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joelmillerisapunk · 2 months

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Greece: Lay Your Love On Me

Soft Daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,822

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, squirting, f!oral receiving, fingering, a lil sad bit about Joel's past, use of daddy, princess, baby girl, good girl, mentions of pregnancy

Summary: You find yourself standing at a crossroads, a secret threatening to upend the entire trip and your future with Joel. Will you choose to reveal the truth, risking everything, or keep your secret hidden?

Notes: I hope you enjoy! Let me know where they should go next!

As you step off the plane in Greece, you can feel the warm sun on your skin and the salty breeze in your hair. Joel takes your hand and leads you through the bustling airport, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Welcome to Greece, darlin', I can't wait to show you around this beautiful country."

You smile up at him, “Im so excited, this is one of my bucket list destinations.”

Joel leads you to a waiting car and opens the door for you. As you climb inside, he leans down and whispers in your ear, "I have a surprise for you, princess."

Your heart skips a beat. "What is it?" you ask.

Joel grins and takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "You'll see," he winks, letting a smirk crawl up his lip.

“Gimme a hint, please? Just one.”

“Patience babygirl.”

The car ride is filled with anticipation as you try to guess what Joel's surprise could be. You glance over at him, taking in his handsome features and the way the sunlight streams in through the window, highlighting his sharp jawline and the faint stubble that shadows it.

The car pulls up to a beautiful villa nestled on a hill overlooking the sparkling blue waters of the Aegean Sea. He helps you out of the car and leads you to the front door.

"Here we are," he says, opening the door with a flourish.

You step inside and your breath catches in your throat. The villa is stunning, with whitewashed walls, high ceilings, and large windows that offer breathtaking views of the sea.

"This place is amazing," you say, turning to him with a smile.

But Joel isn't done surprising you. "Wait until you see what I have planned for us," he says, taking your hand and leading you back out of the villa. You can't help but feel a sense of excitement and curiosity building up inside of you. You follow him down a winding path, taking in the lush greenery and the soothing sounds of nature surrounding you. The villa's splendor fades away, replaced by the serenity of the natural world.

Soon, the path opens up to a small dock, and there, moored, is a stunning boat. The sight of it takes your breath away. It's sleek, elegant, and exudes an air of luxury. Joel's eyes are shining with pride as he looks at the boat.

As Joel leads you down to the dock, you can't help but feel a sense of awe at the beautiful boat before you. It's even more stunning up close, with its polished wooden exterior and gleaming metal accents.

“Joel, don't tell me you're a sailor too. Is there anything you don't do?” You stand there teasing him.

Joel chuckles a bit, "Well, I sure can't fly a plane, but I can certainly handle a boat. I've always found the water to be incredibly soothing, and there's nothing quite like feeling the wind in your hair as you sail through the open sea.”

“Well, what's her name? Everyone names their boats.”

"Welcome to the Sarah," Joel says, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"The Sarah?" you ask, confused.

Joel takes a deep breath and begins to speak, "The Sarah is named after my daughter, Sarah. We used to go sailing together all the time, just the two of us. She loved the water, and she loved this boat. But one summer, when I was tied up with a few big clients, she decided to go on a sailing trip with a friend, and I paid for their trip out here. They took this boat... and there was an accident. Sarah didn't make it.” He pauses, looking out at the water, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Soon as things calmed down I bought this spot and the boat but haven't been able to bring myself to sell it or take it out on the water again, but I thought maybe, taking you out on it would help me feel closer to her again - I'm sorry darlin’, I don't wanna bring you down.”

You reach out and take Joel's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Joel, I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you."

He looks at you with a grateful smile and kisses the top of your forehead letting it linger for a moment.

You take a deep breath, and look out at the beautiful boat before you. "Joel, I would be honored to go sailing with you on the Sarah. I think it's a wonderful way to honor your daughter's memory, and I would be privileged to be a part of that."

Joel's eyes light up, and he squeezes your hand in return. "Thank you, princess. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have doin’ this with me."

He leads you to the boat, and you step on board, feeling the smooth wooden deck beneath your feet. Joel shows you around the boat, pointing out all the different features and explaining how everything works. You can tell he takes great pride in it, and you can't help but feel a sense of awe and respect for this beautiful vessel.

As Joel finishes up the tour, he looks at you with a mischievous grin. "Ready to set sail, darlin'?"

You grin back, feeling a surge of excitement. "Absolutely, let's do this!”

As you sail along the sparkling coastline, Joel takes on the role of tour guide, pointing out the stunning beaches, quaint villages, and awe-inspiring ancient ruins scattered throughout the landscape. The sun's rays warm your skin, leaving you feeling invigorated, while the salty breeze gently tousles your hair.

"Look, darlin', over there! That's the Temple of Poseidon, dedicated to the ancient Greek god of the sea," Joel says, pointing towards a crumbling temple perched atop a cliffside. "Legend has it that King Aegeus plunged to his death from the cliff there. After his son Thesaus' ship returned with black sails, which implied he was killed, but was not the case, he was just a dumb kid who forgot to change his sails. His heartbroken pops couldn’t take it and jumped from that cliff to his death.” Joel paused for a moment, staring up. “You know the Athenians named the Aegean Sea after him.”

You lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view and listening intently to Joel's words, seeing how close to home this place hits for him. "Wow, that's incredible, Joel.” You paused too, unsure what to say without being too emotional. “I can't believe I'm actually here, in Greece, sailing along the coast with you," you say, gazing up at him with adoration.

Joel grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, princess. I wanted to show you a different side of Greece, away from the crowded tourist spots."

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, Joel drops anchor in a secluded cove, surrounded by towering cliffs and crystal-clear water. The sound of the waves gently lapping against the boat creates a soothing melody, while the cool breeze offers a refreshing contrast to the warm sun.

"I thought we could have a little picnic on the deck," Joel says, gesturing towards the spread of fresh fruit, cheese, and bread he's setting up. "I hope you're hungry."

You take a seat on the plush cushions, your eyes wide with delight. "This looks amazing, Joel. You're a chef too, what's next?" you say, as you bite into a juicy piece of fruit.

Joel smirks, pouring you a glass of chilled wine. " I guess you could say I'm a ‘jack of all trades, master of none’ type of guy. But when it comes to you, princess, I'm willing to learn and be anything you need me to be.”

You sit down to eat, as you watch the waves lapping at the shore. You look at Joel, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we swim here?" you ask, gesturing towards the crystal-clear water.

Joel looks hesitant for a moment. "I don't think we brought any swim gear darlin’," he says, apologetically.

But you just laugh and start to take off your shirt. "Who needs swim gear?" you say, shrugging it off and tossing it onto the boat.

You slip out of your shorts and underwear, leaving you standing there in just your bra. Joel's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on your body.

"You sure about this?" he asks.

You nod, your heart pounding with excitement. "Absolutely," you say, stepping a little closer to him. You reach up and undo the clasp on your bra, letting it fall to the ground. Joel's breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, completely naked and unafraid. Without a word, you dive into the water, feeling the coolness envelop your body as you slice through the waves. You surface a moment later, slicking your hair back from your face and laughing with pure joy.

Joel laughs and shakes his head as he watches you. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he calls out.

You swim back to the boat, treading water as you look up at him. "You had a surprise for me," you say with a grin. "I'm just returning the favor.” You look at Joel with a mischievous smile. "Come on, in. Don't tell me you're afraid to get a little wet," you say, challenging him.

Joel hesitates for a moment, then grins and starts to undress. He slips out of his shirt and shorts, leaving him standing there in just his boxers. You watch him with a hungry gaze, your heart pounding with anticipation. Joel hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly starts to slide them down, revealing his hard cock.

You gasp as he dives into the water, swimming towards you with strong strokes.

When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, his hard cock pressing against your stomach. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his cock slide between your folds. You moan with pleasure as he starts to rock his hips, teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. You arch your back and push forward, rubbing your breasts against his chest. "Joel…" you sigh, trying to contain yourself.

Your hands clutch tight to his shoulders as his mouth finds its way down your neck, trailing hot kisses across you. You whimper in response, your head thrown back with pleasure.

"Tell daddy whatcha need baby."

A shiver runs down your spine. Joel continues to kiss and suckle your neck, his large hands caressing gently your breasts. “Daddy needs his baby so badly, want feel my pretty girl’s pussy. Let's get back on the boat baby girl, wanna take care of you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you try to control yourself. "Please...I want..."

"Want what darlin'? Want daddy's cocks deep inside you?"

You groan at the question, unable to speak coherently.

"Shhh…" Joel hushes, placing a finger on your lips. "Daddy'll make you come babygirl, make you scream." He helps guide you back to the boat, helping you up but more just playing with your naked ass as you try to get up into the boat. Once you're safely back on the boat again, he climbs aboard, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you close.

"Let daddy put you in his mouth, give me some sweet, hot honeydew,” he croons, running one of his hands down the length of your body, causing you to squirm under his touch. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good, princess," he murmurs before helping you lay down, his body hovering over top of yours.

You gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hard bud. He sucks and nips at it, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your hips grinding up into his body, searching for anything. But Joel isn't done with you yet. He trails his kisses down your stomach, his lips skimming over your wet folds. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"You're so fucking sexy, princess," he growls.

And then he dives between your legs, his tongue plunging inside you. You cry out, your back arching off the deck. He works you with his tongue, his fingers sliding inside you to stroke your g-spot. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Daddy wants you to squirt for him, okay baby? Soak my face darlin." You let out another moan of ecstasy as he continues to work you like an eager dog, his long, thick fingers pumping fast as he thrusts deeper into you. "Daddys craving a sweet treat."

You feel your orgasm build inside you, your muscles tensing, ready to burst. You feel tears forming in your eyes as you release, your mind floating in bliss as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. You cry out, your body shaking with pleasure as Joel replaces his face with his fingers, rubbing your clit, his face aimed in the juices currently drenching his face. Joel's fingers continue to work your clit, drawing out every last wave of pleasure from your orgasm.

You lay there, panting and trembling, as he gently kisses your inner thighs, his hands still roaming over your body.

"You're so beautiful when you come, princess," he murmurs, looking up at you with a tender smile.

You reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him up for a kiss, tasting yourself all over him.

As you kiss, you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh. You reach down and wrap your hand around it, stroking him. Joel moans into your mouth, his hips bucking up into your hand.

"Fuck, babygirl, feels so good," he growls, breaking the kiss.

He rolls over onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips, your wet folds brushing against the length of his cock. You rock your hips, teasing both of you with the friction.

Joel reaches up and cups your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples. You moan, your head falling back as you start to grind faster on his cock.

"That's it, princess. Ride my cock," he growls.

You obey, lifting yourself up and then sliding down, impaling yourself on his cock. You moan as you feel him fill you up, stretching you out in the most delicious way.

You start to ride him harder as you chase another orgasm. Joel meets you thrust for thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he drives up into you.

You can feel yourself getting close again, your body trembling with pleasure. Joel must sense it too, because he sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he thrusts up into you.

"Come for me, princess. Want that sweetness all over daddy's cock," he growls in your ear.

His words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. You cry out, your body shaking as Joel continues to thrust up into you.

Finally, you collapse against him, panting and trembling. Joel kisses your forehead, holding you close as he catches his breath. "Think you got one more in ya for me babygirl? wanna come with ya this time."

