

There's nowhere to run over this. What will you say, that you don't want her to take care of your wound? That you can't be next to her, orelse all the coherent thoughts in your mind will fade away, leaving room for her voice? That your fingers ache to touch her?

You look to your still bleeding finger under the open faucet, then to the tall, blonde woman again. And while your mother wasn't looking, you both had a silent conversation about something, everything. She could see the doubt in your eyes, but you could see the pleads in hers.

“Sure, I think it wouldn't be much…” You try to smile, finally turning the faucet off and grabbing a towel to wrapp around your finger.

You both go upstairs, she tells you how there was a first aid kit in the bathroom and your stomach jumps at the realization that she knew your house more than yourself probably. Looking forward at all times and trying not to pay too much attention to her careful hand touching your arm like she was guiding you around the place.

“Go to your room, I’ll take the kit”, and you don’t even look at her to see how she was looking at you. You don’t know how that hurt her, mainly because you’re trying to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

The room is just like you always leave it after the breaks, bed neatly covered and books on the shelves. Some stuffed animals that you couldn’t bear to donate were aligned on a shelf next to a poster of a band you liked, the black and red contrasting with the creamy colors of a small giraffe. You saw the table where once you were pressed against, the lamp giving a soft light on the room as you felt a pair of lips so close to yours after all those years of yearning and silent pining.

“Okay, let’s give this a look” she was back using that voice, the one for the workplace. Tender, but firm; like she was trying to be secure, but reassuring.

Abby pulled the chair next to the table so she could sit in front of you, her knees together between your separated legs as she carefully took your hand and unwrapped the towel. Crimson drops started to flow down your finger, and the blonde woman never took the blue eyes away from the cut.

The distance wasn’t enough. Her scent would haunt the bedroom all night, making you dream about her just like it happened before, during your late school years, when she came to spend the day and left you numb and daydreaming. Her touches were so gentle, featherlight.

“It wasn't that bad, we can handle it”, she muttered like she was talking to one of the students from the school she worked at. “So, how's college?”

“It's okay, I guess”, with eyes glued on your own hand, you tried not to notice her thighs too much. “I've been working my ass off to write a paper while keeping up with classes and the monitoring thing”

“You'll get this, I'm sure”, you looked up just in time to see a smirk on her lips, but then returned to look down again before being trapped on that hypnotizing expression. “After all, you've always been very good with your words”

“It was easier in school, though”

“It always is”, she cuts the bandage before wrapping your finger with it. “But that's the thing, right? We start to realize how school was maybe easier, but then again, would you rather be back?”

“Oh, fuck no”, you chuckle as she finishes the curative. “I wouldn't change this for that”

“Yeah”, you finally look up more confident, meeting her indescribable expression. “I would change some things, actually”

“Like what?” You're just keeping the conversation, just trying to let it flow well enough for it to be bearable. You surely weren't expecting the next phrase.

“I wouldn't have dated Owen”, she sighs.

Owen was Abby's boyfriend. They started dating in the last year of school, and looked very much in love, for your displeasing. He wasn't a bad guy per se, but the fact that you already had a crush on Abby made you think that your feelings towards him were totally based on jealousy. So every single thing you had to say about him would be shoved down your throat immediately, and you'd just smile and nod to your friend anytime she mentioned him. You told her he was nice - couldn't bring yourself to say more than that - and supported their relationship with the most painful role in that whole story: the best friend with an unrequited crush.

By fall you found out she and Owen had broken up. Right after…

“Why is that?” Her eyes wander from the quilt to your hands, then back to your face. They were so beautiful, you could spend the rest of the night admiring them. Or the way her hair would fall around her face with soft lines, how her freckles were so attractive to the touch, especially on her arms.

“Don't think I was really into him… At least not in the right way”, Abby was the one not looking at you now, almost more interested in putting the stuff back on the kit box. “I could've been honest with him… And with you”

“Abby-”

“That's fine…” She shrugged. “He was a little bit of a dumbass anyway”

Silence falls around you both, filling the room with an emptiness.

The image of them both in your living room, last Christmas, haunts your mind as soon as you remember how you knew nothing and was too caught up in your own thoughts at the time. The way she laughed at his jokes, making your stomach turn as you smiled politely. Or how you saw them kissing next to the coat holder by the front door, and all the food you ate wanted to come back in awful bitterness.

You never told anyone. Never said a word, as always, rather keeping the green feeling on the back of your mind in order to not do something stupid - like being rude or start crying.

But then, you came home for the summer break. You dad was making barbecues in the backyard, you mom decorated the house with all the stuff your cousin brought from Brasil on his last trip, and you'd listen to pagode in the living room while the kids were playing and running, waiting for the meat to be properly roasted so they could finally eat.