You nod, closing your eyes as you try to collect your thoughts. Your body feels heavy and weak, your brain hazy from the combination of adrenaline and love making.

"S'okay, come here, baby girl," he says, as he helps lay you back down. "You comfortable?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you hum, smiling sleepily at him.

He chuckles and leans over you, kissing you softly. "Good," he whispers. He slides one of his hands between your legs and traces up your slit. "You're so wet, baby girl."

You open your eyes and gasp as he dips his finger into your moist folds.

"Mmmm, my favorite flavor," he whispers as he takes his finger out, suckling on it like a baby cow finding milk. "You ready for daddy's cock? give it a real good milking baby."

"Yes please," you whine, your fingers curling around his shaft. "Please daddy!" you beg.

"You've been so good babygirl, daddy's going to fill you right up. Okay, baby girl," he smiles wickedly. "You tell daddy if you're gettin' uncomfortable."

"I promise."

As Joel enters you again, he takes his time, savoring the feeling of your tight warmth around him. He begins to thrust slowly, building up a steady rhythm as he watches your reactions. Your eyes flutter shut, your breath hitching with each movement. "Fuck, you feel so good, princess," Joel groans, his hands gripping your hips as he drives deeper into you. "So hot baby girl, so tight. Yessss," he growls. You can see him struggling not to lose control, wanting desperately to keep this lasting as long as possible.

"Daddy please! Fuck I'm almost there," you yell, your nails scratching his skin.

"Gonna come babygirl," Joel pants.

With one last thrust, your orgasm bursts over you, your body shuddering with pleasure. You cling onto Joel, needing him as much as he needs you. In the same moment, Joel lets out a low guttural groan and spills himself inside you, clutching you to his chest.

"God dammit, babygirl," he curses, burying his face into your neck.

After catching your breath and sharing a few tender kisses, Joel pulls out of you and helps you to your feet. You both gather your clothes and dress before Joel starts the engine and guides the boat out of the cove, navigating the open waters with ease.

As you sail along the coastline, Joel takes on the role of tour guide once more, pointing out the stunning beaches, quaint villages, and awe-inspiring ancient ruins scattered throughout the landscape. You listen intently to his words, feeling a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty surrounding you.

But as the day wears on, you start to feel a little nauseous, your stomach churning with an unfamiliar sensation. You try to brush it off as seasickness, but the feeling persists, even as Joel guides the boat to a picturesque cove.

"We're here, princess," Joel says, a note of excitement in his voice. "This is one of my favorite places in Greece. It's a little-known spot, but it's absolutely stunning."

You nod and smile, trying to hide your discomfort. Joel helps you off the boat and leads you up a winding path, taking in the breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape. Eventually, you reach a hidden plateau, where a small taverna sits nestled among the trees. Joel leads you to a table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

"I hope you're hungry. The food here is absolutely amazing," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You nod, but the nausea persists. You excuse yourself to the restroom, trying to compose yourself and shake off the feeling as you splash water on your face and stare at your reflection in the mirror.

When you return to the table, Joel notices that something is off. "You okay, princess?" he asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

You nod, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, just feeling a little seasick. But I'll be okay," you say, taking a sip of water.

Joel watches you carefully, his eyes filled with worry. "You sure, darlin'? We can head back to the villa if you need to rest. It's been a long day in the sun. "

You shake your head, not wanting to ruin this trip for Joel. "No, I want to stay. I'm just feeling a little off. I'm okay, please lets stay," you assure him.

Joel nods, but he doesn't look convinced. "If you're sure," he says, taking your hand in his.

Joel orders a spread of fresh seafood and local dishes for the two of you, and you try to enjoy the meal despite your lingering discomfort. The food is indeed delicious, but you find yourself picking at your plate more than actually eating.

After dinner, you suggest taking a stroll through the marketplace, hoping the fresh air and distraction might help alleviate your nausea. Joel agrees, and the two of you wander through the bustling streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the vibrant market.

As you browse through the stalls, you can't help but linger on a particular piece - a delicate gold chain with a small sapphire pendant. You're admiring it when Joel comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. You feel a little embarrassed at being caught. "It's just so beautiful," you say, your fingers tracing the smooth metal.

Before you know it, Joel has purchased the necklace for you, slipping it into your hand with a wink. "A little something to remember our trip by, princess," he says, his eyes filled with warmth.

You gasp, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Joel, I can't accept this," you protest, your voice trembling with emotion.

He squeezes your hand, his gaze steady. "You can, and you will," he says, his voice firm but gentle.

You nod, overwhelmed by his kindness and generosity. You lean up to kiss him, feeling a surge of love and gratitude wash over you, and you put the necklace on admiring it in your fingertips.

—

As Joel drives the car back to the villa, you feel a growing sense of unease in your stomach. You try to ignore it, telling yourself it's just the aftermath of the boat ride, but the feeling persists. When you get back to the villa, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, telling Joel you need a moment to freshen up.

Once inside, you take a deep breath and pull out the pregnancy test you had bought earlier at the market, sneaking it into your bag without Joel noticing. You had been feeling a little off lately, but you dismissed it as stress or exhaustion. But now, as you stare down at the test in your hand, you can't help but feel a sense of dread.

You take the test, setting it down on the counter as you wait for the results. The minutes tick by, each one feeling like an hour. Finally, the time passes, and you look down at the result.

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you try to process what you're seeing.

Positive.

You're pregnant.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #daddy!joel miller

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fanfictionsworld · 11 months

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Can we plese please get a reader who's tired of Sebastian bullshit, like she's just there always facepalmed, not really attracted to him but treats him like every other boys (bitch lol). Like when he tries to charm her she just walks away with no expression, she's not even a tsundere or anything, just completely tired from the weirdness.

Okey i am so sorry for taking so long to write anything but here it is hope you will be satisfied.

Fem reader/Sebastian trying to impress but falling haha/reader is a bitch but a cool one which i love/Sebastians ego ruined hahah/

You are very difficult to him,which he hates.

You can not be impressed with anything he does and that eats him alive.

Why is this human denying me.

Like how i am beautiful,smart,i cook,i am everything any human could possible imagine,if not better.

He is alwasy thinking how he can step up his game with you.

No matter how hard he trys you alwasy find some way to not care or notice.

You avoid him everywhere.

If you possible see him in town with Ciel,you will say hi to Ciel and not spear him a glance..

Avoid all his questions of how are you,do you need any help with anything or are you free this afternoon,etc.

You just keep walking an completely ignore him while you shop

Which in truth is very irritating for him.

If he tells you any filrtatious compliment you just ignore him and keep walking.

And when you had enough of him you just top and say, ,,You need to stop folowing me around like a lost puppy you look desprate maybe you should do something better with your free time rather then stalking like a creep that you are.

To him that was like a dagger trough his hart.

He told you that which you responded with ,,Yes like you have one damon scum".Which he found incredibly attractive and he was deeply offended by that.

Of cours you did not care,you just walked past him wishing him a good day saying that he should you use him manipulative skill on someone else rather than you because you are not an imbecile to fall for it.

Sebastian watches as you walk past him,stunned and impressed.

He knows you will not fall for him,but is he going to pass on a challenge on seducing you of course not he loves playing cat and mouse with you.

#sebastian michaelis smut #black butler fanfiction #sebastian michaelis x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis #black butler x y/n #black butler smut #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji sebastian #black butler x you #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x y/n #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #sebastian michaelis #black butler fic #black butler sebastian #black butler imagines

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

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how would yuta react to his crush telling him he’s pretty while she’s injured and like delerious ig? 😭

Yuta’s heartbeat pumps through his ears, makes it impossible to focus on anything but you.

You, laying right in front of him.

You, laying in a puddle of blood.

A lot of blood. Too much, to be exact. He kneels down, inspects your gaping wounds. If he came here sooner, if he only arrived in Shibuya earlier, maybe none of this would have happened.

“I’m…so tired”, you mumble, lids threaten to flutter shut.

“Focus on me, okay? We need to get you out of here, (y/n).”

You furrow your eyebrows, concentrate your foggy vision on the person in front of you. He seems so familiar, like someone you haven’t seen in a long time. If your eyes would just focus on him…

“Yuta….Yuta, is that you?”

He smiles at you gently, cups your cheek like he always imagined to. You were always on his mind. No matter where he was, no matter how late in the night. All he could ever think about was coming back to you.

“It’s me, (y/n). You have no idea how nice it is to finally see you again-“

“Come closer”, you instruct him with weak voice.

“I need to see you…closer.”

Yuta swallows hard. Even though you’re covered in blood and probably delirious, you look just as stunning as you did back then when he left.

With your eyes and lips only inches away from his face, he suddenly feels insecure again. No matter how well he trained, he will never be good enough for someone like you. You are like an angel walking on this earth, so gorgeous that you turn heads on a regular basis. But not only that, you are also incredibly smart and talented. Why would you fall for someone like him? Why does he still chase after a dream that will never come true?

“You look so beautiful, Yuta.”

He lets out his breath, widened eyes staring at your tired smile. You didn’t just say that, right?

“You’re a little delirious because of the blood loss, let me get you out-“

“You are beautiful. I always thought so. And that new haircut really suits you”, you mumble.

You are beautiful…When was the last time he heard someone say this to him? No, it doesn’t matter when or who someone said this so him. His eyes take in your sight along with your words while his cheeks turn bright pink.

“Come on, (y/n). I will carry you out of here”, he finally manages to press out, threaten to fall over with his knees wobbly like pudding.

“I’m asking for it.”

“Yuta…”, you mutter again while he carries you over the debris and death.

“What is it?”

“Did I tell you that you’re beautiful already?”

"Y-Yeah..."

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awfcspencer · 5 months

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Dress || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x famous!reader

prompt: Attending a GQ British Men of the Year event, but nobody knows you and Leah are together.

warnings: highly suggestive

a/n: Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift

Crowds of people flooded into central London’s Royal Opera House, all engaging in conversations around you. Tonight you were invited to British GQ’s Men of the Year event to celebrate 2023 and various actors and musicians. You had initially planned on not attending as you had been busy filming a new series that is going to premiere soon, but your agents insisted that attendance was mandatory. So, here you were, dressed in a short dark emerald green dress paired with black heels.

“There is an indentation in the shape of you. Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo”

Luckily for you, there was one certain footballer that you knew would be in attendance, Leah. You had met Leah through Amelia Dimoldenberg, a good friend to both of you, and began slowly texting and getting closer. Leah’s compassion and kindness immediately made you fall head over heals for her. Leah had this unique way of bringing a smile to your face by simply just being around her, she could make you laugh without trying. She was so much more than a professional footballer, she was sweet, and caring, she cries at silly little rom-coms, and the worlds pickiest eater. She was so much more than what appeared online, and she made you feel normal again in the ‘high’ life that people usually believe celebrities live. To you, Leah was golden.

Late night meet-ups to simply just be near each other to talk and early morning cuddles with breakfast in bed, you eventually bit the bullet and told Leah that you were definitely falling in love with her and fortunately for you, she felt the same. Leah’s mere presence had utterly changed your life, she was like a missing puzzle piece that fit perfectly into your puzzle.

“Our secret moments in your crowded room. They got no idea about me and you”

Unfortunately, because you and Leah live very public lives, a world-class actor and a world-class footballer, you had decided to keep your relationship under wraps. Wanting to bask in the privacy as long as you could. What didn’t help is the constant social media lies that were posted about either you love life or Leah’s, unable to ever really just be friends with anyone without twitter or instagram having a hay day. But you and Leah were able to tune out most media garbage and just enjoy having each other. Keeping the secret from your closest friends and even Leah’s teammates to really protect your peace. At the end of the day, you and Leah knew how much you loved each other, it did not really matter that no one else knew. It was your little secret, together.

Initially you had planned to get ready alongside Leah and then just arrive separately to walk the red carpet, but Leah had arranged plans with Alex Scott beforehand, but promised to find you once she had arrived. That is how you found yourself at the bar, grabbing another drink, engaged in a conversation that you were not paying attention to, adding an occasional, ‘wow’ and ‘oh really’ every so often. Eyes laser focused on the entry door, hoping your girlfriend was going to be here soon.

As you look down to fix your dress, it’s like you could feel the air being sucked from your lungs, a looming desire. Looking up, your met with blue eyes, your blue eyes, the blue eyes you had absolutely fallen in love with. You had not known what Leah was going to be wearing tonight, she kept insisting it was a surprise.

Leah was dressed in a short laced black dress that hugged her every curve, fell right below her mid thigh, leaving little to the imagination. Your breathing quickly becomes staggered, mouth has went completely dry, overall, you were an uttering mess. Your girlfriend looked absolutely stunning and incredibly beautiful. Your eyes had yet to meet hers, only staring intently at her gorgeous dress and body. Eyes finally meeting hers, she sent to a quick wink and making her way to her designated spot at her table.

You genuinely believe you could have died in place, completely lost in a trance, a Leah Williamson trance. Regrouping yourself, you sent her a glance discreetly and smiled at her as if there was not a single other person in the room and she returned the smile.

“All this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You went and found your table and pulled out your phone to make sure you turned it on silent. Looking at your several notifications, you can see Leah’s text that said, “You look amazing baby.” She truly had a way of making you feel as if you were the only girl in the world.

A major downside of keeping your relationship completely private was being unable to go over to your gorgeous girlfriend right now and kiss her from head to toe, letting the whole room know that she is yours, undoubtedly yours. You almost had to physically restrict yourself, holding back, a sadness that slowly killed you. The award show had started to begin but you were so far gone from being able to pay attention to anything but your girl. Being careful to only look over occasionally discreetly to not draw attention.

More than once, you had to stop yourself from texting her to meet you in the nearest bathroom, shaking slightly thinking about when you would return to you and Leah’s shared flat. Approximately checking the time on your watch, counting down the minutes and seconds until the event was over and you two could leave.

“Say my name and everything just stops.”

The event had thankfully come to an end, after what seemed like forever, and the afterparty began directly after. People gathering at the bar and chatting away, but you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

You immediately begin trying to make you way towards Leah, getting caught in a few meaningless conversations here and there. You tried your best to be respectful and chat to the guests, but your mind was fuzzy, only being able to focus on finding your girlfriend.

Escaping everyone, you finally were able to catch Leah as she luckily had also just finished a conversation.

“Y/N” Leah breathes out in a whisper, loud enough for only you to hear.

“Lee” you say out in the same tone.

There is a deafening silence between you two. Both taking each other in. Both of you speechless. For you, it was like the world stopped spinning, time stopped, the people in the large room disappeared, it was only you and Leah. You look directly in her eyes, a look of absolute lust filled her blue eyes, pupils slightly dilated.

“Do you want to get out of here?” is all you needed to ask as you both separately make your exits, anticipation building.

“Only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

Entering your apartment, your lips are instantly connected, fingers quickly finding her blonde hair. Your foreheads touch as you are kissing her, trying to get as close as possible to your other half after missing her all day. Leah removes her lips from yours and you let out a needy moan as she rubs her thumb over your lips.

She quickly turns around and points out the long zipper along the back of the dress. Placing a hand on her waist and grabbing the zipper with the other. You slowly pull it down, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin, applying open mouthed kisses along her shoulders and down her back. The air was palpable as the only sound that rings out is Leah’s dress falling to the floor.

Slowly you turn Leah around, your eyes meeting hers as you held your breath. You come close to her and whisper, “You looked absolutely beautiful in that dress Lee, but you look even better without it.” you say as you pull her in for a searing kiss.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #woso one shot #woso soccer #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #woso #woso couples #womens soccer #woso smut #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #engwnt x reader #engwnt #arsenal

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leo-muscle · 5 months

Text

Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves

Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.

This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.

"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.

"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.

"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.

The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.

"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.

"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"

"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."

The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?

The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.

"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.

"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."

"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."

Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.

"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.

"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.

Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.

As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.

My behavior is not suited for a King.

----------

Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.

Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.

The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.

"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."

"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"

"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"

"Yes?" Another rich boy said.

"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.

"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.

By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.

Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.

Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--

And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.

"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."

His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?

The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.

Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.

King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.

#male tf #male transformation #jock tf #race change #latino tf #black tf #bear tf #butt growth #pec growth #straight to gay #kings of the world

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doctorbitchcrxft · 13 days

Text

Route 666 | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y, d e n i a l

Word Count: 4325

Series Rewrite Masterlist

After your conversation with Dean about why you couldn’t lose him, a nagging want was tugging on your heart.

Dean explained to you that the father of an “old friend” of his was killed last night. Your stomach dropped; knowing exactly what “old friend” meant.

Sam did, too. “By old friend you mean...?”

“A friend that's not new,” came Dean’s gruff response. His eyes never left the road.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” Sam deadpanned. “So her name's Cassie, huh? You never mentioned her.”

“Didn't I? Yeah, we went out.”

You felt like you could throw up.

“You mean you dated somebody? For more than one night?” Sam commented.

“Am I speaking a language you're not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks,” Dean explained.

Sam pressed further, but you silently begged him to stop. You hoped his mind powers would kick in long enough to read the way your heart was begging for mercy in the backseat. “And...?”

Dean shrugged.

“Look, it's terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I'm not seeing how it fits with what we do. Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

‘He told her.’ You were definitely going to throw up now.

“You told her. You told her the secret! Our big family rule number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times and you tell her everything? Dean!” Sam was getting angrier by the second.

“Yeah, looks like,” Dean grumbled.

This job would undoubtedly be an incredibly painful one.

***

You saw a beautiful dark-skinned girl arguing with two older men in the newspaper office you and the boys had arrived at. You silently pleaded for it not to be Cassie. She was stunning; nothing but long legs and slender curves. Her dark hair curled tightly, framing her face beautifully. The girl sighed and turned around as the two men walked away from her. She seemed taken aback. “Dean.”

You recognized the fondness in her eyes; it was the same fondness you were beginning to look at Dean with.

‘Of course, she’s fucking gorgeous. Wouldn’t expect anything else from Dean,’ you thought.

“Hey, Cassie,” Dean grinned. The two stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat. “This is my brother, Sam, and this is my friend, (Y/N).”

You tried your best to smile at her; the girl had done nothing wrong. It was Dean you were beginning to get upset with.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” Dean said.

“Yeah. Me too,” Cassie muttered.

The two kept staring at each other.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, and Cassie seemed to snap out of it. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Let’s take this somewhere a bit more… private.”

***

Cassie took you back to her home and brought you a tray of tea and cups. “My mother’s in pretty bad shape. I've been staying with her. I wish she wouldn't go off by herself. She's been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

She gracefully poured some tea into a cup. “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?”

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” the young woman explained.

“A truck. Who was the driver?” Sam questioned.

Cassie handed cups of tea to each of you. You took one, thanking her as you did so. “He didn't talk about a driver,” she continued. “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad's car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

“Now you're sure this dent wasn't there before?”

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn't a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from dad's car… leading right to the edge, where he went over.” The girl took a second to get her emotions back under control. “One set of tracks. His.”

“The first was a friend of your fathers?” Dean had discarded his cup on a side table. The sight almost made you smile; you knew tea was a bit too fancy for him.

“Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No Tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad. He 'lost control of his car.' “

“Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?”

Cassie shook her head.

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“When you say it aloud like that…” Cassie breathed deeply. “Listen, I'm a little skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffed. “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

‘Uh, oh,’ you thought, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“That was then.” Cassie and Dean stared at each other again. “I just know that I can't explain what happened up there. So I called you.”

A middle-aged woman entered the room. Cassie rushed to her. “Mom. Where have you been I was so…”

Cassie’s mom forced a smile. “I had no idea you’d invited friends over.”

“Mom, this is Dean, a… friend of mine from.... college. And his brother Sam and friend, (Y/N).”

“Well, I won't interrupt you.” Cassie’s mom went to leave the room.

“Mrs Robinson. We're sorry for your loss. We'd like to talk to you for a minute if you don't mind?” Dean stopped her.

The woman seemed slightly affronted. “I'm really not up for that right now.” She left the room, and Dean and Cassie continued to stare at each other.

***

The next day, Dean informed you of another killing that happened in a field beside the main road. Another one of Cassie’s father’s friends had been murdered. You met the beautiful woman who was bravely berating the mayor for not closing the main road; heavily suggesting there was a racist undertone behind the mayor’s motives. You admired the woman’s bravery, and wished you had those kinds of balls in certain situations. Had the circumstances been different, you probably would have been good friends with her.

You and the boys learned from a friend of the deceased that the town once was home to a family with an incredibly racist history. In fact, the big black truck the victims had described seeing was one that many black men disappeared in back in the 1960s. You and the boys walked away from the men you learned this information from and returned to the Impala.

“Truck,” Dean noted.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam added.

“Yeah, kinda like the flying dutchman,” you continued.

“Yeah, that ghost ship, infused with the Captain's evil spirit. It was basically part of him,” the younger Winchester finished.

Dean nodded. “So what if we're dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard's ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have all been black men,” noted Sam.

“I think it's more than that. They all seem connected to Cassie and her family,” Dean suggested.

“Alright, well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I will.”

Sam stopped his brother before he could get down into the car. “Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing.”

‘Stop talking, Sam,’ you mentally pleaded.

“What other thing?” Dean asked.

“The serious, unfinished business?”

The older brother remained silent, and for that, you were thankful.

“Dean, what is going on between you two?” Sam huffed out a laugh.

Dean seemed uncomfortable, as were you. “Alright, so maybe we were a little bit more involved than I said.”

“Really?” you said, unable to help yourself.

“Okay, a lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn't have.”

“Ah, look man, everybody's gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, I don't. It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

The younger brother smiled.

“Would you stop!”

Sam just kept staring and smiling.

“Blink or something!”

The brunet simply said, “You loved her.”

You nearly choked on your own spit as Dean grumbled and turned to the Impala.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her.” Sam paused a moment before realizing, “Oh, wow. She dumped you.”

“Get in the car. Get in the car!” Dean ordered you and Sam.

You refused to continue to let Dean have that effect on you. There was no room for feelings in this profession, and you would not let them get in the way of your friendship with Dean or Sam. The former dropped you and his brother off at the motel before speeding away to Cassie’s house. You and Sam decided to get takeout and have a carpet picnic in the brothers’ motel room.

You chowed down on fried rice while Sam eyed you curiously. “What?” you asked through a mouthful of rice.

“Nothing. You just seem off,” he replied.

“I don’t know, honestly. After… everything that’s happened, I—” you couldn’t finish your sentence. “Nevermind. What’s your thoughts on this case?”