Internally, you were ready to deal with that same gut-rotting feeling all over again. The plan was to sustain the fake expression until the time allowed you to pull the tiredness card on everyone and go to your room to watch some old telenovela.

Abby showed up alone, greeting everyone as usual. And when she looked at you, you could swear that was something in her eyes that could make you shiver. How she took your figure in before hugging you, how she held you so tight and for a little bit longer. How she was always trying to be next to you. You couldn't decipher, though, and the whole day went by mixing the confusion of her being without Owen and not even mentioning his name, and the rush of being that close to her again.

That night, in your room, she kissed you. Right there, where you were sitting now, she held your face between your hands and your skin shivered, while her lips touched yours.

You waited for years. Kissing her was probably one of the only things you wanted to do every time she was around, flesh craving hers. And it finally happened… But she had a boyfriend.

So you never talked about it again. You went back to college and texted her less and less.

“Abby, Abby, Abby!” A childish voice came from the corridor, the door opened to show Rayana. “Come here, I need your help to defeat Jorge and papai” (dad)

“Okay, I'll be there in a second!” The blonde smiled before the girl ran back downstairs. “Well, it seems like a have a duty”

“Can't let her down, she'll never forgive you”, you both chuckled while she got out of the room, first to leave the kit back in the bathroom and then to go to the living room again.

Sighing, you laid back on the mattress. Just like that summer night, you were alone in your room trying to collect your feelings about an interaction with Abby. Heart beating fast and a familiar warmth on your chest, wanting to curse every single entity for putting you in this position.

You came down maybe 15 minutes later, mask back on to decorate your face with a smile. You saw the tall woman on the mat with the younger children on top of her, attacking her while laughs filled the place.

“Okay, okay, saiam de cima da Abigail” (“Get off of Abigail”) Your mom didn't have to say it twice before they were sitting next to her. “Abigail, I need a favor. Remember that bowl I lent to you last week?”

“Sure”, her arms seemed stronger now that she was supporting herself on the elbows. Why was she so gorgeous?

“I need you to get it for me, darling”

“Okay, I got it”, Abby got up and immediately went grabbing her coat again.

And you were about to go back to the kitchen to make yourself useful, but it couldn't be that easy.

“Filha, vai com ela. Está nevando bastante, não é bom dirigir sozinha nesse tempo” (“Daughter, go with her. It's snowing a lot, it isn't good to drive alone in the weather”)

“Oh, it's not necessary-” She really tried, but your mom wouldn't take a negative answer.

“I'm not asking, you won't go alone!”

You nod and start putting on heavy clothes. It was okay, all good. You both would get in the house, grab the bowl, and get back in no time. It would be fine.

[dividers by @cafekitsune]

#abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou abby #tlou2 abby #abby the last of us 2 #christmas theme #deblklesb #abby anderson the last of us #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson tlou2

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sinsandsweetness · 1 year ago

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Girl I have a weird fantasy about Daryl being a trucker before the world ended, like he’s older and picks me up on the side of the road after I’ve left home and tells me if he’s gonna take me where I want I go, I’ve gotta give him somthing to make it worth it.

Then giving him sloppy road-head and getting fucked in the cab till I’m dumb

Absolutely love your writing babe 😘

I actually rlly love this. especially since I’ve dated a truck driver who looks like young Norman and will literally sleep the whole time in the cab when he goes on jobs…

I imagine you sitting in the passenger seat, cross legged and snacking on some licorice from a gas station. You’re almost 6 hours into the drive. Still another two nights until you’re in the state you actually want to be in. Nice and far from all the bullshit you’re running away from.

Daryl keeps glancing over at you reading your book, leaned up against the window. Paying special attention to how short your denim cutoffs are and how tight your white tanktop is. Leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The thought dawns on him that in two hours, when the sun has set and both of your eyelids are getting all heavy, he’ll have to pull over at a rest stop. And when he saw you with your duffel bag and your bright red boots, sticking your thumb out as you walked along the shoulder of the highway, he didn’t think about the fact that there’s only one bed in the cab. One, tiny, little mattress, and two of you. You’re way too far in the middle of nowhere to find a motel either. No service. No trace of civilization for at least a couple hundred miles.

Wow. You must be stupid or something. To get in a truck with a stranger. Hell, he could have been some kind of creep. Have you seen any horror movie ever?

He looks back over at you during his internal questioning. Gosh you’re pretty. Effortlessly stunning. Hair a little wild and undone. No makeup on that he can tell at least, but he’s never really been good at noticing that stuff anyway. You’ve got layers of mixed metal jewelry. Necklaces and rings and earrings. All glimmering in the golden hour sun. You kicked your boots off hours ago. Blue polish all chipped off nearly all of your toes. Truthfullt, you’re kind of a mess. A pretty one though.

“What?” You ask him, your honeyed voice brings his brain back to earth.

“Oh- uh… nothin’,” he looks back at the road. Where he should be looking anyway. “Just, it’s gonna be dark soon. Won’t be able to read.” He keeps darting his gaze over at you while he talks.

“That’s ok. I’m sure I’ll find something else to entertain myself with.”

“You should try and sleep. Don’t think we’ll pass a motel until tomorrow night.”

“Oh that’s okay, I’ll just sleep when you do.”

He was hoping you wouldn’t. He was hoping he could avoid the awkwardness of the sleeping situation altogether.

“Yeah, I mean if you want. There’s only one bed so I just thought-“

“What, you don’t wanna share?” You’re giving him a look that he can’t decipher. Are you… flirting with him? You toss your book into your bag and unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Uh- what are you- what are you doin’?” He asks as you climb into the back.

“Well since you’re kickin’ me to the floor I guess I’ll try and catch some z’s before you pull over.” He’s glancing back every few seconds. Trying to keep his attention on the road, but a little too intrigued by you peeling your shorts off to succeed in doing it.

“I’m not- I wouldn’t make you sleep on the floor, I just didn’t- I don’t want to -“ fuck. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to sleep with him. Like you had to share the dingy little sleeper cab that can barely fit his own broad shoulders, let alone another person. An incredibly attractive and insanely good smelling girl. One that’s bending over to fix the sheets and baring her lacy hot pink thong in the process. His eyes widen and get all shifty. Should he look? Should he pretend he doesn’t see?

“Don’t want to what? Sleep with me?” You scoff as you sit back on the bed thing your hair up into a messy blob at the top of your head with a hair tie.

“No I-”

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean. But I really don’t mind. In fact, I probably owe you anyway.”

“O-owe me? I already told you I’m going your way anyhow.” He says, reminding you of his refusal to take any cash.

“I know, but you’ve been so nice and sweet for picking me up in the first place. Wanna make it up to you.” You’re voice is low and sultry. And your words go straight to the tent in his jeans, the one that’s been half hard and ignored since he first invited you into the truck. He glances back at your half naked frame, relaxing into the sleeper cab mattress. Seeing your tanned legs and pretty panties. Wild hair and a playful, up to absolutely no good look in your eyes.

He wants to focus on the road. He does. But his mind is racing with all the ways you could make it up to him. Since you’re offering that is. And he really doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend he doesn’t want to pull over and plow you til the sun comes up. Especially with the way you’re looking at him, hand trailing down to tickle at the waistband of your underwear, biting your lip and flipping through your own filthy fantasies about the handsome, young trucker who’s been kind enough to help you out.

He catches your gaze as he glances back once more and the lustful look in his baby blues sends a jolt straight between your legs. You smile and lick your lips, wanting to be extra clear of your intentions,

“I’m ready whenever you are, pretty boy.”

#daryl dixon x reader #Daryl x you #Daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #preapocalypse daryl #daryl daydream #daryl imagine #daryl Drabble #reader insert

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h0p3l3ssromantic · 2 years ago

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i need to taste it

✨Masterlist coming soon✨

This is a work of fiction intended for readers 18 years of age and older

Please do not copy, translate or share my work here or on other sites

Synopsis: to be very honest. I love sweaty Hyune. He just does something to me and me personally? I’d drink a gallon of his sweat.

Not too much smut. Word count? Not too much lmao

Sensual: relating to or involving gratification of the senses and physical, especially sexual, pleasure. That would be you, positively sensitive to touch, taste, sound and…smell. someone who loved having her senses removed or intensified. Though not always in a sexual way, that was your favorite way to be sensual. You loved how your man touched you. Every caress, feather light touch, every grip, grab and squeeze, had you doing just that. Squeezing, clenching on him, whatever toys he used on you and sometimes on nothing. Walls begging to be massaged..

Mhmm and sounds. Sounds that only the two of you knew. Your moans, screams and begging that you knew he loved so much. The sound of the wetness from your arousal as your man pleasures you…fucks you in every way humanly possible. Always 2 towels underneath you. You tend to make quite the mess. The sounds of his heavy breathing as hes trying to pace himself, you need to cum at minimum 3 times before he can even think of allowing himself to. The sound of his moans…those are rare but fuckkkk do they always get you even more excited. Even more dizzy. Even more soaking fucking wet at the thought of him enjoying himself in your pussy so much that he breaks his dominant demeanor. Your favorite moan of his is the one he lets out whenever he has his face deep in the side of your neck, losing more control within himself with each warm stroke. You always know when hes close…”fuck daddy, do i make you feel good? Are you going to cum in me huh? Come on baby, please, please cum in me”

“Ughhh ohh f-fuckk baby”

There it is, that moan that has you cumming at the same time as him, putting your hips at an angle that allows him to penetrate deeper…finish harder…push his cum farther up inside you...