He gave you a bitchface at your change in the subject, but went along with it nonetheless. “I think our theory about the flying dutchman’s right. I’m just waiting for Dean to fill in the missing pieces.” He paused before continuing. “Speaking of which, I don’t think he’ll be back for the night? You wanna crash here?”

You smiled. “Sure. Wanna get some cheap tequila and ride the bus?”

“You’re on,” he grinned back.

The two of you played with your deck of cards for a bit, joking and laughing about previous hunts and memories from Sam’s school days. After getting thoroughly hammered from your card game, you just talked for hours.

“My parents weren’t always… crazy supportive of me,” you explained. “I get your whole thing with college, though.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “I wanted to go to school as a teenager, actually. Was dead set on it.”

He grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah, but after my parents passed, I decided I’m better at hunting,” you replied, flopping back on the ground. “You’re hella argumentative. You’d be an exceptional lawyer.”

He chuckled at you, slurring his words together. “You really think so?”

“Yeah! Duh!”

“You’re not ever this giddy, (Y/N), how much did we drink?”

The two of you looked over at the mostly empty bottle of tequila before exploding into a fit of giggles.

“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk ever,” you slurred.

“Yeah, ne meither,” Sam said simply.

You burst out laughing again. “Ne meither?!”

“Oops,” he giggled boyishly.

“Wait, wait, wait. I have a question. You went to school with a full ride, right? How’d you get a full ride and hunt at the same time? That’s fucking crazy.”

He nodded. “Yeah. My dad took me on hunts every once in a while between AP Bio tests.”

“Holy shit, you’re smart.”

He sighed. “Not as smart as you’d think.”

“Cut the humble crap, you’re crazy smart,” you replied, turning to him. “You give me a run for my money sometimes. Trust me, that’s rare.”

He shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“Seriously, dude. You gotta be crazy gifted. You’re a great hunter and really smart. That’s a wild combination.”

“Yeah, well, so are you,” Sam replied.

You grinned, barely holding your eyes open. “Thanks.” You paused a moment. “You ever smoked weed?”

He snorted. “Of course.”

You mock-gasped. “Sammy, never thought you were the type!”

“Pfft, I’m not a total prude, (Y/N).”

“Well, forgive me, you don’t exactly scream ‘I chase my tequila with mary jane,’ “ you jested.

“College, man. Whole new world.”

“What was it like?” you asked.

“Meh,” he squeaked, voice breaking drunkenly. “Lots of studying. Jess was the one who got me into partying a little.”

“Yeahhh, Jess!” you cheered. “She sounds cool as fuck.”

“She was.” He suddenly got sad and sniffed a little.

You crawled over to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring bad shit up for you.”

He sniffed again and shrugged. “‘S okay, I jus’ miss her.”

“I know.” You laid your head on his shoulder and let him cry as the two of you sat next to each other in silence.

***

The next morning and thoroughly hungover, you and Sam headed to yet another field; where this time, the mayor’s car had been found. And it was in a different location than the main road. Dean met you a short time later once you’d finished talking to a cop on the scene.

“Where were you last night? You didn't make it back to the hotel,” Sam questioned, although the subtle smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.

“Well…”

Sam grinned smugly. “I'm guessing you guys worked things out?”

“We'll be working things out when we're ninety. So what happened?”

“We got really drunk,” you muttered.

“What?” Dean looked down at you.

Sam shook his head. “Every bone crushed. Internal organ's turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped, it's like something ran him over.”

“Something like a truck?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded and explained there had been no tracks. He went on to say that the mayor had bought the property he was murdered on a few weeks ago; which was odd given he was white and found off the main road.

Cassie and Dean were considerably more chummy after their eventful evening, and it made your stomach turn a little. He insisted on being dropped off at the newspaper office Cassie worked at while you and Sam did research on the property the mayor had purchased at the library.

You discovered the mayor’s land was where the Dorian family had lived for over one hundred years. Apparently, their incredibly racist and firebrand son had disappeared just after the string of murders back in the 1960s. Cassie explained how the Dorians owned pretty much everything in the town before Cyrus, their son, disappeared. Weeks after the mayor bought the property, he knocked the house down. The very next day, the first killing started.

***

Amidst your throbbing headache and the research you'd done, you parted ways with the brothers to rest in your motel room. You settled on reorganizing your duffel bag to keep your mind occupied, but it still wandered to Dean and Cassie. You knew you'd been cold to Dean all day, and you just hoped he was too preoccupied with his fling to even notice.

Of course, that was simply wishful thinking. A knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts.

Dean opened the door a moment later and stepped into your room wordlessly. He began to pace a little.

"Are... you okay—?" you started to ask, but he cut you off.

"What's your deal?"

"What?" you pretended to be dumbfounded.

"I caught what you said about getting drunk with Sam last night. Did you... fuck my brother?" he asked, voice teetering on rageful.

"God, no, Winchester," you scoffed. "Not everyone's intentions are sexual 24/7. We literally just played a drinking game and talked."

"Then, what's with your fucking attitude? You've been a bitch to me all day," he replied, shoulders tense.

"Have not, first of all," you began. "Trust me, if I was upset with you, you'd know about it."

"What, then? Is this about Cassie?" he questioned pointedly, staring you down.

"Dean, has it occured to you that not everything has to do with you?" you spat, becoming incredibly defensive. "I'm pissy because I'm hungover. And right now, you are making my headache a thousand times worse."

"Sorry that I was concerned about you, then," he responded flippantly.

"You weren't concerned," you laughed coldly. "You came here looking for a fight. Well, now you've got one. I like Cassie a lot, actually. Different circumstances, we'd be good friends. What I don't like is how unprofessionally you're acting."

"We fucking hunt monsters for a living, (Y/N)," Dean argued. "There's not exactly a code of ethics."

"Well, you should have some desire to conduct yourself in a professional manner. Because your main motivation on every fucking hunt doesn't seem to be hunting, it seems to be getting your dick wet," you berated, even though you knew your words were not reflective of your true thoughts of him.

"Sorry that I'm not a stuck-up bitch like you are," Dean scoffed. "You are completely miserable to be around. You always have something to be angry about. Don't you ever get tired of sucking the life outta everyone?"

You cut your eyes at him harshly, rage boiling under your skin. "Get the fuck out of my room, Winchester," you said evenly.

When he didn't move, it just added to your anger.

"I said get the fuck out!"

***

You and the Winchesters were called to Cassie’s house later that evening when she’d called Dean in a panic about the truck appearing outside of her home. You hated the way Dean sat with his arm protectively around Cassie, especially after your incredibly awkward car ride to her house where he couldn't seem to bare looking at you. He acted like you weren't in the backseat at all.

You handed Cassie a cup of tea, which she took with shaky hands. “Maybe you could throw a couple of shots in that.”

You snorted. “You didn’t see who was driving the truck?”

“It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone. Why didn't it kill us?” Cassie questioned.

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean grumbled.

Sam turned to Cassie’s mother. “Mrs Robinson, Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.”

The older woman was shaking, pulled away from reality into her own thoughts. When her daughter’s voice brought her back to earth, Mrs. Robinson began to explain. “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can't be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well, after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Okay? Your daughter could die.” You knew Dean cared about her, and selfishly, you wanted him to be that worried about you; not her. “So if you know something, now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

Cassie went to silence Dean, but Mrs. Robinson took in a shaky breath. “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” you asked her.

“He thought he did,” she nodded. She began to get upset. “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

“Cyrus Dorian?” you questioned.

“Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

Now, you had her. “The paper said he went missing, Mrs. Robinson. How do you know he died?”

She refused to answer.

“Mrs. Robinson, please,” you urged.

She began to talk again, getting visibly more upset. “We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while; I was also seeing Martin. In secret of course. Interracial couples didn't go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus, and when he found out about Martin, I don't know, he… changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murders,” Sam noted.

You saw tears forming at the edges of the woman’s eyes. “There were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of a truck. Nothing was ever done. Martin and a... Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn't want the attention.”

“And Cyrus?” Dean prompted.

“The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children's choir practicing in there. They all died.” Mrs. Robinson clapped a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asked softly.

She shook her head as she continued to sob. “No! There was one more. One night, that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him something terrible. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn't you call the cops?” Dean questioned.

Mrs. Robinson looked at Dean like he was crazy. “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus' body into the truck, and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land, and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam said.

“And so is Mayor Todd. Now, he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?” Dean asked.

“He was a good man. He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus' disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he— he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

Cassie spoke up for the first time in a while. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought I was protecting them. And now there's no one left to protect.” She put her head down in her hands.

“Yes, there is,” Dean said, looking down at Cassie. Mrs. Robinson looked at her daughter as well before breaking down crying once more.

You and Sam left the home shortly after to get to work on finding the truck and disposing of it. Dean paced in front of you, waiting for Cassie to come bid you goodbye. You leaned against the Impala, picking at imaginary dirt under your nails. You just needed something to focus on that wasn’t Dean and your jealousy.

“Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms,” Sam spoke up next to you.

“So I guess we saved you from a boring existence,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring,” he grinned down at you.

“So, this killer truck—” Dean began before getting cut off by his brother.

“I miss conversations that didn't start with 'this killer truck'.”

Dean laughed a little. “Well, this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for forty years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam questioned.

“The construction on his house,” you shrugged. “Or, rather, destruction.”

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless.”

Dean hummed. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus' murder quiet and unsolved.”

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway.”

“You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp, right?"

Dean grinned, and you smirked despite the swirling emotions inside you. You hated how easily those green eyes and freckles could make any negative feelings you had dissipate.

“Man,” Sam groaned.

“You said it,” Dean continued to grin.

Cassie approached your group from her house, and Dean turned to face her.

“Hey. She's asleep. Now what?” she asked Dean.

“Well, you should stay put and look after her, and we'll be back. Don't leave the house.” Dean held up a finger at her, standing way too close to her for your liking.

“Don't go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it,” she said seductively.

Dean glanced behind himself to you and Sam. You both averted your eyes while you held back the bile rising in your throat.

“Don't leave the house, please?” Dean mumbled. Suddenly, the two were kissing. You looked up at them and leaned over to Sam.

“It’s like watching a car crash,” you whispered. “With, like, kids burning in the backseat.”

Sam laughed at you and cleared his throat. Dean simply held up a finger back to you, urging you to “wait a minute.”

“You comin' or what?” Dean awkwardly rubbed his neck after he pulled away from Cassie, and you envied her ability to make Dean blush the way she had.

The drive to the Dorian property largely consisted of Sam teasing Dean about Cassie while you said nothing. Dean used a tractor that was on the property from the construction to pull the submerged truck out of the water.

Sam continued to tease Dean about how he was definitely still in love with Cassie while you continued to focus on your work. You doused the corpse in Cyrus’s truck once you’d gotten it on the ground with kerosene and watched as it burned.

“All business tonight, huh, (Y/N)?” Dean taunted, still clearly upset with you.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not particularly interested in who or what you choose to put your dick in,” you responded coldly.

“Hey!—”

You turned to him, eyes hard. “Seriously. Let’s focus, please.”

Sam eyed you curiously while you continued to watch the corpse burn. Suddenly, the truck appeared behind you and the brothers, revving its engine.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” Sam questioned, panicked.

“I guess not,” you shrugged.

“Sure it did. Now it's really pissed,” Dean snarked.