Taste. You have tasted every single crevice and inch on his body, never leaving a single body part un tasted, unloved by you. By far your favorite sense to explore with him. You love the taste of his salty cum, usually never swallowing immediately. Letting it marinate on your tongue. You swear you could taste all of the things that made him him. You never want to forget his taste for as long you fucking live.

The soft thud of the front door bringing you out of your horny, lustful thoughts

Finally your baby is home, you couldn’t wait to see him, as you decided to surprise him at his place for dinner. But upon seeing him post what looked to be a very strenuous practice…you felt a whole new dizzy sensation…

“H-Hi baby!” You say with excitement as you jump out to surprise him

And surprised he is, “hi my love, what are you doing here?” He says, walking up to you, smirking…drenched in sweat…

There’s a strange…pheromone literally oozing from his pores, drips of sweat still clinging to his skin

This scent, this sight, his voice it’s driving you fucking insane

And the sweat..an untasted bodily liquid…is this what’s causing that dizziness?? you had to change that…you had to know what it tasted like…

“I-I just wanted to surprise you, I missed you so much” you say jumping into his arms, straddling him, kissing him on his neck…his sweet spot. Soft kitten licks, between the soft kisses, tasting the liquid resting on his warm skin, “fuck is sweat supposed to taste like this? He smells so…fuckable. You always need and want him but this feels more raw and animalistic the way you need him.

“I missed you too baby, mhmm” he moans “I see someone really missed me, I’m all sweaty baby let me clean up and you can have me however you need me”

“Mhm mhm, I know baby and I don’t care” you beg, “please let me taste it, let me taste you, I want you just like like this”..

Should there be a part 2 to this??Or is it good alone??

A/n: Im trying very hard to not make everything I write about Hyunjin but im down so bad for him. All of them to be honest. The Hyune brainrot is honestly so real I’ve cried about him like 3 times this week. I need him in a pre historic way

As always pls feel free to like, reblog or comment all feedback is good feedback still getting my bearings around this site and smut. Thank you for reading, smooches💋

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader #skz hyunjin #hyunjin smut

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unofficially-ace · 3 months ago

Text

Star thoughts/liveblog (spoilers ahead ofc)

- If Splashtail is holding kittens hostage have you guys tried….driving him out? It’s literally one guy against the whole of Riverclan, just keep him away from the kits and there won’t be an issue???

- The conflict is kinda stupid I can’t lie, this could be solved if everyone in Riverclan wasn’t such a dumbass

- Cloverfoot is going to die in this battle I can smell it

- I can’t believe we’re getting fascism explained to us through warrior cats

- Berryheart fell down the crunchy mom -> alt right pipeline real

- This book is making me like Tigerheartstar wtf

- Frostpaw I would die for you

- Harestar you’re the most annoying mf ever please die

- What is it with Riverclan and their camp being turned into a prison every other series

- Graysludge and Mistslime are objectively hilarious names

- What happened to Splashtail being compelling why is he just cartoonishly evil and insane now

- There are not enough supporters of Splashtail to make give this any stakes come onnnn, he has like 5 people actually on his side

- I love Berryheart she’s so fucked up

- Wtf is Owlnose doing, why is he siding with Splashtail for no reason??

- Sunbeam you are so stupid my god

- ‘She didn’t realise what she was doing’ yes she did lmao

- RIP Berryheart you were the most compelling villain of the series

- That makes 2 dead female villains and we’re stuck with the boring male one….

- Owlnose you just killed someone don’t try and make me feel bad for you

- ‘The last thing she ever did was save you’ just like Curlfeather….the parallels…

- This feels like setup for Froststar ngl

- I can’t believe Nightheart is the only guy with a braincell here

- Is fogstar going to be a thing??? She hasn’t even been mentioned once before this book

- Riverclan is so stupid it actually pains me

- Why are we still calling them Greysludge and Mistslime that’s literally so mean lol, just call them by their apprentice names

- The tension is actually really good

- Not exactly liking how Splashtail seems to be genuinely mentally I’ll and that’s why he’s evil…

- He’s fuckin dead and we’re only halfway through?? Now what?

- So glad Frostpaw got to be the one to kill him though, that was so satisfying

- Riverclan you can justify all you want but at the end of the day you’re fuckin stupid

- The second he started doing murders y’all should’ve turned on him and it would all be fine

- Hi Mothwing when did you get here

- Lol fuck those guys (fognose and breezeheart)

- Goddamn Berryheart’s funeral scene is some of the best writing I’ve seen in a warriors book for a while, these are genuinely interesting emotions to explore

- Ewww I don’t wanna think about frost having a crush on splash stop bringing this up my god

- Oh fuck yes Frostpaw and Curlfeather angst

- If the rest of this book is just emotional conflict I will be more than happy with it

- Don’t kill off Frostpaw I swear to god

- Kate Cary I’m putting my trust in you

- This scene would make an incredible animation

- Might be my new favourite chapter of warrior cats ever holy shit that SLAPPED

- Fuck off Nightheart I need more Frostpaw

- Having Nightsky and Nightheart is so confusing

- Thunderclan can’t go two seconds without an argument (usually started by Lionblaze)

- I kinda love this type of conflict, it’s much more interesting than Splashtail being crazy

- Podlight is still here???

- Tree does something as a mediator for the first time ever

- Who tf is emberstar (if they’re relevant in Riverstar’s SE then I haven’t read it lol)

- The fact that I genuinely can’t tell if Frostpaw will survive is so good

- Please let the rest of the chapters be Frostpaw I don’t gaf about the others right now

- Whistlebreeze is the cutest name

- Frostdawn!!!! Also cute as fuck

- ICESTAR REALLLLL LETS GO

- Oh my god this chapter is gonna make me cry

- Sunbeam is pregnant and I want to explode

- And that’s a wrap on ASC , genuinely actually enjoyed this book, especially the second half. The emotional conflict was really interesting I gotta be honest, Frostdawn’s almost-dead scenes were so fun and had really good tension. The conflict with Splashtail ended up getting really stale, I’m glad he was killed halfway through because I couldn’t have dealt with that being dragged out for a whole book

#warrior cats #asc spoilers #asc star #star spoilers

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winn-schott-throughtheheart · 7 months ago

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For the headcanons thing (that you posted 6 months ago - sorry)

Winn Schott

If you’ve already done him (which is highly likely) give me another character you haven’t done and please tag me in the Winn one :)

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS LMFAOOO thank you for reminding me that's so embarrassing

anyways, I'd had Winn and Lena requested but Kara is my second fav blorbo after Winn so I did her too <33

also, this is going off the premise that both Winn and Kara are autistic, it's canon because I said so I have lists you can fight me on this

Winn

Realistic: Winn is notably the only analyst (in the main cortex at least) that wears dress clothes instead of uniform. At the beginning he really did try to stand the uniform, but he ended up convincing J'onn to let him off because he just couldn't deal with the feeling of it on his skin.

Hilarious: Being the only human member of the Legion of Superheroes, Winn got asked A LOT about human culture. A blatant lie that originally stemmed from being asked the same ten questions a billion times, snowballed into a complicated lore about humanology and Gods and belief systems (because he was too embarrassed to admit to the original lie) and he ended up being the accidental cause of organised religion in the 31st century.

tldr: Winn Schott manages to shitpost his way through space and time

Also, he's asthmatic as fuck. He has to carry an inhaler in his bag and he hates it.

Awful: He hates the smell of teakwood and tobacco because it reminds him so viscerally of an abusive foster home that it genuinely makes him physically anxious and nauseous.

Unrealistic: He's actually really good at handling spicy food. He's even out-performed Alex a handful of times.

Lena

Realistic: Lena actually really hates chess. She hates how everything needs to be calculated properly, how everything needs to be thought out exactly, and it just reminds her too much of how she was brought up.

Hilarious: She has a peanut allergy. Similar to Winn, she has to carry an epi-pen in her bag. This is not public knowledge, of course, because that would probably bring her quarterly assassination attempts up to weekly.

Awful: Lena can only fall asleep with a nightlight- she isn't really sure why, all she knows is that her bed feels less like frigid, murky water when it's on.

Unrealistic: She doesn't know how to cook or how to drive. Her whole life she's had people cook for her and drive her places, so she never had to learn how to. She'd like to one day, though.

Kara

Realistic: Kara LOVES dinosaurs. She didn't have birds on Krypton, which implies either all the dinosaurs were wiped out, or there never were any in the first place, and she was immediately enthralled and fascinated by them when she first learned about them.

Hilarious: She's dyslexic. She relies on Grammarly like it's lifeblood.

Awful: She's insanely afraid of thunderstorms. It takes everything in her not to have a flashback or a panic attack or a meltdown, and she will point blank refuse to patrol if it's storming.