“Great! He’s fused with the fucking truck,” you huffed. “Where are you going?” Dean was retreating to his car.

“Goin' for a little ride,” he responded.

“What?!”

“Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap: you gotta burn it.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” you argued.

“I don't know. Figure something out.” He threw the duffel bag in the trunk at you before getting in and taking off.

“What the f—” you watched his retreating form.

“You sure you’re okay, (Y/N/N)?” Sam asked you. “You seem pretty on edge.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, dude, let’s focus.” You thought for a moment before getting an idea.

“Hey, you gotta give me a minute,” Sam said to his brother who had called him. “Let me get back to you.” He hung up.

You turned to Sam. “The church where Cyrus butchered those kids.”

He grinned. “Hallowed ground. That should work!” He called Cassie and had her tell him where the church had once stood.

Sam then called his panicking brother back and instructed him on exactly how far to drive to hopefully demolish the ghost. “Dean. You still there? Dean?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when his brother spoke to him again. “Dean, you're where the church was. The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids. Church ground is hallowed ground; whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, sometimes they're destroyed, so we figured, maybe that would get rid of it.”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker, you could hear Dean’s panic. “Maybe? Maybe! What if you were wrong?”

Sam smirked. “Huh. Honestly that thought hadn't occurred to me.”

***

You didn't make it back to the motel until almost two in the morning. Dean was still completely ignoring your existence, and he was beginning to follow Sam into their room. You stopped him just before he could.

"Dean, wait," you called out after him, resolve breaking.

"What," he almost growled, turning back to you.

"Can we talk?" you asked, eyes pleading.

Dean didn't say anything in response for a moment, and you held your breath while you waited for him to talk. Finally, he nodded slightly.

"I'm sorry," you said earnestly. "For everything that I said earlier."

He nodded. "I am, too. You're not completely misreable to be around. Only sometimes when you get bitchy." You could see the slight smirk on his face illuminated by the moonlight.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. "You can never take anhthing seriously, huh?"

"Hey, this is a chick-flick-moment-free zone."

"Seriously," you laughed, "I didn't mean what I said at all. You're... actually amazing. As a hunter, I mean," you quickly corrected yourself. "I know your first priority on hunts isn't sex."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Eh, you weren't one-hundred-percent wrong. Sorry about that."

You shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. Who or what you choose to fornicate with is your business. Even if it is the Magic Fingers machines at those nasty ass motels." A smile tugged on your lips.

He chuckled. "Well, anyway... goodnight, sweetheart." Dean turned on his heel and walked away from you, leaving you in the parking lot with a pounding heart and butterfly-filled stomach.

***

The next day, you and the brothers were leaving town. You and Sam waited in the car while Dean stood talking to Cassie. You, once again, couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horror show in front of you. He kissed her deeply before climbing down into the car. You had never been so thankful to leave a town in your rearview mirror.

The car had been mostly silent for the last thirty minutes before Sam broke it. “I like her.”

Dean grumbled, “Yeah,” in response.

“You meet someone like her, doesn't it makes you wonder if it's worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?”

You watched Dean with bated breath, waiting anxiously for his answer. Instead of replying, he just took out his sunglasses and smiled. “Why don't you wake me up when it's my turn to drive?” He slouched against the window and sighed.

You shook your head and looked back out of your window, mulling over everything you’d felt during your time in Columbus. You knew feelings were not allowed in your line of work; certainly not relationships. You refused to let them interfere with your job any longer, and convinced yourself you would be perfectly content with Dean just being your friend.

After all, you'd already made it incredibly apparent that he was too much of a playboy for you. You would never be able to stomach a relationship with him because of how jealous of a person you were. And so, you decided that as long as you were with the boys, you would never, ever date Dean Winchester.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog

quite a few tags are broken :( sorry lovebugs!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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producedbyhanjisung · 1 month

Text

⎯ STOCKHOLM. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : bang chan x female reader

TROPE. age gap! au (chan is 37, reader is 18), kidnapper x kidnapped

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

WARNINGS. drinking, mentions of drugs, illegal activities, nineteen-year age gap, kidnapping, reader falls in love with her kidnapper, sadism + masochism

SYNOPSIS. on the morning of january first, y/n wakes up chained to a wall, stripped to her undergarments, and a camera pointed right at her. strangely enough, behind the camera is what looks like a harmless, friendly, incredibly attractive man. as y/n and the mysterious Bang Chan begin to learn more about each other, y/n finds herself succumbing to stockholm syndrome: falling in love with her very own kidnapper

SMUT WARNINGS. sadism + masochism, use of vibrator, some non-con themes, sextape making, overstimulation + edging, corruption kink, exhibitionism, dumbification kink

As your eyes opened, you expected to wake up somewhere you didn't know. You were absolutely wasted the night before - New Year's Eve - and you had been almost one-hundred percent sure you would wake up in someone else's bed. However, you hadn't imagined that you would wake up with shackles around your ankles and wrists, keeping you tight against a concrete wall in a cold room that somewhat resembled your great-grandmother's basement.

You're flabbergasted, to say the last. In all of your years getting drunk and fucking random people, you had never been kidnapped. And either this guy was really fucking kinky, or you had been kidnapped.

You suspect the latter, seeing the tape recorder set up on a tripod in front of you, facing you. As you survey your surroundings, you also take in your attire - completely nude, spare for your lacy white bra and matching panties, complete with a small white bow.

"Morning."

You look up, startled at the handsome guy that you hadn't noticed enter the room.

"Y/N, right? I'm not sure I caught your name last night."

You vaguely remember his face as one of the guys you had danced with the night before, letting him grind up against you and grope your body to the beat of the music. You nod at him.

"Do you know why you're here, Y/N?"

You shake your head, staying silent.

"I find you quite beautiful, actually." The man has a thick Australian accent, one you're sure you remember from the party. "Really, a work of art. An ass to kill for, and apparently, unmatched intelligence."

"That's just a rumor," you say finally.

"Ahhhh, she speaks. You have such a pretty voice, sweetie." He sends you a dimpled smile. "I really don't think it is, though. Your IQ is three higher than that of Albert Einstein. Do you know what that means, sweetheart?"

You watch him, waiting for an answer.

"It means you are a certified genius." The man's smile drops. "This is why you've peaked my interest."

"'Cause I'm good at taking tests?" you ask softly.

He shakes his head. "Much more than that. I want to pick your brain apart, pretty girl. I wanna find out what makes you tick." Then, he smiles again, wickedly. "But more than that, I want to humiliate and violate you in ways you wouldn't have thought possible."

So that's what he is, you think to yourself. A psycho with a god complex.

"Do you think I can do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

"Everything I just said."

"Yes I do."

He tilts his head at me. "Giving in so easy?"

"What else should I do?"

He moves closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and examining your face. "I suppose you're right."

You watch him, utterly stunned at how fucking exquisite your kidnapper's appearance is.

He backs away from you now, moving behind the tape recorder. He repositions it so that it's trained on you, then turns the viewing component of it so that you can see yourself, dangling helplessly and half-naked from the wall. "I'm going to start, yes?"

You nod slowly. You know that fighting whatever this man was about to do to you would be futile, so you waited and watched, eyelashes fluttering.

He retrieves a knife from a table of dangerous-looking utensils off to your left, returning to you.

"What should I call you?" you ask him suddenly, dreading the feel of the knife tracing your skin.

"Chris," he says simply. "In Korea, they call me Chan. Here they call me Chris."

"Chris? Or Chan? Which do you prefer?"

He tilts his head, as if puzzled by the question. "I'm not sure."

"I like Chan. It suits your face."

"Does it now?"

You nod, humming a "yes."

Chan's lips quirk up in a half-smile, and you find yourself smiling back. "First things first," he says after a moment, "I need to mark you."

"Mark me?"

He nods. "It won't hurt long, love." He moves around you, to your left side, and grasps your thigh gently. You bite back a gasp, watching as he lifts the knife. It's digging into your skin before you can protest, drawing a thin line of scarlet over the plush skin. You register in your mind it hurts, but it fascinates you to watch, taking your thoughts off the pain and onto the beauty of the letters that he's now carved into your leg. B.C., in small, pretty writing right in the middle of your thigh.

"Painful?" he asks, moving back to the table to the side and retrieving some sort of paper towel, returning to you and gently dabbing at the blood.

You blink. "A little."

"You didn't scream," he says.

"I didn't."

"I wish you would have."

"Would you like me to now?"

"No, sweetheart, don't force it."

You're surprised at how easy this conversation comes to you. This man just cut his initials into your thigh, and all you could think about were his pretty dimples and crinkly eyes.

"Where are you from?" you ask.

Chan looks up at you. "You baffle me," he says, examining you. Then, "I was born in Seoul, but I grew up in Sydney." He pauses. "You?"

You tell him where you were born, surprised at how intently he listened to you.

"I like hearing you speak," he says. "Your voice is beautiful."

You stay quiet, unsure what to think.

"I bet your screams would be beautiful too." A mischievous expression flits across his face. "You know what I bet would be the most beautiful of all?" He leans in close to you, so that his lips are right next to your ear. "Your moans."

You blink dumbly up at him.

"Look at you." He cradles your cheek in his hand, watching you with a bittersweet expression. "Intelligence already crumbling. I thought you'd last longer, sweetie."

You're tongue-tied, both disgusted and turned on by the sadistic words.

He pats your cheek once, twice, then turns away. "I'll be back later to bring you dinner, and a fun little toy."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" you ask quickly, desperate for him not to leave you. As much as you don't want to be down here with him, you even less want to be down here without him.

He shrugs. "You'll find something." Then he pauses. "Actually . . . would you like your toy early, hmm?"

You nod slowly. Chan retreats from the room, returning a few minutes later with a white box. He opens it, inside awaiting what looked like a vibrator. Nope, scratch that, it was a vibrator.

You swallow, looking at it, and Chan grins at you. "The best form of torture is too much pleasure, don't you agree, sweetie?"

You swallow hard, finding yourself nodding nervously.

Chan moves back over to you, stepping gracefully, and smiles. "For the next three hours, this is going to be attached directly to your clit."

You only stare at him.

He begins by removing your panties, then your bra, leaving you completely bare for him, and for the tape recorder.

"Pretty pussy," he mumbles, as though to himself. He leans forward, using one finger to spread your lower lips and another to prod around your private area, poking gently into your hole, then around your clit. Finally, he stops, bringing up the vibrator and configuring it so that the head stayed directly on your clit. He gently turns it on, watching as you gasp a little.

"Three hours," he says, tapping his wrist, then turning the vibrator to the highest setting. "I'll see you, pretty girl."

The moment the door is closed, unable to bite back the noises produced from this torturous device.

Three hours later, you've passed out four times, came at least twenty, and are shaking, dripping sweat, and sobbing. Your clit burns with too many sensations, and your stomach convulses violently with every buzz being emitted into your core.

When Chan reenters the room, he carries with him a plate of food. He sets it down quickly upon seeing your ragged state, mouth open slightly as he watches you.

You hardly notice him enter, buzzing with too many sensations. You only snap back to reality when you hear a shutter flick in front of you, and you find that he's taken a Polaroid photo of you.

He stays silent, listening to you whimper as the film develops. When it's complete, he turns off the vibrator, and you slump in your shackles. You feel him unlock your ankles, then your wrists, and you drop to your knees on the floor, still shaking vigorously.