Unrealistic: After Red Daughter was killed, Kara's heat vision stayed permanently purple, and her eyes were purple too for a very long time afterwards.

maybe that first ones a bit of projection, i fucking love dinosaurs

#supergirl #headcanons #winn schott #autistic winn schott #kara danvers #autistic kara danvers #lena luthor

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peachyloveswriting · 2 years ago

Note

wow!!! the immortality post was so good!! you captured every character so well 🫶 im glad that for nai’s part he stopped himself before he accidentally killed reader—i wonder how insane that would’ve made him. i’m tempted by how angsty that would be …

Anon: *Slides angst onto table*

Me: (in a very suspicious and obviously trying to not be obvious outfit) *snatches the angst and runs away with an evil cackle.*

If you can't tell, angst is my favorite and OMG I absolutely love this idea I'm drooling over it as we speak. Sadly though I feel like my last knives fix was rushed so I'm going to try and write this one better for you.

IT'S A GOOD THING I CAN'T DIE --- Millions Knives

SUMMARY: How could he ever do something like this. And why to you of all people?

WARNING: Death, descriptions of death, mutilation, trauma.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

He has always seen himself as being incapable of caring for someone else. Humans are especially at the top of this list, they are the very thing he's worked so hard to get rid of and yet, he let one walk right into his life. You slowly took over everything he did, his planning became filled with ensuring you had food to eat, finding you a place to sleep and keeping you safe. He kept you in his company, even while you slept, just in fear of what others might do to you. He knows his disciples don't like you, they'd even go as far as killing you, but Knives, he would never hurt you. Never has the day come that he has ever thought about laying a hand on you and if he dared, he might mutilate himself.

The time for that day fills with its unprecedented arrival and it swallows him whole, eating him alive with guilt. In this moment he stands frozen, unable to think or move. Beyond the door he attacked had come a name, his name, in your voice of all things. In his worst nightmares he's dreamt of this but... was it really you?

Just hours before this he had seen a horrific sight, one he hopes will be wiped from his mind forever, an image of you laying in a pool of blood. Impaling every open spot of your skin is nails, each of them driving through to the floor and mangling you beyond recognition. Maybe it wasn't you that he saw, his mind was just playing a trick on him. At this point, he's too scared to break himself from this trance, he doesn't want to know what dead body lies outside that door. He knows he has to check it soon or he might lose his mind at the thought of killing you.

Pulling out of the trance, his tendrils hook the door and relieve it from its place upon the hinges. It snaps with a loud crack as he pulls it away and sets it to the side. Even with the ability to see the body laying in his doorway, Knives is too scared to look. He refuses to bring his eyes forward, and looks away. If the blood seeping into the carpet was yours, what would he do? Would he actually kill himself? Without you, what would he do?

Knives begins to gather the courage to look down at the body in his doorway, casting his eyes to the figure, it runs his blood dry.

The blood covers the whole room outside, it makes his stomach churn at the sight. Saliva fills his mouth, Knives keels over from the sudden intrusion and opens his mouth to let his stomachs contents pour out. Without it being any substantial food at all, it burns the back of his throat with bial. Tears build and blur his eyesight, keeping him from making out the full body, but he didn't have to look that long to know who it was.

Falling apart around him feels like the world, his last line of sanity, the only thing he cared for has been stripped away and by his own hands. If only he had inspected the first body closer he might not have killed you in a fit of rage, he might be able to salvage any sanity still left over, but it's long demented. Simmering in the juices of hysteria.

To his knees, he falls. First Vash and now you. This couldn't really be happening could it? The body before him smells of you, but how could it really be you? Why did you step in at the wrong time? Why did he fail?

From his throat erupts a scream of raw, unadulterated, pain. It's sad and pulled with sorrow before it delves back down into a low sinister cackle. Hysterical to no end, Knives finally loses it. Everything he's lived for up until now could go to waste, and everyone else better swear to God for their safety, if anyone touches you he might not step back over the edge. Any drop of sanity he might just have left, will be gone. Not even Vash would be able to bring him back.

#millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #millions knives #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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kanekiobsessed · 2 years ago

Text

Absence

Parings: Kaneki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 434

He was right. A human with a ghoul could honestly never work. It was doomed to fall one day. You guys were different though. Weren’t you?

I mean, it was to be expected. The way he was going out more often to feast than normally. Something wasn’t right with him. Despite being half human himself he had the same exact cravings as any other ghoul did. You being a human around him didn’t help his case. The smell of your sweet blood being so close was already driving him insane.

You knew it. You could see it in the way he looked at you, no different than a regular ghoul would. No amount of blood or coffee could satisfy him. He wanted yours. You would of been happy to give up a little but you could tell he wouldn’t settle for less. With his patience growing thin with each day that passed, you knew you were fucked no matter what.

Leaving wouldn’t change a thing. He would definitely find you. Confronting him was the only option.

“Kaneki..” You cooed when you heard him enter the house, attempting to seem calm. “Hm?” You heard him hum before walking towards you, grabbing your body and pulling it to his. His warmth was unmatched. Comparable to a fireplace on a winter day.

You cupped his pale face in your hands taking one last good look at it before saying, “Kaneki. Do you want to eat me-?” His eyes widen in shock from the words that just came out. The poker face melting off his face. At this point he couldn’t even deny it. He honestly did want to eat you. Your question was met by silence as he tore your hands off his face.

He kissed your cheek and replied with a simple “Yes.” Not sure whether you should be shocked or relieved that he isn’t lying. You stare into his black and red eyes that just confirm his answer. Before you could reply he started grabbing random items like clothes and personal items.

“I’m sorry, I should of told you earlier.” You heard him whisper under his breath before walking to the front door. Without even saying goodbye he walks outside. The darkness consuming him whole. 12:43AM. That’s the time your dear Kaneki left you. Did all these years just lead you to this? You ran to the window to watch the white haired boy walk off into the night. He had no idea where he’d go.

Maybe he’ll hang out at some abandoned factory. He just knew he couldn’t be around you any longer. Hopefully you’ll get used to his absence.

#tokyo ghoul kaneki #kaneki #kaneki x reader #tokyo ghoul #angst #kaneki angst #Spotify

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captain039 · 2 years ago

Text

PART 5 Giving in to the wild side

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, mentions of past trauma, family death, hurt/comfort, mates, claiming, eventual smut, lots of feels, not liking/wanting kids. Brief mention of dog fighting.

Continuation of Craving the wild side

Summary: after leaving the Dean Winchester case you quit your job you over your as normal as you could. You woke up, helped your mum, worked on the farm but you always felt that hole.

Not knowing if he show up or not you gave up on hoping till someone came knocking.

Last part <-

Dean was melting every part of your body. Soft kisses with warm touch’s as he explored your body. You had your eyes closed enjoying the feeling as he kissed down your chest. You felt him shuffle back and frowned opening your eyes thinking he was going to leave, he just grinned up at you making you tilt your head as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. You flushed furiously realising what he was doing as you covered your eyes and bit the back of your arm. Warm breath fanned your inner thighs before soft lips pressed against them gently. You wanted to squeeze your legs shut but he held them open.

“I wanna taste you” he muttered and you felt your heart jump out your chest. He groaned softly before a hot tongue swiped between your folds. You yelped in surprise before he began to eat you out. He was determined, sucking and licking, making unholy noises as he did. The alpha gripped your thighs, held you still as he ate. You whined and moaned feeling your stomach clenching. He stopped for a moment making you look, his eyes staring at you.

“Touch yourself” he muttered.

“I wanna taste you when you cum” he muttered going back to work. Your whole body lit up at the words and you hesitated greatly. You frowned though when his hand left your thigh and grabbed your hand, guiding it down to where your clit was. You gave in them, gently rubbing circles with one hand, hips stuttering. You added both, back arching as you quicker your pace.

“Alpha” you whined and listened to the growl that escaped him as you came. Your hips rolled in time with his movements as he continued to eat you out. You were in utter bliss, currently in a daze and over sensitive as he finally stopped. You sighed body trembling as Dean crawled back up your body.

“Ok?” He asked and you nodded. He laid down by your side tugging you to snuggle with him. You frowned slightly feeling him going soft against your hip.

“What about you” you asked and he shook his head pressing his lips to your forehead briefly.

“I’m fine” he muttered and you frowned. He smiled and you tilted your head in confusion, did he? Did he cum too? Untouched?

“Did you-?” You stuttered embarrassed as he nodded.

“Oh” you whispered feeling your body go hot.

“But-“ he hushed you gently, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“Get some rest ok? You deserve it” he whispered nose in your hair as he breathed deeply.

“Smell so good” he smiled.

“When I couldn’t smell you I thought I’d go insane, but now” he took a deep breath.

“You smell like apple pie and home” he muttered.

“Apple pie?” You asked.

“My Nan, Deana made this amazing apple pie when me and Sammy were kids, they were more like parents to us than our real parents. Dad would leave for work and mum would drink her problems away and send us to Nan and pops” he said sadly.

“Are they alive still? Have you seen them?” You asked.

“They’re alive, I haven’t seen them yet” he mumbled.

“We’ve got stuff on our plate though, we can do that later, for now just get some sleep” he ordered softly.