Chan kneels beside you, brushing your hair from your face and soothingly thumbing your cheek. "Tired?"

You nod.

"Too tired to eat?"

You nod again.

"No you're not." He stands, retrieving the plate of food he brought with him. On it is what looks like a rather appetizing piece of chicken, salad, and small bowl of pasta. "Eat."

"What if I don't want to?"

"I'll force feed it to you."

You can't tell if he's joking, so you shakily take a bite. You struggle as you pick up your fork, and Chan takes it from you exasperatedly. "Let me," he says. He gathers a bit of salad on the fork, taps your jaw for you to open your mouth, and puts it in. You close your mouth, letting the lettuce fall onto your tongue, eyes locked with his.

"I'm sorry," you find yourself saying.

"Why?"

"I'm shaking."

"That's not your fault, is it?"

You shake your head.

"Then why are you sorry? Hmm?"

You shrug as he puts another bite of salad in your mouth.

The two of you stay silent for the rest of the meal. That night, he doesn't reshackle you, but locks the door behind him. The next day, he returns. At least, you assume it's the next day. You're not sure how much time has passed since you've woken up in this dank room. He'll come for a few hours in the morning, then leave for a few hours, then return for a few more. Each time he returns, he asks about you. As if he truly wants to get to know you, instead of killing you. He continues torturous ministrations, destroying your body and your mind in one. And somehow, you hardly mind.

Finally, on the evening of what you can guess is the ninth day, he returns as usual, bringing with him a meal.

He watches you eat, tongue in his cheek. "I'd like to bring you upstairs today."

You pause to stare at him. "Up . . . upstairs?"

He nods. "You should shower, before you stink any more."

You look down. "It's not exactly that sanitary down here."

"I'm well aware. That's why I'm bringing you up. I quite like you, honestly. So I'd like to propose to you an offer."

"An offer?"

"An offer. An exchange, I suppose. Your freedom for your service."

"Go on."

"You will marry me. You will be presented as my wife, and you will act as such in the public eye. In private, you are mine. You're my slave - my belonging."

"I just have to stay with you?" You look up at him. You're smart enough to know that even seeing the sunshine for a day being married to a kidnapper would be better than rotting down here until he eventually decided he'd had enough and kill you. Your mind was made up, but you were curious.

"Yes, love. I'm fond of you, actually."

Fond of me. You ponder this. "Okay . . . I'll do it. First, though, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"How old are you?"

Chan looks down. "I'm thirty-seven."

"Oh."

He nods. "You?"

"Eighteen." You meet his eyes.

"So young and fragile." Chan traces his fingers over your cheek. "So much to corrupt, hmm?"

You nod.

"Come on, you need to shower."

You let him bring you upstairs. You leave the basement into a small house. The walls are pretty pastels, decorated with plants and paintings of all varieties. Chan brings you away from the main floor, up another flight of stairs to what you can guess is his bedroom. It's neat and tidy, and an open door off to your right is your best guess at a bathroom.

He brings you into the bathroom, letting you strip out of the clothes he gave you a few days before, after finally giving in to your begging for warmth. You jump a little as he starts to remove his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Stripping. I'm joining you."

"Um, why?"

"'Cause I'm not letting you off yourself with a razor in my shower."

"I wasn't gonna off myself with a razor in your shower."

"How do I know that?"

You watch him, deciding not to argue. The water is already on, steaming up the room, and his skin glistens with every movement. You avert your eyes from his dick, but you can see its general shape in your peripheral vision. Huge.

He pulls you into the shower by your waist, stepping in behind you. He'd seen you naked before, but something about this close proximity and steamy room felt so much more intimate than the hours of sextapes he had filmed of you.

Chan helps you wash your hair, then your body. His touch lingers over your curves, rubbing you in a way that you didn't know was possible. It's only moments after that you find yourself hoisted up, legs tucked around his waist, hands running through his hair, head tipped back as his lips attach to your neck.

"Do you promise to be mine?" he whispers into your jaw, teeth grazing your Adam's apple.

"I promise," you say desperately, watching him with hooded eyes.

He pushes inside you with no warning, already rock hard. You feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix, pressing in just the right ways against your walls. He kisses you hard, pushing you against the wall of the shower. Chan is thrusting inside you slowly, mouth struggling to stay attached to yours as the two of you are overwhelmed by emotions and sensations.

You cum at the same time as him, coaxing every last drop of cum from his cock.

You collapse into him, shaking as you come down from your high. He holds you gently, turning off the water and helping you out of the shower. He's wordless as he wraps a warm towel around you, kissing your forehead as he dries you, then himself, then helps you to his bed.

"Just sleep, love," he tells you softly. "I'll wake you up in the morning."

The next morning, Chan is beside you, sleeping soundly. For some reason, you're comforted by the sight. The man who kidnapped you nine days ago - who would have thought you'd be madly in love with him by the end of it all.

TAGLIST ⎯

@jisunglyricist @hash2013 let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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its-avalon-08 · 30 days

Note

Hi hiii!! Can I request lando watching y/n perform think of me from the phantom of the opera??

my angel, my haven

(this is super different from what i usually write so im sorry if its shit)

lando's pov :

the crimson velvet curtains billowed outwards, revealing a stage bathed in the soft glow of a gaslight replica. y/n stood center stage, the spotlight catching the way her sequined gown shimmered like a thousand scattered diamonds. her back was straight, her posture radiating an ethereal confidence that sent a jolt through me. i couldn't tear my eyes away.

think of me, think of me fondly

this wasn't the first time i'd seen y/n perform. we'd been together since our karting days, but tonight, something felt different. maybe it was the grandeur of the opera house, the hushed reverence of the audience, or maybe it was just the way the stage lights painted her face in a thousand dramatic strokes. whatever it was, it took my breath away.

we never said our love was evergreen

as the opening notes of "think of me" swelled from the orchestra pit, a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. it wasn't just the beauty of the music, though that was undeniable. it was the way y/n inhabited the song, her voice soaring through the theatre with a power and control that never ceased to amaze me. it was a voice that could shatter glass and soothe a broken heart, all in the same breath.

think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

as she sang, a thousand memories flickered through my mind. goofy backstage moments, stolen kisses in the pit lane, late-night talks where her dreams intertwined with mine. here she was, living out one of those dreams, and i was lucky enough to witness it. a thrill of possessiveness, quickly doused by a wave of pure pride, washed over me. how could this incredibly talented, captivating woman be mine?

recall those days, look back on all those times

her voice climbed higher, weaving a tapestry of emotions with each note. christine's longing, the phantom's obsession, it all poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. her voice sounded like a dream. the audience was enthralled, hanging onto her every word. and me? i was lost in a world of my own creation, a world where the opulent stage was replaced by a dimly lit garage, the smell of grease oil replaced by the sweet scent of her hair. in that world, it wasn't christine pining for a masked figure, it was y/n, my y/n, captivating me with her talent and her love.

but please promise me that sometimes, you will think of me

the final note faded, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. then, as if a dam had broken, the applause erupted. it was a thunderous roar that shook the very foundation of the building. a wide smile bloomed on y/n's face, as radiant as the spotlight itself. as she caught my eye and smiled i felt all the stars align. in that moment, i knew. no matter what challenges life threw our way, no matter how bright her star might shine, she would always find her way back to me. and i, the luckiest man alive, would be waiting.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

thanks for reading and sending in your request! do send in more! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️��️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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hotvintagepoll · 27 days

Text

Propaganda

Jane Fonda (Barbarella, Sunday in New York, Barefoot in the Park)—Feminist icon, LGBTQ+ rights activist since the 70s, Civil Rights and Native American rights advocate, environmentalist… she really is THE woman ever

Rita Hayworth (Gilda, Cover Girl)—Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She steals every movie she’s in; she was Fred Astaire’s favorite dance partner, as you can see in clips from their movies [link][link]. Born Margarita Carmen Cansino, Rita's story had its tragedies—her father was awful and had her performing in nightclubs way, way too young; the studio totally remade her look because they were afraid of her hispanic image, putting her through painful treatments and diets; she had a string of failed marriages. But beside all that, I think there's something about Rita that still glows through—an inner beauty that has nothing to do with the studio, or the men who pinned their dreams on her. Rita brings an incandescence to roles that's impossible to replicate, and was truly a great actress in that she could switch from herself—shy Margarita—into a bold and glamorous femme fatale so convincingly everyone fell in love with her as Gilda. She's my favorite movie star, and I think she was a beautiful human through and through—Rita, gorgeous and real and shining bright.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jane Fonda:

" I assume she's already been submitted but I gotta make sure. I think there's an element to movies like Barbarella or her segment of Spirit of the Dead of those having been directed by her husband, who famously made movies about her being hot, and the incredible costume design also helped, but good lord. Look at her"

"She was so pretty, dear lord! She was and still us stunning. She’s great at comedy and drama."

"Shes so hot im so gay for me i will let her hit me with hers car"

"Gorgeous and also still getting arrested at climate protests, which is sexy behavior"

"Watching her in Barefoot in the Park seriously made me, a straight woman, question things"

"PLEASE I LOVE HER SO MUCH"

"Her vibes in these movies are so interesting because she, the daughter of an Old Hollywood star, went on to make both poignant dramatic movies and the some of the silliest things you've ever seen but even in the silly space adventures and sexploitations there's always this undeniable gravitas to her. It's like she's able not to take herself very seriously but at the same time never stops having this grace and elegance and makes it all work together. And she's always been very politically active which is also sexy. Her famous mugshot is from 1970 so right at the cutoff mark but come on"

Rita Hayworth:

Do you need any other propaganda? Here’s the video.

youtube

She was not called "the love goddess" for nothing: beautiful, glamorous, despite playing sexy and provocative roles her inherent shyness somehow also would shine through sometimes, creating this contradictory and incredibly attractive image

Often played "the bad girl" who tempted the male hero away from "the good girl"; but did have roles that broke her out of that mold. She was also the inspiration for Jessica Rabbit. THE pinup girlie.

HELP

youtube

She was soo beautiful when she was young and she MAINTAINED that beauty into her later years and I think that old lady glamour is hot. bombastic sex appeal

every line she delivers in gilda is so flirty and passionate or absolutely desolate and it's so good

I just have a lot of feelings about her

#rita hayworth #jane fonda #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5 #Youtube

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

Sunrise

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: The fans and media get to Oscar’s girlfriend in a way he’ll never forgive

Warnings: SUICIDE AND SH depictions, toxic media, death threats, lack of communication, anxiety, Oscar is a mess.

Notes: …. We’re not talking about my patterns alright. I swear I’m in therapy.

Masterlist

Oscar is not normally an irrational person. He prides himself on his calm and collected state. Something that his neurodivergent counterpart loves because it makes him easy to read. Everything is clear to her with him.

He adores his girlfriend. Plans to eventually marry her one day. He doesn’t care that her body isn’t the ‘standard’ for beauty because he finds her stunning. He doesn’t care that she has deep passions for her interests and could talk for hours about it because he loves listening.

So why is it his fans don’t get that same thing? Why do the vultures have to attack her for doing nothing wrong?

He ponders these questions as he sits in the hospital waiting room. Fingers crossed he got to her in time.

She’d turned off all her notifications on social media. She had to. For some reason now that Oscar and McLaren are on track and fighting again, people are seeming to notice her more often.

Gone are the days of sneaking off into the quiet corners. Numbered are the days she’ll be able to spend with him at this rate.

The death threats started a month ago. To many things she’d rather not think about. The name calling is flat out unnecessary and something she doesn’t understand.

She knows logically nothing can come if it. But the nagging at her brain won’t stop for some reason. She hates it, being empathetic. She just feels so extremely that she can’t decipher if the words hurt her or if she’s angry and why she feels this way. It’s to much for her mind to process.

So she turns everything off. No social media for her.

She’d simply told Oscar the hate was to much and she needs a break from the internet. Which isn’t a lie, but she didn’t want him to worry about her and start doing poorly because of it.

Instead curled up underneath her blankets with music and switched off the world.

Oscar is feeling alright with fifth in Hungary. Not exactly where he wants to be, but it’s still considerably better then where he was previously.

As is routine, he gets into the garage as quickly as he can. The one thing he managed to negotiate for with his PR team: the he gets to check in on his girlfriend before he does media duties.

He peers inside. It’s mostly empty due to the incoming podium celebration. But there is no sign of her. Nothing is the garage or his driver room or Lando’s room, or the bathroom.

His heart thuds in his chest. This is routine, and she always sticks to her routine. If she’s not here then something must be terribly wrong. Oscar pulls out his phone to see he has a text from her and the weight on him lessens just a tad.

‘Sorry I won’t be there for the end of the race! I was feeling incredibly sick so I went back to the hotel room! I love you so much! 🧡🖤’

And suddenly that weight is back. If she left then something is clearly wrong. She’s stayed through blurry vision from migraines, endured hours of overstimulation for him, even dealt with his fans pushing her around. Yet she always stayed. If something caused her to leave then it’s definitely something to worry about.

He ended up missing the podium celebration. His PR manager is looking for him. But he could care less and heads straight for Zak.

He gives a brief summary of what’s going on and defines is as an emergency. That word was what made Zak let him go as long as he promised to keep everyone posted.

Then he ran.

Race weekends have come to be one of her favorite things. The consistent hum of car engines stimulates her brain in a way that she loves.

What she doesn’t love is the fans. She wonders for a moment if all the WAG’s have this kind of hate. So she sets off to go find Lily and ask. She’s become close with her over the course of this year. She’s also passionate about things and it’s fun to listen to her get excited over her interests. Something the female can relate to well.

When she neared the Williams hospitality, she saw Lily and waved her over only to be stopped in her tracks by a few fans in McLaren gear. She instantly took notices of the very blatant disregard for personal space and the negative energy they carried with them.

Then they out in some fake smiles and handed her an envelope, walking away without a word.

She was left confused and stunned. But also curious. The envelope in her hands had some weight to it and she can’t help but wonder what’s inside.

She doesn’t hesitate to open it. Her eyes scanning over the contents. Every second she looks at it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Someone had been stalking them. Not just her and Oscar, but Lando as well. Addresses, pictures, personal information, even images from intimate moments where they are very clearly without clothes.

She could see the possibility of her and maybe Oscar being stalked if these are the same fans who have been harassing her for a couple months now. But Lando as well makes her feel dirty and upset in a way.

It’s to much. She feels to much. It’s overwhelming.

She stuffs everything back inside and finally gets to Lily. A brief excuse leaves her lips that she’s going back to the hotel cause she’s feeling sick. She takes note of Lily’s instant concern and the female does her best to fight back every emotion. It’s utterly draining. She has no energy to sort out her feelings and other peoples feelings when she can’t understand any of them anyway.

Lily lets her go on the condition she texts her when she gets back to the hotel.

She agrees. She'll be messaging everyone when she gets there.

Oscar gets into his car and fumbles around for the keys.

He left them with his stuff. His stuff that he doesn't have. Now he's going to have to run all the way back.

He gets out and heads straight to the McLaren garage. Ignoring the strange looks.

He even tries pulling his phone out to call her. Straight to voicemail. Twenty times.

Halfway there, he runs into Lando. The Brit is winded and carrying Oscar's things.

"I'm driving."

She can't believe she's actually going to do this. It's not that she's never thought about it before. Feeling alien on your own planet will do that to you. But she feels like she has no other choice.

It's too much. The fans want her dead, and they are willing to do horrible things to get it.

She can't handle it. The feelings of all of it are overwhelming. She can't tell where her emotions end and someone else's start. The letter written to her only points out further.

The last few months have been beyond her limit. She doesn't feel safe in her own skin. Everyone is telling her she'll never be enough. That she is not meant for this life.

She'd thought about her friends as she wrote those damn notes. The blank looks when she says something lnnapropriat for the conversation. The times she's had meltdowns and they had to deal with her.

She thinks about Oscar, too. His note is three pages long. It's intimate, and she hopes he can understand it. Words she's written countless times the last months to make sure he understands her decision.

She lays it out where she knows he'll see it and then locks herself in the bathroom. The bathtub is filled with ice-cold water and not filled all the way to the top. Just enough to make things easy.

Is she really doing this because those damn fans are going to leak everything about their lives tonight if she doesn't? Certainly a factor in her decision. It seems the logical solution if she's to fix the problem. She hates herself for this; that she can't just be what everyone wants.

That thought brings the first cut.

She didn't bother taking off her clothes. She hates the feeling. They cling to her skin and it makes her want to peel her skin off.

The second cut is for her clothing.

Then the third.

And a fourth.

The fifth makes her dizzy.

The sixth causes her vision to dance.

The seventh and eighth she can't even register.

Everything is numb by nine and ten.

Then nothing.

Oscar and Lando take three steps at a time.

Apparently, Lando had run into Lily and found out what had happened. The Brit also felt his stomach drop with the feeling something is wrong.

Oscar sprints down the hall when they make it to the right floor. Fumbles around with his key card. Then, finally, he gets the door open.

He scans the room. There is paper stacked neatly on the table. An envelop almost thrown to the side.

He looks at the note addressed to him, and he chokes. Lando is searching for any sign of life but the Aussie can't see past the fact that there are fans asking her to kill herself. And that she felt the need to say yes because now they have stalkers.

He'll think about it later. Right now, Lando is screaming for him.

He barrels to where the voice comes from. Again, he chokes. This time on frantic tears.

Lando is looking like he might pass out, but the Brit is staying strong for his teammate and friend. He tries to get Oscar to help him.

She may be passed out, but the Aussie registers Lando saying she has a pulse. That she's still breathing even if it's shallow.

They work together to drag her out of the water. Her make it so that when they set her down, she immediately is sliding on the tile. They wrap her arm in wash rags. The only thing they can find to slow the bleeding. But the cuts are too deep. It doesn't slow.

So they call an ambulance.

Oscar doesn't register much after that. Listening to Lando instruct him on what to do, including breathing. Riding with her to the hospital. Watching her be taken away. Meeting Lando in the waiting room.

Now he has nothing to do but wait and look through everything he missed.

Her socials are where she's being threatened, sure. But it's the contents of the envelope that got Oscar angry. Way past the point of livid.

"Lan, I- what the hell." He shows everything to his teammate, and terror stretches across his face.

And then she was left with a ticking clock and an ultimatum. Disappear or have all this and more released to the public. What better way to disappear than to do it permanently.

It breaks him. He can't breathe past the thought of not having her around. He can't live knowing she left because the world is suck a cruel place. And he feels utterly selfish for wishing her to stay with him through it.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor, sobbing dramatically into Lando's sweatshirt.

But then others start to appear. It's not just the two of them because there are so many people that care for her.

Max shows up first with a certain Monegasque in tow, followed by Alex and Lily, the latter of which looks about as broken as him. Then George and Lewis appear, followed by Logan.

They explain what happened. Everyone is shocked, and there are no words between them for a few minutes as everyone processes.

"I don't understand why someone would do this." Pipes Max. He knows about death threats fairly well, but this is a new level of extreme.

"We could say something. Make a statement about it and start a suicide awareness campaign." Lewis suggests.

Oscar knows a campaign probably won't do much against whoever sent this, but a statement might. He wants to say everything on his mind.

And that's exactly what he did. His PR team be damned because this takes precedence.

She wasn't expecting to wake up. She wasn't supposed to wake up. So how is she awake?

She cracks her eyes open just a tad to assess her surroundings. Her arm is bandaged and she's underneath some of the worst textures to come in contact with.

The thing that catches her eye is the brown locks of a specific Australian. She moves her hand to them and runs her fingers gently along his scalp.

he shifts around a bit before relaxing into the feeling. At least she could give him this before she ruins his and Lando's life.

She's not sure how long they go on like this until Oscar sits up and yawns. He blinks a few times and adjusts himself to the florescent lights.

She's not sure she's ever seen Oscar cry before. Once at a really sad movie, but even that was just slight. Now he's crying tears for her. The sound makes her tear ducts spring into action as well.

"Please, don't ever do that again." He rasps. His voice crackles with the sound of sobs.

She doesn't say anything. She can't say anything. So instead, Oscar crawls into the bed with her. He just cradles her body into his.

"I'm sorry." Is all she manages to say. And after a few more breathes she continues. "I didn't want to be the reason you and Lando lose your jobs. Or be the cause of your stress. And then everything felt like it was too much, and I just wanted it to stop." She feels pathetic.

"I promise that I will never be upset with you for something like this. The fans pushed and pushed and then drove you into a corner. But in the future, you have to come to me. I can't help if you don't communicate with me."

"What about racing? And Lando? And all your personal information?" The weight she'd had before has made a sudden return.

"Should be taken care of. We beat them to the punch and made a statement about how someone close to McLaren had been threatened and the person responsible would be posting personal information." Oscar explains. She feels better knowing they didn't say it was her name. "I also said I would be taking a break from socials for personal reasons... and also said something about how much I love you."

The news came out eventually. It's not every day that F1 driver's campaign for mental health. But they've all been incredibly helpful. She is on the road to recovery and Oscar intends on being with her through every step of the way.

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suugarbabe · 9 months

Text

foolish flowers | g.w x reader

word count: ~1.5k

summary: little georgie blurb based on an ask I recieved and lost.

warning: fluff

The dinging above the door alerted you that a customer had walked into the shop. You did your best to sound polite as you shouted from the back, “I’ll be right up.” Whoever had walked in told you to take your time, but you still found yourself rushing a bit as to not appear rude.

You walked from the back with a bushel of Aster flowers in your arms, completely obstructing your view. You feel yourself nearly tripping over a pot as you’re making your way to your work station, quietly cursing to yourself. “Here, let me help you with those,” two large hands grab the bushel from you, placing it on the counter.

You smoothed out your apron before looking up and meeting quite possibly the softest and kindest green eyes you’ve ever seen, “T-thank you.” The man in front of you just smiled, giving a nod before going back to look at the flowers and arrangements you had around your small shop.

His brows furrowed reading the different cards associated with certain displays. You found yourself watching him, observing him as he looked around. He was incredibly tall, having to nearly bend in half to read anything on the counter.

You couldn’t help but find his looks of confusion endearing. You decided it was probably best to offer your assistance, for as much as it seemed like he wanted to appear like he knew what he was looking for, he was completely lost. “Looking for something for your girlfriend?” you kept your tone innocent, but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t motive behind the question beyond being helpful to a customer.