“Ok” you whispered nodding as you cuddled closer. You felt warm and calm, being like this, melded against Deans body, breathing in his scent, it was heaven.

The next day you awoke early, had breakfast and then took Champ with you to go to the hospital. You called the doctor asking and he said yes which you were thankful for. It was a hard drive, harder still leaving Champ through the hospital. He didn’t know what was going on, tail wagging as he greeted some people before you got to your mums room. You hesitated again at the door and looked down to him. Champ tilted his head in question like he knew something was gonna happen. Dean knelt down before you could taking the fluff balls attention.

“Hey bud” Dean scratched his head softly.

“Listen this is gonna be hard” Dean said emotions changing. Champ sensed it whining softly as he looked between you and him.

“Your Nan, she’s not gonna come back for a while” Dean whispered and you began yo cry.

“We’re gonna say goodbye ok? You’re gonna do so well buddy” he gave Champ one last pet before standing up. You sobbed softly making Champ whine and Dean kiss your head. You saw the receptionist crying too, giving you a sad look as she gave you an encouraging nod. You opened the door letting Champ in, he sniffed around before lifting his paws onto the bed.

“Come on bud” you said and he jumped up careful of your mum. He whined licking your face before sniffing your mums hand. He licked her hand nudging it and you sobbed softly. Champ lied down, whining gently as he tried to ask for pets. You leant down hugging him tightly as you cried. Deans hand rubbed your back as you cried against Champ. How could you explain this to him? He couldn’t understand what was happening.

After a few hours you went home again, you let Champ roam free, but he went to his kennel and laid down, head on his paws.

“He’s gonna be alright, we’re all gonna be alright” Dean said softly.

Watching Champ was harder than he thought, Dean never really liked dogs, his previous owners had little, yappy, white mop dogs that always barked and snapped at him. Or it was a big fighter dog thrown into the pen like he was. When he met Champ though, that big dopy look on his face as he stared at him made him melt. The big fur ball grown on him and seeing this was horrible. Dean knew he couldn’t fully understand but he knew what was happening, that nan wasn’t gonna be home, that’d just be mum and him. Dean let you nap once they got home, your emotions exhausted you, he didn’t blame you, he was barely holding it together. After last night, holding you was what he needed, feeling you calm in his arms, your smell not sour like rotten oranges, but that sweet homey apple pie smell. He enjoyed what he did, watching you come undone like that made him cum without touch. With all the omega owners he pleasured he knew what to do, what made a partner tick, he found it easily on you, that sweet sensitive spot on your neck and on your hip, between your thighs. When you came he came straight after, but continued eating you out like a hungry man, gods did you taste good.

Dean sighed bringing his mind back to the now as he went to go see Champ. He sat down by the kennel with him, softly talking about his childhood. Not that Champ understood, but Dean figured he could use the company.

You awoke groggily as always, sun in your eyes from the open curtain. You’d fallen asleep on the couch, after the hospital you came home and crashed on the nearest comfortable surface. You called for Dean but found no one. His car was still outside though. You got up slowly and headed outside seeing him feeding the Chickens.

“Hey” you said and he looked up.

“Hey, all animals have been fed and taken care of” he smiled softly and you thanked him quietly.

“I forgot about them, I didn’t mean too” you sighed and Dean shook his head.

“I don’t expect you to remember ok, I don’t expect you to do anything in this time unless you want too, I can handle this” he gestured to the farm.

“Ok I’ve got this, I’ve got this house and you” he said.

“Who’s got you?” You whispered, your doctor side coming in.

“Sam, You, Jess, nugget here” he pointed to the chicken by his foot.

“That’s not nugget, that is” you said pointing to the right chicken.

“That’s fillet” you said and he frowned looking between the two.

“Did you have to name them after chicken foods?” He sighed wincing.

“Yes” you chuckled shaking your head.

“You avoided my question though” you added.

“I’ve got you, I’ve always got you from now till I drop” you said.

“But you’ve been holding it together for too long, I keep breaking down and you have to be strong” you shook your head sighing.

“I don’t have to be” he said softly.

“But that’s what your mind set is, I know it” you whispered, throat tightening.

“Dean you can break, I don’t mind” you muttered seeing his eyes gloss over.

“She’s your mum too, even if she isn’t blood and only a couple of weeks” you added. Tears fell from his face as he laid down the chicken seed bucket and stepped out of the pen. You held your arms open and he slouched into you, like the day he attacked that guard. He rested his head on your shoulder and cried. He really cried, he poured his emotions onto you and you just held on tightly. Neither of you would ever be alone in this.

Next part ->

I literally keep crying as I write these parts