“Erm, no, for my mum actually,” a blush crept up the man’s neck, dusting his cheeks along with it and accentuating his freckles. “Well then might I suggest not getting these,” you gestured towards the red salvia’s, “as they typically symbolize meaning ‘forever mine’, not quite sure that’s best for mum.”

You gave him your sweetest smile and he returned a nervous one, scratching the back of his neck, “What, erm, do you suggest then? It’s her birthday tomorrow, my mum, that is, I just wanted to get her something nice.”

You tapped your finger against your lips as you thought, glancing around the shop to create a beautiful and meaningful piece in your head. “How about…” you trailed off walking up to the marigolds and grabbing a handful, “and a little of…” you grabbed a small batch of chamomile, “oh and definitely…” you grabbed some fully bloomed clematis, “and lastly…” you grabbed some columbine.

The man watched and you arranged it all in a beautiful glass vase, the purples, whites and yellows dancing together perfectly. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as he watched you work. “Stunning,” he breathed, “What does it all mean?”

You clapped your hands together in excitement, explaining pieces was one of your favorite parts of your job. “So, the marigolds here,” you pointed to the flame colored flower, “are her birth month flower and these here,” you pointed to the chamomile, “mean patience in adversity. I assumed because she was a boy mum that she probably dealt with a lot while you grew up,” you shot him a playful wink.

He laughed lightly at this, “You have no idea.” You continued, pointing next at the clematis, “These mean mental beauty, which is simply true for any mother, and these here,” you pointed at the white flower surrounded by what looked like a purple shell and leaves, “are columbine flowers, they represent foolishness.”

The man quirked an eyebrow at this one, “And why, pray tell, did you pick these?” You bit your lower lip slightly, “Well, you look awfully close to the moving character atop the joke shop across the street, so I just assumed you probably own it. Thus the additive of some foolishness representation.”

He smirked at your explanation, leading you to believe that you were correct in your assumption, “Would you believe me if I told you I was born on April fools?” You giggled lightly, “I would expect nothing less coming from the man who owns a joke shop. What is it called again?”

The man smiled proudly now, “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” You looked at him curiously, “So is that your name? Weasley?”

He nodded, “Surname. My first name, however, is George.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you, George.” You smiled sweetly, then turned to your register, “That’ll be ten galleons.” His smile never faltered as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the coins needed.

He grabbed the vase, walking towards the door. As he was halfway out, he turned back to you, “I just realized that I told you my name, but you never told me yours.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess you’ll have to ask when I stop in your shop next time.”

George raised his eyebrows, liking the bit of mischief you were flirting with, “Alright, guess I’ll see you then, love.” With a wink, he was out the door.

—--------

Fred stood at the top of the steps, watching the smiling faces roam around his shop. He loved the kids faces as they discovered a new way to prank, a new toy to cause chaos, or how he could see the light switch in their eyes when they saw something on the shelves that had them plotting.

He and George would get the same look when they were younger. Godric, they get that same look still to this day, they just try their best to choose the appropriate time and place for their shenanigans.

What his shop did not often get were beautiful women exploring his shop and looking at… “Puking pastilles?” He looked at you curiously, but you hadn’t yet lifted your head from the package.

“Seems like they’d come in handy for the family dinner I’m trying to avoid tonight,” Fred laughed with you and you finally turned to look at him.

“Well, you’re certainly not George are you,” your smile was sweet as Fred cocked an eyebrow at you. “And how could you possibly be certain of that, darling?”

You looked up at the man in front of you, he looked exactly like George, very obviously a twin brother. However if you paid attention enough, there were subtle differences. You didn’t inform George of this last week but you had noticed him before he walked into your shop that day.

There were quite a few times you had spotted him through your front window, leaving or coming to work, always dressed colorfully and having a smile on his face. When he smiled the corners of his eyes wrinkled just a little, his eyes downturned just slightly more than the man in front of you.

But the thing that really gave it away you had noticed just last week, when he was finally close enough for you to really see him properly. Staring into friends eyes you smiled, patting his chest, “George has a beauty mark on his neck, right here.” You pointed towards the spot where George’s mark was on Fred’s neck.

Fred’s smile seemed to grow impossibly wider, “You’re the flower shop girl aren’t you.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question. “Y/n,” you corrected.

The redhead laughed, “Oh Georgie is going to hate that I learned your name before him.” You shook your head, “Is Georgie here?”

Fred nodded, “Yeah, boyo’s here alright, but I’m really relishing in me getting to learn more information about the girl he’s been pining after before he does.”

He was hoping to embarrass his twin a little, so what you said next instead had Fred a bit shocked. “Well I’m glad the feeling has been mutual,” your tone and smirk quite impressed Fred.

When you looked over his shoulder he turned, seeing his twin on the upper level of the shop, “If you’ll excuse me, not George-”

“Fred,” he interrupted. You smiled, “If you’ll excuse me Fred, I’m going to go find George.”

Fred watched as you sauntered up the staircase, George still none the wiser as he helped a few customers out. As you made it to the top you stood behind him and started speaking, his ears perking at the sound of your voice, “Got anything here to get out of a dinner party?”

George turned around, sly smile on his face, “Have you looked into puking pastilles?” You held up the box in your hands, “Ah yes, that’s what the other George suggested.”

The smile on George’s face quickly turned to laughter, “The other George?” You nodded, “You didn’t tell me you had a twin; Fred was it?”

He nodded, leaning a hand on the railing beside him now, “And you still haven’t told me your name. I’ve been referring to you as flower shop girl in my head all week.”

Your grin widened, knowing now (thanks to Fred) that George had probably been referring to you as that for a lot longer than a week, “Y/n. My name’s Y/n.”

“S’beautiful,” George was bold, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Fred watched from a few floors below, mentally patting his brother on the back for pulling out the moves they used to use in school.

#george weasley #george weasley blurb #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins #harry potter #golden era

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mkkk12345 · 2 months

Text

Divus Crewel x Wife Reader How they met

Sorry this took so long to write, I was once again procrastinating lol Feel free to request situations (I write slowly and I’ll be pretty busy for the next while sadly, but please do request if you would like to! I'll do anyone in twst for the most part with your usual restrictions) (side note I got the names for the dogs from the 101 Dalmatians)

1.2K words

------

Oh how Crewel would come to regret what he had done that day, he really should have seen it coming. “Hey! Professor Crewel, tell us how you met your wife!”

This had all started when Crowley had approached him with a challenge. “If you manage to raise the class average of the first years to let's say~ 80 percent? I'll give you a raise! Am I not so incredibly generous? Hahahhahaaaa” He cawed to himself as Crewel walked away absolutely done with the crow mans shenanigans

Rolling his eyes he responds “I guess there is no harm in attempting it”

As an encouragement to study harder he had told his students that if they were able to raise the class average to 80 percent by the next semester he would allow them to ask one question about his personal life. Of course all of the students had jumped at the chance to glance into the oh so mysterious and strict teachers personal life.

And that is why we are here now.

Professor Divus Crewel, now being forced to tell the oh so embarrassing story of how he had met his lovely wife.

“Well it's not the worst question you lot could have asked. I would rather not share this story but if I must I will do so…”

—----

Divus was around 17 when he first met Y/N It was a bright and sunny day, the weather was perfect and it just so happened to be a long weekend, a rare opportunity to visit home in the Queendom of Roses.

It was also a perfect day to take his beloved pet dalmatian Perdita for a nice long walk in the nearby park for some long deserved bonding time.

When Crewel was home from NRC he would often take Perdita to the park. Whether it was actual exercise or for some relaxing time outside to sketch new fashion designs, Perdita never really minded. But today was different, the minute the pair stepped out of the door the spotted dog went bolting in the direction of the park. “Hey! Slow down girl, why on earth are you in such a rush today?!” he said, trying to keep all his sketching supplies from falling to the ground.

Luckily for young Divus, the dalmatian did eventually slow down once they reached the park. “You act as if no one has been bringing you to the park since I left for school.” he said exasperated from the impromptu run.

Soon after catching his breath Divus and his companion walked over to a nearby bench so the boy could start sketching, but right as he put his sketching equipment down there was another sudden tug on the lead and once again they were off “hey! Slow down! What has gotten into you toda-” CRASH he had been cut off suddenly, crashing into another person as Perdita and what seemed to be another dalmatian were running circles around the two very effectively tying the two together.

When he finally pried his eyes away from the dogs he finally realized the full situation he was in, tied up with a very beautiful young lady. “Oh my god I'm so sorry he doesn't usually act like this, Pongo would you stop that already?”

“Don't worry it was neither of our faults really, I guess these two have taken quite the interest in one another” he said as he pulled his arm out of the leashes to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck a blush forming on his face as he looked at a very interesting tree behind her.

“They've actually been like this for weeks!” she laughed as she finally met his eyes, “Oh you must be Divus! Your mother talks about you very often.” He was surprised, not only was this girl absolutely stunning but she already knew him. Although he would never admit it, he practically fell in love with her right then and there, the way she beamed with joy, the slight blush on her cheeks, her laugh even in the strangest of situations.

In an attempt to calm himself he averted his gaze again and began to untie him and his new developing crush from the entanglement of leashes they were trapped in “Oh you must have met mother while she was walking Perdita I do hope she didn't tell you anything embarrassing” a strained smirk appeared on his face, knowing how his mother liked to tell the most embarrassing stories of his childhood.

“Well I cant say she didn't say anything” she laughed softly again drawing Divus’s attention for a moment the blush on his face growing ever brighter.

Snapping out of his short trance he asked “Might I ask for your name then since you already know mine?” With blush remaining on the tips of ears he held out his hand like a gentleman, both with the intention to give her, her dogs leash back but also to lead her over to a bench so they could hopefully continue their conversation.

“Oh my apologies how rude of me, My name is Y/N nice to finally meet you.” She bashfully took both the leash and his hand, walking over to the bench.

“The pleasure is mine”

—-

“And whilst that was all happening I looked over to our dogs, only to find them looking at each other with what seemed to be a grin on their faces like they planned that all out.” Crewel sighed as he recalled how proud those little devils looked. “After quite a long conversation that ended up in me never actually starting a new sketch, we traded contact information and left the park.” he looked up at his students now regretting all his life decisions.

“And that is how I met my wife, now it seems like class is over, please leave quickly so I can question why I ever became a teacher in the first place.”

“But prof how did you ask her out?” “Yeah yeah! Who was the first one to confess!” “How did you propose????”

Frustrated crewel quickly answered “If I recall correctly you were all only given the privilege of asking one question, now if you don't stop pestering me I will be giving you even more homework.” a completely very unnoticable blush began to form on his face.

“Sorry sir!” Everyone shouted in unison, but on their way out the students did not miss the slightest hint of red that dusted their professor's cheeks as he pretended to sort through papers.

Once everyone had left and silence had fallen through the classroom a laughter could be heard coming from the Professors phone. “Awwwww darling, you retell that story so fondly~” Crewel sighed as he finally looked over at his phone

“I honestly can not believe I let you talk me into letting you listen to that.” he said with a hand firmly planted on his face covering any sign of pink that appeared.

“Consider it as repaying me for when I dropped those papers off for you. Now hurry home our two rascals of dogs are looking at me like I should thank them for getting us together.” she laughed nervously

“Yes yes honey see you soon” ending the call with a small smirk as he muttered “I should buy some more dog treats on the way back.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #crewel x reader #divus crewel #divus crewel x reader #divus crewel x yuu #twisted wonderland headcanons

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